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Chapter Text

The wonderful art in this story was created by finem00 and shoyzz-art. Click on the links to find their art posts!

This chapter contains a title image and scene dividers by finem00.

The sky was a dark gray, the storm clouds and forest looming on both sides of the road lit up only by lightning. Rain was battering the windshield of Tony’s car, hardly kept in check by the wipers, and he had slowed down considerably since he could barely see the road ahead. The heavy drops were loud against the roof, mixing unpleasantly with the music from the radio. It was as if nature was trying to keep him away from his destination, he thought bitterly. Even more so because the weather had been perfect when they’d left New York in the early hours of the morning and had only gotten worse the closer they got to the Avengers Compound, a sunny summer day turning on them viciously.

Lightning cut through the sky and thunder rolled over the forest.

In the passenger seat, Peter jumped hard enough to jostle Tony’s elbow.

Again.

“Dude,” Peter muttered.

Tony spared a glance at him and saw him stare out the windshield, one hand tight around his phone and the other gripping the seatbelt, his back pressed into the seat. He seemed pale, his eyes wide and his posture tense. Tony turned his attention back to the road, but asked, “You alright?”

“Yeah, just …” Peter shifted uncomfortably. “It’s the thunderstorm.”

Tony raised one brow in surprise. “Are you scared?”

“No,” Peter answered quickly, and he sounded downright offended. “I just … the lightning is a bit too much for my eyes and the thunder is a bit too much for my ears, so …”

Tony hummed in understanding. He should have suspected as much. “Super-senses dialed to eleven?”

“Yeah,” Peter replied softly.

Another bolt of lightning lit up the forest, but Peter didn’t jump this time. When Tony glanced at him, he saw that Peter had his eyes closed tightly. He winced. “We should get you evaluated one of these days.”

Peter turned his head towards him. “Evaluated?”

“Yeah, to see what exactly your powers can do.” He slowed down some more, knowing by heart that the road was about to make a sharp turn. “Evaluation is standard for Avengers when they first join. Mainly serves to set up your medical file for emergencies and such. To make everyone on the team aware of what each of us brings to the table.” Tony felt slightly guilty for only thinking of it now. Even with Peter turning down the invitation to become part of the official Avengers roster, Tony should have had him tested months ago. The kid got into enough trouble while keeping Queens safe as Spider-Man. It was only a matter of time before he would get seriously injured, and they needed to be prepared for when he did.

“We could do that this week.”

Tony grimaced. “We’ll do it next time you’re around.”

“Why not now?”

Tony shot him a quick look. “Do we have to go through this again?”

Peter slumped into his seat and turned his head away to stare out the passenger window into the forest.

Making a conscious effort to relax his grip around the wheel, Tony said, “Look, I don’t want to draw any attention towards you, okay? Cap and his band of merry men have no idea that you’re Spider-Man, and I’d like to keep it that way. We’ll be sharing the private quarters at the Compound. One communal kitchen, one communal living room, communal training facilities. They’re trained spies, soldiers and assassins. Nothing can hint at you being more than my intern, understood?”

“So you said,” Peter muttered sullenly. “If you don’t trust them, then why are they at the Compound?”

Tony sighed. “Because we’re adults,” he answered, “and adults work out conflicts for the greater good. Or so I’ve been told.”

A few months ago, he hadn’t thought that Steve and the others would return from their exile anytime soon. A few months ago, Tony would have laughed at the very idea of being the one to extend the invitation to them to stay at the Compound with him and Rhodey. As far as he’d been concerned, the tight-knit team that had once been Earth’s mightiest heroes was in the past. Steve’s betrayal had hurt too much for him to even consider an attempt to rebuild.

Not necessarily because Steve and the others had decided to go against the Sokovia Accords. That mess they could have managed to eventually overcome. Tony had known from the start that the Accords were not the ideal solution, but it had been the only chance at that time to avoid the world turning against them. With so many nations starting to openly talk about enhanced humans as a problem, he’d wanted to make sure that the Avengers could continue to exist and if they had to sign a contract and submit to some form of control by the UN, then so be it. It had been an interim solution for him, though. Never more than that. Still, he should’ve discussed it with the team instead of just going ahead and agreeing to it.

He knew that had been his mistake.

Trying to protect Barnes – going against the Accords for a known killer – had been Steve’s.

However, they’d found themselves willing to make amends when Tony had followed Steve and Barnes to the HYDRA facility in Siberia. Tentatively, but still.

If it hadn’t been for Zemo, maybe they would have.

Finding out that Barnes had killed Tony’s parents had stung. Steve knowing about it and keeping it a secret, letting Tony think that his parents had died in a car accident caused by his father’s drinking, had hurt even more. But what had broken them apart completely, ruined the tight friendship they’d shared despite their differences, was the fact that Steve had turned against him. That he had almost killed Tony to protect Barnes and left him behind with a non-functional suit in one of the most remote locations on Earth.

Rhodey had been surprised that Tony had decided to let “the Rogues”, as media had come to call them, return to the Compound. Even though he didn’t know the specifics of what had happened in Siberia, he knew that something had gone down. But Tony had managed to change his mind, to make him see that the world still needed the Avengers.

That didn’t mean that Tony was ready to trust them again; it didn’t mean that he was ready to work with them again. And the absolutely last thing Tony wanted to do at the moment was to reveal to them that the enhanced junior hero named Spider-Man they’d met in Leipzig a year ago was in fact a sixteen-year-old kid from Queens.

If he could only convince that sixteen-year-old kid that he was right.

Tony cleared his throat. “Them knowing about Spider-Man is out of the question. At least for now. At least until we know where we’ll go from here.”

The Compound came into view in the distance, a beacon of washed out lights in the storm. But where it would have seemed welcoming in the past, all Tony felt was a slight dread. He hadn’t felt overly comfortable in the Compound since Steve and the others had returned. Tony had worked out a deal with Secretary Ross to spare them being arrested, effectively putting them under house arrest at the Compound. Even the rather big private quarters the Avengers shared was getting a little tight after almost a month. He was almost grateful that Wanda and Vision hadn’t returned along with the others. Nobody knew where exactly they were, just that they were together.

Peter sighed. “But we can work on the web-shooters, right? I’ve had some ideas to improve them and-”

“We can’t work on them, kid. Spies, remember? It would seem suspicious.”

The disappointment was clear in Peter’s voice when he replied, “Last time I was here, you said we were going to work on my suit.”

Tony sighed deeply. “I did,” he admitted. “But things have changed since then and we need to deal with the new situation now. Besides, I’m not sure how much time I’m going to have in the next couple of days. Secretary Ross is coming to the Compound, so I’ve got some meetings to attend and before that, I have to have meetings to prepare those meetings …” He trailed off, realizing that his excuses started to sound as hollow as the ones his father had always given him. He glanced at Peter and saw him frown down at his phone. He sighed. “Listen, I only have meetings with Ross for two days and I’ve made sure you won’t get bored. I was in touch with Matt. He’d be happy to have you.”

That brought a smile to Peter’s face, even though it was weak. Matt Riley was a young man working in the DODC’s research labs located at the Avengers Compound. When Peter had visited the Compound for a day during spring break to get his suit mended, he’d immediately connected with Matt during a tour Tony had given him through the labs. Matt was brilliant, friendly, and had just graduated from MIT. For Tony, he was the ideal candidate to keep Peter busy for a couple of days … and maybe get him to think about college, and especially MIT.

They passed the entry gate of the Compound, the guard on duty nodding at Tony as he drove past. Peter still hadn’t answered to Tony’s news, and he still didn’t look at him. Tony clenched his jaw. “Listen, I know it sucks. I wanted something different out of this week as well. But by the time I realized that this is literally the worst timing for you to come over, it was too late to cancel. Your aunt almost took my head off through the phone when I tried, so I think she really needs this vacation.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said.

Tony drove into the garage of the private quarters and parked the car before he looked over at Peter. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I should have checked my calendar sooner than I did.”

As much as Tony hadn’t expected Steve and the others to return, Peter staying at the Compound for a week was something he hadn’t anticipated just a few months ago either. After the Vulture fiasco, Tony had made an effort to involve himself more in Peter’s activities as Spider-Man. He’d started to drive down to New York once a week to pick Peter up from school and have dinner with him and he’d given Peter his number so that he could leave him voicemail reports after patrol, and whenever Peter’s suit needed an upgrade, Tony took care of that in the back of his car as well. That had gone on for a while, until dinner once a week suddenly happened twice or three times a week and instead of leaving voicemails, Tony started to pick up the phone when it rang after patrol. If somebody would ask Tony why this change had happened, he would probably not be able to answer. He hadn’t even really thought about it until he’d invited Peter to come for a whole-day tour of the Compound during his spring break. It was clear that they’d gotten closer. Peter had potential and Tony wanted to ensure that potential didn’t go to waste. He ignored that niggling little voice at the back of his mind that insisted it was much more complex than that.

“We’ll make it work, though, okay?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Tony squeezed Peter’s shoulder and smiled. “Alright,” he said. “Then let’s introduce you to the others.”

“Why can’t I stay at the apartment? It’s just one week,” Peter said, pushing the remains of his larb around the plate. Their usual Thai place was pretty packed at this time of day, the Saturday lunch rush a buzz of conversations and laughter around their rickety table. The place was a bit run-down, but they liked the food, so they came whenever their budget allowed.

May took a sip of her water. “Because I don’t feel comfortable with you on your own, you’ll just be out all night parkouring.” She pointed her chopsticks at him, her dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And don’t even get started on staying at Ned’s. What if you get hurt during parkouring? How would you explain that to his parents?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Would you stop calling it parkouring?” he grumbled.

“Well, I can hardly call it by its name in public, can I?” May answered, the corners of her eyes crinkling into a smile.

Peter huffed a breath. May was by now mostly okay with him going out as Spider-Man, but he knew that she still worried. She had almost declined going to California to attend the wedding of an old school friend, but Peter had put his foot down. May hadn’t been on a vacation in over a decade. She deserved it and a recent bonus at work had given her the financials to do it. At first, she’d wanted Peter to come with her, but Peter thought that May could use a few days to unwind, considering what had been going on the last couple of years. Besides, he’d argued, with May being one of the bridesmaids, he would probably be bored out of his mind amidst all the wedding talk.

He’d assumed of course that she would let him stay home by himself. “Well, nobody knows about … it,” he said, wincing, “so there’s really nowhere else I can stay while you’re gone.”

“It’s sorted,” May said. “You’re staying with Tony.”

Peter froze. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, he said it’s okay, and he did keep you alive for one whole day a couple of months ago and he knows about your … hobby, so I thought-”

“At the Compound?!” Peter asked, his heart skipping a beat. One whole week at the Avengers Compound sounded like a dream come true. Plus, Mr. Stark had suggested that they could really deep-dive into the technical aspects of Peter’s suit the next time he would come to visit … and now, they would have a whole week to do that!

She shrugged, acting casual, but Peter saw an indulgent smile tug at her lips. “I guess.”

Peter grinned. “Oh my God!” He jumped from his chair and rushed around the table to hug her. “Thank you, thank you.”

May laughed, returning the hug. “Just don’t get into trouble.”

Peter was startled out of his thoughts when the elevator doors opened into a short hallway that gave way to the extensive kitchen and dining area up ahead, which was seamlessly connected to a big living room and surrounded by panoramic windows. They allowed a view of what was essentially a huge backyard and, beyond that, the forest. Peter had been here before but this time was different. This time, it wasn’t just him, Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes. This time, almost all the Avengers were here. And it didn’t matter that they had already kind of met before – though they had no clue that the Spider-Man they’d fought in Germany was the same person as Tony Stark’s high school intern – or that they were under house arrest or that the papers called them traitors … they were still the Avengers, who had saved the world more than once.

And they were currently scattered around the shared space on the ground floor of the private quarters as if they were just a regular group of roommates, wearing jeans and t-shirts like regular people.

Peter knew Colonel Rhodes already, having met him when he’d visited for a day a few months ago. He didn’t know that Peter was Spider-Man, either, but at least he was a familiar face. He was the first one Peter saw, huddled in front of a laptop at the kitchen island. He was wearing the mechanical leg braces Mr. Stark had designed to help him overcome the injury he’d sustained to his spinal cord during the fight in Germany. Across from him stood none other than Steve Rogers. The sight of him making sandwiches for lunch was unreal somehow, even though Peter knew, of course, that even Captain America had to eat like everyone else. Or maybe even more, considering his enhanced strength and speed.

On the couch, Peter spotted Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton, watching what appeared to be an episode of Kitchen Nightmares along with Sam Wilson, who was sitting off to the side in one of the armchairs.

Peter knew that Thor, Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff and Vision weren’t at the Compound, so he wasn’t surprised not to see them. Instead, there was an unfamiliar man around May’s age with dark hair standing by the fridge, getting out cold cuts for the sandwiches.

Mr. Stark clapped his hands and all eyes turned towards them. Peter swallowed, feeling nervous all of a sudden, and pasted on a smile.

“Right,” Mr. Stark said. “This is my intern, Peter Parker. Peter, I think you know these guys.”

Colonel Rhodes waved at him, and Peter smiled back. “Yeah,” he said. “Well …” He looked at the unfamiliar man by the fridge. “I don’t …” He turned to Mr. Stark with a questioning frown.

“Not this again,” the man said with a sigh and came closer to shake Peter’s hand. “I’m Scott. Or Ant-Man. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, you’re the giant guy from the airport!” Peter remembered and then realized one second too late that he probably shouldn’t have said that. “I mean, there is a video on YouTube about the fight.” Which was a bold-faced lie because Mr. Stark himself had made sure that no video of the Avengers fighting against each other was to be found anywhere except maybe in some newsroom archives … and on Peter’s own phone because he hadn’t been able to resist capturing his own involvement in the fight. “It was … deleted.”

“It’s probably better that way,” Scott said. He had a friendly face and an open smile. Peter liked him immediately.

Captain Rogers came forward as well, reaching out a hand. “Hello, Peter.”

Peter really hoped that Captain Rogers couldn’t feel him shaking with nerves. Meeting him was about just as nerve-wracking as meeting Mr. Stark for the first time. The last time Peter had been this close to him he’d been wearing his Spider-Man suit and he’d been pumped with excitement and adrenaline, ready to fight. Now, in his civilian clothes and in his role as a regular teenager without superpowers, Captain Rogers somehow seemed more intimidating, tall and broad-shouldered as he was.

But Captain Rogers didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he was just polite enough to pretend he didn’t. “Tony didn’t mention you were this young.”

“I’m sixteen, Captain Rogers, sir.”

There was a snort of laughter and Peter caught Mr. Wilson’s eyes. “He makes you sound your age, Cap.”

Captain Rogers rolled his eyes at him and gave Peter another smile. “Call me Steve, I think that’ll be easier.”

Silence stretched for a long moment, then Miss. Romanoff spoke up, “How did you two meet?” Her green eyes were piercing right into Peter’s, her gaze calculating. She looked relaxed and unthreatening, but Peter knew that Black Widow was a ruthless, skilled fighter. He kind of admired her.

Mr. Stark put a hand on Peter’s shoulder and curtly recited their cover story, “Internship program.” As if he hadn’t found Peter because of his activities as a neighborhood vigilante.

Miss. Romanoff didn’t really seem to buy it. “I didn’t know you were overseeing those personally.”

“I’m not. But every now and again, they arrange for lunches with exceptional candidates. Peter’s got quite an impressive mind for his age, so I’m mentoring him whenever I have the time.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask any further questions, instead exchanging a look with Mr. Barton.

“Peter’s going to stay with us for the week,” Tony said firmly, almost as if he dared anyone to complain.

Nobody did. But Mr. Barton was staring at Peter intently. It made him slightly uncomfortable.

“Are you hungry?” Scott asked into the tense silence. “We’re making sandwiches.”

“Yeah,” Peter answered, grateful for the distraction. “Sounds good.”

When he glanced back towards Mr. Barton, he was still staring, but now there was a smirk on his face. “Finally,” he drawled, and his gaze shifted towards Mr. Stark. “Some entertainment.”

“I’m sorry that your vacation is not turning out as you wanted it to,” May said.

Peter pulled one leg up onto the mattress and against his chest. “What? No, I’m fine.”

He’d retreated to the room Mr. Stark had assigned him for his stay after finishing the sandwich. It was located on the first floor, right next to Mr. Stark’s personal quarters. The furniture was sleek and looked expensive, and artsy black-and-white photographs of New York lined the walls. If it wasn’t for the colorful throw pillows and blankets arranged on the bed and chairs and the beanbags by the large window looking towards the DODC building near the entrance gate, it would have seemed too neutral and clinical for Peter’s taste. Mr. Stark had installed a PS4 for him to use and a laptop was sitting on the desk, despite Peter having his own with him.

May hummed and Peter picked up on the buzzing of voices in the background, the loudspeakers announcing boarding for a flight to Denver had started. “You wanted to spend time with Tony, though, didn’t you?”

“He’s busy,” Peter said, shrugging. “He forgot about me coming here, that’s all. He’s got a lot going on.” He tried to push down on the disappointment that was still welling in his chest at the thought. May was right. Peter had been hoping that he’d spend more time with Mr. Stark this week. But he also knew that he wasn’t top priority, and considering what Mr. Stark was dealing with, he shouldn’t be.

“Should I talk to him?”

“No.” Peter fell backwards onto the mattress, his legs dangling over the edge of the bed as he stared at the ceiling.

“Too embarrassing?” she asked, a smile in her voice.

He found himself smiling in reply. “Just a bit.” Fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt, he heaved a sigh. “It’s really fine. He organized a kind of internship at the DODC for me. That’s pretty cool.”

A voice on May’s end of the line called out for her and May sighed. “We’re boarding. Promise me to have fun, okay?”

“You, too. Call me when you land.”

“I will. Love you, baby.”

“Love you.”

She hung up the phone and Peter sighed, staring at the ceiling for just a moment longer. Then he got up to unpack.

Raindrops were drifting down the panorama windows of Tony’s office while the afternoon sun was slowly struggling to overpower the dark storm clouds. Tony and Steve had settled into the two armchairs in the corner by the door, a now empty thermos of coffee on the small table between them and two hardbound copies of the Sokovia Accords marked with sticky notes of various colors on their laps. It had been a grueling three hours, but they’d managed to go through the whole document and agree on the most important points which should be changed; they wanted more independence from the UN, more political backing in case missions went awry, and full authority regarding new recruits. They both knew those conditions would come at a cost, but Tony didn’t think that would be too much of an issue.

The issue was that the representative sent to evaluate their suggestions and whether renegotiations should even be started was none other than the Secretary of State, Thaddeus Ross, which was a problem because he was not known to be a huge supporter of the Avengers in the first place. The Sokovia Accords had been Ross’ pet project, his way of controlling them. He would surely put up a fight, if only a token one, before he would agree to renegotiations. Unfortunately, they needed him on their side. Ross had a lot of leeway in the UN.

And that meant that they would have to play nice in the next couple of days. Most of all, Tony and Steve would have to put up a united front. The last thing they needed was for Ross to notice the chasm between the two leaders of the team.

Steve brushed a hand down his face tiredly, rubbing his eyes. “You think this will work?”

Tony leaned back in his chair, sipping on his cold coffee. “I’m pretty sure it will. They let you guys come back to the US, and let you come to stay here instead of a prison.” He shrugged. “I think the UN realized that they need the Avengers after all. It certainly didn’t hurt that Wakanda spoke out against the Accords when they joined the UN. And they’re currently the only country willing to trade one of the rarest and strongest metals on Earth. This gives them a lot of influence.”

“Politics,” Steve sighed. He looked towards the window, squinting against the sun, his eyes following a supply truck slowly crawling towards the hangar that was tucked away in one corner of the Compound. His fingers tapped a quick rhythm against his jeans, an unusual display of nervousness. He didn’t look at Tony when he asked, “And what happens after?”

“After, if everything goes well, you’ll be exonerated with a slap on your wrist and the Avengers will be reinstated.” Tony set his mug down and started to gather his notes. Getting up to put the Accords on his desk, he made sure to keep his back turned towards Steve when he continued, “And you’ll start recruiting. You’ll be down three men.”

When Steve spoke, his voice was hesitant. “Thor, Bruce …”

Tony turned around to him and leaned back against his desk, his arms crossed. “… and me.”

Steve’s eyes widened slightly. Tony had to admit that he was a little surprised. He’d thought that Steve would know he would leave the team, especially after what had gone down in Siberia. Instead, he looked disappointed, almost sad. “Tony-”

“It’s non-negotiable.” He forced a smirk, refusing to let Steve see how much the decision was affecting him too. It hurt a lot, but still less than the scars Siberia had left behind. The moment Steve had raised his shield above his head to bring it down, Tony had been convinced, for just a split-second, that he was going to die at the hands of a friend. As long as that moment still rattled through Tony’s mind, he wouldn’t be able to work with Steve as a team, to rely on each other out in the field. But that wasn’t Steve’s issue, it was Tony’s. He shrugged. “I’m too old for this shindig anyway. I’m not enhanced like you. Plus, I discovered the first grey hairs. I’ll keep consulting, though. Help with the recruiting.”

“Is that the only reason?” Steve asked carefully, his blue eyes narrowed skeptically. “Age?”

Tony ducked his head. “No. But you knew that.”

Steve grimaced. “We shouldn’t give up this easily.”

Huffing a laugh, Tony replied, “It’s not about giving up, Cap, it’s about trust.”

“Trust can be regained.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Steve got up, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Then why are we here in the first place? Why did you agree to this?”

“Because T’Challa made a point,” Tony answered. He still remembered the short conversation they’d had on the phone, when Steve and the others had still been hiding out in Wakanda. With Rhodey gone over the weekend to visit his sister, Tony had been alone at the Compound. Maybe it had been the loneliness that got to him, the sight of the private quarters the others had left behind as if they were just out for a few hours and would return shortly, or the memories of moments in which being part of the team had felt like home. He wasn’t sure, but T’Challa’s words had struck a chord.

“Zemo wished to destroy the Avengers. Do you really want him to win? I took you to be a fighter.”

He’d agreed to let Steve and the others come back, and together with T’Challa, he’d convinced the UN to agree as well, under the condition that the Rogues would remain under house arrest at the Compound until the Sokovia Accords had been renegotiated.

Tony ducked his head and huffed a bitter laugh. “And because I know – I know – that the Avengers are needed. Something’s coming for us.” He looked up to find Steve staring at him earnestly. “Maybe it’s paranoia, but I’d rather be prepared and seem paranoid than ignore my instincts and be caught with my pants down.” He smirked. “And this is coming from someone who has been caught with his pants down several times.”

“Whatever the reason,” Steve answered, “we appreciate it. Thank you.”

He seemed sincere and earnest in a way that made Tony slightly uncomfortable, so he checked his watch, looking for a distraction. “Lordy,” he muttered, “I think it’s time I feed the kid.”

He headed for the door, but Steve caught his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “I’m hoping you’ll change your mind,” he said. “About being part of the team, I mean.”

Tony nodded. “I can’t stop you.” With that, he left.

Boredom had led Peter to the kitchen and barely ten minutes later he found himself helping Scott cook dinner. The meal was simple, spaghetti bolognese, and Peter knew how to make it by heart having cooked it with Ben plenty of times on lazy Sundays.

Cooking together were some of the best memories he had of his uncle. Ben had been a great cook and he had used to say how he and May were perfect for each other because she had always been a bit of a disaster in the kitchen. Since Ben was gone, Peter and May still cooked together on Sundays and sometimes, it worked out just fine. Other times, they ended up ordering pizza.

Scott was clearly used to cooking, even for a group as big as they were, and helping him didn’t only give Peter something to do but it was also fun. Peter was checking whether the pasta was done when Mr. Barton (“just say Clint, I won’t feel so old”) called from the couch, “Hey, Peter!”

Peter moved around the kitchen island to look towards the couch, where Clint and Mr. Wilson were studying the screen of a tablet computer. Then they looked up at Peter. Mr. Wilson was frowning. Clint huffed a breath and waved a hand in Peter’s direction. “Never mind.” With that, he turned back around to the tv, Mr. Wilson following suit.

As Peter turned back towards the kitchen with a puzzled frown, he picked up on Mr. Wilson saying, “I think you’re wrong, man, I just don’t see it” before he was distracted by Scott asking him to get some big bowls out of the cupboard. As he was setting the bowls down next to the stove, Mr. Stark entered the kitchen, took one look at them and asked, “Are you paying him by the hour, Lang?”

Scott frowned at him. “He wanted to help.”

“I don’t mind, Mr. Stark,” Peter said at the same time.

Mr. Stark just raised one eyebrow and joined Colonel Rhodes and Ms. Romanoff at the set dinner table.

The atmosphere during dinner was calm, but there was an undercurrent of tension in the room, the interactions slightly strained and conversation stilted, as if everyone was forcing themselves to be on their best behavior. Mr. Stark and Steve didn’t speak at all. While Mr. Stark was focusing on his phone, Steve was just listening, only nodding here or there. Peter felt a little out of depth, not really part of the group. Thankfully, he was sitting right next to Scott who sometimes made an effort to include him and at other times seemed just as confused as him.

It was towards the end of the meal, as Peter was getting his fourth helping of spaghetti, that Steve spoke up for the first time and looked straight at Mr. Stark while doing so. “We’ve been thinking about doing a training scenario tomorrow.”

Mr. Stark only glanced at him to answer, “You can use the training facility. It’s part of the private quarters.”

Peter’s grip around the spoon tightened, excitement getting the better of him when he asked, “Can I watch?”

“You’ve got your internship tomorrow,” Mr. Stark said before anybody could answer.

“But …” Peter swallowed, staring at him pleadingly. “Just to watch, Mr. Stark.”

Clint grinned teasingly. “Aw, let him watch if he wants to.”

“He could even join.” It was Ms. Romanoff who said this. She was looking at Mr. Stark, who sent her a dark glare.

Peter’s eyes widened and he turned to Steve. “You’d let me?”

Steve was frowning, carefully gauging Mr. Stark’s reaction. “Guys, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Mr. Stark put his phone down. “It’s a bad idea.” He stared at Peter, holding his gaze firmly as he repeated, “The worst idea.”

“But-”

“No,” Mr. Stark said, his voice hard. “You’re not joining, you’re not watching, you’re going to your internship as planned.”

Peter felt annoyance build in his chest, his jaw setting stubbornly and his shoulders squaring. “But that’s not fair, Mr. Stark, I was only going to-”

“Peter,” Mr. Stark said. His voice was calm, his eyes firm.  

Peter couldn’t claim that he knew Mr. Stark super-well, but he knew when he was about to get annoyed. And that was the last thing he wanted. So Peter ducked his head and went back to his meal, though he suddenly didn’t feel that hungry anymore.

An awkward silence hung over the table for a moment, then Steve said carefully, “Tony, I’m against him joining, but it wouldn’t be an issue for him to watch if he really wants to.”

“And I said no,” Mr. Stark answered, his voice growing cold and dismissive. “End of discussion.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NOTES

The wonderful art in this story was created by finem00 and shoyzz-art (Links to art posts to follow).

This chapter contains an image and scene dividers by finem00.

Tony braced himself before knocking on Peter’s door after dinner, ready to be turned away.

Peter had left the dinner table as soon as the meal was officially over, retreating to his room. Tony knew that he’d been annoyed at being told he couldn’t join the training, but to Peter’s credit, he’d tried not to show it. Tony felt guilty enough for the whole situation already, so shutting him down so decisively during dinner weighed on his mind even heavier, and he just wanted to explain. But when he’d started to follow Peter out of the room, Rhodey had held him back. “Give that a couple of minutes,” he’d muttered and patted Tony’s shoulder. Given that Rhodey was an uncle, Tony thought that he probably knew more about this kind of thing than he did, so he’d listened.

For about twenty minutes.

Then his impatience had gotten the better of him.

Which led him here, to Peter’s door.

“Come in!” Peter called from the inside. Tony stepped into the room and found Peter huddled into one of the beanbags in front of the tv, a paused PS4 game on the screen. His face was guarded as he said, “Hey.”

“Hey.” Tony closed the door and looked around the room, considering sitting on the bed or pulling over the desk chair. In the end, he decided that coming down to Peter’s level was probably best. Or at least, he had read that in some parenting article he’d clicked on on a whim a couple of weeks ago. It had been about toddlers, actually, but Tony figured that the difference to a teenager couldn’t be that big. He sank into the beanbag and immediately regretted it when his knees and back started to complain about the odd angle he settled in. “Lordy,” he muttered. “These are … low.”

“It’s comfy,” Peter answered, curled up in his beanbag as if it was second nature while Tony felt like a turtle that had been turned onto its back.

“If you say so.” He looked at the screen, which showed a car on a rain-battered street. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s great. Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“It’s not a problem.” He tapped his fingers against the cotton of the beanbag. His back was already starting to ache. “Listen, about dinner,” he started, “I thought that I had made myself clear about the whole secret identity thing.”

“You did,” Peter answered with a frown. “But I just wanted to watch. You know, to learn something.”

Tony sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want you to learn something,” he replied, entwining his fingers and staring down at them. “I just want you to prioritize what you learn. You have two days in the lab with Matt. It’s a pretty unique opportunity.” He didn’t want to tell Peter that, on some level, he also didn’t want him to watch because it was Steve and the others. It would have sounded petty. But there was another reason he’d arranged for the internship, one that was less petty but still honest. “You’re going to have to decide on a college and your future soon and I just want you to see what R&D can be like. Because that’s where I see you in a few years. Preferably at Stark Industries.”

Peter stared at him, his dark eyes wide. “Really?”

“Really.” Tony heaved a sigh. “I know this week started out badly. I don’t want it to suck for you, I promise. I didn’t arrange for the internship to get rid of you, it just … was a good opportunity.” He winced. “But if you really want to watch a scenario, I’ll ask Steve whether they can do one in a couple of days, okay?”

“A really cool one?” Peter asked with a smile and it ached just a little, how easy it was apparently for him to forgive and move on.

Tony wondered whether he had ever been that way. If he had, he couldn’t remember. He allowed an answering smile to slip out, an idea occurring to him. “You know, we could develop the scenario. Make it extra hard.”

Peter grinned widely. “That would be awesome, Mr. Stark.”

“Great, it’s a deal,” Tony said, relieved to have handled the situation. He nodded towards the screen. “So, I guess we have, like an hour before your bedtime, right?”

He could hear Peter rolling his eyes in his voice when he answered, “It’s half past eight in the evening, Mr. Stark.”

“Is that a no?”

“Three more hours at least,” Peter answered.

“Fine,” Tony relented. “How about you show me how to play this game?”

“Totally!”

“But help me out of this thing first,” Tony said, grimacing. “I’ll pull over the chair.”

“So,” Rhodey said, joining Tony on the terrace where he was having a beer and enjoying the cool midnight summer breeze. The air smelled like wet leaves, moss and grass, and thunder was rolling in the distance; a new storm approaching.

The Compound was quiet at this time of night. The DODC buildings were bustling with energy during the day, but at night, only the medbay, security and an emergency response unit were on-site. With the Avengers quarters located towards the back of the Compound, it almost seemed as if they were alone.

“So,” Tony said, looking back at Rhodey curiously.

“It’s been a month since they returned. How are you doing?”

Tony huffed a breath and sipped on his beer, his eyes watching the lightning in the distance. He hesitated over the answer, not sure how to put it. In the end, he decided to stay vague. “I’m wondering whether it’ll get easier at some point.”

Rhodey nodded slowly. “I assume you’re not necessarily talking about Clint or Nat.”

“No, not necessarily,” Tony answered with a wince.

“If it’s any consolation,” Rhodey said, “I think Steve is actually trying to make amends.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “And that’s a consolation why?”

“Tony-”

“He lied to me. About my parents. I mean, I get it. Of course, he wouldn’t have wanted to tell me immediately after we had shwarma, but … we were friends for years. At no point in time did he feel the need to just … tell me?”

Rhodey shrugged. “We don’t know how long he knew the truth,” he answered. “And I think he didn’t want to reopen old wounds. He probably never considered that it would ever come up like this.”

Tony snorted and shook his head. He could feel Rhodey watching him but refused to return the look.

“If he’d known,” Rhodey continued, his voice firm, “he’d have told you before.”

That made Tony turn his head in Rhodey’s direction, though, catching his earnest gaze. “Would you have told me?” Tony asked. “In his position?”

Rhodey swallowed. “Probably, but-”

“See?”

“But I’m not Steve, Tony. It was horrible, difficult information to carry around.” He sighed. “I’m not saying he did the right thing. I’m saying, maybe consider that he didn’t mean any harm.”

Tony ducked his head and pressed the cool glass of the beer bottle against his forehead. “I’m trying to.”

Silence hung between them for a long moment, then Rhodey quietly said, “And maybe reconsider retiring.”

Tony scoffed. “He told you that? Do you two have coffee dates or something?”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Yes, he told me. I wonder why you didn’t tell me.”

Tony shrugged, looking towards the forest. “With everything that went down, considering my health …”

“You never gave a damn about your health.”

“True.” He shook his head. “But I can’t, Rhodey. I’m not entirely ready to trust him again when we’re sharing a house, so I will definitely not trust him out in the field. And without that …”

Rhodey hummed thoughtfully. “You know that those trust issues go both ways, right? He isn’t entirely sure whether he can trust you, either.”

Tony clenched his jaw. “Well, I didn’t turn against him by going after a known killer.”

“Who is his best friend and was manipulated into doing what he did. What would you have done if it had been Steve going after me? Wouldn’t you have turned on him as well?”

Tony pulled a face. “You’re annoying.”

“I’m reasonable.”

“Semantics.”

Rhodey chuckled. They looked towards the lightning cutting across the sky in the distance, listening to the following thunder rumble.

“I know you’re right,” Tony finally said. “But you don’t know the full story. It’s harder than you think to … just forget.”

Rhodey nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I get that.” He sipped on his beer. “You know, I think Peter being here is not so bad.”

Tony looked at him questioningly.

“Maybe he is exactly what we need,” Rhodey explained. “You like him, the others like him.”

“They do?”

“I’ve known Nat for long enough to be able to tell when she likes someone, and she definitely likes Peter. Steve and Sam like him. He makes Clint and Scott go into dad-mode.” He sipped his beer, hiding a grin. “You’ve got that in common with them.”

Tony stared at him, his eyes wide with indignation. “Excuse me? I don’t have a dad-mode.”

Rhodey laughed. “Oh, I think you do.”

“Please,” Tony answered, rolling his eyes. “I’m a walking, talking MIT reference for that kid, and I’ll gladly write it because he’s brilliant and I’d like to see R&D in his hands one day. I’m merely investing in the future of the company.”

Rhodey huffed a laugh.

“What?”

Rhodey’s grin was bright as he met Tony’s eyes. “I think he got through the cracks.”

“Lies.”

“You care.”

“I care about a great mind of his generation, yes.”

Rhodey was laughing, the kind of infectious giggle that always got Tony smiling. “So, you always spend three hours playing PS4 with great minds of their generation?”

Tony stared at him. “Do you always spy on me?” He sipped on his beer and looked away, his voice getting more somber. “We both know I’d be a horrible father.”

Rhodey sobered as well, his dark eyes earnest when he looked at him. “How would you know? You’ve never tried it.” He clapped a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You know, I think you’d be great … if you’d let yourself be.”

The next morning dawned with just as miserable weather as the day before. Rain was battering against the big windows of Peter’s room as he huddled under the light blanket for longer than strictly necessary, enjoying the quiet. In the end, though, he dragged himself out of bed into the shower, then downstairs for cereal, where he met Scott. By the time Mr. Stark came downstairs to collect him for his internship, Peter knew that Scott had a daughter and was divorced but getting along well with his ex-wife and her new fiancé.

The rain had stopped when they stepped outside, the scent of wet grass hanging in the air. Mr. Stark was quiet as he walked Peter over to the DODC main building near the Compound’s entrance, so Peter busied himself looking around. The Compound was made up of several buildings scattered amongst concrete pathways and grassy areas. The Avengers private quarters were at the very back of the property, closest to the building holding the medbay and medical research labs. Walking to the main building, which contained the reception area, guest quarters, a canteen and the research and development department took them about ten minutes. The Compound was just starting to get busy; trucks were delivering goods and guards were making their rounds amidst agents and other personnel arriving for work.

Mr. Stark left Peter in the small reception area of the main building, under the critical gaze of a guard who was watching Peter hover near one of the potted plants awkwardly, as if he was about to run and jump the turnstiles. Peter tucked the ten-dollar bill for lunch at the canteen into the pocket of his jeans and clipped the badge that officially identified him as ‘Peter Parker, Intern, R&D’ to his black button-down shirt. The badge was probably the most professional thing he had ever worn.

He kind of loved it.

“Peter.” He looked up and smiled as he saw Matt pass the turnstiles and approach him with rapid footsteps. Matt Riley was short, only a little taller than Peter, had a mop of curly blond hair and a friendly, round face that always seemed to carry a smile. “Hey,” he said and shook Peter’s hand as soon as he got close enough. “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” Peter answered. “You know …,” he added awkwardly, “… school.”

“What a downer, right?” Matt asked, grinning widely. “Wait until you get into college, it’ll be uphill from there.” His brown eyes shone with laughter and Peter couldn’t help but return the smile. Matt led him to the turnstiles and showed Peter how to swipe his badge. As Peter passed the turnstiles, he smiled at the guard, who was still watching him. The smile only deepened the guy’s frown, so Peter quickly walked past him to escape.

Matt continued, “I was so excited when Mr. Stark asked whether I could show you around for a couple of days. We’ve got so much interesting stuff going on. The boss got invited to Washington by the big guys so we’ll have the lab to ourselves starting this afternoon.”

Peter wrecked his brain trying to remember the name of Matt’s boss. He’d only met her briefly when Mr. Stark had given him the tour of the facility during his last visit. She was a tall, strict-looking woman with long brown hair and piercing green eyes. Her name came to him a moment later. “Your boss is Dr. Ramsey, right?”

“Marlow,” Matt answered, forgoing the crowded elevator to take the stairs instead.

Peter frowned in confusion, not recalling that name.

“I switched sections,” Matt said and led Peter down a long corridor lined by opaque glass walls and doors. “I joined Dr. Marlow’s team a month ago.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it caused a bit of drama, because Marlow and Ramsey can’t stand each other.” He grinned at Peter. “But that’s not important. What is important is that we make full use of your time here. Oh, and I’ve been kind of briefed by Mr. Stark to bring up MIT as often as possible, just so you know.”

Peter laughed. “Okay.”

Matt pushed open one of the doors, letting Peter step into the lab beyond first. It was a rather big room, with five workstations distributed evenly throughout, and a glass-walled office tucked away at the far end. For a research lab, it was surprisingly orderly; flipcharts and whiteboards on wheels set up out of the way and files carefully sorted into shelves. In one corner, a 3D printer was buzzing away, showing that it was 26% done with its current print-out.

“Let me introduce you to the boss,” Matt said, putting one hand on Peter’s back to lead him past the workstations. Only two of them were occupied; two rather young-looking women in lab coats giving them furtive glances as they passed. Two of the other three workstations showed signs of being in use; empty coffee cups and hastily scribbled sticky notes adorning the computer screens.

As they approached the office, Peter noticed a bald man sitting at the desk inside, facing the lab but deeply focused on the computer screen in front of him. The large whiteboard behind him was covered with formulas and sticky notes, though one corner was reserved for pictures of a little blonde girl grinning at the camera.

Matt stopped in front of the open office door and knocked on the glass wall. “Dr. Marlow?”

The man looked up from his screen and took off his glasses to stare at Peter. He was probably around Mr. Stark’s age and had dark, piercing eyes, his forehead edged into a frown.

“This is Peter Parker,” Matt said.

“Stark’s intern?” Dr. Marlow asked.

Peter smiled at him. “Yes, sir.”

Dr. Marlow huffed a breath and rubbed his right eye tiredly. “Stark said you’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”

“Yes, sir,” Peter said. “I mean … I guess?”

Dr. Marlow hummed thoughtfully. “Ever worked in a lab?”

“My school lab, sir.”

“That’s a no, then,” Dr. Marlow said. He looked at Matt. “I want him instructed in lab safety.”

“Of course, Dr. Marlow.”

“And I don’t want you to fall behind on your assignments.”

“No worries,” Matt answered.

“Right,” Dr. Marlow said and put his glasses back on, returning his attention to the computer. “We’ll see.”

Peter wasn’t sure whether that was a dismissal, but Matt ushering him out the door answered that question. He was smiling. “That went well,” he said as soon as the door closed. “I think he likes you.”

Tony and Steve had agreed to go to the meeting with Ross together, so after dropping Peter off, Tony returned to the private quarters to pick up his print-out of the Sokovia Accords and to have a coffee. When he entered the communal kitchen area, tugging his suit jacket into place and brushing a hand through his hair, he found Sam and Clint perched on two of the high chairs at the kitchen island. They stopped the conversation they’d been having over their breakfast cereal when he entered.

An awkward silence descended as they looked pointedly anywhere but at him.

He stopped short, frowning quizzically, before slowly setting the Accords down on the kitchen island. “What?”

“Nothing,” Clint said and shoved a spoon of cereal into his mouth.

Tony looked at him, then at Sam, who was all-too-casually checking his phone. Still suspicious, but willing to let it slide, Tony proceeded towards the coffee machine.

Neither Clint nor Sam spoke, the only sounds the noise Clint’s spoon made in his cereal bowl and the coffee machine going through the process of creating an espresso. When Tony took the cup from the machine and turned towards the kitchen island to add creamer, he found Clint and Sam staring at him again. “What?” he asked, unnerved.

It was Sam who answered this time. “Nothing.”

Weirdly, it was almost a relief that Steve chose to walk in at that moment, dressed sharply in a button-down shirt and slacks. The outfit made him look like a suburban dad out for Sunday brunch. He was carrying his copy of the Accords and Tony noted that several sticky-notes had been added since their meeting yesterday. Steve looked at Tony and then Sam and Clint, obviously picking up on the weird atmosphere. “What’s going on?”

Tony sipped on his espresso. “Something’s not right with those two.”

Natasha, who he hadn’t even noticed until now, spoke from her curled-up position on the couch, “And that’s news?” She glanced at Tony and smiled before returning her attention to the book in her hands. Tony found himself returning the smile, even if a little delayed. He had always felt that he and Nat had a special friendship, a deep understanding of each other, that made them comfortable in each other’s company. He found it easy to talk to her and knew that she would always give him her honest opinion.

Sam looked up from his phone. “You off to see Ross?”

Steve nodded. “We should be back around lunch time. We can do the training scenario then.”

“Right,” Clint said, setting his empty bowl into the sink, “and you guys will remember to ask about visitation rights, won’t you?”

“Yes,” Steve answered.

“Because it’s Lila’s birthday next week and I won’t miss it.”

Steve leaned back against the kitchen counter. “I know.”

Tony checked his watch, noticing that they should get going if they wanted to get to the meeting room in the main building on time. “Ready?” he asked.

Steve’s jaw clenched, his shoulders tensing. But he nodded.

“Let’s go then.”

Natasha watched Tony and Steve leave out of the corner of her eye and waited until they were out of earshot before turning to look at Clint and Sam. “You two have got to stop that.”

Clint raised his eyebrows, schooling his features into a neutral mask. “Stop what?”

“You know,” Natasha said, narrowing her eyes at him in warning. “You’re wrong anyway. Peter isn’t Tony’s kid.”

“Is that what you two idiots have been giggling about since yesterday?” Rhodey asked, entering the kitchen. He was moving a little stiffly and used the kitchen counter as a support while he started the coffee machine. There were days when the injury he’d sustained in Germany still acted up, causing him pain. The leg braces Tony had made for him were helping, but they couldn’t heal Rhodey. The slow recovery process was still mostly up to him.

“They even looked up pictures of Tony at Peter’s age for comparison,” Natasha answered his question, smirking at Clint when he glared at her.

“In our defense,” he said, “we’re bored.”

“Read a book,” Natasha answered, getting up from the couch.

“And for God’s sake,” Rhodey added, pinning Clint and Sam with an earnest look, “don’t bring this up in front of Tony and especially Peter.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you curious, though? How they know each other? I mean, Tony is not exactly in the habit of hanging out with teenagers.”

“I don’t need to be curious,” Rhodey answered firmly. “If Tony says he’s his intern, then he’s his intern. And if that isn’t the truth, Tony will have a good reason for not telling.”

Natasha brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. It was getting long again, but she was actually thinking about letting it grow out. “He isn’t Tony’s intern,” she said and passed the guys when she left the kitchen. As she walked down the hall, she heard Sam say, “Sometimes, she freaks me out.”

She smiled.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NOTES

The wonderful art in this story was created by finem00 and shoyzz-art (click the links to find the art posts and leave notes :) ).

This chapter contains an image and scene dividers by finem00.

Thank you for all your comments up until now. This is the last chapter before the whump starts. :D

The DODC canteen was spacious, so even the lunchtime rush was barely noticeable. Matt had led them to a table in the corner, directly by the window-front facing the rest of the Compound. The sun was shining, its rays making the raindrops on the windows glisten and the walkways outside glimmer. The next dark clouds were already rolling in from over the mountains, but the people milling outside for their break weren’t paying them any mind.

“So, how’s living with the Avengers?” Matt asked, pouring ketchup over his fries before handing the bottle to Peter.

While he added the ketchup to his own pile of fries, Peter thought about the answer, not quite sure himself. “I don’t know. You know, they’re not exactly …” He hesitated and then shrugged. “At the moment, it’s difficult.” He set the ketchup down and picked up the hotdog, pushing the small bowl of salad to the side for later. He hadn’t really wanted it, but May had made him promise that he’d eat healthy while he was away.

Matt winced. “Oh, yeah, I can imagine. I mean, I don’t know what went down between Mr. Stark and the Rogues, but it must have been bad.”

“The Rogues,” Peter said slowly, the word seeming wrong to him. Despite everything, despite the media speculating about what had happened to break up the Avengers and coming up with the wildest theories, he still thought that the Avengers were salvageable. And while he knew that Steve and the others were under house arrest and probably rightly so, he couldn’t help but defend them. “They’re not … bad people. They’ve been nice to me.”

Matt quickly shook his head, his dark eyes widening. “No, sorry, that’s not what I meant at all.” He paused to take a bite of his hot dog. “Are they getting along at least?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“No screaming matches over breakfast?”

Peter smiled. “No.”

He noticed a familiar figure walking towards an empty table nearby and he remembered her as the woman who had been introduced to him as Matt’s supervisor during his last visit. Just like the last time he had seen her, her dark hair was pulled into a strict bun that looked tight enough to hurt and her face seemed tired and drawn. Peter smiled politely when she looked his way and she stopped walking when their eyes met, making a detour to their table. She looked at Matt coolly. “Mr. Riley.”

“Dr. Ramsey,” Matt answered.

“Hi,” Peter said and, because he wasn’t sure whether she would remember, added awkwardly, “I’m Peter.”

Ramsey glanced at him, her brows furrowing, then she turned back to Matt. “Are you aware that the Secretary of State will be touring the facility today?”

Matt raised his eyebrows. “Yes.”

“That he’s going to tour the R&D labs as well?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ramsey looked at Peter. “I would hope that your … intern will be headed home by that time.”

Peter shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Matt, who calmly answered, “Dr. Marlow has authorized Peter’s internship.”

“Well, Dr. Marlow,” she replied, a look of distaste on her face, “has never understood the finer points of representation.”

“Maybe,” Matt said, “but since he is my supervisor …” He left the sentence hanging, the “and you are not” implied heavily.

Ramsey’s green eyes narrowed, her glare intensifying and her mouth opening as if she wanted to reply … but then she turned and left. Matt looked after her, an almost sad expression flickering over his face.

Peter cleared his throat. “If it’s an issue-”

“You’re not an issue,” Matt said quickly, turning his head to look at him. “She is. She’s just sore that I switched supervisors. Especially since her and Marlow are going head to head for that Head of Department post.”

Peter looked at Ramsey sitting by herself, checking her phone. He couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for her. She looked lonely.

“It’s really competitive,” Matt continued. “They’re the only two still in the race and it looks like Marlow might be winning. That business trip to Washington he’s going on today could be the final interview.”

Peter frowned and looked down at his fries. “You liked working for her, didn’t you?”

“She’s brilliant,” Matt said, “and I did, yes.”

“Why did you switch?”

Matt shrugged. “I just realized that we had different views on the purpose of science, is all.” He checked his watch. “Eat up or we’re gonna be late. Dr. Marlow is a stickler for punctuality.”

“I’m going to be upfront,” Ross said, tugging his suit jacket into place as he leaned forward in his chair. The panorama windows of the small meeting room were right behind him, the dark clouds hanging over the mountains framing his shoulders. Ever the professional, his expression had remained neutral when greeting Tony and Steve and even now, Tony couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking. He just knew that Ross had chosen to have the meeting with Tony and Steve alone, despite the possibility to have someone sit in with them to write minutes. That told him that this meeting was a little less official than usual, which in turn meant that Ross wanted something to remain between just them. Tony assumed that he had an ulterior motive; that he wanted something from them.

Tony was willing to hear him out, though he would be careful. The last time he and Ross had struck a deal had been a couple of months ago, when he’d suggested letting the Rogues come back and stay at the Compound, and it had cost him. Tony cleared his throat. “That would be appreciated.”

He was aware of how tense Steve was right next to him, with one hand on the table balled into a fist. Negotiating wasn’t Steve’s territory at all.

Ross smiled thinly. “We have new issues to deal with and we would like to see your cooperation, which would definitely go a long way towards convincing the UN that investing time in renegotiating the Sokovia Accords is worthwhile.”

Tony made an effort to keep his body language relaxed, easily slipping back into his businessman persona from what felt like decades ago. “What kind of cooperation are you looking for?”

“Support,” Ross said. “Public support.”

Steve shifted forward a little. “What for?”

Ross glanced at him, his blue eyes narrowing, and then focused back on Tony, a clear dismissal. “We want to implement a register for enhanced humans.”

Steve’s fist on the table tightened, his knuckles turning white, but he didn’t say anything.

Tony hummed thoughtfully and folded his hands on his copy of the Accords. “That sounds iffy, but please feel free to convince me otherwise.”

Ross smirked and leaned back in his chair. “You must look at it this way, Stark. These days, when a kid gets angry, they take their dad’s gun and shoot up a high school. We don’t want that to happen, so we install metal detectors in schools and up the security.” He paused. “No metal detector in the world would be able to stop a mutant kid from doing something awful in a fit of rage.”

The thought of Peter came to Tony’s mind, unbidden. They had never evaluated his powers, but Tony knew that Peter was strong enough to lift a collapsed warehouse off his own shoulders, strong enough to change the direction a plane was flying in by adjusting the wings by hand from the outside. He was quite possibly strong enough to kill someone with just one well-placed punch.

“Imagine someone,” Ross continued, brushing his hand down his tie as if to straighten it, “who plans to kill in the name of another country or in the name of religion or just because they’re unstable. Imagine a husband wanting to get rid of his wife, an employee hating their boss.” He raised his eyebrows. “Some of these enhanced people can kill without leaving a trace behind; no fingerprints, no DNA, no proof. The criminal justice system as it is now will not work on them. There is no protection against them we can offer, except for the Registration Act. At least with that, we would have their names and their abilities on record. We will be able to keep an eye on the more problematic ones or, if the worst happens, we will have a way to prosecute them.”

“How very 1984 of you,” Tony said.

Ross frowned, but Tony could see that he wasn’t actually surprised. “You disagree?”

Tony pressed his lips together. “I’m not negating the fact that there are dangerous enhanced people out there. I’m not saying that we don’t need to adjust the way we are pursuing crime, but you’re talking about compiling a registry as if being enhanced in itself is already worth being on some sort of watch list.”

Steve’s voice was cold when he asked, “Who says that camps won’t be next?”

Ross looked at him. “You misinterpret our intentions, Rogers.” He brushed two fingers over his mustache, thinking for a moment, before he cleared his throat and leaned forward, looking at them both, “You are intelligent men. A soldier and the former Merchant of Death. Both of you must know how this game works. We’re standing at the brink of a civil war. Enhanced humans against non-enhanced humans.” He shrugged. “We don’t want war, but we need to be prepared in case it comes. We need to be prepared to deal with whatever mutation is thrown at us. SHIELD used to be able to deal with it.”

“SHIELD was undermined by people who saw enhanced people as nothing but scientific experiments, slaves or disposable,” Steve replied.

“Not all of SHIELD was HYDRA,” Ross answered. “You used to work for them. The Avengers all used to work for them.”

“As independent contractors, not some kind of lap dog that you can use whenever you feel the need to put someone in their place.”

Tony cleared his throat and raised one hand. “I think we’re getting off topic.”

Steve got up. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’m done talking. Whenever people are put on lists for whatever reason, it ends badly, and I won’t support that.” With that, he walked out.

Tony released a breath. “Well,” he said, “he’s not wrong.” He leaned back in his chair. “And I don’t share your opinion about the DODC’s mission.”

Ross raised his eyebrows. “Why control damage,” he asked, “when you can avoid it altogether?”

“At what price?” Tony asked. “Exposing them for the world to see? Did you consider the consequences?” The thought of Peter’s name on a governmental list made him nauseous. The kid was clever and resourceful but he had too many vulnerabilities, starting with his aunt. In the wrong hands, that kind of information could end deadly. There were too many illegal groups out there ready to go beyond the law to get their hands on enhanced people, be it for experiments or to force them to do their bidding.

“I never said that we’d expose them to the world, just the authorities. To keep an eye on them.”

“These people are living peacefully among us,” Tony said.

“Some aren’t.”

“So what?” Tony asked. “It’s not as if they invented crime, Ross. As if suddenly, just because they’re here, bad stuff happens. We should focus our efforts on fighting the criminals – both enhanced and not – without having collateral damage to deal with. What if someone gets their fingers on this list? You know that there are human trafficking rings starting to specialize in mutants?”

Ross clenched his jaw. “I’m aware of that.”

“Are you going to do something about those as well?”

“The Avengers can do something about them once they are back together and authorized. The easiest way to get there is to support the Registration Act.”

Tony frowned. “Now, it’s a condition? I understood it was optional.”

Ross huffed a breath. “It is optional. But it would certainly gain you some favors in the UN, make it possible for you to amend the Accords to your liking.”

Tony shook his head and got up, gathering his and Steve’s copies of the Accords. “This meeting was supposed to be about the Accords, not about some shady new law you want to pass by making us the scapegoats in case it goes downhill.” He headed for the door.

“Stark.”

Tony stopped but didn’t turn.

“Think about it. Discuss it with the team. I assume that Barton and Lang are eager to see their kids again. They might have a different opinion.”

Tony scoffed and left.

Tony found Steve in an unoccupied meeting room down the hall, staring out the window into the rain. He was visibly still upset, his shoulders tense.

Tony made sure the door was closed before he said, “Thank you for leaving me there.”

Steve’s shoulders dropped and he turned around to face him, leaning back against the window sill. “I’m sorry, I was just …” He shook his head. “We can’t agree to go along with this.”

“We’re on the same page,” Tony answered. “While I think that mutant crimes might become a problem, it doesn’t give us the right to put people under general suspicion.” He settled into one of the chairs and dropped the documents onto the table. “This reeks of Project Insight.”

Crossing his arms, Steve frowned at him. “You provided the tech for Insight.”

Tony scoffed. “I provided Helicarriers. I had no clue what they were going to use them for. I certainly did not write that code.” He stared at Steve, his jaw clenching in anger when he realized the implications of his words. “You can’t think I would stoop that low.”

Steve ducked his head. “I didn’t.” He sighed deeply. “He can’t force us to support the registration, can he?”

“Not really, no,” Tony answered. “But he might be right about some members of the UN being more favorable towards our amendments to the Accords if we do.”

“I just don’t get what they need us for. They can pass the law without us being involved,” Steve said.

“They don’t need us,” Tony replied. “Ross wants us in on it so that we can do the policing once things go downhill, that’s all.”

Steve shook his head. “So we’re pawns. Again.” He closed his eyes. “When did everything become so political?” He stepped closer and dropped into a chair on the opposite side of the table. “This used to be about doing our thing. It used to be about being a team.”

“Please,” Tony answered. “Being a team?” He shook his head. “Fury put us together the way he did for a reason. This whole thing has always been about my resources and your image. It was about Bruce’s brawn, Nat and Clint’s SHIELD experience and Thor’s alien background. This was never about friendship, the team was cobbled together to be able to take on any kind of issue, not to sing Kumbaya and have team dinners.”

A smirk tugged at Steve’s lips. “We never sang Kumabaya. We had team dinners, though.”

After a long moment of hesitation, Tony answered, “Some were actually good.”

“So maybe it was about the things you said, but we managed to turn it into something else.”

Tony sighed. “Only on the surface. It always was political at heart. Fury just kept them off our backs.”

“Yeah,” Steve answered, his expression sobering and turning wistful. “I guess that’s true. So, what do we do?”

“Talk to the others,” Tony suggested. “See what they say.”

“A team meeting?” Steve asked.

Tony nodded slowly, swallowing. “Yeah, a team meeting. Just like old times.”

When Matt put a can of coke down in front of him, Peter was jostled from his reading. He blinked, first at the computer screen, then up at Matt, and stretched a little. His back muscles felt tense after sitting still for a while. He’d been so engrossed that he hadn’t even noticed Matt approaching the workstation tucked into the corner near the door, which Peter was using to read through the notes of the project Dr. Marlow’s team was working on. It was a new line of portable cloaking technology which used a variation of the arc reactor for power. Peter had been surprised at first that Mr. Stark would share the arc reactor technology with anyone else, but then realized that the one the DODC was using had only a very short lifespan and reduced output, quite possibly a way for Mr. Stark to keep the technology’s potential in check.

“How’s it going?” Matt asked.

Peter hummed, checking the page count before he answered. “I’m almost through.”

“Do you have any questions?” Matt asked, cracking open a can of coke for himself.

“I guess?” Peter answered, unsure. He consulted the notepad on which he had scribbled questions and remarks. “I mean, some of the formulas are really advanced and I’m more into biochemistry than engineering, but I think I get the gist of it.”

Matt raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That’s really advanced technology, Peter. Tony Stark was involved in writing these specs. You’re getting the gist of it?”

Peter shrugged, feeling his cheeks heat in embarrassment. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Matt said. “Why don’t you finish reading this today and we sit together tomorrow morning and go through your questions? And afterwards, you can look at what we’re doing to apply the technology for the DODC. I might even be able to get a test run approved that you could attend.”

Peter smiled. “Cool.”

The door to the lab was opened and Ramsey stepped in, closely followed by a vaguely familiar, strict-looking man in his late fifties and with a grey mustache. Peter remembered Ramsey mentioning Secretary Ross touring the labs today and now was able to recognize him from the news. He also remembered that Mr. Stark had some issues with Ross, who was essentially responsible for the Sokovia Accords that had torn the Avengers apart. Up close, Ross struck an imposing figure. He wasn’t particularly muscular or athletic like Steve or some of the other Avengers, but it was easy to see that he’d been in the military, his stance rigid and his blue eyes scanning the whole room in a matter of moments, alighting shortly on Peter before returning to Ramsey.

“And this is the team working on the cloaking technology, Mr. Secretary,” Ramsey said.

Ross looked around, his hands folded behind his back. “Who’s the lead?”

“Dr. Marlow.”

“Ah, yes,” Ross said. “Excellent.”

It was clear that Ramsey didn’t agree, her expression turning sour, but Ross didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he chose not to. Apparently, it was common knowledge that Ramsey and Marlow were warring over the same promotion, so it was more likely the latter.

Instead, Ross looked at Peter, who sat up a little straighter in response. “They’re really starting young these days, aren’t they?”

Ramsey laughed, but it sounded forced. “He is just an intern, Mr. Secretary.”

“An intern,” Ross answered, his eyebrows raising. “I didn’t know we had these at the DODC.”

“Mr. Stark placed him, sir.”

“Stark?” Ross asked.

Matt cleared his throat. “This is Peter Parker, Secretary Ross.”

Peter didn’t know whether he was expected to shake Ross’s hand or not, so he settled on just saying, “Sir.”

“Mr. Parker,” Ross answered and reached out a hand. Peter accepted the handshake nervously, causing Ross to smirk. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen, sir.”

“Sixteen,” Ross echoed. “You’re still in high school, aren’t you?”

Peter nodded.

“How do you know Stark?”

“Internship, sir.”

“Another internship?” Ross asked and chuckled. “Do you still have time for school?”

Peter nodded. “I mean … it’s the summer break, sir.”

Ross nodded in understanding, his eyes not leaving Peter’s. He was starting to make Peter feel uncomfortable.

Thankfully, Matt seemed to notice and spoke up, “Parker is an extremely promising scientist, sir.”

Turning towards him, Ross hummed thoughtfully. “Dr. Riley, right?”

Matt looked flustered that Ross had remembered his name, but corrected him. “Mr. Riley, sir. I’m still working on that PhD.”

Ross nodded and turned his attention back to Peter. “Stark’s intern,” he repeated. “I shall remember that.” Before Peter could decide on how to answer that, Ross focused his attention back on Ramsey. “Let’s continue this tomorrow, why don’t we?” He glanced towards Marlow’s office. “I would like to speak to Dr. Marlow.”

He left Ramsey standing, who sent Marlow’s office a scathing look before turning on her heel to leave. She stopped short at the door, though, and looked back at Peter. “At least put on a lab coat,” she said. With that, she was gone.

Peter bit his lip and looked at Matt, who just shrugged. “Don’t mind her. Finish your reading and then you can go.”

“This has got nothing to do with us,” Clint said, a deep frown edged into his forehead. “Right?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Steve answered. He was standing next to Tony in front of the tv in the living room of the communal area. They had gathered the team to tell them about their meeting with Ross and his suggestion. None of them looked particularly thrilled. Sam was sitting with his arms crossed next to Scott, who had a thoughtful expression on his face. Natasha sipped on her tea and exchanged a look with Rhodey, who had chosen to stand and was shifting every now and again to relieve the pain his back was causing him today.

Scott raised a tentative hand. “But … if we agree to backing this … registration thing, they will agree to amending the Sokovia Accords? To let us go?”

Tony crossed his arms, bopping on his feet for a second. “I don’t think the UN will refuse to renegotiate the Sokovia Accords if we don’t back the Registration Act,” he said. “You wouldn’t be here if they weren’t at least a little in favor. The only thing we don’t know is how much leeway they’re going to give us.”

Sam was scowling. “You think supporting the Registration Act would give us an advantage?”

“What?” Rhodey asked in disbelief, staring at him with wide eyes. “Are you actually thinking about backing it?”

Sam shrugged. “Just looking at all my options.”

Tony cleared his throat and answered Sam’s question. “It might give us an advantage.”

“But we want to keep away from it,” Steve added hurriedly. “The Sokovia Accords are one thing, they’re targeted at us and if we play our cards right, we can keep some control. But the Registration Act is about enhanced people in general. I don’t want to make a decision for all of them to expose themselves.”

Natasha folded her hands around her mug, leaning forwards. “I get Ross’s reasoning.”

Tony nodded. “Ross isn’t wrong. The question is, though, whether we should compromise every enhanced human to be able to catch a very small percentage that is stirring up trouble.”

Steve looked at Natasha earnestly. “With this list in the wrong hands, a lot of suffering could be caused.”

“And this list is only the beginning,” Tony added, “who knows what they’re going to add to this act next year or in five years? They’ll get their foot in the door with this thing and before you know it, they don’t just crack down on alleged criminals but also on normal people.”

Nat caught his eyes. “Or neighborhood vigilantes.”

For a moment, Tony was worried that she’d figured out Peter’s identity, but then he remembered that the Avengers were aware of his connection to Spider-Man. “Yes,” he said. “There’s a definite interest. Ross mentioned Spider-Man in the past. I’m sure they’re trying to track him and others like him down.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, it didn’t escape my attention that Spider-Man is the only one not in trouble for the whole airport thing. What is up with that?”

Tony levelled him with a firm glare. “He was support only and he was clever enough to leave the scene before the DODC rolled in.”

“You know who he is?”

“Yes.”

“The DODC didn’t ask you to bring him in?”

“They don’t know I know.”

Sam huffed a laugh. “And here I thought you were their employee of the month.”

Tony bit his lip, keeping himself from spitting out an angry answer.

“Who is he?” Sam asked.

“Back off,” Tony said. “He’s off limits.”

Steve raised one hand, intervening before Sam could give an answer, “It doesn’t matter. Spider-Man is not the topic.”

Clint cleared his throat. “No, I’ll tell you what the topic is. The only thing you haven’t mentioned up until now: visitation rights.”

Tony felt his heart skip a beat and then glanced at Steve, who looked as caught off-guard as he felt. For a moment, it was silent.

Clint’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

“We didn’t,” Steve said. “We just didn’t get the chance-”

“Are you kidding me?” Clint asked. He sounded calm, but Tony had known him for long enough to know that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Clint didn’t tend to get loud when he was angry. His expression was a dead give-away, though.

Tony said, “We’ll ask him tomorrow.”

“Will you?” Clint asked. “Because I get why it’s not important to you,” he snapped before he glared at Steve, “or you, but it is to me.”

Rhodey calmly said, “They get that, Clint. We all do.”

“Really? Last time I checked you didn’t have kids,” Clint spat.

Tony scoffed. “And were you thinking about your kids when you decided to run?”

Clint looked at him, his face set in stone. “No, I was thinking about you, going behind everyone’s backs to sign a document that essentially made the Avengers out to be criminals who needed to be kept in check. I was thinking about Wanda trapped in the Compound-”

“I didn’t lock her into her room!” Tony snapped.

“You aren’t locking us into our rooms but we’re still prisoners! My kids still get told by other kids that their father deserves to be in prison!”

“Because you broke the law!”

“A law you helped lay down.”

Tony felt anger bubble up in his chest and closed his eyes, trying to keep calm. He closed the fingers of his right hand around his left wrist, massaging it firmly as he turned towards the windows and took a few deep breaths.

“Hey,” Steve said, his voice sounding hard, “we agreed that we wouldn’t hold a grudge against Tony.”

“Oh, no worries,” Clint sneered. “I blame you, too.”

“Nobody,” Rhodey said, raising his voice over Clint’s while still trying to sound calm, “blame anyone. That doesn’t help us at all.”

“Do you have any idea,” Tony asked, turning to face Clint and trying to sound calm, “what I had to do to get you back here? Do you?”

Rhodey sent him a glare. “That doesn’t matter right now. Stop it.”

But Tony wasn’t done yet, the betrayal and anger of the last year and the frustration that had accumulated over the last month finally getting the better of him. “If it had been up to just me, I wouldn’t have lifted a finger to help you guys out. This wasn’t my idea.”

Clint sneered. “And you just hate when things don’t go your way, don’t you? You put your teammates in prison when they don’t listen.”

It slipped out before Tony could think about it, “Well at least I don’t leave my teammates to die in a HYDRA bunker in Siberia!”

There was stunned silence for a long moment. Steve was staring at Tony, but Tony didn’t return his look, too startled by his own outburst. There had been a mutual, unspoken understanding between him and Steve that Siberia wouldn’t be mentioned to the others. He’d just broken that. And regretted it already. He wasn’t ready to answer the questions that would follow.

Sam was the first one to speak up, “What does that-”

“That’s enough,” Natasha said, the first time she had spoken since the fight had started. “We’re not alone.” She looked towards the kitchen and when Tony turned, he saw Peter. His stomach sank.

Peter looked at them all with wide eyes, startled to have been caught. “I … sorry.” He turned and left.

Scott, who had also been quiet in the last few minutes, pushed off the couch and followed him.

It was silent for a long moment, then Clint said, “I’m not in the mood to train and don’t think even for a second that I will join you for dinner,” and left as well.

Tony felt all eyes coming to rest on him. He shook his head and hurried out of the room to head for his office. He needed to breathe.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NOTES

The wonderful art in this story was created by finem00 and shoyzz-art (click the links to find the art posts and leave notes :) ).

This chapter contains scene dividers by finem00.

Peter ran up the stairs to the first floor, eager to escape to his room and hide in there for a little while. He hadn’t intended to interrupt the team, especially not during an argument. He had wanted to turn around and head to his room undetected as soon as he’d realized what was going on upon entering the kitchen, but somehow, he’d been worried they’d notice him leave and he’d been rooted to the spot until Miss. Romanoff had caught his eye and interrupted the fight. The moment Mr. Stark had seen him, Peter hadn’t been able to stay any longer. He didn’t know what to think about what he’d seen, didn’t know what was going on or what Mr. Stark had meant with Siberia … he just knew that he shouldn’t have seen what he’d seen.

He also knew that his presence here was a mistake. It had been from the start.

“Hey, Peter, wait!”

He turned around to find Scott following him up the stairs and smiled hurriedly, trying to hide the turmoil in his mind. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Scott said, looking at him carefully before he tilted his head towards the floor. “Sorry about that back there.”

“No need to apologize,” Peter said quickly. “I interrupted you guys.”

“Yeah,” Scott said, heaving a deep breath. “That wasn’t pretty. Actually, I thought … going after you kinda gave me an excuse to leave.”

This time, Peter’s smile was a little more real. “Glad I could help.” He continued on down the hallway.

Scott fell into step beside him. “Oh, hey, how was your lab day?”

Glad for the change in topic, Peter grinned at him. “Pretty cool, actually.”

“Cool,” Scott answered. “That’s good. You know, my daughter Cassie loves science as well. She’s pretty good at it too, won the science fair and everything.”

Peter stopped in front of his door. “If she likes science, maybe look into sending her to a STEM school. That really … helped me.”

Scott nodded, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. It was quiet for a moment and Peter was just about to excuse himself and enter his room when Scott said, “I’m sorry everything’s so awkward.”

Peter ducked his head. “It’s not your fault, I guess.”

“It’s not a good way to spend the summer. Or even part of it. My parents were fighting once during the three-legged race while we were at family camp, and that was definitely awkward and this is … well, not exactly the same situation but … similar.” He heaved a sigh. “Frankly, I feel a bit … out of place. Everyone’s got so much history with each other and I just … don’t, really. All the history I have is beating Falcon in a fight.”

Peter grinned in amusement. “You did?”

Scott smiled widely. “Yeah, it was pretty cool.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, since training is apparently off the table, how about we go a few rounds on the Wii? Not in the living room, obviously. There’s one installed in one of the unoccupied guest rooms on the second floor.”

Peter smiled. “Sounds good.”

“Cool.”

“Peter,” FRIDAY said, her disembodied voice startling him a little. “Boss would like to see you in his office.”

He frowned, not sure whether he’d been to Mr. Stark’s office already. “And where is that?”

“I will guide you,” FRIDAY offered. “Please proceed to the ground floor.”

Peter sighed and looked at Scott. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. The man using a smart house to fetch you has a higher priority.” He winked at Peter to show him he was joking. “Just find me when you’re done.”

Mr. Stark’s office turned out to be at the end of a long corridor, just past the hallway leading towards the gym. The door was closed when Peter approached and he used his enhanced hearing to try and find out whether Mr. Stark was on the phone. But there was just silence on the other side of the door, so Peter raised his hand to knock before he entered. “Hey,” he said.

Mr. Stark had his back to him, staring at something on the screen of his computer. “Come in, kid,” he answered. “Sit down, I’ll be right there.”

Peter looked around the small room, which was mostly taken up by Mr. Stark’s desk. There was a window front with a rainy view of the forest looming behind the fence of the Compound, a couple of bookshelves shoved against the wall opposite the desk and two chairs with a coffee table in their midst positioned in front of them. Peter settled into one of the chairs a little awkwardly. Mr. Stark was typing quickly and Peter pointedly kept his gaze averted, not wanting to read anything displayed on the screen even by accident. He reached into his jeans pocket for the phone … just to notice that it wasn’t there. He froze and tried to think back when he’d last seen it and he remembered having shot Ned a text message after lunch before ... “Oh shoot,” he muttered.

Mr. Stark paused in his frenzied typing. “What?”

“I forgot my phone at the lab.”

“You can get it in a minute,” Mr. Stark said and turned his chair, rolling over to him and folding his hands in his lap. “I wanted to apologize for that scene you walked into.”

Peter felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment and ducked his head. “It’s fine.”

“I would understand if you wanted to go back home.”

Peter looked at him, catching Mr. Stark’s eyes. “I … can’t go home, Mr. Stark. May’s not there and Ned’s on vacation with his family.”

“Oh, I mean …” Mr. Stark shrugged. “I guess I could make Happy stay with you. He would love that.”

Peter raised his eyebrows, highly doubtful. “He wouldn’t.”

Mr. Stark huffed a laugh. “No, he wouldn’t. We can find a solution, though.”

The words made Peter’s stomach twist into anxious knots, the feeling of not being welcome, somehow, settling into his throat. He tried to ignore it, knowing that most of the time, it was just his fragile self-esteem taking the wheel. The feeling of not being good enough and being a burden had been getting less constant in the last few years, once he left most of his bullies behind after middle school. But they still emerged, sometimes. And this was one of those moments. Peter clenched his hands into fists and forced himself to meet Mr. Stark’s eyes. “Do you … do you want me to leave, Mr. Stark?”

Mr. Stark’s expression sobered, his brows knitting together. “No,” he said quickly. “No, that’s not what I … that’s not what I meant.”

“I mean, I would understand,” Peter answered, just as quick. “There’s a lot going on and I’m not fitting in and …”

“It’s not what I meant,” Mr. Stark repeated firmly. “Stop rambling.” He sighed. “I’m just … I’m sorry, kid. This vacation isn’t what it was supposed to be.”

Relief had started to unfurl in Peter’s chest and he gave a small smile. “It’s alright, Mr. Stark. I’m fine.”

“Really? We’re not scarring you for life or something?”

Peter chuckled, shaking his head. “No.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

It was quiet for a moment. Peter wasn’t quite sure whether that had been his cue to leave, but then Mr. Stark shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. “So, any plans until dinner?”

“I need to get my phone. And I’m going to play Wii with Scott.”

Mr. Stark nodded. “Play Wii with Scott,” he repeated. “Okay. Off you go then.”

Peter smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.” He rose and turned towards the door, but Mr. Stark’s voice caused him to turn back around again.

“Hey,” he said, “is there an opening in your busy schedule after dinner? Or do you have a PS4 date with Nat?”

Peter shook his head. “I think I’m free.”

“Not anymore,” Mr. Stark said, grinning at him.

His smile was infectious, and Peter couldn’t help himself but ask, “What are we doing?”

“It’s a surprise,” Mr. Stark answered.

The R&D floor of the DODC was quiet at this time of the day, a few people still milling about, but most of them were heading for the exit or already gone. Matt was gone when Peter entered the lab and so were his two colleagues.

Peter found his phone exactly where he’d left it, on his workstation. While leaving the lab, he checked for messages quickly and was reading a text from Ned about his day at family camp when he heard glass break and a muffled curse. He stopped, turning his head towards the half-open door of the lab he was just walking past. He checked up and down the corridor and, not seeing anybody, stepped closer to look inside.

He was greeted by the sight of a lab that was a lot smaller than the one Dr. Marlow’s team was using. There were only three workstations crammed inside, two of which looked like they were used merely as a display space for rows of beakers containing a clear fluid. The ceiling lights were switched off and the room was illuminated only by a small lamp installed on the third workstation at the back of the room.

Dr. Ramsey was crouched on the floor, picking up broken glass from what looked like several beakers. Peter was torn between offering to help and wanting to avoid a confrontation, but his mind was made up when he heard her sob and saw her wipe her eyes on her sleeve. He tried to retreat quickly … but that was when she looked up and noticed him. Her expression hardened and she straightened. “Parker,” she said. She turned away, wiping at her face again furtively. “What are you still doing here?”

“I forgot my phone.”

She bent to retrieve a dustpan from under a sink in the corner and leveled him with an icy stare. “You know that badge of yours requires you to be escorted at all times.”

Peter looked down at the badge clipped to his shirt and swallowed, feeling caught. “Oh … right.”

She rolled her eyes. “Wait there, I’ll take you out in a minute. Wouldn’t want Mr. Riley to get into trouble on your behalf.” She started to swipe the shards into the dustpan. Peter noticed that one of the broken beakers had rolled underneath the workstation closest to him and quickly knelt down to retrieve it. He couldn’t quite reach and leaned on his hand to stretch further. A sharp pain in his palm caused him to gasp and he quickly retreated to look at it, pulling a shard out of the wound.

“Parker?”

“I’m okay,” he said quickly. The cut was only small and thankfully, the fluid from the beaker didn’t seem to bother it. He picked up the biggest piece of the broken beaker and said, “There’s shards underneath here, too.”

“I’ll get them later.”

He walked over to the sink and set the beaker inside.

“Wash your hands if you touched the fluid,” Ramsey said and Peter turned on the water, carefully washing the blood off his skin. He hid his hand when Ramsey stepped closer, curling his fingers around a piece of paper towel to soak up any more blood.

“I’ll take you out,” she said, not really looking at him as they left the lab. Peter followed after her on their way down, carefully lifting the paper towel and checking on the cut again, noticing with relief that it had already started to clot.

Dinner was a quiet and tense affair and felt even worse from Peter’s point of view, who had just spent a good hour having fun playing Wii with Scott. Clint hadn’t come down to join them, but his words from their fight seemed to linger in the air. In general, nobody seemed to be in the mood to make small talk. Peter spent the meal exchanging looks with Scott, who seemed just as uncomfortable as he was.

Because of the tense atmosphere, Peter didn’t put up much resistance when Mr. Stark told him that he didn’t have to clear the table after dinner and led him out of the kitchen towards his office. “Okay, kid,” Mr. Stark said as he started down the winding staircase that was tucked away opposite his office door. “I know I said that we can’t work on your suit and that’s still true. But …”

The stairs ended in a small, square room. There was a couch set up against one of the walls and pictures of classic and modern cars were hung above it. A door next to Peter was open, showing a small bathroom, but what gave him pause was the view he got through the glass wall that took up the front of the room. Mr. Stark hadn’t shown Peter his workshop the last time he’d been here, citing that it was undergoing a serious remodel. But there wasn’t a doubt in Peter’s mind that this was it. Beyond the glass wall was a large room bathed in bright neon lights, transparent screens hanging from the ceiling over gleaming workstations distributed throughout the room. Two walls were taken up by smartboards and tv screens and old-fashioned pin boards, while the third wall housed several closed compartments of various sizes as well as a small collection of Iron Man suits in exhibition cases. A tiny kitchenette tucked into the far corner with a couch and a low table directly next to it completed the picture of an engineer’s hideaway.

And not just any engineer.

“This is it,” Mr. Stark said, stepping towards the glass and pressing his hand against an opaque panel. A part of the wall slid to the side to let them in. Mr. Stark threw Peter a teasing grin. “Let’s go.”

Peter stared at him, still taken aback. “This is your workshop?”

“Yep.”

“Oh my God,” Peter whispered and stepped inside the room, stopping just shy of the door, before Mr. Stark nudged him to the side so he could pass.

“You like it?”

“It’s like …” Peter swallowed, looking around once more. “It’s like the Holy Grail, Mr. Stark. This is the coolest place on Earth.”

Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow. “We have to broaden your horizons.”

Peter stepped forward, stopping by one of the workstations and looking at the assorted parts, tools and notes it was littered with. Amongst it all lay a bow, sleek and black with a slight, purple sheen to it, though it seemed slightly dusty, as if it hadn’t been touched in a while. He turned away to walk to the next workstation, which looked like work had been done at it only recently. A pair of leg braces was placed on it, connected to the computer with USB cords, code running over the transparent screen.

“Rhodey’s braces,” Mr. Stark explained. “The next generation. He might be able to wear this underneath pants.”

Before Peter could stop himself, he asked, “Are you working on something for me?”

Mr. Stark tilted his head towards the wall of compartments. “17-A to 17-E is all you.”

Even though Peter was standing quite a bit away from the drawers, his eyes were able to make out the labelled compartments. They were all the same size, about the height and length of a regular desk drawer.

“17-A is especially fascinating,” Mr. Stark said. “It uses nanotech.”

Peter gaped at him.

“It’s the suit I wanted to give you for the press conference.”

“You should have led with the fact that it’s made with nanotech.”

Mr. Stark smiled. “Would you have joined the Avengers if I had?”

Peter thought about that question for a long moment. He had wondered sometimes over the last few months whether turning down Mr. Stark’s offer had been the right thing to do, but in the end, he always decided that it had been. Joining the Avengers was still a dream of his, but for the future. If there was one thing he’d learned from the whole Vulture incident, it was that he wasn’t quite ready and he felt stupid for ever considering that he was. “Probably not.”

Mr. Stark reached out, almost hesitantly, and settled one hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Good man,” he said, his dark eyes looking oddly fond, before he turned away abruptly. “But we’re not going to work on one of your suits. I didn’t change my mind about that. However, I might have overlooked another possibility to pass the time.” He stopped at a workstation and waved Peter over. “We can work on mine.”

Peter’s heart skipped several beats out of excitement as he quickly joined Mr. Stark and looked at the workstation. He saw a glass container filled with what looked like grey, coarse-particle sand and right next to it sat a vaguely heart-shaped device not unlike the arc reactors that usually took residence in the Iron Man armors. It seemed to be switched off, since it wasn’t emitting any light.

“You know how I minimized an Iron Man repulsor to fit into my watch?” Mr. Stark asked and held up one hand, tapping his watch and pulling a light-weight Iron Man gauntlet over his hand, the repulsor settling into his palm with a warm glow.

“Cool,” Peter said, reaching out for Mr. Stark’s hand on instinct to have a closer look. “It’s nanotech, right?”

“It is,” Mr. Stark said with a nod. “But it’s only a test drive for a whole nanotech suit.” He retracted the gauntlet and picked up the arc reactor. Holding it in his palm, he rested his hand on the table before he tapped the surface twice. The reactor came to life, emitting a soft, blue glow. One moment later, Peter noticed that the sand started to shift as well, crawling out of the container and over the table like a living creature and up Mr. Stark’s arm, wrapping around it to encase it from his fingertips up to his shoulder before settling.

Peter stared at the silver armor before he touched Mr. Stark’s forearm, squeezing the material and finding it solid, even when he used a bit of his enhanced strength.

“Nanobots,” Mr. Stark said. “This armor is going to be completely flexible, portable in one of these housing units. They will be able to react to impacts, moving around to fix weaknesses in the armor. They will be able to form weapons with more power, heavy-weight artillery, ready at a moment’s notice.”

Peter looked up at him in awe. “Why would you need all that? I thought the armor was nearly invincible and the weapons have always been enough up until now.”

“I like to be prepared,” Mr. Stark said, his shrug casual, though his face was tense. “That’s what I’ve always done. Improved on concepts, on suits, just to be ready. I’ve seen the kind of armies loitering around space and they’ve come for us once. They might again.” He put on a smile. “But that’s none of your concern right now.” He held out the housing unit. “You want to hold them?”

“Can I?” Peter asked, thrilled, already reaching out his hand.

Mr. Stark placed the housing unit in his palm and the nanobots followed, crawling over to slide up Peter’s arm, encasing it. “They’re like little ducklings at the moment,” Mr. Stark explained. “Following the housing unit wherever it goes. I’m working on the energy transfer over longer distances.”

Peter smiled, fascinated. “So cool, Mr. Stark.” He watched in surprise when the nanobots only paused for a moment, then started to move again, wandering over his collarbone to his other arm and then wrapping securely around his shoulder, down his upper arm and elbow, until they travelled to his hand. He turned his hand palm-up automatically when the nanobots reached his wrist, exposing the cut in his palm for a moment before the bots covered it and finally settled, Peter’s arm now encased from shoulder to fingertips. He moved his arm carefully, noting how good mobility was despite the armor’s sturdiness.

Mr. Stark was still looking at his palm, even though the cut wasn’t visible anymore. “What happened there?”

“Cut myself,” Peter said. “In the lab. It’s no big deal.” He looked at the bots. “Why did they do that?”

“They’re programmed to seek out injuries and protect vulnerable body parts.”

“That’s a genius idea,” Peter said.

“Well,” Mr. Stark answered and his dark eyes were lit up with a grin. “I am a genius.”

Peter laughed, but it turned into a grimace and then a yelp when the nanobots suddenly tightened painfully, growing hot and sparking.

“Whoa,” Mr. Stark said, yanking the housing unit out of Peter’s hand and tapping it twice to deactivate it. The nanobots fell to the floor.

“Ow,” Peter muttered and looked at his palm. The cut had started to bleed again.

“Sorry about that,” Mr. Stark said and grabbed a rag, checking to see whether it was clean before pressing it to Peter’s palm. “Let’s sort this out.” He led Peter over to the kitchenette and nudged him towards the couch before he got the first-aid kit from its mount off the wall.

Peter took a seat, lifting the rag to look at the still bleeding wound. “What happened?”

“Overload,” Mr. Stark answered. “I’ve been having a bit of an issue with that. The housing unit is powering them but since it’s arc reactor technology, which is usually extremely powerful, it’s hard to get the levels right.” He settled on the low coffee table and put the rag aside. “Okay, let’s see,” he said and used a cotton pad to dab at the wound carefully. “It doesn’t look too bad,” he said, spraying it with antiseptic and then putting a band-aid in place. “You’ll live.”

“And here I thought I was doomed,” Peter answered with a teasing smirk. “Spider-Man, brought down by a paper cut.”

Mr. Stark laughed. “That would be something.”

Peter looked around once more, still in awe that he was actually in Tony Stark’s Avenger workshop. He met Mr. Stark’s eyes sheepishly. “Thank you for showing me this.”

Mr. Stark smiled at him. “You’re welcome.” He looked towards the glass cases displaying some of his older suits. “Let’s put the nanotech to rest for the day. My Mark 48 has a problem with its hydraulic fluid, you wanna help me fix it?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“I’m not gonna ask again,” Mr. Stark said.

“Yes!” Peter answered quickly. “Yes, please.”

Mr. Stark chuckled. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

Peter woke up with a dull ache in his arm and shoulder.

He rolled onto his belly with a low groan and peeked at the clock on the bedside table. He still had about an hour left before he would have to have breakfast and head over to Matt’s lab. Wiping the sleep out of his eyes, he sat up, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again. He made his way to the bathroom and was just about to brush his teeth when he noticed it: a set of bruises was lining his forearm, and when he pulled off his t-shirt, he saw them extending all the way up to his shoulder. They were only light and already on the verge of healing, though pressing down on them still caused him to wince uncomfortably. He tried to remember where he could have got the bruises but couldn’t recall anything. Maybe it was a left-over from the nanobots squeezing his arm too tightly, he thought, and wondered whether he should ask Mr. Stark about that.

He dismissed the thought a moment later.

The bruises were already on the mend, his healing factor taking care of them with its usual efficiency. He knew that Mr. Stark felt bad enough about the mishap the evening before.

Peter didn’t need to add to it.

Tony felt better when he woke up and got ready for the day. He hadn’t forgotten about the fight, of course. It was still lingering in the back of his mind and he still wondered whether the escalation could have been avoided. But spending the evening in the workshop with Peter had actually helped. Seeing Peter eager to learn from him and pick up on concepts at lightning speed had given Tony a sense of accomplishment that he’d needed that day. It had also been fun and felt rewarding in a way that was hard to describe.

When Tony entered the kitchen, he found Clint already there making breakfast. Tony stopped for a moment at the door, bracing himself for an uncomfortable confrontation, before he made his way to the coffee machine. “Morning.”

Clint grunted something that Tony chose to understand as a greeting.

An uncomfortable silence settled over them while the coffee maker filled Tony’s cup and the bacon and eggs were sizzling in the pan.

Tony rubbed his forehead, mulling over what to say. It wasn’t that he was willing to shoulder the responsibility for the fight the evening before on his own, but he was willing to admit that he had played a part in its escalation and he felt guilty for that. Especially since he knew that Clint had been more on edge than most of the others. He was a former SHIELD agent and he was an Avenger, but he was also a family man, and not being able to see his kids and wife for so long was clearly chipping away at him. The coffee maker finished and Tony cupped the mug between his hands, watching Clint stare at the bacon and eggs for a moment before he began, “Clint, listen-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Clint said, stabbing the bacon with the spatula, a deep frown cut into his face.

“Well you’ll have to,” Tony said, “’cause I’m gonna say it.”

Clint stared at the pan resolutely.

Tony sighed. “I’m sorry,” he started, “that you can’t see your kids. I wish I could have cut you and Scott a different deal. I really do.”

Clint frowned at him.

Tony saw the fact that he was receiving eye contact as progress. “But this deal, you being here under house arrest, it was the best possible solution and I made sure you got it.” With that, he settled at the kitchen island and pulled out his phone to check his messages, having said his piece.

Clint continued making breakfast. He was standing with his back to Tony, so Tony had no clue how he had taken his words. Not until a plate was slid over to him, scrambled eggs, bacon and a slice of toast neatly arranged on it. He looked up at Clint, who was staring at him with an earnest expression, the spatula pointing at Tony when he said, “You and Cap fucked this up.”

“No,” Tony said, “we all fucked this up.”

“You and Cap started it.”

Tony sighed. “I can live with that.”

“Me, too,” Steve said from the door and stepped closer to sit next to Tony.

Clint nodded at him and turned to prepare another plate. “I don’t support the Registration Act.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Steve answered. “I talked with Nat, Scott and Sam yesterday. They’re against it as well. Pretty sure Rhodey is, too.”

“So what now?” Clint asked, handing Steve his plate.

Tony cleared his throat. “Now we tell Ross.”

Tony checked in with Peter after breakfast, making sure he was up and on his way to Matt. He answered a text from May to let her know everything was fine and then got a second mug of coffee and retreated to the terrace. The air was still cool, but the sun had already started to warm it up and the absence of any clouds in the sky promised a beautiful day. The sound of the door sliding open behind him barely registered.

A moment later, Steve came to stand beside him, holding his own mug of coffee and wearing a troubled expression. “It’s Siberia, isn’t it? The reason you want to retire.”

“You knew that,” Tony answered, tucking his free hand into the pocket of his pants. He’d expected Steve to talk to him about the argument the night before eventually. He’d been hoping for a little more time, though.

“Is that the only reason?”

Tony sighed and ducked his head. “Not really. Age does play a role, that wasn’t a lie. I’m starting to feel it every time I see Junior jump off rooftops.”

Steve smiled. “Junior?”

“Spider-Man.”

When Steve raised his eyebrows at him with a teasing grin, Tony shrugged it off. “He’s wearing a suit which is basically a light version of mine, of course he’s Junior.” He shrugged and sipped on his coffee, watching a squirrel race over the lawn and up the fence into the woods. “I think I can lean back, take on the role of the rich benefactor. I’d be your Charlie.”

Huffing a laugh, Steve replied, “I got that reference.”

They went quiet or a moment, the fragile, humorous mood turning somber.

Finally, Steve said, “I would never have left you there to die. You must know that. I informed the DODC of your position as soon as I got Bucky back onto the Quinjet.”

Tony ducked his head. “I thought T’Challa had called them in.”

Steve frowned. “I didn’t even know he was there.” He paused for a moment, fiddling with the mug. “I’m still sorry about what went down. It was wrong.”

“Yeah,” Tony answered, “but forget about hogging all the credit for it, you’ll only get 50%. I take the other fifty.”

“And Bucky?”

Tony hummed thoughtfully. “Okay, we’ll split it in three.” He ducked his head and drew a deep breath. “I don’t want to apologize anymore, and I don’t want to hear apologies. It’s done. That’s what we should tell the others in case they ask. It wouldn’t help anything to tell them we tried to kill each other.”

“You wouldn’t have killed me.”

Tony met his eyes. “You? Not on purpose. Barnes? I was ready to risk it.”

Steve swallowed, his blue eyes sincere when he said, “I was never aiming for your head. With the shield. I swear that’s the truth.”

Tony sighed deeply. “It’s done.” There was no point in saying that he wanted to believe him but just couldn’t. That a small part of him would always wonder.

Steve ducked his head, shuffling his feet. “I don’t know if I want to lead this team without you.”

Tony smirked. “Hey, rich benefactor, remember? I’ll still make you look cool.”

“Do you think the Avengers will get back together at some point?” Matt asked when they had settled down for lunch. The morning in the lab had been quiet. With Dr. Marlow gone, Matt had been able to focus more on Peter and Peter had assisted him in an experiment with the cloaking technology they were working on. At one point, Peter had even been allowed to turn himself invisible and it had taken all of his willpower not to snap a selfie and tell Ned.

The canteen was quite busy but they had been able to get the same table they’d had yesterday. The windows offered a view of a beautiful summer day. The forecast had promised rain, but it didn’t look like that might happen anytime soon.

To keep to his ‘eat healthy’ promise to May, Peter had taken half a ladle of broccoli, but the heaping mountain of fries and the burger made it look a little ridiculous. “I don’t know,” he answered Matt’s question. He didn’t want to go into more detail, knowing that Mr. Stark wouldn’t want him to share information about the going-ons between the Avengers with anyone. He didn’t think that Matt had any hidden agendas, but being careful was probably for the best. “I hope so,” he added. It was the truth, after all.

“Yeah, me too,” Matt answered. After a moment of thought, he continued, “You know, I came to work for the DODC because of the Avengers.”

“Really?” Peter asked.

“Yes,” Matt said. “Well, because of Tony Stark, to be honest. I mean, he helped found this institution. I wanted to work for him, even if just remotely.”

Peter speared a piece of broccoli onto his fork. “Why not work for Stark Industries?”

Matt shrugged. “That would have been a possibility, I guess. It’s just …” He ducked his head to look down at his salad. When he raised his head again, his expression was uncharacteristically earnest, his dark eyes sad. “My dad died during the battle of New York, you know?”

Peter felt a pang of sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. But, you know, it was the DODC and Mr. Stark who cleaned up after the battle, who helped people with housing and supplies. They helped me and my mom. I wanted to be part of that one day.”

Peter nodded slowly. Unbidden, the thought of Adrian Toomes entered, his rage at Mr. Stark about his company being denied the chance to clean up after the battle. Peter had looked into it later on, had found newspaper reports about not only Toomes, but other small companies suing the city for giving the work to Mr. Stark and the DODC after they had already signed contracts. He’d also read about the money Mr. Stark had belatedly offered to them to make up for any losses. He wondered whether Toomes had ever accepted it. The case had never gone to court.

“It’s not always good, though,” Matt said, pulling him from his thoughts. “What we do here. Some of it is … I don’t know. Difficult.”

“Difficult how?” Peter asked.

Matt shrugged. “I mean, it’s a governmental department after all,” he said. “Some of the work is more military than anything else.”

Peter frowned. “Like your project. I thought you liked working on it.”

“I do,” Matt said quickly. “I mean, it’s to protect people. But there are other teams working on things that I don’t condone.”

Peter had an idea who Matt was talking about. “Like Dr. Ramsey?”

“Yeah,” Matt answered, looking around as if he was afraid of being overhead. Nobody was paying them any mind, though. “Kinda like her.” He shrugged. “It’s just … not easy, sometimes. So, recently I’ve been thinking about applying for Stark Industries.”

“I could ask Mr. Stark if he can put in a good word for you if you want,” Peter said.

Matt heaved a sigh. “That’s not why I told you that.”

“I know,” Peter answered, “but I’m still offering.”

Matt hesitated, clearly warring with himself, before he smiled. “Okay, yeah. Thanks, Peter.”

Secretary Ross was staring at them with his eyebrows raised before he leaned back in his chair. “I have to admit, I’m not surprised,” he said. “But I still wonder if you are making the right decision.”

Steve was looking at him firmly, his face set into a scowl. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

“I guess you do,” Ross answered, not flinching away from the glare.

For a moment, it was silent enough that they could hear the footsteps of people passing by outside the closed meeting room door. Tony decided that it would be best to pull Ross’ attention away from Steve and towards himself to defuse the tension a little. “In the meantime,” he said, “we should discuss the circumstances of the house arrest currently in place until the negotiations about the Accords are finalized.”

Ross’ eyes left Steve to look at Tony. “I’m sorry,” he replied, “you want to discuss the exceptionally good conditions that we agreed on initially?”

“Yes,” Tony answered.

Ross smirked and folded his hands on the table. “You’ve got my attention.”

“There is no issue maintaining the house arrest as discussed. There is just one small amendment that we are looking for and that’s the possibility to leave the Compound on a regular basis, maybe once a week, or to receive visitors.”

Ross hummed thoughtfully. “For all of the Rogues?”

Tony saw Steve grind his jaw at the word and quickly interjected. “Yes, but if that is not possible, we would like you to consider it for at least Barton and Lang.”

“The fathers,” Ross said.

“I’m sure you understand,” Tony continued. “It would actually help stabilize the situation.”

Ross leaned back in his chair again, looking at them both in quiet consideration for a moment. “Are we striking another deal?” he finally asked Tony.

“I think you got enough out of the first one,” Tony answered grimly.

Ross smirked. “And we’re putting it to good use already.”

“What more could you want?” Tony noticed that Steve was looking at him in curiosity, but he didn’t ask, probably waiting until they were alone.

Ross nodded. “I will think about it.”

“That’s fine,” Steve said, “but seeing as one of Barton’s kids has a birthday next week, would it be possible for you to get back to us before that?”

Facing Steve with a fake smile, Ross merely answered, “Birthdays are so important. Especially when they’re young.”

Tony nodded. “I knew you’d understand, seeing that you’re a father yourself.”

Ross’s expression darkened a little. “Theoretically, I am. Not that she’s talking to me ever since that mess with your friend Banner.”

Tony bit his lip, wincing. “Banner isn’t Barton,” he said, “or Lang. Nor had what happened back then anything to do with the Avengers. I hope that you won’t hold it against us.” He leaned back in his chair. “That wouldn’t be very professional.”

From the way Ross smirked, Tony could see that he’d hit his target. If there was one thing that Ross couldn’t afford, it was having his professionalism put into question. “As I said, I’ll think about it.” He looked at Steve. “And I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

Steve nodded in acceptance.

“I think we’re done here,” Ross said and got up, buttoning his suit jacket.

Tony and Steve rose from their seats as well.

“Thank you, Mr. Secretary,” Tony said politely, “for your time.”

Ross nodded at them and headed for the door, but he stopped once more just before leaving. “Stark,” he replied, “speaking of professionalism.”

Tony straightened his shoulders and braced himself, knowing that some sort of attack was coming.

“I don’t think that the DODC labs are the best place for high schoolers.”

Tony swallowed. “It was only a couple of days,” he said, “to keep him occupied.”

“The DODC isn’t a kindergarten, either,” Ross answered.

Tony scoffed but chose not to raise to the provocation. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Though I do find it very impressive that not all teenagers are buried in their phones 24/7. It seems that we should not give up on this new generation entirely, yet.”

Tony crossed his arms. “I agree. He’s very bright, top of his class.”

“You must be very proud,” Ross said. “Many kids with a backstory like his lose themselves. It’s encouraging to see that the opposite can be the case. And I find it quite … heart-warming that you decided to take up a role in this kid’s life, given that he already lost so many people.”

Tony’s jaw clenched, a knot of anger forming in his chest. “I would appreciate it if you kept out of my intern’s files.”

“An intern, who is visiting you during his summer break. I feel like this is a little more than just a professional relationship and I can relate. Kids have the habit of getting under your skin and Peter must remind you of yourself at that age.”

Tony’s hands balled into fists, the protective instinct that he’d come to associate with Peter rearing its head. Only this time, it was stronger, setting him on edge.

“May I just advise that you be careful, Stark,” he said in a low voice. “A kid like Peter is vulnerable, which in turn makes you vulnerable, should anybody find out about your … fatherly awakening.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m cautioning you,” Ross said. “From one father to … well, kind of another.” He held Tony’s glare one more moment, then he chuckled and left.

“Tony?” Steve asked, worried.

Tony shook his head, trying to calm down. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

He winced, taking a deep breath. He knew, logically, that there was no danger for Peter. He was in a secure facility; he knew not to leave with anyone but Tony or Happy. He was capable of defending himself. That didn’t keep Tony from having to take several deep breaths to calm down at least a little. “I’m sure.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NOTES

The wonderful art in this story was created by finem00 and shoyzz-art (click the links to find the art posts and leave notes :) ).

This chapter contains scene dividers by finem00.

Peter knew that he wasn’t allowed to do anything Spider-Man-related, but he’d started to feel a little off around noon, a bit tired and tense, and he thought that there couldn’t be any harm in running on the treadmill, just to burn off some energy and get his metabolism going again. He hadn’t expected Clint to be in the gym and he certainly hadn’t intended to do anything but his planned run.

He’d been talked into this. That was what he would tell Mr. Stark in case he found out.

The truth was that Clint asked one time, and that was all it took for Peter to forget about the treadmill in a heartbeat.

“Okay, now,” Clint said. “Let’s see if this works out better.” He held Peter’s elbow in position, correcting his stance with a nudge of his foot before stepping back. “And go.”

Peter focused on the target on the other side of the private shooting range the Avengers had in the basement right next to the small gym. Peter pointed the arrow right at the middle, breathed out, refocused quickly and let go. The arrow dug neatly into the center of the target. Peter jumped into the air and turned around to Clint. “Did you see that?”

Clint was staring at the arrow in disbelief. “That was actually quite good for a beginner.”

“I hit dead-center, on my second try!”

“Okay, it’s more than pretty good,” Clint relented and clapped Peter’s shoulder. “You’ve got a great eye.”

Peter grinned widely and looked down at the bow. “That was so cool, thank you.”

“No worries,” Clint said. “It made for a nice change from coming down here on my own. It’s been a while since I taught anybody.” His expression became wistful and he looked back down the range towards the target.

“Excuse me?” Said somebody from the door and they turned to find Mr. Stark standing there. “Is Peter holding a deadly weapon or am I hallucinating?”

Clint rolled his eyes. “It’s no big deal.”

Mr. Stark came closer, his hands buried into the pockets of his trousers. He was still wearing his suit, so he had probably just returned from his meeting with Secretary Ross. And he didn’t look thrilled.

Peter forgot all about his previous idea to put the blame for this elsewhere and quickly stepped forward, “Mr. Stark, it was my idea.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Clint said. “It was mine.”

“I said yes, though.”

“It’s no big deal, Tony. It’s just target practice.”

“Look, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, pointing at the target. “I hit bullseye.”

“So you did,” Mr. Stark answered, frowning at him. “You look a little pale. Did you eat?”

“Yeah,” Peter said. “I’m fine.”

Mr. Stark didn’t look convinced. “Go have a snack. You know you need to look after your … blood sugar.”

Peter swallowed, admitting defeat. His metabolism burned through meals faster than a regular human’s and sometimes, he didn’t quite realize that he needed to eat, though he doubted that this was purely about Mr. Stark worrying about Peter’s food intake. “Right.” He handed the bow back to Clint. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, kid. Now get out of here so Stark can yell at me.”

Peter winced and looked at Mr. Stark pleadingly before he left.

As soon as the door closed behind Peter, Clint pinned Tony with a glare. “It’s no big deal,” he said again. “Look, I know you think I’m incompetent or daring, whatever but I actually know kids, okay? I have kids. I know how to teach a kid how to use a bow and arrow. He was perfectly safe-”

“It’s fine,” Tony interrupted him, unexpectedly.

Clint paused, working through his surprise. “Really?”

Tony nodded and stepped a little closer. “As you said, you have kids. And Peter is more responsible than many adults I know, so … it’s fine.”

“That’s … surprising,” Clint said.

Tony heaved a deep sigh. “Many things regarding the kid are.”

Clint watched him standing there, his head ducked and his shoulders drooping. He looked tired and drawn, as if weighed down by a secret about Peter that he wasn’t able to share. Clint felt a little bit sorry for him … and thought that he could try and reach out … and maybe confirm the idea that had been floating around his head since Peter had arrived. “Tony,” he said softly, “is he …” He winced. “I mean, it’s kind of obvious that he’s …”

“What?” Tony asked, his expression looking slightly alarmed.

“You know,” Clint said.

Tony frowned and took a step back. Almost defensively. “No, I don’t.”

It was an obvious lie. Clint huffed a breath. “Yes, you do. You expect us to believe that you just started hanging out with some random kid? How dense do you think we are?”

Tony stared at him for a long moment, as if he wanted to read Clint’s mind … then he sighed in defeat and closed his eyes. “I knew it. I knew you’d find out,” he admitted and crossed his arms. “How long have you known?”

Despite being half-prepared for Tony to confirm his theory, Clint was still stunned. He shrugged, though, trying to be casual about it. He didn’t think Tony would appreciate it if he made too big a deal about this. “Pretty much from the start. I mean, it is kind of obvious.” He cleared his throat. “When did you find out?”

“Oh,” Tony answered, “just before the whole Accords thing started. I didn’t have the chance to tell you, really. I wanted to … work it out myself first.”

Clint nodded. “I get that. It must have been quite the shock.”

Tony shrugged. “I didn’t expect him to be so … young.”

Clint smirked. “They always seem little to you, man. I mean, Cooper’s starting to talk about girls, and I feel like he only just learned to walk. And it must be harder for you because you’ve missed all of that.”

While he’d been speaking, Tony’s expression had shifted into a quizzical frown. “All of what?”

“The early years,” Clint answered.

Tony stared at him. “The early …” He halted, his eyes widening abruptly. “Who exactly do you think Peter is?”

“Your kid,” Clint answered, confused.

“What?” Tony asked. He took a step back, raising one hand defensively. “No. God, no!” He looked towards the door and then back at Clint. “No. Why would you think that?”

Clint stared at him. “Give me a better explanation for you suddenly hanging out with a teenager, Tony, I beg you.”

“Because he’s s …” Tony stopped himself and took a deep breath. “Smart,” he said then. “That’s all. He just … won his internship and I realized that he’s exceptional and I’m just … helping him along.”

Clint stared at him and Tony stared right back. And he was clearly not lying about Peter not being his son. Which meant that Clint owed Nat $10. He heaved a breath. “Well, that’s awkward.”

Tony nodded. “A bit.”

“Sorry.”

“No problem,” Tony said. “Good to know you’d be so … supportive.”

Clint shrugged. “Yeah, well, I always thought … you know, you’d be a good dad.”

Tony looked at him in surprise. “Really?”

“No,” Clint admitted, “but you’re good with him. So maybe, you wouldn’t be the worst.”

“Thanks,” Tony said. “I guess.”

“Are you sure, though?” Clint asked. “I mean, he does kind of look like you when you were that age.”

Tony frowned at him. “Did you google teenage pictures of me?”

Clint shrugged. “Yeah.” He smirked. “As I said,” he added, “I’m really bored.”

Shaking his head, Tony turned to leave. “Read a book, Clint.”

It was when he was almost out the door that Clint realized that his theory may have been wrong, but Tony had clearly been thinking that Clint had discovered some sort of secret. “Wait,” he said. “What did you think I was thinking?”

Tony’s eyes darted around the target range for a moment. “Uh … nothing special.”

“No, I wanna know.”

Tony smirked. “And I wouldn’t want you to get bored.” With that, he was gone.

“What’s wrong with the kid?” Rhodey asked, settling into one of the armchairs that was set up near the couch in the living room.

Sam looked away from the tv and towards the other end of the couch, where Peter had curled up under a blanket and was fast asleep. He’d seemed alright when he’d settled down there about an hour ago but now that Rhodey had mentioned it, Sam noticed that he was a bit pale, though his cheeks seemed flushed. “He might be coming down with something,” he answered and shifted a little closer to rest one hand against Peter’s forehead. “He feels a bit warm.” He hadn’t really paid attention to Peter when he’d joined him, too busy surfing channels to find something worth watching. But he had seemed pretty normal, as far as Sam could tell, chattering about the shows on tv while devouring a bowl of cereal.

“FRIDAY, what’s Peter’s temperature?” Rhodey asked.

“100.76,” she said.

Sam looked at Rhodey. “That’s not too bad.”

“Not too good, either,” Rhodey replied with a frown. “Where’s Tony?”

“On some kind of phone conference for Stark Industries.”

Peter shifted, his eyes blinking open to look around hazily. He frowned when he noticed Sam hovering near him and Rhodey’s worried frown. “What’s going on?”

Rhodey leaned forward in his seat. “Peter, how are you feeling?”

Sitting up slowly, Peter blinked and rubbed his eyes. “I’m okay.”

Sam shook his head. “You have a fever.”

Peter heaved a sigh and pulled his legs up onto the couch and against his chest, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“I’m kind of achy.”

Sam exchanged a look with Rhodey, who suggested, “Do you want to go and lie down in your room?”

Peter hummed thoughtfully. “I probably should. I don’t want you guys to catch this too.”

Sam grimaced. “It might be too late for that.”

Peter got up from the couch, keeping the blanket wrapped around himself as he shuffled forward. He looked a little shaky on his feet, so Sam got up as well and rested one hand on his back. “I’ll take you,” he said and looked at Rhodey. “Could you check the freezer? I think there’s a bunch of frozen chicken soup in there that Vision made.”

Rhodey raised an eyebrow. “It’s not enough that he’s sick, you wanna poison him, too?”

Sam stared at him, then sighed, remembering Vision’s cooking skills – or the lack thereof – with a shudder. “You’re probably right.”

Tony knocked on Peter’s door and, upon hearing no answer, opened it a crack to peek inside. “Peter?” he asked softly.

Again, there was no answer.

Tony hesitated. He didn’t really want to enter Peter’s room without being given permission, but with Sam and Rhodey telling him that Peter was feeling under the weather and Tony being responsible for him, he felt that he probably should. “I’m coming in.” He waited a moment longer and when there was still no answer, he entered the room.

The afternoon sun was shining warmly through the big window-front, lighting up the whole room. Tony had half-expected to find clothes lying around and maybe some school books scattered over every available surface. He knew that Peter’s room in the apartment he shared with his aunt was an organized chaos, cleaning up always a very low priority on Peter’s long list of daily to-do’s. Here, it was apparently different. It was so neat that the room looked almost as unlived in as it had before Peter’s arrival. The only real difference was that the laptop Tony had provided had been transferred onto a side table and Peter’s beat-up model had taken its place on the desk. Tony made a mental note to address that with him. He had noticed that Peter had issues with accepting what he apparently perceived as charity. While he had no problem accepting Spider-Man equipment from Tony, he was much more reluctant to let Tony cover his half of their regular dinners and he’d been downright horrified when Tony had presented him with a brand-new cellphone a couple of weeks ago.

Tony’s gaze wandered towards the bed. Despite the sun rays falling directly onto it, Peter was curled up under the covers, sound asleep. When Tony stepped closer carefully, he noticed that Peter was shivering a little, a sheen of sweat covering his face. His skin was paler than usual, his cheeks flushed. “FRI, what’s his temp?”

“101.48,” she answered, her voice hushed as if she wanted to avoid waking Peter up.

Tony pressed his lips together. “Damn.” He went over to the window and pulled the curtains closed a little to block the sun from reaching the bed. Then he returned to Peter’s side and stopped, hesitating for a moment before he reached out and pulled the duvet up over Peter’s shoulders. It was only natural, he argued to himself, that his hand came to rest against Peter’s forehead next, and to be able to feel properly, it was only logical to brush Peter’s hair back a little. Peter leaned into the touch and a spark of affection caught in Tony’s chest, the kind of feeling he was starting to get used to around the kid the more time they spent together.

The feeling he’d given up fighting a while ago, but whose existence he as of yet only admitted to himself.

He straightened and cleared his throat, then turned and left the room. Closing the door softly, he said, “FRI, be a dear and keep an eye on him. I want to know when he wakes up or his temp rises above 102.”

“Of course, boss.”

He got his phone out and looked up May’s number, letting the phone dial as he made his way towards his own room.

“Hello Tony,” she said, sounding relaxed and happy.

“May,” he answered. “How’s California?”

“Great.”

“Wedding preparations going good?”

“Everything’s peachy,” she answered with a laugh. “Don’t tell me you called because you need parenting advice.”

“Not exactly,” Tony said, closing the door to his room. He tucked his free hand into the pocket of his pants. “Just FYI at this point: Peter’s developed a bit of a fever.”

There was a pause and May sounded much more earnest when she spoke next. “A fever?”

Tony heard the voices on the other end become softer and then the sound of a door closing.

“But Peter doesn’t get sick.”

Tony frowned. “He doesn’t?”

“That’s what he told me. Because of the bite. He said he hasn’t gotten sick since it happened.”

Tony winced. “Maybe his immune system received a hefty boost but I would assume that he’s still able to get sick if it’s a bad bug. I mean, Steve got the flu a couple of years back.”

“Oh,” May answered. “Do you need me to come back?”

“No,” Tony said quickly. “No, that’s not necessary. It’s just a bit of a fever. I wanted you to know what’s going on, that’s all.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“He’s sleeping right now.”

“Okay, get him to call me when he wakes up, alright?”

“Sure, May.” He would have ended the call there, but something compelled him to add, “And don’t worry, okay? I can handle it. He’s going to be fine.”

There was a smile in her voice when she answered, “Just let me know in case you can’t.”

“I will. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Tony hung up and sighed deeply. “I need coffee,” he muttered and made his way to the kitchen.

“So,” Sam asked, leaning back in his chair and pushing his empty plate away, “what now?”

Steve lifted his shoulders into a half-shrug, taking a deep breath before he answered, “Now we wait.”

The sun was starting to go down, painting orange stripes into the communal area of the Avengers’ private quarters, some of them reaching as far as the dining table they were gathered around. As Tony had already expected, Peter hadn’t joined them for dinner. The last time he’d checked on him, he’d still been sleeping. Tony and Steve had used his absence from the dinner table to update everyone on their meeting with Ross.

“What if the UN decides against amending the Accords?” Sam asked.

“I doubt that very much,” Tony answered, looking up from his phone. “Wakanda may have joined only recently, but their representative is working hard on getting as many members as possible on our side.”

Rhodey huffed a breath, crossing his arms. “And of course everyone is going to agree with Wakanda, because the best friend you can have is one with vibranium mines in their backyard.”

“Which is why we’re happy they’re on our side,” Tony said.

“Sorry to interrupt, boss,” FRIDAY said, “but you asked me to alert you to changes in Peter’s condition.”

“Yeah, what’s going on?” Tony asked, already getting up from the table. He shook his head in Steve’s direction when he rose as well. “I’ll handle it.” He headed for Peter’s room.

“His temperature has spiked in the last twenty minutes and is now sitting at 103.96.”

“What?” Tony asked, getting faster as he hurried up the stairs. “And you only inform me now?”

“It happened very quickly, boss.”

He pushed open the door to Peter’s room and found Peter sitting on the edge of the bed, deathly pale and swaying slightly. “Mr. Stark,” he said, and tilted forward.

Tony caught his shoulder and cupped the side of his neck to stabilize him, crouching to eye-level. “Kid, what’s going on?”

Peter’s dark eyes looked dazed, somehow, and his cheeks were flushed bright. Tony could feel Peter’s pulse beating rapidly against the palm of his hand. And his skin was burning, the grey t-shirt he was wearing clammy with sweat around his chest and shoulders.

“’M hot,” Peter whispered. “Just need … wanted …” He trailed off, blinking at Tony for a couple of seconds, his expression confused. “What’s happenin’?”

“You have a high fever, Peter,” Tony answered, and he guided Peter back to lie down. “Just rest, okay?” His mind was running wild, trying to remember as much as possible about fever remedies. But Tony had never been good at taking care of himself when he was sick, which was rarely the case anyway. And since Pepper wasn’t sick a lot, either, and still managed to function better than he did when she was, he couldn’t exactly claim to have a lot of experience. He considered calling her, but knew that it would be mid-morning in Sydney. She was probably already in a meeting.

“Tony?”

He turned to the door, where Sam was hovering.

Tony pulled the covers over Peter’s frame quickly, noticing with worry the vacant stare he was sending at Sam. “It’s fine,” he said. “I can handle it.”

“I was a PJ,” Sam answered and Tony remembered having read in his file that he’d served as a pararescueman. “Let me have a look?”

Tony knew it would seem suspicious if he refused, so he nodded. “Okay.” He made space for Sam to perch on the edge of the bed. He already knew what was going to happen: Sam would without a doubt suggest to take Peter to the medbay. Tony needed a plausible reason to refuse. A reason that wouldn’t out Peter to the others as Spider-Man.

“Hey, buddy,” Sam said softly and touched Peter’s forehead before taking his pulse. “How are you feeling?”

“Hot,” Peter whispered. “Burning.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” Sam answered. “Tony, get me a washcloth, soak it with water. We have to get his fever down. I’ll call medical services.”

“No,” Tony said firmly. “No medical services.” He stepped into the bathroom and searched the narrow shelf behind the door for a washcloth, finally finding a couple of them tucked away next to the guest towels.

When he returned to the bedroom with the wet washcloth, he was welcomed by Sam’s incredulous stare. “Tony, a doctor needs to look at him.”

“He’s going to be fine,” Tony answered.

“His pulse is racing,” Sam said, his expression darkening, “he’s got a fever. There is a reason for that and we need to find it.”

Peter shook his head. “No doctors,” he whispered. “No.”

Sam frowned down at him, then at Tony. “Something’s going on here. What is it?”

“Do we have to discuss that now?” Tony asked, handing Sam the washcloth, who put it on Peter’s forehead. “In front of him?”

Peter sighed in relief, his body relaxing a little.

Sam made a shushing sound and then tilted his head towards the ceiling. “FRIDAY, get one of the others in here.” He glared at Tony until Scott appeared in the doorway. Sam got up from the bed. “Watch Peter for a moment, I need to talk to Tony.”

“Okay,” Scott said and stepped over to the bed. He glanced between Tony and Sam nervously, obviously picking up on the tension.

Neither Tony nor Sam said anything as they left the room and while Sam pulled the door closed. Tony headed for the stairs, Sam hot on his heels. “What’s the matter with you? Peter needs a doctor.”

“He’s going to be fine,” Tony said.

“FRIDAY,” Sam said, “alert medical services.”

“FRIDAY,” Tony replied, “don’t.”

“Are you serious right now?!” Sam asked, just as they reached the communal area.

Natasha and Clint were still sitting at the dining room table, while Rhodey and Steve had started to clean up, but they paused when they saw them. Tony opened the fridge to get out a bottle of water for Peter.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked.

Sam still glared at Tony while he answered, “Peter needs a doctor. Tony won’t let him see one.”

Steve frowned at Tony. “What? Why?”

Tony crossed his arms. He knew that he had no chance of escaping the conversation. “I have my reasons.”

Rhodey was frowning at him as well. “Which are?”

Tony pulled his shoulders up and clenched his jaw, his eyes catching Natasha’s. She was leaning back in her chair, her gaze locked onto Tony’s while she ran one finger over the rim of her glass. Her expression was neutral, impossible to gauge. Clint just looked angry.

Tony huffed a breath and directed his eyes back towards Sam. “I’ll get Helen Cho here. Have her look at him.”

“Helen’s in Seoul,” Natasha said.

“She can be here within 24 hours,” Tony answered.

“Medical services can be here within ten minutes,” Sam countered.

Rhodey was still wearing a frown, but it was more questioning than disapproving. “Tony, what’s going on?”

Tony swallowed. He knew there was no possible way he could get out of this conversation without some kind of explanation. They were probably not above calling medical services in despite what he said, or taking Peter there. So he met Rhodey’s gaze and answered, “He can’t go to the medbay. They might do a blood test.”

It was quiet for a long moment, then Clint asked carefully, “And what would they find if they did?”

Steve was staring at him and Tony could see that he’d worked it out even before he asked, “He’s enhanced, isn’t he?”

Tony ducked his head.

“He’s enhanced?” Rhodey asked. “Why didn’t you just tell …” Then his eyes widened, realization dawning, and Tony really wished in that moment that Rhodey didn’t know him this well. “Oh, Tony, please tell me you didn’t.”

Tony cleared his throat, straightening his shoulders. “That’s why.”

He turned away and switched on the coffee machine, but Rhodey wasn’t done yet. “Tony, tell me you did not hand a fully weaponized suit to a teenager.”

Rolling his eyes, Tony turned back around to him. “It’s not weaponized.”

“I beg to differ.”

Sam raised a hand. “Just a second … what’s going on?”

Natasha’s answer was calm, as if she’d been in on the secret from the start. “Peter’s Spider-Man.”

Sam straightened, his eyes wide. “That annoying chatterbox from the airport? No way is he …” He halted, then shook his head. “No, wait. Now I can see that.”

Steve’s expression had darkened considerably, his blue eyes narrowed angrily. “What were you thinking?! He is sixteen …” He gasped. “You brought a sixteen-year-old to Germany to fight in a battle?!”

Tony cleared his throat. “He was fifteen at the time.”

“Fifteen?” Clint asked. “Like one and five? Fifteen?”

Tony threw his hands into the air in exasperation. “This is the reason I didn’t want to tell you. Because you’d be all judgy.”

Clint’s eyes widened. “We have reason to be judgy, Tony, he’s a child. He’s the age of my son who isn’t even allowed out alone after nine at night and this kid is fighting criminals?! With your support?”

“I know that, okay? I know that he’s young. I made the wrong decision. I regretted it later on. It wasn’t good,” Tony said, grabbing a mug from the cupboard and starting the coffee machine. “I messed up. And I tried to reign him in afterwards. I gave him a suit that was rigged with protocols to make sure he wasn’t getting into trouble-”

Clint shook his head. “You should have told him to stop being Spider-Man altogether.”

“I did!” Tony snapped. “Well, not at first. But later.”

Natasha smirked. She was the only one who seemed undisturbed by the reveal, then again, she had known for a while, apparently. “I guess it didn’t work out.”

“Heard about the plane that crashed on Coney Island? He did that after I took away the suit. He is the reason the Avengers tech on that plane didn’t get into the wrong hands. And he did this only wearing pajamas. So I gave him back the suit because I’d rather he did this with my help and support and resources than without.”

Steve crossed his arms. “Do his parents know?”

Tony sighed deeply and cradled his coffee mug between his hands. “His parents are dead. He lives with his aunt. And she knows.”

Steve shook his head. “Vigilantism aside, you involved him in a conflict he had nothing to do with.”

“You did the same with Lang.”

“Lang is an adult.”

“Debatable,” Sam muttered.

Tony sighed and ducked his head. “Listen, I don’t want him exposed. Not with the Accords situation, not with that Registration thing going on, not to the DODC and especially not to Ross.”

“Because he’s your weak link,” Steve said. “You care about him.”

“I’m responsible for him,” Tony said.

“If Ross knew …”

Tony huffed a breath. “If Ross knew that I am basically hiding a wanted mutant, he would be extremely happy.” He looked Steve straight in the eyes. “Happy enough to grant some pardons, I guess, if that’s what you want to know.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”

Tony shrugged.

“I would never, Tony, you have to know that.”

“There were many things I thought you’d never do, Cap,” Tony answered.

Steve pressed his lips together, obviously stung.

Sam raised a hand. “If this is about this Siberia crap again, either come clean or stop talking about it in front of us.”

Tony and Steve averted their eyes.

“Fine,” Sam grumbled. “Keep your secrets.”

Clint cleared his throat. “So you’re saying that if I called Ross right now and told him that I know you’ve been hiding Spider-Man’s identity and that I know who he is, you think he would let me go back to my family?”

Tony tensed and looked at him. “I can’t make any promises, but possibly.”

Clint hummed thoughtfully, then he heaved a breath and leaned back in his chair. “Well, luckily, I’m not a total douchebag.”

“Nobody here,” Steve said firmly, “would even think about doing that.”

It was quiet for a long moment, as if everyone was waiting for someone to contradict Steve’s words. Nobody did.

Sam cleared his throat. “So what’s the plan?”

“I’ll try to get on a flight as soon as possible,” Helen said, looking at something to the side of the screen, probably her schedule. She was already in her office, apparently, wearing the blue-white lab uniform typical for U-GIN, her dark hair pinned up into a tidy bun. In Seoul, a new day had already started. “If his fever rises over 104, you need to go to the medbay, though, Tony. I’m sure hiding his identity is not worth risking his life.”

Reluctantly, Tony nodded, his fingers tapping against his desk restlessly. “Okay.”

“Send me his file. I’ll study it on the flight over.”

Tony grimaced, shifting uncomfortably. “There isn’t a file. We didn’t do an evaluation on him yet.”

Helen raised her eyebrows.

“I know,” Tony said before she could answer, leaning closer to the screen. “Believe me, I regret it now.”

“We don’t know how he reacts to anesthesia or other medication, we don’t know anything about the dosages he needs, about the speed of his metabolism, about the effectiveness of his healing factor.” She looked exasperated. “Yes, you should regret it.” She pressed her lips together, taking a calming breath. “Okay, as soon as I arrive, should his condition not have improved, we’re going to set him up in the medbay.”

“The point of getting you is so that he doesn’t have to go there,” Tony answered.

“There is no discussion about that, Tony. I need the diagnostic tools, I need the nursing staff. With me as his primary doctor, you don’t need to worry about his identity. I am the one authorizing how much information the DODC will get about him.”

“Fine,” Tony said. “Maybe it won’t come to that. Maybe he’ll be better by morning.”

“Let’s hope so,” Helen said. “Bye, Tony.”

“Bye.” The video chat shut down. Tony pushed one hand through his hair and heaved a deep sigh, then he noticed Natasha standing in the door to his office. “How long did you know about Peter?”

“Pretty much from the beginning.”

Tony snorted. “I can’t lie to you.”

“No, you can’t,” she answered and stepped closer to put one hand on his shoulder. “I think it’s sweet.”

He looked up at her, not quite sure what she meant.

“You looking after him, showing him the ropes.”

“Someone has to,” Tony said with a shrug. “Kid’s a trouble magnet.”

“So are you,” she replied. “I better make sure to give him some training once he feels better. You know, on how to actually avoid trouble.”

Tony chuckled. “You’d know.”

She winked at him and squeezed his shoulder. “Get some sleep,” she said before she left.

Tony looked at his watch. It was past ten and he felt tired, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Instead, he made his way to Peter’s room and stopped in the doorway. Scott was still there. He had pulled one of the armchairs over to the bed and was scrolling through something on his phone. The only light in the room was provided by Peter’s bedside table lamp, the gentle glow illuminating Peter’s face, a wet washcloth still resting on his forehead.

Tony cleared his throat softly.

Scott gave him a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey. I’ll take over.”

Scott got up and stretched. “Cool.”

Tony dropped into the armchair and took a proper look at Peter. He still seemed very pale, his cheeks flushed with fever. He was asleep, his breathing shallow and rapid. Tony reached out a hand to check on the washcloth and, finding it rather warm, took it away. He went to the bathroom to run it under cold water and returned to place it on Peter’s forehead. His skin felt hot to the touch and clammy with sweat. When Tony placed the washcloth on his forehead, Peter shifted and groaned softly before his eyes opened blearily.

“Just me,” Tony whispered.

“Ben,” Peter murmured.

Tony’s heart sank. He knew about Peter’s uncle, of course, even though Peter and he had never talked about Ben Parker. He’d read the police file on Ben’s death, though. The clinical description of a mugging gone wrong and a traumatized kid left behind next to the body of his uncle had only bothered him a bit back then. Now, that he knew Peter better, he didn’t like to think of it. It must have been a traumatizing night for Peter and surely one of the reasons he’d started to go out and fight crime. He gave a sad smile. “No, kid, not Ben,” he corrected. “Mr. Stark.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter answered.

His hand shifted, catching on Tony’s sleeve and Tony grasped it gently. “That’s right.”

“’M sorry, Mr. Stark.”

Tony frowned. “Sorry for what?”

“Sick,” Peter said, frowning.

Tony sighed. “It happens to the best of us.”

Peter’s eyes slid closed and Tony thought that he had fallen asleep when Peter’s fingers suddenly squeezed his and his eyes opened again. “Something’s wrong,” he muttered, his feverish gaze roaming around the room restlessly. “’Mething’s wrong, Mr. Stark.”

Tony frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Danger,” Peter whispered. “There’s danger.” His eyes slid closed. “Be careful.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NOTES

The wonderful art in this story was created by finem00 and shoyzz-art (click the links to find the art posts and leave notes :) ).

This chapter contains scene dividers by finem00.

It was just after four in the morning when FRIDAY said, “Boss, his temperature is dropping.”

Tony breathed a sigh of relief. He’d noticed that Peter had started to look a little more at ease, the troubled frown on his face evening out and his breathing becoming steadier. “How high is it?”

“102.74.”

Tony nodded, the tension lifting from his shoulders. He slumped forward a little and wiped a hand down his tired face. “You’re doing good, kid. You’re doing fine.”

His phone vibrated and he pulled it from his pocket to find May’s name glaring back at him. His heart skipped a beat. He had completely forgotten about her. It was the middle of the night in California as well and she was probably worried because she hadn’t heard back from Peter. Quickly leaving Peter’s room, he pulled the door closed to answer. “Hey, May.”

“Tony, how’s Peter? He never called me back and I’m kind of worried.”

Tony crossed his free arm over his chest and shifted nervously. “Uh … yeah, his fever got a little worse,” he said. “So he wasn’t really up to-”

“Worse? How do you mean worse? Why didn’t you call me?”

“He’s fine now, May. It’s going down.”

There was a long pause on her end, but he could hear her shifting before she said, “I’m taking the next flight.”

“May, that’s really not necessary, Peter’s getting better.”

“I won’t believe you until I’ve talked to him,” she answered, her voice gaining an annoyed edge.

Tony grimaced and opened the door to peek into Peter’s room. To his surprise, Peter was awake and looking back at him. The washcloth had been abandoned on the bedside table and he’d sat up a little. “Let me talk to her.”

“Hold on,” Tony said to May and muted his end of the line. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t want her to miss the wedding,” Peter answered, and of course he’d heard at least part of the conversation through the door thanks to his enhanced senses. He tried to sit up a little more and failed, his strength not quite back yet. Tony put the phone down to help him, making sure there was a pillow behind his back supporting him. He handed Peter the glass of water and waited until he’d taken a few sips before tapping the unmute button and giving him the phone.

“Hey, May,” Peter said and he sounded almost normal. Almost as if the last few hours hadn’t happened.  

Tony busied himself taking the washcloth and putting it in the bathroom to dry.

“No, I’m okay, I swear. Just,” Peter faked a cough, “the flu or something.”

Tony returned to pull the curtains open and opened a window to let some fresh air into the room. The sun’s first rays hadn’t quite made their way over the mountains yet, but the sky began to brighten at the horizon.

“No, May, it’s fine.”

Tony turned around to Peter and saw him smile.

“I promise.” He nodded and looked at Tony. “Okay. Love you, too.” He held the phone out. “She wants to talk to you.”

Tony took the phone. “Yes, May.”

“The minute he gets worse, I want to know.” She didn’t sound like she was particularly happy about having agreed not to come home.

“Of course,” he said.

“Okay. Take care of him, please.”

“I will.”

With that, she hung up the phone.

Tony looked at Peter, who had slumped back against the pillows. He still looked a little pale, dark shadows resting under his eyes, but the flush to his cheeks had lessened considerably and his eyes were clear. Tony stepped a little closer. “You okay?”

“I’m exhausted,” Peter answered and it worried Tony a little because Peter wasn’t usually one to complain about such things.

“I can imagine.”

“How long has it been?”

“Just a few hours.”

Peter frowned. “What happened? I thought I couldn’t get sick anymore.”

“And which doctor exactly did confirm that to you?” Tony asked pointedly.

Peter bit his lip and averted his eyes. “It’s just,” he answered, “I used to have health issues and after I got my powers, I didn’t anymore. I could even ditch my glasses.”

“You wore glasses?” Tony asked in surprise.

“Contacts since I went to middle school,” Peter answered with a shrug. “Which was a good thing, actually, because nobody noticed I didn’t need them anymore.”

Tony tucked his hands into his pockets, bopping on his feet. He decided to let the topic drop. In the end, it was mainly his fault they were so clueless about Peter’s enhancements, not Peter’s. “We don’t know what happened,” he finally answered Peter’s question, “but we’ll find out.” He stifled a yawn. “You still have a bit of a temperature. It would probably be good if you catch a couple more hours of sleep.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah.” He shifted to lie down.

Tony stood by his bed, uncertain. “You want me to stay?”

Peter blinked up at him and Tony felt a little stupid for asking. Peter was coherent and not in immediate danger, there was really no reason for Tony to keep watch over him anymore. And yet … now that the critical part of the incident was over, Tony felt strangely on edge. The suddenness of Peter falling ill and recovering was weird. It nudged at that part of Tony’s mind that could just tell when something was wrong.

Peter’s soft words pulled him out of his thoughts. “It’s fine, Mr. Stark. Thanks.”

“Okay,” Tony said. And then, for lack of anything better, he added, “Sleep tight.”

Tony went to his own room and changed into an old t-shirt and comfortable pajama pants, but sleep eluded him. The last few hours kept replaying in his mind over and over again, especially what Peter had said when the fever had been bad. “Something’s wrong, Mr. Stark.” Of course, Peter had been ill, not entirely awake and confused. But still … “There’s danger.” Tony felt like he was right, could feel the knot of anxiety in his own stomach. “Be careful.”

Coming together for breakfast wasn’t as mandatory as the team dinner, but it still happened. Mainly because they were mostly early risers. Natasha, Clint, Steve and Sam regularly met up in the kitchen to eat together, occasionally, like today, joined by Rhodey. Tony had never really made a habit out of showing up for breakfast. He was more of a night owl than any of them … except for Bruce, but he wasn’t here anymore. That didn’t stop Natasha from thinking of him. Bruce leaving still hurt, even after almost two years had gone by. Nobody knew where he was these days, if he was even still alive. Somehow, though, she knew that he was. She tuned out the conversation around her and allowed herself a moment to think about him, to remember.

That was probably why she was the only one who noticed Peter entering the kitchen. He looked a lot better than yesterday and seemed to have recuperated completely. He looked at them grouped around the dinner table and seemed to hesitate for a moment, probably debating whether he could join them. Natasha had noticed that Peter was still a little nervous around them and it was, quite frankly, a little endearing. Especially considering that he wasn’t much different from them all, really. Natasha had spent a lot of time looking into Spider-Man’s activities since the battle at the airport. She’d suspected from the start that Tony’s intern was in fact the vigilante; his build, mannerisms and voice giving him away far too easily in her opinion. She’d thought it was amusing that nobody else had picked up on it, though, so she’d kept it to herself.

Peter finally seemed to make up his mind and sat down at the table, reaching for some toast and pulling everyone’s attention towards himself. He smiled shily. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Sam answered. “Feeling better?”

“A lot,” Peter answered. “FRIDAY said my temperature is back to normal.”

“Good,” Sam answered, pushing the serving plate with bacon closer to him.

There was a moment of silence, during which Peter heaped food onto his plate and the others exchanged amused looks. Natasha was pretty sure that Peter had no clue he’d been outed the night before and she felt almost sorry for him when Clint started to smirk, waiting for Peter to sip on his juice before he said, “So … you’re Spider-Man.”

Peter quickly set the glass down and covered his mouth when he started to cough, his eyes wide and startled. “What?”

Steve sent Clint a scolding look. “Subtle.”

“What? Like we need to be,” Clint replied and grinned at Peter.

Peter looked at everyone seated around the table, his eyes wide. “Oh God,” he whispered. “Did I … do something weird last night?”

“Nothing,” Rhodey hastened to assure him. “It just … Tony told us. He had to.”

Peter ducked his head, fiddling with a piece of bacon. “Oh.”

Steve folded his hands under his chin. “It’s okay, Peter, no reason to worry. Your secret’s safe with us.”

Clint nodded. “Now, you definitely have to join for training, though.”

Tony chose that moment to come in, dressed a little more casual today in jeans and a t-shirt. He made his way to the coffee machine and switched it on, turning to watch them with crossed arms while he waited for it to heat up.

Peter hadn’t noticed him, but was looking at Clint instead, his expression almost hopeful. “Really?”

“Definitely,” Sam agreed. “I need to repay you for Germany.”

Peter laughed sheepishly and tentatively joked, “You can try.” It was obvious that the words cost him a great deal of courage, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to exchange banter with the others. His face morphed into a relieved grin when Sam laughed.

Steve was looking at Tony when he cautioned them, “If Tony says it’s alright.”

Tony seemed surprised to have been mentioned, but hid it under an indifferent expression as he leaned back against the counter.

Peter had turned in his chair to look at him. “Is that okay, Mr. Stark?”

It was interesting to see the way Tony’s expression softened when Peter asked, his rigid posture relaxing a little. “I want that fever gone for at least 24 hours.”

Peter grinned widely. “Cool.”

“And I’m going to supervise,” he added.

“No, no, no, Mr. Stark, you have to join,” Peter replied.

Tony’s expression sobered a bit and Natasha noticed that Steve started to tense up. “That’s not a good idea, kid.”

“Please, Mr. Stark.”

“Peter,” Tony answered in a tone of voice that seemed to stop Peter dead. It wasn’t unfriendly or cold, but firm and accompanied by a look that made Peter slump in his chair.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Tony smiled. “Why don’t you put on some proper clothes and we head for the workshop?”

Peter perked up immediately. “Really?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

Peter grabbed the slice of toast from his plate and stuck it in his mouth as he hurried out of the room.

“Aw,” Natasha said. “How sweet.” Tony sent her a withering look and she started to laugh. “I’m serious.”

Rhodey chuckled. “Told you you’d be a good dad.”

Tony scoffed and turned away to put a mug into the coffee machine. “The original plan for this vacation was to get the kid acquainted with the workshop. That’s all we’re doing. He happens to have a good head on his shoulders. Why wouldn’t I encourage that?”

Sam grinned. “Like a real dad.”

Tony turned around to them again, an answer apparently already on his lips, but it was Clint who said, “Come on, guys, leave him alone.”

Tony sent him a grateful look, but Natasha knew that he shouldn’t have bothered, because she knew Clint.

And just one moment later, her suspicion was confirmed when Clint smirked at Tony and added, “Let him dad in peace.”

Tony grabbed his mug and left the room.

Tony didn’t mean to lose his sense of time. It was easy to, though, in the workshop that didn’t have any windows to let natural light in and no clocks to casually glance at. It was even easier with a project that was fascinating or frustrating and, in this case, with a bright, enthusiastic student at his side who soaked up knowledge like a sponge and came up with innovative questions and ideas of his own. Tony felt like he’d only gotten a small preview of Peter’s potential in the workshop a couple of days ago when they’d just had an evening to spare. Now, with them being able to remain undisturbed for the whole day, Tony saw how easily Peter picked up on complex topics and how quickly he learned by watching Tony work.

Tony felt the first pangs of hunger hit him when they were standing opposite each other, a brightly-lit workstation between them on which they’d taken apart one of Tony’s older suits while the suit’s coding was displayed on the transparent screen suspended from the ceiling off to the side. Tony felt like he’d explained every screw and every wire in the suit and gone through every single line of code. It had been ages since he’d spent that much time with one of his older models and it almost felt like meeting up with an old friend.

They’d just removed the chest plate and the cylinder that usually held the arc reactor and Tony was guiding one of Peter’s hands into the hutch. “Right here,” he said, angling Peter’s fingers to press against a set of thick cables. “Here, you feel that?”

Peter used his free hand to push his pair of safety glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Yes.”

“That’s where the arc reactor connects. This transfers the energy through the whole suit. People think the arc reactor is the heart of the suit but that’s not true, it’s this. The arc reactor just provides the blood.”

Peter frowned. “But not in the nanotech suit.”

“The nanotech suit is something completely different,” Tony replied and straightened, crossing his arms. “Completely new concept, different technology, not comparable.”

“So how does that work? Energy transfer via the nanobots? Isn’t that dangerous? They cover your body and at the same time, you use them as conductors. Aren’t you worried about being fried?”

Tony smiled. “You didn’t get fried when they went on the fritz the other day.”

Peter’s forehead settled into a frown as he seemed to mull that over.

FRIDAY gave a short beep when the door swung open. Tony heard steps approach their workstation at the back of the room and looked at Rhodey as he stepped into view. Rhodey took one look at the disassembled suit and the parts littering the floor around the workstation and crossed his arms. “I see you guys are having fun.”

“Yes,” Peter answered, a smile on his face.

Rhodey looked at Tony, his grin teasing. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Dinner?” Tony asked and checked his watch. “We didn’t even have lunch.”

Rhodey frowned at him. “You didn’t feed the kid?”

“I’m fine, Colonel Rhodes,” Peter said quickly and held up one of the empty wrappers that were piled up at the end of the workstation. “We had skittles.”

Giving Peter the same look that Tony was always on the receiving end of during a workshop binge, Rhodey asked, “Really, Tony? Skittles?”

“It’s basically fruit,” Tony said.

Rhodey stared at him. “Right, the both of you are having dinner with us. I bet you’re starving.”

Peter pressed his lips together and rubbed one hand over his chest, a distracted gesture he’d been repeating the last hour or so. Tony only noticed because he’d never seen Peter do it before. Then again, they had never spent this much time together. “Kinda.”

“Right, let’s eat then,” Rhodey said. Peter glanced at Tony, almost like a question, and Tony nodded at him before taking off his own safety glasses. Peter made his way out of the workshop and up the stairs while Rhodey and Tony hung back a bit.

Rhodey was smiling fondly by the time they reached the staircase. “Gotta say, seeing you two in that workshop, I kind of understand why Clint would think Peter’s your kid.”

“He told you that?” Tony asked, rolling his eyes.

“He ran that theory past me, yes.”

Tony shook his head.

“Why did you never tell me about him?” Rhodey asked. “I mean, I get why you never mentioned him being Spider-Man but … you never told me anything about him.”

“Because I knew you’d figure out he’s Spider-Man eventually.” He shrugged, climbing the stairs. “I … didn’t know whether it would work out, to be honest. In the long run.”

Rhodey needed a moment longer than he usually would to get up the stairs, the pain in his back apparently still bothering him. Tony took the time to ensure the braces supporting Rhodey’s legs were working properly and nodded to himself when he didn’t see any issues. Rhodey’s expression had turned somber when he arrived at the top of the stairs. “It seems to work out. He seems to really like you.”

“Well,” Tony said, pasting a grin, “of course he does, I’m Iron Man.”

Rhdoey heaved a deep sigh but didn’t pry any further, instead asking, “Does Happy know?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “He knows about Peter … and Spider-Man. Because he had to.”

“I’m hurt,” Rhodey said. “I’m your oldest friend.”

“Well, it’s different. Happy’s my asset manager and he was just doing his job … managing an asset.”

“I bet he was thrilled,” Rhodey answered with a laugh.

“Why do you think he got a raise?” Tony answered.

Lately, Tony had been making an effort to normalize his sleeping schedule.

It wasn’t just the many warnings he’d received over the years from Pepper, Happy, Rhodey and Bruce that he should try and pull less all-nighters, it was also (and he would never admit this out loud) his age starting to show. Working through the night wasn’t as easy anymore as it had been in his twenties, thirties or even early forties. His body was more insistent on demanding sleep. And he listened, because as he’d discovered, the consequences of not doing so were not enticing. The migraines just weren’t worth it.

It was easier in his relationship with Pepper, who was able to get him to keep to a normal bed time by just pulling him along whenever she got tired. Even with her gone half-way across the world, that influence remained.

So he’d gone to bed just before midnight along with most of the others, had talked to Pepper on the phone for half an hour while she was having lunch and then quickly fell asleep.

He was yanked out his rest when his bedroom door was thrown open with enough force to bounce off the wall and FRIDAY at the same time activated his alarm. Tony sat up, startled, his mind still sluggish and trying to catch up. “What … what?”

The alarm shut off and FRIDAY announced, “Boss, Peter Parker is here to see you.”

Tony was still trying to process that, still wiping sleep from his eyes when Peter stumbled towards him and fell to his knees next to Tony’s bed, his hand grasping Tony’s wrist tightly. In the dim light falling into the room from the hallway, Tony saw that Peter’s other hand was clutching the t-shirt over his chest. His breathing was coming in erratic, little bursts.

Tony was wide awake in an instant. “Peter?” he asked, getting out of bed and pulling Peter up to sit on the edge, grasping his shoulders while he crouched in front of him. “Peter, what’s wrong?”

“Can’t …,” Peter gasped. His eyes were wide, tears running down his face and his hand clutched so tightly into his chest that it must have left scratches even through his t-shirt. “Please … can’t breathe.” He coughed, strained and weak. “Inhaler … doesn’t help.”

Tony flinched when Peter fell into a violent coughing fit. “Fri, wake up Wilson now.” Peter reached out to grab Tony’s shoulder, his hand fisting the material of his t-shirt tight enough to pull it against the side of his neck painfully. Tony’s thoughts were racing, his mind trying to come up with possible reasons for what was going on, but nothing came to mind. Until he remembered that Peter had mentioned an inhaler. “Peter, do you have asthma?”

Peter grimaced. “Used … to. Before … can’t breathe … can’t ... hurts …”

“You can breathe,” Tony answered firmly, his hands shifting from Peter’s shoulders to cradle his jaw. “Come on, kid, you can breathe. Everything’s fine.”

Peter coughed again and shook his head. “Hurts.”

Tony switched on his bedside table lamp. When he looked back at Peter, he could now see clearly that his lips were tinged blue and his face was deathly pale. Fear shot through him, his grasp on Peter tightening a fraction as he leaned in closer, trying to catch Peter’s eyes. “Christ. Fri, tell Wilson to hurry up. Peter, what hurts?”

Peter gasped for air and his lungs seemed to lock, his eyes widening and finding Tony’s, and for a horrible, panic-inducing moment, Tony thought that he was going to start to choke. His mind was already grasping at what he’d learned about CPR, going through the moves … when Peter was able to draw in air again.

Not much, but Tony would take anything at this point.

Peter kept staring at him, kept speaking. “Chest … been hurting … t’day.”

“What’s going on?” Sam asked from the door. He looked sleepy, but immediately alert when he noticed Peter and rushed forward. “What’s happening?”

Tony moved to the side a bit, but kept one hand on the nape of Peter’s neck reassuringly while Sam knelt down in front of him. “He’s got trouble breathing, he says his chest hurts, he’s coughing.” Tony rubbed one hand down his face. “He said something about asthma and that the inhaler didn’t help.”

“He’s got asthma?”

“I don’t know,” Tony snapped, trying to reel himself in just a moment later, to calm down. But something panicky and frightening was pushing against his throat, pressing down on his chest and he felt like the air was getting thinner. “If he does, I didn’t know about it.”

“Not … asthma,” Peter groaned and tilted forward.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sam said, keeping him upright with steady hands. He took Peter’s pulse, then he pressed one hand against Peter’s chest, frowning deeply. “You can’t draw in more breath than this?”

Peter shook his head.

“Okay, it’s gonna be fine,” Sam said and he looked at Tony, who suddenly had a suspicion that Sam knew what was happening. “I know we want to avoid it, but we have to get him to the medbay. If it’s not asthma, Tony … he needs to be diagnosed.”

“What do you think it is?” Tony asked.

Sam hesitated, pressing his lips together, but then he shook his head. “Symptoms lineup with a collapsed lung.”

“What?”

“I’m not a doctor, though,” Sam said.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter whispered, looking at him with fear in his eyes.

Tony nodded sharply and helped Peter to get up from the bed, wrapping a supportive arm around his waist. “Let’s go find a doctor.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NOTES

The wonderful art in this story was created by finem00 and shoyzz-art (click the links to find the art posts and leave notes :) ).

This chapter contains scene dividers by finem00.

“Okay,” Dr. Collins said after he’d tapped Peter’s chest and listened to his lungs.

Peter was still gasping for breath weakly, slumped into Tony’s side who was perched on the bed next to him. Somehow, though, Tony thought that he seemed a little better. Less panicked and less in pain. Sam, who had accompanied them on the walk over here was still there, hovering near the curtain that separated the bed from the other three that were arranged in a neat row in the emergency room on the ground floor of the medical services building. At this time of night, the emergency room was almost abandoned, with only a minimum of staff present. Apparently in an effort to make the room seem less sterile and cold, the walls were painted a pale yellow that didn’t reflect the neon lights as harshly as white would have done. It didn’t help to tone down the harsh smell of antiseptic in the air, though, a smell that clearly wasn’t comfortable for Peter, who had cringed as soon as they’d entered.

Dr. Collins looked at the nurse who was standing next to him. “I need a CT-scan.”

She nodded and hurried away.

Tony clenched his jaw together. “What’s wrong?”

Dr. Collins slung his stethoscope around his neck and gave Peter a short, comforting smile before he said, “I’m getting decreased breathing sounds from Peter’s left lung.”

“Decreased breathing sounds,” Tony repeated.

Sam stepped closer, “Like a collapsed lung?”

Dr. Collins nodded. He was young, maybe a new hire which was probably the reason he’d been stuck with the night shift, and had a kind face. “That’s what we’re going to find out.”

Tony shook his head, his arm settling around Peter’s shoulders. “A lung can’t just … collapse,” Tony said and looked towards Sam. “Right?”

“Let’s have a look at the situation,” Dr. Collins answered and gave Tony a short smile.

The nurse returned with a wheelchair and parked it next to the bed. “I called ahead, they’re ready for us.” She reached out to take Peter’s arm, just to frown when Peter flinched back slightly.

“Mr. Stark?” he asked. Tony realized that he had probably not really followed their conversation. His gaze was a bit hazy, a hint of fear in his voice. He was probably worried about his identity being exposed.

“It’s fine, Peter, just a CT-scan,” he answered. “I’ll be waiting right here.”

Tentatively, Peter let the nurse help him into the wheelchair and she started to speak to him comfortingly when she rolled him out the door.

Dr. Collins smiled at them. “This won’t take long. Half an hour at most.”

Tony nodded and watched him leave. He wiped a hand down his face, feeling tired. A headache was starting to form behind his eyes, his nerves on edge.

Sam broke the silence between them. “Do I have to say it?”

Tony looked at him questioningly.

Sam put his hands on his hips. “He gets a high fever one day, develops a pneumothorax spontaneously the next day …”

“Something’s wrong,” Tony said.

Sam nodded gravely. “What do we do?”

“Helen’s flight was delayed but she is set to arrive in New York in a few hours,” Tony answered. “I want her to check Peter top to bottom, see what she can find.”

Sam heaved a sigh. “I’m gonna try and find some coffee. Want some?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, coffee would be great.” He fiddled with his phone once Sam was gone, looking at May’s contact info. He was hesitant to call, preferring to wait until the scan would give them more of an insight into what was actually going on. He felt that he needed to be able to answer all her questions. She’d given him responsibility for Peter after all. He hoped she wouldn’t come to regret that.

Sam returned with overly bitter coffee in plastic cups for both of them and they waited some more, silent. By the time Peter came back, both their cups were empty and Peter looked like he had a little more color in his cheeks.

“Okay, sweetheart,” the nurse said with a smile and helped him to sit on the bed. “Dr. Collins will be with you in just a few minutes, but we’ll get you started on some oxygen. How does that sound?” Her attempts at being cheery fell flat for Tony but Peter gave a small smile in response, so he bit his tongue. She guided Peter to stretch out, raising the top of the bed so that he could sit relatively upright, and set him up with an oxygen mask before she covered him with the blanket.

When Dr. Collins entered, he was looking at Peter’s scans on his tablet. “Okay,” he said and transferred the scans onto a screen bolted to the wall for all to see. “We’re looking at a pneumothorax, but it’s not as bad as I first assumed. The CT-scan showed that only 13% of his hemithorax are affected.” He looked at Tony. “It sounded like much more when he first came in.” His eyes found Peter’s. “We’re giving you oxygen for a few hours, re-evaluate and you might be able to leave afterwards. But you will have to take it easy for a bit, okay? No strenuous exercise, no flying.”

Tony crossed his arms, staring at the CT-scan with a frown. “What’s the cause?”

Dr. Collins heaved a sigh. “That’s where I’m stumped. His lung tissue seems to be fine, I can’t find any air blisters, we’re clearly not dealing with a traumatic injury and I don’t assume that he’s got some form of medical issue that could explain this?”

Tony looked at Peter, who shook his head.

“He’s going to be okay, Mr. Stark,” Dr. Collins said. “But I would advise that he’s being properly checked over. This kind of thing might happen again.”

“Okay,” Tony said. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Dr. Collins nodded at them and left together with the nurse, pulling the curtain shut to give them privacy.

Peter coughed slightly and Tony turned towards him. “You heard the man, you’re gonna be fine.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, and I’ll take that as my cue to catch some sleep.” On his way out, he put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Hang in there.” Looking at Tony, he asked, “You coming with?”

“No,” Tony answered, waving him off. “It’s fine, I wouldn’t be able to get to sleep anymore anyway. I’ll keep Peter company.”

Sam nodded, threw them another smile and left. Tony pulled the visitor chair closer to Peter’s bed and dropped into it.

“You don’t have to stay,” Peter said softly, his voice muffled by the mask.

“I know,” Tony answered, cracking a smile, “but hospitals suck. Wouldn’t want you to be stuck here on your own.”

The silence that lingered was strangely awkward, only interrupted by the soft hissing sound the oxygen mask made. Tony didn’t know what to say, and thought about excusing himself to call May and then discarded the thought again. It was the middle of the night for her as well and Peter was okay for the moment. He would call her first thing in the morning.

His thoughts were interrupted by Peter muttering something under his breath.

“What was that?” Tony asked.

“I’m sorry,” Peter repeated.

Tony frowned. “What are you sorry for?”

“Making a big deal out of this.”

“Out of what?” Tony asked, raising his eyebrows. “Breathing? I would like for you to keep making a big deal out of it, you know.”

“The doctor just said it wasn’t.”

“No, what he said is that it could have been worse.” Tony thought back to Peter, wheezing and coughing in his bedroom, his lips tinged blue, and winced. He lowered his voice. “I think it was worse, actually. And I think we have your freaky powers to thank that it isn’t anymore.”

“I panicked,” Peter said. “Should have waited for the healing to kick in.”

“Don’t ever do that,” Tony answered. “Don’t wait. Not when something like this happens.”

Peter didn’t meet his eyes, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt.

“So …,” Tony said. “I didn’t know about the asthma.”

“I haven’t had issues since the bite,” Peter answered.

“Still,” Tony replied. “It would have been good to know.”

Peter’s eyes slid away, fixating on a crease in the curtain, and Tony got the feeling that he’d said the wrong thing.

“I should have asked,” he added to clarify. “Back when we first met or maybe after Germany. Whether there were any health issues.”

Peter didn’t answer, just staring at the curtain until he softly said, “Something’s wrong.”

Tony felt reminded of the night before, of Peter’s feverish words, and he shuddered. Trying to put on a smile, he said, “We’ll figure it out.”

“I can feel it,” Peter said, turning his head, his dark eyes meeting Tony’s solemnly. “My danger sense. It’s reacting to something, I don’t know what.” There was a sheen of tears in his eyes.

Tony felt utterly helpless, unsure what to say to comfort him, unsure what to do if Peter started crying. His father had always let Tony’s mother deal with emotional outbreaks. “Do you … do you want May to come back?”

“No,” Peter said. “I don’t want her to come back. She’s supposed to have fun.”

“I’m sure she’d drop all that in a heartbeat if she knew you wanted her here.”

“But she’s always here,” Peter said. “It’s not fair.” A tear slipped out, running down his cheek, and Peter quickly wiped it away. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I don’t know why …”

“It’s fine.” Tony felt out of his depth. “It’s … it was a scary night. Adrenaline, probably.” He cleared his throat and shrugged.

Peter looked small and alone lying on that hospital bed. It made Tony want to reach out and take his hand or maybe cup his cheek … but he held himself back. It had been one thing with Peter out of his mind from fever. But like this, Tony felt it would be too intimate, too much of a parental gesture to get away with. He was afraid to overstep. “Do you want May to come back?” he asked again.

Peter shook his head.

“Do you need her to come back?”

Peter closed his eyes and gave a little nod, but he looked miserable doing it.

Tony sighed. “Okay, I’ll call her in the morning.”

“I don’t want her to … miss the wedding, but I …” Peter trailed off and averted his eyes. He was probably embarrassed about wanting May here.

Tony decided to ignore it, to change the topic and grabbed the remote control for the screen. “We’ve got a few hours to kill,” he said and switched from the scans to a news channel. He focused entirely on surfing channels to try and give Peter a little privacy, but he barely noticed what was playing. Not until he saw Peter perk up at something that looked like a sitcom. “You know this show?”

“Big Bang Theory,” Peter said.

“You like it?” Tony asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then we watch it.”

Peter fell asleep three episodes in. Tony stayed with him until he was released early the next morning.

“I’m getting on an airplane as soon as I can, baby,” May said. “And Tony said he’s going to send someone to drive me from the airport straight to the Compound. I’ll be there by dinner time.”

Peter nodded. “Okay.”

“It’s going to be alright, Peter. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“Bye, sweetie.”

She hung up the phone and Peter sighed, pulling his legs to his chest and holding the phone in the little space between his knees and his ribs, his eyes directed at the tv in the corner, but not really watching it. He felt guilty for making May cut her trip short. She’d been looking forward to the wedding and now she wouldn’t be able to attend. He knew that she probably didn’t mind, but he did.

The sun was warming the end of his bed, the fresh morning air streaming through the open window. Peter had retreated to his room after their return from the medbay, still feeling pretty wrung out from the events of the night before. His chest felt a lot better, his breathing easy … but the fright was still sitting deep, his danger sense thrumming away, warning him of something he couldn’t see.

A knock at his bedroom door startled him and he rubbed his eyes tiredly, turning to see Steve leaning against the doorway. “Hey,” he said. “Are you doing okay?”

Peter cleared his throat. “Fine.”

He obviously didn’t sound very convincing, because Steve frowned. “Was that your aunt?”

He nodded.

“She’s coming, right?” Steve asked.

Peter nodded again.

“But you don’t want her to.”

“No, I want her to,” Peter said. “I just … she was supposed to have this vacation, you know.”

Steve ducked his head, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” He stepped closer. “You seem a little pale.”

“I have a headache,” Peter answered and raised one hand to press it against the back of his neck. “It’s my … this danger sense I have. It keeps bothering me. Which means that it’s basically warning me of something, but I don’t know what.”

Steve gestured towards the edge of Peter’s bed. “May I …”

“Sure.”

Steve sat down, one leg folded under the other to sit facing Peter. “You can feel danger?”

Peter shrugged. “It’s not very specific,” he said. “Or maybe I’m just not very good at using it.”

“Or maybe you just need to train it,” Steve said, raising his eyebrows.

“Maybe.” He pressed his lips together and ducked his head. “You know, it’s not Mr. Stark’s fault.”

“What isn’t?”

“That I’m … that I’m Spider-Man. He mentioned that you weren’t … happy about it. But I was doing this before I met him. And, yeah, he gave me the suit and everything but I think he was just trying to help.”

Steve heaved a deep sigh. “Yeah, I know. I don’t always agree with what Tony does but his intentions are good and his heart is in the right place.” He shook his head. “But he shouldn’t have involved you in the fight in Germany. I know he probably thought that nobody there was out for blood but Rhodey got hurt. It wasn’t intentional but things happen. It could have happened to you.”

Peter hesitated, mulling that over. “Do you think … do you think the Avengers will get back together again?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know, kid. Things are a little complicated.”

“But you’re on one page about the Accords, aren’t you?”

“I don’t think the main issue between me and Tony are the Accords,” Steve answered. “Tony and I … something pretty bad went down between us – something none of the others know about – and we … it’s not easy to forgive that kind of thing. We both went too far, I went a little farther, and it’s … difficult.”

“That’s what he meant when he mentioned Siberia, isn’t it?”

Steve looked at him for a long moment. “Yes.”

“Did you leave him there?” Peter didn’t know where he got the courage to ask this from. If he hadn’t been this tired and on edge, he probably wouldn’t have. But he wanted to know and he wanted a distraction from the overwhelming sense of dread that his danger sense kept feeding into.

“Yes,” Steve answered. “Kind of. I called for support but … kind of.”

“It’s about the guy with the metal arm, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “In a nutshell.”

“Where is he?”

“In Wakanda. It’s … a compromise. Tony didn’t want him here and I didn’t want him arrested.” Steve cleared his throat. “He did some bad things. It wasn’t his fault, ultimately, because he was brainwashed but … that doesn’t change the fact. And he did something very awful to Tony. I knew about it, but I didn’t tell Tony because I didn’t want to reopen old wounds and he got angry about that. We fought. Physically. It was bad.” He looked at Peter. “Here’s a life lesson for you: trust takes a long time to win and only seconds to lose.”

Peter fiddled with his phone. “You can fix it, though.”

“I’m trying.”

“You have to,” Peter said. “My uncle … thought …” He hesitated, glancing at Steve nervously, unsure whether he should tell him at all. But then he reminded himself that he’d asked some pretty personal questions just a minute ago, cleared his throat and started again, “When I started to go out as Spider-Man, nobody knew about it. My uncle noticed that I left the apartment at night, though. And there’d been teens in our neighborhood, going around the streets at night, demolishing cars and drinking alcohol. And he thought I might have fallen in with the wrong crowd.” He swallowed. “We had this huge fight and I just … left. I wanted to … get some air. This guy passed me on the street and I saw … I saw he had a gun. But I didn’t … didn’t stop him because I was just angry at Ben and …” He ducked his head, not feeling up to meeting Steve’s eyes. “I didn’t know that Ben went to find me and he ran into the guy and … he was shot.”

There was a moment of silence, the usual shocked silence of pity that always followed whenever Peter told somebody about his parents or his uncle, then the predictable, “Peter, that’s … I’m so sorry.”

Peter shook his head and looked up at Steve. “I won’t have the chance to ever fix this, but you do. It’s important. You never know … if …”

Steve nodded earnestly and reached out a hand to pat Peter’s knee. “I get it. Thank you, Peter.”

Tony got a message from Helen that she’d arrived and was waiting in the medbay for them in the late morning. Not wanting to wait any longer for her to check on Peter, he collected him in his room and they made their way towards the medbay. The sun was out and the temperatures had climbed quickly this morning, a sweltering heat settling in.

Peter was nervous, easily evidenced by the aimless ramble he’d started when they’d left the private quarters and which was now coming to an end. “You see, Mr. Stark, it doesn’t make sense and my brain breaks every time I think about it and it’s pretty weird. I mean, if the universe is literally all there is, then how can it expand? There must be some sort of bigger space the universe is in so that it can expand. Otherwise, there’s no expansion possible, right?” He looked up at Tony, a deep frown on his face. “I think about that a lot.”

Tony raised his eyebrows, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. “That’s what you think about a lot?”

“Yeah, what else?”

Tony scratched his chin. “Gee, I don’t know … girls?”

“I don’t have a lot of luck with girls,” Peter said, sounding ridiculously world-weary.

“Stop talking as if you’ve dated half of Manhattan. You had one failed romance.”

“Failed romance?” Peter asked, staring at him in disbelief before he lowered his voice, hissing, “Her dad was a super villain.”

They entered the medbay, the temperature drop provided by the AC making Tony shudder. “But she was nice, right?”

Peter looked up at him as if he questioned Tony’s very existence. “Yes, but it wouldn’t work out.”

“I don’t know. Wouldn’t it be kind of like West Side Story? Romeo and Juliet?”

“You’re weird, Mr. Stark.”

“Me?” Tony asked. “I’m not the one thinking about the expansion of the universe all the time.” It was much busier in the medbay than last night, several doctors and nurses taking care of DODC personnel sitting in the waiting area. Nobody looked too hurt, so Tony guessed that they were just performing standard check-ups or taking care of smaller injuries. He led Peter past the emergency room and towards the back of the building, where the medical research labs were located. “And the answer you are looking for is vacuum.”

“Vacuum?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, the galaxies aren’t really growing apart. It’s just the vacuum between them that’s getting bigger.” The sliding doors to the research labs opened, admitting them into a long corridor with a window front to the right and a row of glass-encased labs on the left. “You’ve been paying attention to the wrong kind of Big Bang Theory.”

Peter hummed thoughtfully.

“Why didn’t you just google it if it bothered you so much?” Tony asked.

“I like to figure stuff out,” Peter answered.

Tony found Helen in one of the labs that was set aside for visitors on the first floor, standing at one of the three workstations installed in the room and tapping something into her laptop. She smiled when he knocked on the glass door. “Tony,” she said, coming around the workstation. She was wearing a dark skirt and a blue blouse, her black hair pinned up into an uncomplicated do that seemed to be more about keeping her hair out of her eyes than style. Her smile was warm and welcoming and Tony noticed that the tension in Peter’s shoulders eased just a little bit, almost as if he had expected someone more intimidating and was now relieved.

Tony offered Helen his hand. “Thanks for coming.”

She nodded before she turned to look at Peter. “Hi, Peter. I’m Helen.”

“Hi,” he answered.

Tony noticed that he was fiddling with his phone; another nervous habit. He clasped Peter’s shoulder in support while Helen closed the door to the lab and pushed a button to turn the windows opaque.

“FRIDAY, check for audio and visual,” Tony said, the heads-up display in his sunglasses reacting to the command immediately.

“No audio devices,” FRIDAY answered. “There are two cameras, which is standard for the medical labs.”

Helen shook her head. “It’s fine, Tony. The visual won’t give them much,” she said, pulling one of the high chairs on wheels over and gesturing for Peter to sit. “How are you?” she asked him while he complied. “I heard you had a scare last night.”

“I’m better,” Peter answered.

“He’s nervous,” Tony said. “Kept rambling all the way over here. And he’s been mentioning a headache.”

“It’s my danger sense,” Peter said. “It usually only reacts during fights. You know, makes me move to avoid being punched or shot. But now it’s just … going off constantly.”

Helen nodded, making a sympathetic face. “Well, I’d say I’ll give you a basic check-up and we draw some blood and then I’d like to do an MRI and ask you some questions about your abilities. Nothing too stressful. Does that sound okay to you?”

Peter nodded hesitantly.

“Okay. Do you think it’s necessary for Tony to stay?”

Tony crossed his arms and smiled quickly when Peter looked his way. He reminded himself that it didn’t matter that he wanted to stay, for some reason. Peter was old enough to be on his own during a physical check-up. He was old enough to decide whether he wanted a spectator or not.

“Uh …” Peter hesitated. “No, that’s okay.”

Helen nodded and looked at Tony. “Given what happened last night, I’d like to keep this short and we won’t do any endurance checks for now. You can pick him up in about two hours.”

“Mr. Stark!”

Tony stopped on his way to Helen’s lab to see Matt Riley approach him from the waiting area. “Mr. Riley,” he said. “What are you doing in the medbay?”

“Quarterly check-up, sir,” Matt answered, smiling at him. “I’m glad I caught you. I was wondering whether Peter would be interested in coming to the lab tomorrow. Dr. Marlow has authorized another round of testing on our project and I thought he might want to see it.”

Tony glanced towards the stairs leading up to the medical labs. “That sounds really great, but I’m not sure. Peter hasn’t been feeling very well.”

Matt’s face fell a little, disappointment and concern in his eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’ll let him know, though, and we’ll see whether he’s up for it tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Stark, that would be great.” Matt nodded at him and turned to go back to the waiting area, but Tony stopped him.

“Hey.” He stepped closer to Matt and lowered his voice, not wanting to get overheard. “Peter said something about you considering to work for Stark Industries.”

Matt’s eyes widened and a flush settled on his cheeks. Nervously, he answered, “He shouldn’t have, Mr. Stark.”

Tony looked at him over the rim of his sunglasses. “Well, he did, and you get the unique chance to woo me. Two pages of your motivation and scientific background sent to my office alongside your CV by the end of the week. Sound fair?”

Matt stared at him, his dark eyes wide in disbelief. “Mr. Stark, are you serious?”

“I never joke about business,” Tony answered. “I looked into it and we have some openings for junior research assistants. It’s not a hand-out. I’m asking the same of you as I do of every other candidate. The only favor I’m doing you is telling you about this. These kinds of positions are not publicly advertised. They’re usually only visible for interns at Stark Industries.” He raised one eyebrow. “Interested?”

Matt quickly nodded hard enough that Tony thought he might get whiplash. “Yes, sir. Of course.”

“Great. Looking forward to your essay.” Tony winked at him and continued towards the medical labs. The windows of Helen’s lab where he had left Peter a couple of hours ago were still opaque, the area around the doorknob lit up red as a signal not to come in unannounced. He knocked and waited for Helen to answer before he stepped in.

“Tony,” she said with a smile. She was standing behind the workstation again, looking at her laptop while Peter was seated on the chair Tony had left him in, his hands folded and waiting. It didn’t look like they had moved in the last two hours. Helen waited for him to close the door. “Let’s get started then.”

Helen looked slightly tense. That set Tony on edge just a bit. He didn’t pull a chair out for himself, preferring to stand leaning against the workstation. He noticed that Peter’s hands were grasping each other with a white-knuckled grip. He was probably picking up on Helen’s tension as well.

“The good news is,” Helen said slowly, “that the pneumothorax that Peter suffered last night is entirely gone.”

“That is good,” Tony replied.

She nodded but she didn’t smile. “Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “I did an MRI,” she said finally. “And I didn’t find any irregularities there as well … at first.” She pressed her lips together. “I only noticed it when I zoomed in.”

Tony tensed.

“Peter,” Helen said, turning her attention to him, “I found several minor internal bleedings.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Nothing major,” Helen said quickly. “Just cuts in minor blood vessels. Nothing to warrant surgery. I took two MRIs one hour apart and it was clear to see that your healing factor took care of the cuts. It’s still suspicious, though.”

Peter swallowed and then his eyes found Tony’s as if he was looking for help. Tony cleared his throat. “What’s the cause?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I’m hoping that Peter’s blood sample will give us an answer to that.” She smiled reassuringly at Peter. “Did you experience anything unusual the last couple of days or maybe even weeks?”

Peter seemed to think about that, his expression deeply troubled. Tony reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder in support, noticing that Peter leaned into the touch.

He was looking unsure, huddling into himself when he answered tentatively, “I cut my hand, but it’s already healed. And … there was bruising. On my arm.” He looked at Tony. “I thought it was because of the suit.”

Tony nodded, remembering. “The suit I’m working on, it clamped down on Peter’s arm a couple of nights ago.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Peter said. “But I had bruises the next day.”

“You didn’t mention that to me,” Tony said with a frown.

“Sorry,” Peter replied sheepishly. “It didn’t seem important.”

“Anything else?” Helen asked.

Peter shook his head.

Helen drew a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll check out Peter’s blood sample and I will call you as soon as I’m done. We might have to do further tests.”

This made Peter shift nervously. Tony tightened his grip on his shoulder in response before he looked at Helen. “What do you think it could be?”

“Hard to tell,” Helen answered. “But a fever like the one Peter experienced recently is usually only a symptom. A sign that the body is fighting back against some form of intruder. And given that your danger sense is going off, that might be exactly what we are facing.”

“An intruder?” Tony asked. “Of what kind?”

“I don’t know,” Helen answered.

Tony tried not to think too hard about Helen’s words or the way they had affected Peter. He’d been claiming to feel queasy on their way back to the private quarters and had retreated to his room immediately. Tony had wanted to follow him, to make sure that he arrived safely, but had scolded himself just a moment later and held back.

It wasn’t his place.

So he’d retreated to his office instead and called Happy to make sure that he was at the airport to wait for May. He spent the next couple of hours aimlessly staring at his emails and answering some messages from Pepper, then he’d gone to the kitchen to distract himself by helping Rhodey cook dinner. Something he usually rarely did. Tony tended to stick to cleanup duty. Cooking wasn’t really his thing. And the others knew that as well. He noticed their surprised and confused eyes on him, but they didn’t ask and Tony didn’t want to talk about it. He wanted a distraction from the deep-seated feeling of worry and dread that had settled in his stomach, turning it uncomfortably. It was a dark feeling of foreboding, of knowing that something beyond his control was happening.

Tony didn’t like not being in control.

By the time he had FRIDAY alert Peter that dinner would be ready in ten minutes and the others started to gather around the table, he didn’t feel any calmer.

Steve joined them in the corner that housed the kitchen to help serve the food. “You look pale,” he told Tony. “Are you okay?”

Tony looked at him. “Of course,” he said quickly. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He turned away from Steve and took the heaping bowl with pasta to carry it over to the dining table.

He was just about to set the bowl down when he heard Peter behind him, “Mr. Stark?”

Tony froze, a weight settling on his chest, the foreboding he’d half-managed to tuck into the back of his mind crashing through all his barriers and making his breath catch.

Something was different, something was off, something was wrong.

He turned around.

Peter was standing in the entrance to the communal area near the kitchen island, his face pale. His skin was shining with a sheen of sweat, and he was slightly hunched over and clutching his stomach. “I don’t feel so good.” He swallowed. “Where’s May?”

Tony saw it happening while he was still setting the bowl of pasta down hurriedly: Peter’s eyes rolling upward and his body slumping forward. He knew he was too far away to catch him, but Rhodey and Steve were in the kitchen. “Steve,” he said because he was just closer, and started to hurry towards Peter as he crumpled.

There was the sound of several chairs scraping over the hardwood when the others pushed away from the table, quick footsteps following Tony.

Steve was quick but his catch was still awkward and for a horrible second, it looked as if Peter hit his head on the kitchen island as he went down.

“Steve!” Tony repeated as he rounded the island and found Steve laying Peter on the floor gently.

“It’s fine,” Steve said. “It’s fine, I caught him in time.”

Tony fell to his knees beside them. “Peter?” he asked, patting his clammy cheeks. Peter’s eyes were closed. Tony noticed that his breathing was rapid and shallow. “Peter, wake up.”

“I’m calling the medbay,” Steve said and got up to hurry towards the intercom.

“Peter,” Tony repeated firmly as Sam kneeled on Peter’s other side. He pressed his fingers against Peter’s neck. Tony was brushing Peter’s hair out of his forehead, patting his cheeks, trying anything to get him to open his eyes. “Wake up, kid, come on.”

“Shit,” Sam muttered.

Tony followed his eyes and saw that Peter’s t-shirt had rucked up slightly during his fall, showing the mottled skin of his stomach. Sam reached out to lift it higher. Tony felt the blood drain from his face.

“Shit!” Sam repeated. “Steve, they better hurry up!”

Tony stared at the large discoloration of Peter’s skin covering about half of his stomach, watched Sam as he carefully applied pressure to the area. He felt nauseous. “Sam,” he whispered. “Is that …”

Sam looked grim. “Internal bleeding,” he said and grimaced. “A lot.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NOTES

The wonderful art in this story was created by finem00 and shoyzz-art (click the links to find the art posts and leave notes :) ).

This chapter contains scene dividers by finem00.

Tony paced the waiting area of the medbay nervously, glancing between his phone and the door every now and again. They were alone in the room, the security guard who had been waiting for his check-up when they’d arrived leaving almost as soon as they had entered. Sam had closed the door when people passing by on their way out kept throwing curious glances at them. It gave them some privacy, though Tony didn’t really care much. He didn’t want to be here, in this room, just waiting. He’d wanted to stay with Peter but Helen had kicked him out of the emergency room and Rhodey had tugged him away, the both of them leaving a still unconscious Peter behind with the nurses and doctors flittering around his gurney hectically. That had been half an hour ago, though it felt longer.

Tony brushed a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands until it hurt.

Steve, who had taken one of the seats in the corner, broke the tense silence. “It’s going to be fine, Tony.”

Tony glared at him. “You know that how? According to your vast medical background?”

Steve stared back at him, clearly taken aback by the harsh words.

Sam crossed his arms and frowned, leaning back against the wall next to the water cooler. “He was just trying to be supportive, man.”

Tony rounded on him, a sharp answer on the tip of his tongue – something satisfyingly petty that would hopefully provide a let-out for the fear and stress he was feeling, that would unclench his lungs just a little bit – but Rhodey stepped between the two, his hand coming to rest on Tony’s shoulder. “Take a deep breath,” he said softly, his expression earnest. “You look about ready to pass out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tony replied. “I’m calm.”

“No, you’re not,” Rhodey answered. “And that’s okay, but it’s not Steve’s or Sam’s fault.”

Tony grimaced and closed the fingers of his right hand around the wrist of his left tightly, squeezing. He couldn’t get the image of Peter collapsing out his head, the sight of Steve picking him up to hurry outside and meet the medical response team halfway. Peter had seemed small and weak in Steve’s hold, limp and pale and hurt. And all Tony could think about, all that kept replaying on a loop in the back of his mind, were Peter’s words from before.

“Something’s wrong, Mr. Stark. There’s danger.”

Tony closed his eyes and turned away from Rhodey. “He doesn’t get sick. Since the bite.”

Rhodey didn’t speak for a long moment, then he said, “He’s going to be okay.”

Tony squeezed his wrist tighter.

The door to the waiting room opened and Helen stepped in. She looked at them all and then focused on Tony while she pulled the door closed. “Peter suffered a splenic rupture,” she said. “He lost a lot of blood which caused a hypovolemic shock. At the moment, he’s stable but we need to get him into surgery sooner rather than later. We might have to remove his spleen, but we will only know for sure when we get a closer look.”

Tony felt a little nauseous and rubbed the back of his hand over his lips. “Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

Helen put a hand on his arm gently. “Tony, I need to tell the team that he’s enhanced.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“Because I will not perform this surgery. I will be in the room and I will assist but I’m not a surgeon, Tony, I’m a geneticist. And even if I would perform this surgery, I wouldn’t be able to do it on my own. Peter will have to be sedated for the procedure, Tony, and one thing we do know is that he has got a faster metabolism than most people. He will burn through any anesthetic at lightning speed. There is no way I can explain that away.”

Sam pushed off the wall. “If he burns through the medication, how are you going to sedate him?”

“We will have to use the anesthesia we keep on stock for Steve.”

Steve got up from his chair and crossed his arms, a look of worry crossing his features. “That’s pretty strong.”

“We’ll introduce it slowly, check his reaction.” Helen looked at Tony. “I’ll be absolutely honest, there is a chance that he’ll react badly to it. If we had any information about how his physiology works-”

“I know!” Tony interrupted her. “It’s my fault we don’t, I know that!” He stared at her as silence settled over the room.

Helen cleared her throat. “I can’t do this on my own, Tony. I have to tell the team. Nobody needs to know that he’s Spider-Man but I can’t say nothing. And I need that decision from you now.”

Tony ducked his head, his thoughts racing. But there wasn’t a choice. Not really. “Fine.”

Helen nodded, turned around and hurried out of the waiting room. Tony felt the eyes of the others on him, but he didn’t want to talk. Especially not about how the fact that they didn’t know enough about Peter to help him now was a consequence of Tony’s own decisions. So he squared his shoulders and left as well, taking his phone out of his pocket to call Happy.

“I don’t understand,” May said. She was sitting in one of the chairs at the dining table in the communal area, a glass of water clutched in her hands, her face pale and her eyes wet. “He was fine.”

Tony pressed his lips together. “He was fine,” he confirmed. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

They were alone in the communal area and Tony was grateful for that. He didn’t need any of the others around while he tried to explain to May what had happened in the last few days, how rapidly Peter’s health had declined under his watch. Happy had arrived with her shortly after Peter had been taken into surgery and now, they were waiting for him to come out. It had been an hour already, enough time for Tony to tell May what had been going on. Somehow, sitting here with her and looking at her had made the guilt he already felt over the situation grow. This was Peter’s aunt, the person who’d raised Peter since he’d lost his parents, the only person he had left … and Peter was the one person May had left. She’d trusted Tony with Peter’s safety for just a week and somehow, someway, Tony had screwed up.

May swallowed and brushed a hand through her dark hair, making some of the long strands stick up at odd, distressed angles. “He could lose his spleen?”

“They’re going to do their best to avoid that,” Tony replied.

A tear fell down May’s cheek and she wiped it away hurriedly. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Tony answered.

May took a deep breath and wiped her cheeks, clearly trying to hold herself together, and leaned back in the chair. “It’s just … I’m not stupid, I knew this would likely happen at some point in time. He’d get hurt and …” Her face twisted into something sorrowful and she shook her head. “But not … not like this. Not here. Not with you.”

Tony stared at her, the guilt he felt breaking through and making his eyes burn. He swallowed and cleared his throat, forcing the words out past the lump that kept forming. “I’m sorry, May.”

She reached out a hand, her fingers sliding in-between his. Tony looked down at their joined hands in mild surprise. He’d been prepared for anger, but when he raised his head to meet May’s eyes again, he didn’t see any of that. She gave a teary smile. “I don’t see how this could be your fault.” She drew a breath. “You know he adores you. All he would talk about the last few weeks was his trip to the Compound and how you would work on his suit together, all the ideas he has for upgrades.”

Huffing a breath, Tony felt a new blade of guilt dig into his chest. “Yeah, things didn’t work out that way.”

May tilted her head. “I thought that was the plan.”

Tony looked at her. “It was the plan. Things are … messy. I didn’t want the others to know about Spider-Man so I told him not to bring his suit.” He sighed. “We did spend some time in the workshop, though. Started to, at least.”

She smiled. “Even if you hadn’t,” she answered, “even if you’d just …” She shook her head. “You know this week wasn’t really about his … web-shooters or whatever he calls them, or upgrades. That’s what he kept saying but … what he was really looking forward to was spending some real time with you. That’s why I got so angry when you called to cancel. It wasn’t about me missing the wedding. It was about him missing the chance to be with you.”

Tony’s heart grew heavier with every word she said but the weight wasn’t uncomfortable. It was weirdly comforting to know that Peter valued their time together. Tony had suspected it before, of course, but he’d never been entirely sure whether it wasn’t just about the suits for Peter. Whether it wasn’t just about being able to spend time with Iron Man.

“He misses Ben,” May said sadly. “He misses having a guy to talk to. He tries not to let me see, but it’s true.”

Tony huffed a laugh at the implication in her words, his own self-deprecation reacting before he could think about it. “I don’t think you would want me to be that guy.”

May looked at him for a long moment, her fingers squeezing his. “It’s funny,” she said. “Some of my friends would agree with you.” She paused. “In the end, it’s not really up to anyone but him, though.”

It was almost midnight, the medbay having gone quiet a long time ago, and Tony and May were the only ones still left in the waiting area. Tony knew that the medbay probably wasn’t as abandoned as it seemed, and only the amount of personnel was reduced. There was a nurse manning the reception desk, her eyes glued to the monitor of her computer, and of course the neon lights were providing a bright illumination that was almost intense enough to hurt, and every now and again the entrance door opened and closed as staff entered or left the building. But still … Tony felt oddly alone, even with May sitting right next to him. The waiting put him on edge. He’d never been good with dealing with inactivity, especially when he was stressed.

That was the reason he jumped out of his chair as soon as Helen entered. May rose from her chair much slower, almost as if she couldn’t get her body to obey. Her hands were trembling.

Helen looked tired, her face pale under the lights. It was hard to interpret her expression, hard to say how bad the news was that she was going to deliver and Tony felt his heart beat faster, his fists clenching. “Helen.” He noticed her glancing at May questioningly and quickly added, “This is Peter’s aunt, May Parker.”

Nodding in understanding, Helen offered May a hand. “Mrs. Parker, I’m Dr. Helen Cho.”

“May is fine,” she answered.

Helen pulled over a chair and sat down. It was as much an expression of her exhaustion as it was an invitation for Tony and May to follow suit. May sat down opposite her, while Tony only reluctantly sank into a chair, his nervous energy redirected to his fingers, which started fiddling with his phone.

“He’s stable,” Helen started.

Tony saw May slump a little in relief and his own chest unlocked, the tight pressure he’d been feeling since Peter had collapsed lifting just a little.

“We also managed to save his spleen, because the tears we found were only small and could be embolized easily.” Helen paused for a moment and Tony knew, instinctively, that she was done with the good news. “Peter lost a lot of blood,” she continued. “We had to do a transfusion. He also started to wake up during the procedure.”

May’s eyes widened. “He woke up?”

“We got it under control,” Helen said quickly. “He was put under again, but we used more of the anesthetic than any of us felt comfortable using. It’s likely that he’s going to feel extremely miserable once he wakes up.”

Helen was looking at May while she said that and her voice didn’t sound confrontational at all, but all Tony could hear was “Your fault”. If he’d gotten Peter evaluated from the start, if he’d made sure that there was a file on him, then they could have had an anesthetic ready that was designed to deal with his unique physiology. An anesthetic that would have kept him knocked out, that wouldn’t have been as much of a wild card as Steve’s medication was.

He swallowed and asked, “What caused it?”

“We don’t know,” Helen answered. “As I said, we found tears in his spleen. And you know that I already found some smaller internal bleedings during his check-up. I have a team working on Peter’s blood samples and I will look at them myself after I catch a couple of hours of sleep.”

Tony nodded.

“Can we see him?” May asked.

“He’s in recovery,” Helen answered. “So just for a couple of minutes. And then you two should also go and get some sleep, and come back in the morning.”

May looked pained when she heard that and Helen gave her a sympathetic smile. “Let me talk to the nurses, maybe I can get a bed set up for you in his room, but not before tomorrow. You need rest, too.” Her eyes caught Tony’s when she added, “I would like to reassure you that Peter’s in the best possible hands right now. Staff is aware that he’s enhanced and we have one or two specialists on-site who used to work for SHIELD and have experience in treating enhanced humans. I will talk with them in the morning to decide on the best possible way forward.”

“Thank you,” May said.

Helen smiled tiredly and got up to take them to Peter. May took one of Tony’s hands while they left the waiting area and followed Helen through a set of sliding doors and down a corridor into a small room with three beds. A nurse was standing in one corner, making notes in a chart. He smiled at them when they entered, turning his attention to Helen when she approached him and started a low conversation. May’s hand slipped out of Tony’s as she approached Peter’s bed. Peter looked pale but that was to be expected, dark shadows residing under his eyes even in sleep. May reached out to brush his hair out of his forehead, a soft “Baby” escaping her.

Tony remained standing near the door, watching May tuck the blanket tighter around Peter and whispering to him. He noticed several IVs including a blood bag, and a heart rate monitor beeping steadily next to him. Tony was struck by how small he looked amidst all the machinery. Peter wasn’t tall or broad by any means and out of the suit, he carried himself with a slouch to his shoulders and an awkward shyness that came from not wanting to be the center of attention. But he had never looked small to Tony, or vulnerable. Not like this. His heart did a weird twist at the sight and he ducked his head away, swallowing the knot in his throat.

May wiped her eyes and kissed Peter’s forehead before stepping away from the bed and returning to Tony’s side.

She didn’t take his hand this time.

Tony and May returned to the private quarters in silence. Hearing the voices coming from the communal area, May put a hand on Tony’s arm to stop him by the stairs that led to the first floor, just out of sight of the communal area. “I’m going to need a few minutes.”

Tony noticed that she was a little pale, her eyes reddened, and he nodded quickly, picking up her bag from the floor and leading the way upstairs. The room next to Peter’s was not used and Tony left May there before going back downstairs. He paused before entering the communal area, taking a deep breath. He thought about not entering, about taking a few minutes to compose himself as well … but in the end, he shook the thought off.

May was the one who was entitled to that. Not him.

Despite the late hour, the others were sitting around the dining table, glasses of wine and scotch in front of them. When Tony entered, Steve was the one to notice him first. “Is he still in surgery?”

Tony shook his head. “He’s stable, Helen says. They managed to save his spleen. No visits until tomorrow.” He sat in his usual chair. The scent of dinner still hung in the air, but Tony didn’t feel overly hungry. Instead, he poured himself a glass of scotch as well and took a sip, the burn familiar and welcome. “She’s not sure how he will react to the anesthetic. They had to increase the dosage.”

Clint emptied his glass of wine. “Where’s his aunt?”

“Upstairs. She needed a moment.”

Sam leaned forward, his eyes finding Tony’s. “Do they know what happened?”

Tony shook his head.

“You okay?” Rhodey asked.

Tony looked at him, cleared his throat and pasted on a quick smile. “He’s gonna be fine.”

Rhodey raised an eyebrow, but before he could follow up, May entered the room and everyone’s attention turned towards her. Steve got up from his chair and pulled out the one next to him. “Mrs. Parker,” he said.

“Oh,” she replied, looking unsure how to react for a moment. “Thank you,” she answered then and sat down. “That’s very … chivalrous.” She looked around the table, giving them a sad smile. “I’m May, but I think you knew that already. And I feel like I know all of you.” She looked at Scott. “Well …”

Natasha snickered and Scott heaved an exasperated sigh. “I’m Scott. Or Ant-Man.”

“The giant guy from the airport,” May said with a nod. “Got ya.”

Natasha pushed out of her chair. “Did you have dinner, May?”

“Not really, no.”

“I’ll warm something up for you.”

May nodded.

“Tony?” Natasha asked.

“I’m not hungry,” he answered.

“You’re not going to eat?” May asked, a frown on her face.

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

She looked at him for a long moment and then huffed a breath. “Not going to happen. He’ll have a plate as well.”

There was a huff of laughter somewhere but by the time Tony was trying to find the source, everyone had schooled their features.

May smiled, though it seemed dim. “He’s gonna be fine,” she said, looking at Tony.

“I know,” he answered. “I’m not worried.”

She tilted her head at him and reached out a hand to wrap her fingers around his wrist, squeezing gently. “Of course you’re not.”

Peter was cold.

His whole body hurt.

His stomach felt sore.

He frowned and tried to open his eyes but they felt heavy and weighted down. His head flopped to the side, the cool cotton of a pillow scratching against the skin of his cheek, the sensation heightened weirdly.

His senses felt off.

The stench of antiseptic burned his nose, strong enough that he felt like he could taste it. It coated his tongue and ran bitter down his dry throat. He was scared of opening his eyes, the brightness of his surroundings palpable even through his lids. His hearing picked up on voices and beeping but everything was mashed together, warbled and weird and disorienting, until one voice sounded closer, clearer, whisper-quiet and familiar.

“Peter?”

May?

He wanted to answer but his tongue felt just as heavy as his eyelids and when he swallowed, more of the sharp-tasting air slid down his throat and caused him to cough. Which in turn made the aches in his stomach worse.

He vaguely remembered being in pain, vaguely remembered the startled eyes of the Avengers on him, the bruising grip of Steve’s hands on his arm and back as he was yanked against his chest, then nothing but darkness, nothing but hectic voices around him, bright lights stabbing into his eyes and someone saying “Guys, he’s coming out of it”, then nothing again.

Nothing until now.

A cool hand settled on his cheek, gentle fingers tracing up to his temple. “It’s okay, Peter,” May said. “You’re okay.”

He didn’t feel okay, he felt scared. “May …,” he whispered.

“Sh,” she answered. “Sleep.”

He did.

Peter woke up, still shivering and still achy, but his senses had dialed down a little and he felt able to open his eyes carefully. Everything around him was a white blur and he had to blink several times before a hospital room came into focus. He was looking at the screen of a heart monitor that was beeping away softly and he could hear the breathing of at least two other people in the room. The head of his bed was inclined slightly, allowing him a view of the whole room. It was pretty bare, as to be expected from a hospital room, the walls painted a light mint color and the white curtains pulled closed in front of the window, filtering the sunlight. A comfortable-looking chair was positioned directly in front of the window, the end of it propped up so it served as a recliner of some sort.

In a chair that looked much more uncomfortable, May was sitting right next to him. She smiled when he looked at her. “Hey there.” Her dark hair was forced back into an untidy ponytail and there were shadows under her eyes but she was smiling tenderly and the palm of her hand against his cheek was warm and reassuring.

“May,” Peter answered. His voice was hoarse and his throat hurt a little. “What …”

“You’re at the Avengers Compound,” she answered gently. “Remember that?”

He nodded and shifted, trying to find a position that wouldn’t make his body ache so much. Instead of finding relief, the muscles in his body began to burn and he felt a stabbing pain in his stomach. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, his hand going to his belly. There was something taped to his skin underneath the hospital gown he was wearing. A bandage, little bumps of a suture easy to pick up under his fingertips. A needle was lodged into the back of his hand, taped down securely and feeding a clear liquid into his veins.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” May asked.

He put a hand on his stomach, the muscles in his arms screaming at the movement. “Hurts.”

“That must be the anesthetic.”

“’M cold.”

She looked at something over her shoulder. “Tony, could you-”

“Yeah.”

Peter felt shame burn on his cheeks when Mr. Stark stepped into view. He’d forgotten about having heard two people in the room with him and he’d sounded embarrassingly weak just now. Mr. Stark’s face was stoic, not betraying any emotions, as he handed a dark-green, woolen blanket over to May. She tucked it around him carefully while Mr. Stark walked towards the door.

“Maybe we can crank up the temperature in here.”

Peter shivered miserably and looked at May. “You’re here.”

May smiled. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Sorry.”

She bit her lip. “Nothing to be sorry for.”

Peter winced as nausea made itself known all of a sudden, becoming stronger by the second. “May.”

“Yes?”

“Think ‘m gonna …” He gagged and May reacted, pulling him into an upright position just as he lost his fight against the nausea. His whole chest clenched up in pain when he threw up and he whimpered, sagging forward into May’s hold. Tears ran down his face when another wave of nausea hit, this one even stronger. His stomach muscles clenched and pain ripped through him. He bit his lip, clamping down on the sound of pain that wanted to escape, but he couldn’t stop the sob that came right after.

“It’s okay, baby. Tony, could you press the bell?”

“Already done,” he answered. Peter couldn’t quite see him and he didn’t have the energy to turn his head further, but Mr. Stark was standing somewhere near the door.

He looked stone-faced and grim.

He looked like he didn’t want to be here.

Peter’s stomach cramped again and he gagged, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain as the door opened and a nurse hurried in.

Peter didn’t see Mr. Stark leave but when nausea finally passed what felt like hours later and May helped him to sit on the edge of the bed to change his gown and the sheets, he was gone.

There was no way to put into words Tony’s emotions, how angry, distraught and helpless he felt while watching Peter lose his battle against the anesthetic, against the pain and the nausea. He wasn’t able to watch any longer, leaving as a nurse pushed past him into the room. They didn’t need him there, he thought, staring and useless. So he left and he walked down the corridor, intending to maybe catch some air or linger close-by to return as soon as he felt Peter was up for it, but while there was nothing he could do about his distress and helplessness, he realized all of a sudden that there was something he could do about his anger.

His feet carried him up to the medical labs at a fast pace, several people stepping out of his way as he approached … he probably looked livid. He didn’t bother with a knock before he entered Helen’s lab, barely pausing long enough to close the door. “You didn’t say it was going to be this bad.”

Helen was standing at her usual workstation and looked up from her laptop at his words. She looked tired, her face pinched. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s in agony,” Tony said.

Helen shifted, her shoulders squaring as her jaw clenched. “Because the anesthetic we gave him isn’t being properly handled by his body. That tends to happen when you use medication that’s not tested on the subject.”

Guilt slammed into him, smothering the anger instantly. He ducked his head, his shoulders slumping and one hand came up to wipe down his face. “Helen,” he said, “can’t you do something?”

“It’s not a good idea to fight the side-effects of medication with more medication, Tony. Especially since we don’t know whether it wouldn’t make things worse.”

He shook his head. “What are we going to do?”

“Find the source,” she answered. “And in fact, I was about to call you. Look at this.”

Tony shuffled closer to the workstation and around, looking at her screen. It was Peter’s medical file displayed next to a lab report.

Helen cleared her throat. “When we analyzed Peter’s blood sample, we found three foreign bodies.”

Tony frowned and crossed his arms. “Foreign bodies?”

Helen changed the display on her screen to show Tony a picture.

It was the enlarged view of a microscope showing red blood cells. Among them were three silvery objects, just as tiny as the cells around them. They were the thickest in the middle, almost cylindrical, and flattened towards the edges. Four thin, tentacle-like legs were sprouting out of flat, opposing ends. Tony recognized them immediately. “Nanobots?”

“As I already told you, Peter has suffered several small internal bleedings, lacerations in minor blood vessels. Then there is the pneumothorax, which is usually caused by a perforation of the lung. Now the splenic rupture was caused by a perforation of the spleen.”

Tony stared at the picture. He was starting to feel nauseous, the implications sinking in and forming a horrifying conclusion. He knew those nanobots.

“We think that there are more of these in Peter’s blood stream and that they caused the damage. It would even explain his fever a couple of nights ago. His body was reacting to an intruder. His fever probably ended because the bots managed to convince Peter’s immune system that they were supposed to be there.” She looked at him. “I know you’ve been dabbling in nanotech recently. Do you recognize these?”

“Yes,” he muttered. He closed his eyes. “I think they’re mine.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NOTES

The wonderful art in this story was created by finem00 and shoyzz-art (click the links to find the art posts and leave notes :) ).

This chapter contains scene dividers by finem00.

May stared at the screen, her eyes wide with dawning horror as what Helen had just told her sunk in. “So these … these things … there are more of them and they’re hurting him.”

Tony caught Helen’s eyes and shifted, his hand closing tighter around his phone in the pocket of his jeans.

Helen cleared her throat. “There are more of them and they’re cut loose. Basically, they are running rampant in Peter’s body.”

Tony could see even more color drain from May’s face, her eyes welling with tears. “How many are there?”

“I don’t know,” Helen answered. “Tony?”

He looked at her, then May. “I can find out, check my records.”

May stared at him. “They’re yours?”

He forced himself to hold her gaze, even though shame and guilt made him feel as if he should curl up in a corner. “I’m sorry, May.”

She made a sound, an indignant huff of breath, bracing her hands on her hips as she ducked her head. She sniffed before she raised her eyes again. “How did that happen?”

He swallowed, the fingers of his right hand encircling his left wrist tightly. It was a self-soothing gesture, he knew, one he had picked up in the last couple of years. It didn’t do anything to soothe him right now. “He was in my workshop. I was … showing him the nanotech suit. It malfunctioned.” Tony ducked his head. “Peter cut himself that day in the DODC lab, right across the palm. The cut reopened when the nanotech malfunctioned. My best guess is that some of them went rogue and entered his system through the wound.”

“Is that possible?” May asked.

“It’s experimental technology,” Tony said.

She shook her head, her eyes narrowing. “What does that mean?”

“It means … that I don’t know,” he answered, “but it looks that way.”

“Does it by any chance mean that you shouldn’t have Peter allowed anywhere near it?” May asked. “’Experimental’ means it’s not safe, right?”

Tony stared at her, swallowing. “I had no idea, May, I’m sorry, I just … I just wanted …”

“What?”

He shook his head, his eyes avoiding hers. He couldn’t say it out loud because it sounded petty. That he’d wanted to impress Peter, maybe, a little.

May pressed a hand against her lips. “Okay,” she said, turning back to Helen. “Okay, so … what do we do? Can’t we switch them off or something?”

Tony took a breath. “They’re not supposed to be active in the first place. I don’t know how … how they are even moving. The energy core they’re using is very short-range and it’s in my workshop.”

“Can you or can you not switch them off?” May asked. She didn’t look at him, her eyes glued to the wall.

“I’ll try,” Tony answered.

“You’ll try,” she echoed. She brushed her hands through her hair and closed her eyes. “What are you saying?” she asked, looking at Helen. “If this doesn’t work, if they continue to … to move around, what … what will happen?”

Helen exchanged a look with Tony. “They’re going to continue moving through Peter’s system until … until they strike something vital and we can’t save him.”

“Oh my God,” May whispered. She turned away from them, her shoulders shaking.

“May,” Tony said, taking a step towards her, his hand raised to touch her shoulder.

He stopped when she turned around to him, her expression hard. “What are you waiting for?” she asked. “Go. Stop those things.”

Tony nodded, turned and hurried away.

Tony barely paid attention to his surroundings on his way back to the Avengers’ private quarters. He only registered that the sun was shining because it was burning in his eyes and suddenly, he wished back for the rain.

His mind was racing, already calculating, coding and forming a plan to save Peter, then two more, then three. Of course he’d known, right when he’d started to create the nanotech suit, that there was a possibility of the nanobots entering his body. He’d theorized that during battle, some of them could break through his skin if the suit was hit hard enough. And he had built in precautions for that, had developed a protective layer that could be sewn into clothes to wear underneath the suit, had coded the bots to deactivate automatically if this should ever happen. He’d made a mistake somewhere along the way, and now it was Peter bearing the consequences and not Tony himself, because Tony had seen fit to expose Peter to an unfinished project, an experimental technology, without taking measures to protect him. He should have made Peter wear the protective layer, should never have allowed for the bots to touch a bare wound.

May was right. This was Tony’s fault.

The interior of the private quarters was cool, the communal area almost abandoned. Tony saw Rhodey and Natasha playing chess at the dining table, both of them turning towards him when he entered.

“Hey, how’s Peter?” Rhodey asked.

Tony didn’t answer, walking past them and towards the staircase near his office, taking two steps at a time to get down to his workshop. His hand shook as he pressed his palm against the reader and he leaned against the workstation he was using for the nanotech suit. He grabbed the housing unit and activated it, the nanobots in the container on the workstation reacting immediately and trying to crawl towards him. Tony grabbed a book he’d used for research and placed it over the opening of the container, stopping the nanobots from getting out. “FRIDAY, get me the nanotech configuration on screen.” One of the translucent screens installed over the workstation lit up with the requested interface. Tony watched as the amount of nanobots in range of the housing unit was counted. “Do an inventory check.”

“It seems that we lost contact with 84 units since the last inventory check,” FRIDAY answered.

Tony paled, his heart sinking into his stomach like lead. “84?”

A list of identifiers and dates popped up. “84 since two weeks ago, boss.”

Tony skimmed the list, noticing that most of the bots had gone missing ten days ago. He remembered the issue he’d had with the energy consumption and could see in the analysis that 37 bots had overloaded and burnt out as a result. He scrolled to the date a few nights ago, the day the bots had overloaded while Peter had been holding the housing unit. 33 bots had gone off the grid that night.

Minus the three identified in Peter’s blood sample, 30 bots could right now be inside him, wreaking havoc.

“Christ,” Tony muttered. He stared at the screen.

“Tony?”

He looked up and saw Rhodey and Natasha hovering by the door.

“What’s going on?” Rhodey asked.

Tony raised a hand. “Stay there,” he said. “Don’t come in.” He grabbed a tablet computer off the workstation. “FRIDAY, transfer the configuration overview to the tablet.” Switching off the housing unit, he pocketed it and walked towards the door, ushering Rhodey and Natasha out. “Send out the roombas and shield the room. I need every inch of this floor hoovered, especially around station 3.”

“No problem, boss.”

He pulled the door closed and turned to face Rhodey and Natasha. “Helen found nanobots in Peter’s blood sample.”

Rhodey’s eyes widened. “What?”

Natasha frowned, her eyes watching the five roombas leave their corner to hoover. “How is that possible?”

“Easily,” Tony answered. “What should be impossible is the fact that they are still active.” He started climbing the stairs, Rhodey and Natasha following closely. “They’re not supposed to be able to move without their assigned active housing unit,” he held the device up, “in close proximity. When they malfunction, they die. I designed them that way. I need to connect to them and deactivate them manually.”

“How do you know they’re active?” Natasha asked. “Maybe they’re just … drifting.”

“The amount of force it takes to puncture a lung, a blood vessel or a spleen,” Tony answered, turning around to them. “That shows me that they’re active. And they’re hostile.” He swallowed, clenching his hand around the housing unit and the tablet to hide that they were shaking. “They could kill him.”

Something about Peter’s face told Tony that he already knew what was going on by the time Tony entered his room in the medbay. He looked at Tony with something akin to terror, his eyes latching onto Tony’s immediately, and there was no doubt in Tony’s mind that he was looking for reassurance. He did however, not look as sick anymore as he had when he’d first woken up. It was a relief that Peter’s metabolism had been able to work through the medication eventually, though he still looked pale and a little shaky. The blood transfusion had been removed, though Peter was still hooked up to an IV. May was sitting on the edge of Peter’s bed, her hand holding his, and Helen was positioned at the end of the bed, her hands in the pockets of her lab coat.

Peter swallowed before he softly said, “Mr. Stark.”

Tony knew without a shadow of doubt that they – that Peter – were counting on him to solve the problem. He was equally as aware of the fact that he wasn’t even sure what the problem was. “We’ll sort this out,” he said.

May pressed her lips together, her grip on Peter’s hand tightening. “Is this dangerous?”

Tony shook his head. “No. I will simply try to connect to the bots and shut them down for good. It’s nothing more than a software configuration.”

May seemed to relax a little at his words, but Peter remained tense, his eyes following Tony as he stepped closer. “Mr. Stark,” he said again. “I’m sorry.”

Tony’s fingers stumbled over the tablet’s keyboard and he raised his head to stare at him. “You’re sorry?” he asked.

Peter was still looking at him, holding Tony’s gaze. “I pushed.”

Tony’s chest felt like it was in knots. He shook his head. “Nonsense,” he answered, looking down at the screen. “Let’s carry on.” He cleared his throat and woke his tablet computer from sleep mode, checking the configuration. “I’m programming them to deactivate,” he said, saving the setting and then stepping closer to the bed with the housing unit in his hand. “Okay, the closer this is, the better.” He hovered awkwardly, his hand half-reached out towards Peter’s chest, stopping short because he wasn’t sure whether pressing the unit down against Peter’s ribs would hurt him.

Peter seemed to be able to read his mind because he let go of May’s hand to reach for the housing unit, pressing it against his sternum. “Like this?”

“Yeah,” Tony answered. “All you have to do is switch it on.”

Peter looked down at the housing unit as it lit up. It was quiet enough in the room that they were able to hear its gentle hum. May reached out to brush a hand over Peter’s cheek, smiling reassuringly at him.

Peter swallowed thickly. “How do we know …,” he whispered, not finishing the sentence.

“Give it a minute,” Tony answered, looking down at the tablet as the information to deactivate was sent. It took longer than it should and his stomach knotted, his jaw clenching. When the computer beeped a connection failure to him, his heart dropped.

“Mr. Stark?”

“It’s nothing,” he said quickly and reached out to take the housing unit, moving it a bit lower on Peter’s chest to rest just beneath his ribcage. Peter flinched and Tony muttered an apology, easing up on the pressure. He tried to connect again, staring at the computer because he felt three pairs of eyes on him and he didn’t want to meet any of them.

The connection failed again.

Tony swallowed. Not even one. At least one of them should have reacted. How was this possible?

“Mr. Stark?”

“I’m thinking,” he snapped. He ran diagnostics on the housing unit, the silence in the room thickening while the others waited. The diagnostics finalized, showing no issues.

This couldn’t be happening.

He looked at Peter and May, who were staring back at him, waiting for a solution he didn’t have. He grabbed the housing unit and switched it off. “I need to check on something,” he said and left without another word, trying to tell himself that Peter calling out “Mr. Stark” as he hurried down the corridor was just a figment of his imagination.

Peter was staring down at the bowl of broth, the spoon in his hand, but he was unable to even think about eating. Nausea was still sitting in his stomach and throat, threatening to spill over if he so much as took a bite. The smell alone was almost too much. At least the burning pain in his muscles had stopped as the effects of the anesthetic had started to fade. His senses still felt slightly raw, though, and to ease the glaring light of the sun falling through the window, barely filtered by the curtain, May had closed the blinds half-way.

Mr. Stark had left an hour ago and not returned. May and Helen had left Peter shortly after for a few minutes, moving far enough away from his room not to be overhead. He felt strangely left out, as if everyone around him knew more than he did.

May startled him out of his thoughts by brushing his hair out of his forehead. “You don’t have to eat if it’s that bad, honey.”

Relieved, Peter set down the spoon and looked up at the nurse – Cynthia – who was busy checking on his IVs. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cynthia answered, giving him a kind smile. “We can just warm it up for you later. How about I’ll get you some crackers and you can nibble on them whenever you feel like it?”

He nodded. While Cynthia picked up the tray and left, Peter turned his head to look towards the window. The sun was shining, though May had mentioned something about rain heading their way. Due to the half-closed blinds, Peter only got part of the view of a couple of cars passing by a group of people, who seemed to use their lunch break for a walk.  

“Are you tired?” May asked.

He sighed. “Yeah, but … you know, I feel too sick to go to sleep.”

May hummed. “Helen told me something about an evaluation and that she’ll develop a different kind of anesthetic for you. One you’ll be able to stomach a little better. But it’s going to take a while.”

Peter turned towards her. “The evaluation is usually for new team members. They create a medical file for them and check their enhancements.”

May frowned. “Tony didn’t do that with you?”

Peter closed his eyes. “I’m not a team member.”

“Well, I disagree.” Her voice had taken on that edge that meant she was annoyed.

Peter looked at her pleadingly. “It’s not his fault, May.”

“I know he didn’t intend for this to happen,” she answered, “but he exposed you to something potentially dangerous, so it is kind of his fault.”

Peter bit his cheek, avoiding her eyes. He didn’t have the energy to argue her point. His hand settled on his stomach, where the scar from the surgery was a throbbing ache. The more the anesthetic wore off, the more he started to feel it. His healing factor didn’t catch up as quickly as it usually did, either. The whole situation was scary but he tried not to let it show too much, knowing how May worried.

“I know you disagree,” she said. “I know how much you like him.”

It was a conversation they’d had before, but Peter didn’t like to speak about it. He didn’t want to try and define their relationship as being something beyond mentor and mentee. For Peter, it was a connection, one that was different from and at the same time similar to the one he’d had with uncle Ben. It was impossible to tell how Mr. Stark felt about it, though. Sometimes, he would smile at something Peter said and it felt like back then, when Ben had smiled at Peter with warm pride. Other times, Mr. Stark was awkwardly aloof. Those were the times Peter wondered whether he was bothering Mr. Stark, whether their relationship was more of a business arrangement to him than a budding friendship.

There was a knock on the door and Peter, glad for the distraction, turned his head to find Clint and Scott standing there. He smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey, kid,” Clint said while Scott waved. “How are you feeling?”

“Still nauseous,” Peter answered, “but it’s getting better.”

“Come in,” May said, standing to grab her purse. “I’ll go grab a coffee and get some air.” She looked at Peter to check whether he was alright with that and then left.

“The others wanted to come as well,” Clint said, approaching the bed with his hands in his pockets. “But Steve talked to Helen and she said it’s better not to overwhelm you.”

“They’ll come by later or tomorrow,” Scott added. He settled into the chair May had been occupying.

Peter blushed a little, touched that apparently all the Avengers were willing to visit him even though they’d only known him for a few days. “You guys don’t have to-”

“We know we don’t have to,” Clint interrupted him. “We want to. Don’t complain, you’re getting some pretty amazing bedside company out of it. Not a lot of people can claim that the Avengers visited them in hospital.”

Peter smiled at that, but his expression dimmed when his thoughts landed on Mr. Stark and the haunted look on his face when he’d left. “Is Mr. Stark okay?”

Scott shrugged. “We haven’t really seen him.”

“He’s in the workshop,” Clint added. “Restricted access. Only Rhodey gets in and he says it’s better to leave him for now.” He pressed his lips together, as if he wasn’t sure whether to say anything at all. “I think he feels guilty. He’s trying to fix this.”

Peter ducked his head. “I don’t want him to feel guilty. Stuff happens.”

“This is pretty serious stuff, though,” Clint said.

Peter swallowed. He knew that, had already thought it through the minute he’d learned. He knew how serious the situation could become. He knew that it was potentially fatal. He just preferred not to think about it at the moment, because he was sure that Mr. Stark was going to fix it.

He had to.

There was a knock and they all turned towards the door. Peter was surprised to find Matt standing there, looking unusually young wearing a denim jacket instead of a lab coat.

Clint stepped forward, effectively blocking Matt’s path to Peter’s bedside. “Who are you?”

Matt gulped when he saw Clint advance, his hands clasping together nervously. “Uh … I … I’m Matt. Riley. A friend of Peter’s. I-I can come back later.”

“No,” Peter said, glad for the distraction. He tried to sit up a little straighter and winced when the move pulled at his stitches. “Come in.”

Matt stepped forward, but stopped again when he noticed that Clint hadn’t moved. Peter couldn’t see Clint’s face, but judging by Matt’s horrified expression, he was probably being glared at. Clint crossed his arms. “How do you know each other?”

“Peter worked in the lab with me.”

“I know him from the internship,” Peter confirmed.

Clint hummed. “How did you know Peter was here?”

“I … have a friend working here and she … told me.”

“She told you?”

“Because she knows I worked with him,” Matt said hurriedly. “Not that she was telling everybody. I mean … that’s not … what happened.”

“Isn’t it?”

Matt glanced at Peter, then back at Clint. “I don’t know how to answer that,” he said softly and showed a smile to crack a timid joke. “Please don’t hurt me.” He chuckled and then seemed to notice that Clint didn’t find his joke funny. His smile dropped. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Gee, Clint, leave the kid alone.”

Clint looked at him from over his shoulder. “I just find it concerning that there is gossip about Peter being here spread around.”

“No gossip,” Matt said. “I promise. Just a discreet conversation between friends.”

Clint looked at Matt a little while longer and then stepped aside so that he could approach the bed. He did so, hesitantly, keeping his shoulders pulled up in defense. “Hey,” he said to Peter.

“Hi,” Peter answered.

Scott rose from his seat. “We’ll come back later,” he said and pulled a reluctant Clint out of the room.

“So …,” Matt said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I heard that you got sick.”

Peter nodded. “Do you know about …”

“Your enhancement? Yeah.” Matt shrugged. “It makes a little more sense now that you’re hanging out with the Avengers, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got no issue with it, though. I’m not … I have no issue with enhanced people.” Matt looked around sheepishly, then he asked, “Do they know what’s wrong with you?”

Peter hesitated for a moment, not sure whether he should tell him at all, but then relented. “You know how Mr. Stark is working with nanotech?”

“Yeah, he gave a presentation a couple of months back.”

“I kind of … got in contact with it. And some nanobots split off and … they’re in my system. Attacking blood vessels and organs.”

Matt stared at him with wide eyes. “Seriously?”

Peter nodded.

“That’s … scary.”

Peter bit his lip. “Yeah.”

Helen entered the room, smiling at them both. “Peter, we’d like to do another CT scan, is that okay?”

Peter nodded. “Sure.”

Matt smiled at him. “I’ll just leave. I could come back tomorrow, though?”

“That would be cool,” Peter answered.

Rhodey pressed his palm against the reader and entered Tony’s workshop. Unlike other times Tony was down here on his own working, there was no music blasting from the speakers. It was a jarring difference, one that made it clear that something was seriously off. Rhodey braced himself as he entered further and approached Tony, who was working at one of the workstations in the middle of the room, staring at something on his screen.

“Hey,” Rhodey said carefully, trying to gauge Tony’s mood. He looked tense, even angry.

“Hey,” Tony answered, distracted.

“Are you making progress?”

Tony’s jaw clenched.

Rhodey saw now that there was a clear-walled container set on his desk and a microscope lens installed directly above. The screen was showing the enlarged view of the container’s content; nanobots in various states of destruction. Diagnostics were running on the side of the screen, Tony’s eyes following the loading bar.

“I tried to deactivate the bots in Peter’s system but the housing unit is unable to make a connection. I was trying to recreate the issue,” Tony said. “These bots were collected from the floor of this room. They’re all dead. Which is what they’re supposed to be. That’s how I programmed them. If they take damage, they deactivate.” He sniffed, his eyes not leaving the screen. “The ones in Peter’s system are active, but the housing unit can’t connect. So I checked it, took it apart, put it back together, ran diagnostics. Everything is fine.” He wiped a hand down his face. “So now I’m thinking … getting bots to retrieve the faulty ones in Peter’s system.”

“You want to inject even more bots into Peter?” Rhodey asked with a frown. “And you think that’s a good idea?”

“No, I don’t,” Tony answered and slumped. “It’s not.” He closed his eyes. “The best solution would be to retrieve the bots from Peter’s system but if I can’t do that, I need to just ensure they’re deactivated.”

“How about an EMP?” Rhodey asked.

“They’re shielded against EMPs.”

“Of course they are,” Rhodey muttered.

Tony took a deep breath, the tension in his shoulders increasing. “I need to think.”

“You need to take a break,” Rhodey answered.

Tony glared at him. “Right, because Peter’s got time for that.”

“Peter’s in good hands.”

“He’s in good hands if all those things do next is cause a bruise or a small internal bleeding. But we don’t know what’ll happen. They could go for his jugular, his heart, his brain.” Tony swayed, pressing his hand against his chest, his breathing becoming heavy.

“Jesus, Tony,” Rhodey muttered, guiding him to sit on the floor and crouching in front of him. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to eat, you need to rest.”

Tony shook his head, pulling his knees towards his chest and resting his forehead on them. “I need to fix this.”

“You can only fix it if you have the energy to do so.”

Tony looked up at him, brushing a hand through his hair. “What was I thinking?” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have taken him down here. I shouldn’t have shown him the suit.” He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth harshly. “What was I thinking?”

“You wanted him to have a good time,” Rhodey answered. “Because you want him to want to come back here.”

Tony huffed a laugh.

Rhodey cracked a smile. “It’s just us here, Tony. No need to be glib.”

Tony stared at the floor for a long moment. Then he very softly said, “Did you know that May was married?”

Rhodey tilted his head. “She was?”

“Yeah. His name was Ben.”

“He died?” Rhodey assumed.

“A couple of years ago.” Tony drew a deep breath. “May thinks that Peter might … consider me … a father figure. Because Ben’s gone.”

Rhodey shrugged. “She might be right.”

Tony rubbed his forehead and heaved a deep sigh. “You know, somehow, I knew this would happen. That’s why I tried to keep my distance. Didn’t work. He got attached either way and I …”

“You got attached, too,” Rhodey finished the sentence.

Tony didn’t nod but he didn’t shake his head either. When his eyes met Rhodey’s, they were miserable. “I’m not the right person for this kind of responsibility.”

“You know,” Rhodey said, “some people grow by taking on that kind of responsibility. Maybe you should go and see Peter, if only for a little while.”

Tony shook his head, his expression hardening. He got up off the floor and went back to the workstation. “I have to fix this first.”

Rhodey rose to his feet as well, heaving a sigh. He had almost expected that answer and was ready to negotiate. “If I get you a sandwich, will you eat it?”

Tony stared at his computer screen, his hands tight around the edge of the workstation, but he nodded. “Fine.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NOTES

The wonderful art in this story was created by finem00 and shoyzz-art (click the links to find the art posts and leave notes :) ).

This chapter contains scene dividers by finem00, but also two stunning pieces of art. The first depicting Tony in his workshop is from shoyzz-art and the second in the hospital room was made by finem00.

It was getting late, the sun having set a while ago already. At this time of day, the Compound was quiet and most of the windows in the DODC buildings were dark. Steve enjoyed the cool summer breeze that was coming from the mountains as he walked towards the medbay, breathing in the scent of the forest and freshly mown grass. He smiled and remained standing outside the medical services building for a couple minutes longer before he entered. A nurse was sitting at the reception desk, exchanging a smile with Steve as he passed, but other than that, the entrance area of the building was empty. He walked past the emergency room and pushed open the door that led to the ten hospital rooms the DODC had at their disposal at the Compound. Peter’s room was at the very back, in a quiet corner of the building. The door was half-open, so Steve peeked inside to check he wasn’t interrupting anything. He saw May sitting by Peter’s bedside, only illuminated by the gentle light of the bedside table lamp, her posture and expression tense. Steve knocked on the door to announce himself and she turned to look at him.

“Sh,” May said, but gestured for him to come closer. Steve noticed that Peter was asleep, his face turned towards May, who was running the fingers of one hand through his hair.

“How is he?” Steve asked softly.

May shook her head. “Helen did another scan. There are minor bleedings in his legs, arms and abdomen. His healing factor is catching up with them.”

Steve nodded and held out the Tupperware container he was holding. “I brought you dinner,” he said. “I wasn’t sure whether you ate.” Neither May nor Tony had joined them for dinner. Steve was a little worried about Tony. Rhodey seemed to be concerned and when Rhodey was concerned, it meant that something was seriously wrong. Steve wasn’t overly surprised that Tony was taking Peter’s situation so hard. It was obvious that he cared about him and the fact that Tony’s bots were the ones doing this to Peter made matters even worse. So Steve worried, but he trusted Rhodey to handle Tony. Even though they had started to speak more openly again, Steve wasn’t sure how well Tony would react to him trying to take care of him.

For May, however, he could do something.

She smiled at him, accepting the container. “That’s so nice, Steve, thank you.” She opened the lid. The pasta carbonara was still warm and she picked up the fork Steve had added to the container to eat. “You’re all being really nice, coming to see him. He had visitors all afternoon,” she said, as if adding an afterthought to her previous statement. “Believe me, Peter appreciates it. He’s not a fan of hospitals.”

Steve picked up the second visitor chair in the corner to sit down next to her. “I can imagine,” he answered. “I don’t really like them myself.” He paused to look at Peter when he shifted, but he remained asleep. “How are you doing?”

May paused, her expression turning sad. “I … I’m holding on. I mean … it’s scary, not knowing what will happen. But … Peter needs me not to be scared, so …”

Steve nodded thoughtfully. “Tony is doing all he can to fix this.”

May bit her lip. “I need to try and see him tomorrow morning,” she said. “I may have been too hard on him.”

“Not any harder than he is on himself,” Steve answered. “That’s for sure.”

May swallowed and pushed the pasta around the container. “Peter doesn’t want me to blame him and I know that, if he could have avoided this, he would have but …it’s hard. Peter’s …” She shook her head and looked at Steve. “He’s my baby,” she whispered. “It doesn’t matter that we’re not related by blood, he’s been mine since he was six years old and he is all I have. He’s the most important person in my life. If I lose him, too …” She set the container aside, tears welling in her eyes. “He doesn’t deserve this. He is a good kid and shit keeps happening to him, it’s not fair.” She wiped one hand over her cheek, catching a tear that had fallen, then she smiled sheepishly. “Look at me, crying in front of Captain America.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve said and gave her a smile. “It’s okay.”

May looked tired, so Steve convinced her to take a nap in the recliner by the window. She listened reluctantly and it didn’t take long for her to drift off. Steve got up and found a nurse to ask for a blanket and, upon receiving one, spread it over May’s legs carefully. He wondered whether he should leave or stay, unsure whether May thought that he would look after Peter while she was asleep.

Then Peter shifted and groaned. In the gentle light of the bedside table lamp, Steve noticed that his expression was everything but peaceful. An anguished frown was cut into his face and a sheen of sweat clung to his skin. Steve quickly stepped closer, his hand reaching out just as Peter moaned and opened his eyes. His breaths came in fast pants and his hands went to his stomach, while his eyes still tried to blink sleep away.

Steve pushed the bell. “Peter? What’s going on?”

Peter opened his mouth to answer and threw up instead. Steve quickly turned him on his side, one hand on his back to keep him stable.

May stirred in her chair. “What … what’s wrong?”

“Don’t know,” Steve answered, easing Peter back into the pillow and grabbing the extra blanket on his bed to cover the puddle of vomit. Peter was pale, whimpering with every breath he took.

A nurse entered the room and turned on the lights. Steve stepped to the side a little to make it easier for her to reach Peter and she checked the monitors at his side. “Peter, what hurts?”

“Stomach.”

She gently pressed her hand against his belly, pulling back when Peter gasped in pain.

“Right.” The nurse pushed the intercom button next to the bed. “I need Dr. Cho in Peter’s room.”

May brushed Peter’s hair out of his forehead and took one of his hands, squeezing tightly in reassurance. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I’d like to wait for the doctor, Mrs. Parker,” the nurse answered.

Peter was turning onto his side, curling up around his stomach. Tears ran down his face and sounds of pain were escaping him.

“It’s okay, baby,” May whispered, crouching down beside the bed to be on his level. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Peter gasped for air, his hands balling into fists. He sobbed. “May.”

“It’s okay,” she said and smiled shakily. “It’s going to be okay.”

She glanced at Steve, almost as if she was looking for confirmation. Steve had rarely felt this useless.

Rhodey took a deep breath to brace himself before he pressed his palm against the reader to enter Tony’s workshop. Looking around, he was not immediately able to see him. The ceiling lights had been switched off, a clear sign that Tony was fighting a migraine, and only some of the smaller lamps installed on the workstations and above the pinboards on the walls were illuminating the room, dipping it into an eerie atmosphere. The only other light came from the exhibition cases containing some of Tony’s suits, shadows cutting over the masks. Rhodey heard a soft curse and walked further into the room, finally finding Tony sitting at a workstation towards the back, staring at a holographic projection of the housing unit while his fingers tapped frantically onto a tablet computer. The projection threw a blue hue onto his pale face and his eyes were red-rimmed, his shoulders and expression tense. He didn’t look like he could stomach any kind of bad news, but Rhodey didn’t have a choice.

“Tony,” he said.

He didn’t even look at him. “Yes, I ate the sandwich. No, I won’t take a nap.”

“Tony, it’s Peter.”

Tony’s fingers froze, his eyes remaining glued to the projection.

Rhodey carefully continued, “Steve just called. They’ve got Peter back in surgery. He suffered a gastrointestinal perforation-”

“Rhodey.” Tony’s eyes were closed, his expression pained. One hand came up, and he pressed his fingers against his scalp. Definitely a migraine, then.

Rhodey sighed, explaining, “They tore a hole into his stomach.”

Tony’s expression hardened.

“You should go to the medbay-”

“I don’t have time for that,” Tony interrupted him, his fingers starting to move again, staggering and stumbling, but moving.

Rhodey swallowed, recognizing the signs of Tony distancing himself. “Should I tell you when he’s out so you can see him?”

“Can you just leave?” Tony asked.

Rhodey looked at him for a long moment, took in his haggard expression and the way he wouldn’t look at him. He knew Tony, though, knew that he was just scared and desperate. At this point in time, it was better to leave him be. So Rhodey nodded and turned to go.

When Sam arrived in Peter’s room, May was huddled into one of the visitor chairs, tears running down her cheeks, and Steve looked like he wasn’t quite sure what to do, hovering awkwardly by her side. Peter’s bed was gone, the heart monitor switched off and quiet. The window was open, allowing cool night air to stream into the room.

Steve looked at Sam questioningly and, knowing that he was asking about Tony, Sam shook his head. Rhodey and the others had stayed behind in the private quarters, not wanting to crowd May, but they had decided that at least one of them should go to switch places with Steve, who had been in the medbay for hours now. It was then that Sam really had noticed for the first time what they’d been doing since Peter had collapsed in the kitchen. Somehow, subconsciously, they had started a rotation to make sure that May and Peter were never alone. It stemmed from times when the Avengers had still been a team. When one of them was injured, the others would always make sure that at least one of them was there to provide company. And even though Peter wasn’t part of their team as such, it hadn’t taken them long to fall into that routine for him – and by extension May – as well.  

May looked pale and frightened, her eyes glued to the spot where Peter’s bed had been, her hands folded tightly. Sam knew from personal experience that the waiting for news was the worst part. He decided to do something about it. Crouching down in front of her, he smiled. “Mrs. Parker, how about we take a short walk?”

She looked at him and wiped her cheeks, taking a deep breath as if to collect herself. “No, I have to stay.”

“It will still be a little while before we hear any news.” He rested one of his hands on hers. “You look like you need a bit of fresh air.”

She hesitated.

“You’ll feel better after,” Sam said gently. “You’ll be ready for Peter when he comes out.”

That seemed to do the trick because May nodded reluctantly and got up. Sam put one of his hands between her shoulder blades, guiding as much as supporting her as they left Peter’s room. It was almost midnight, the corridors quiet and the reception manned by a single nurse who was on the phone as they passed.

The air outside smelled like wet grass. There had been a shower of rain a couple of hours ago and the paths still shimmered wetly in the soft illumination of the nightly Compound. May walked a straight line away from the medbay doors, her steps leading her onto the grass, before she stopped and breathed deeply, looking up into the sky. Sam approached her, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He saw Steve leave the medbay as well, heading back towards the private quarters, the change from him to Sam effortless and subtle.

May turned around to Sam and crossed her arms, wrapping the thin cardigan she was wearing tight around herself. “I used to smoke,” she said softly. “When I was younger.” She sniffed. “I stopped just before I met Ben.” Closing her eyes, she admitted, “I miss it sometimes.”

“Like tonight?”

She nodded, her face crumbling. “Sorry,” she said, wiping her cheeks and taking a deep breath.

“It’s fine,” Sam said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“This was supposed to be different.”

“How do you mean?”

“This was supposed to be a good week for him. You know, spending time with Tony and … being a kid. He doesn’t do that a lot anymore.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. “Because of Spider-Man?”

She didn’t answer, but her shoulders slumped.

“How are you dealing with that?” Sam asked carefully.

May shrugged. “Probably wrong,” she said. “I think many parents would ask me if I am crazy because I let him jump around in a suit taking down criminals.” She sighed. “Believe me, I was furious when I found out. I grounded Peter, I shouted at Tony and Happy.”

Sam laughed.

“But when Peter stopped going out, people in Queens noticed,” May said. “They actually noticed. There were news reports and twitter tags and all that.” She heaved a deep sigh. “So I came around.”

“Can’t be easy.”

She wiped her eyes. “It’s not. But I gotta give it to Tony, he made sure that Peter’s as safe as possible. His suit is basically a babysitter.”

Sam smirked. Knowing how complex FRIDAY was, he could imagine that Tony would be more than capable of programming a babysitter into a suit. He could also imagine that Peter was probably not overly happy about it.

“The thing is,” May said, “I think my husband would have been thrilled about Spider-Man. He would’ve been angry at first, of course, but … Ben was all about helping people. He’d be proud.” She shook her head. “And I am, too.”

It was quiet for a while, both of them taking in the night sky and breathing deeply. Sam could see May’s shoulders unclench a little, her tears drying, a determined expression settling back onto her face. Finally, she looked towards the entrance to the medbay and then back at Sam. “Thank you,” she said. “For listening.”

“Anytime,” Sam answered.

When Helen said that May could enter Peter’s room, she went alone, leaving Sam in the corridor. The first thing she did was dim the lights a little, knowing that the brightness would ache in Peter’s eyes when he woke. The head of the bed was elevated, allowing Peter to breathe more easily. He was pale under the oxygen mask strapped to his face, dark shadows lingering under his eyes. The skin of his forehead was hot to the touch.

He turned his head in May’s direction when she settled on the edge of the bed and cupped his cheek, his eyes opened to slits. “… ‘S gonna …,” he whispered.

“What?” May asked gently, brushing his hair out of his forehead. “Are you feeling nauseous?”

Peter closed his eyes and whispered something else that she couldn’t understand. He was so far away from the bundle of energy that she’d raised, the kid who, even when he was sick or sad, still managed at least a tired smile to let her know that he would be okay.

May felt tears press against her eyes. “Baby,” she said, stroking her thumb up his cheek, brushing the strap of the oxygen mask. “Tony is working on it,” she promised. “He’s going to find out what to do.”

Peter’s eyes opened again, dazed. “May.”

“Yes,” she answered.

“May,” he repeated. “… Gonna be fine.”

The tears flowed over, running down her cheeks. Aware of Peter’s eyes on her face, May quickly wiped them away and forced a smile. “Sure, baby,” she whispered. She leaned forward to press her forehead against his, her lips brushing the bridge of his nose when she whispered, “I love you so much. Everything’s going to be okay.”

The first rays of the sun were starting to make their way over the mountains by the time Sam returned to the private quarters to let them know that Peter was out of surgery, but that the anesthetic had a worse effect on him than the last time and that he was battling what seemed to be a case of sepsis. Natasha only waited long enough for him to finish his sentence before she left to take his place at May’s side.

Rhodey gathered scrambled eggs and bacon onto a plate, adding a couple of slices of toast before he made his way down to Tony’s workshop to give him the news. The workshop was still as dimly-lit as it had been the night before. Through the glass wall, Rhodey wasn’t able to see Tony at all. He pressed his palm against the reader, but the door didn’t unlock, flashing a red light at him. Rhodey frowned. Thinking it was a mistake, he put his palm against the reader again, but the door still didn’t budge. “FRIDAY?”

“Boss requested no interruptions,” she answered.

Rhodey cursed. He should have seen this coming. “I have news about Peter.”

“You may relay them to me and I’ll be glad to forward them.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Rhodey snapped and banged his fist against the glass. “Tony? Open the door.”

There was no reaction from inside. Rhodey could see movement towards the back, where the holographic projection of the housing unit was still emitting a soft blue light, but Tony didn’t give him any attention.

Rhodey’s shoulders drooped in defeat. He knew that there was nothing he could do once Tony had made up his mind, but his heart ached for his friend. He leaned against the glass. “FRIDAY, tell him that Peter’s awake, but that the anesthetic is being harder on him than last time. Helen also thinks that he might have developed sepsis. They’re taking care of it, though.” He swallowed, hoping that maybe this last bit of information would get a reaction. “She also mentioned that his healing factor might be breaking down.”

There was a long moment of silence, only interrupted by the soft murmur of FRIDAY’s voice inside the workshop. Rhodey waited, his eyes trained on the corner towards the back where he assumed Tony to be.

Finally, FRIDAY answered, but it wasn’t the answer he was hoping for. “Is that all, Colonel Rhodes?”

Rhodey ducked his head. Slowly, he crouched down to set the plate on the floor. “Tell him I brought breakfast.” He straightened again, throwing one last glance towards Tony’s corner. “And to take care of himself.”

Natasha saw the ambulance arrive when she left the private quarters. It was an unusual sight for the Compound, so it drew her attention immediately. It made its way towards the medbay, stopping at the side-entrance. Natasha slowed her pace a little as she watched two men in lab coats step outside the building. They opened the backdoor of the ambulance and pulled a stretcher out, the wheels clacking against the tarmac as they extended.

The person on the stretcher was entirely covered by a white sheet.

Natasha frowned. It wasn’t unusual for DODC agents to get hurt in the field but usually, they were transported to the nearest hospital. The same went for those who died.

The men entered the building, taking the stretcher with them. The ambulance made its way back towards the Compound entrance. Natasha raised an eyebrow and filed the incident away to reassess it at a later point.

That didn’t stop her from listening just a little bit closer when she entered the building and while she made her way to Peter’s room. Curiosity was one of her character flaws, as the Red Room had tried to teach her.

“Don’t think about why, just follow orders.”

Natasha had spent years trying to suppress the questions she had about her missions, about the things that didn’t quite line up, about why she had to kill … eventually, though, she’d learned to think of her curiosity as more of a strength than a weakness. Knowing things could go a long way in certain situations. So she picked up on two doctors at the reception talk (“… until after the autopsy. I want to know what’s going on before calling him in.” - “Don’t you think he’ll want to know now?” - “Do you wanna be the one to call Secretary Ross without detailed information?”) and three nurses whispering in the corridor to Peter’s room (“… won’t come to work, of course.” - “Poor thing, she must be devastated.”) before she reached Peter’s doorway.

Somebody of importance must have died, she thought, if Ross was getting involved, but she discarded the thought just a moment later. The nurses’ conversation had hinted at the person being someone who worked at the Compound and the DODC personnel here didn’t belong to the high ranks of the organization. The Compound served more as a training and research facility than anything else. So it was probably something else, maybe a death under suspicious circumstances. A staff member that was known to the medical personnel, so maybe a nurse or a doctor, probably a researcher from the medlabs.

She pushed the thoughts aside when she reached Peter’s room.

May was sitting by Peter’s side. She turned to look at Natasha when she cleared her throat softly and smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Natasha answered. “Steve sent this,” she added, holding up the Tupperware in her hand. “It’s breakfast.”

May pressed her lips together. “Thank you. I don’t think I can eat, though.” She turned back to Peter. Natasha stepped around the bed, looking down at him as well. Peter was pale, a sheen of sweat clinging to his skin, his cheeks flushed. The oxygen mask hid the lower half of his face but if the pinch in his eyebrows was anything to go by, he was in pain. “The anesthetic’s making him sick and his muscles hurt,” May said. “Painkillers don’t really work on him and even if they did, they would likely not want to pump even more drugs into his system. They’re hoping the antibiotics will work to battle the sepsis.” She paused, her hand reaching out to brush Peter’s hair back. “His fever’s pretty high.”

“Rhodey mentioned something about his healing factor breaking down,” Natasha said.

“Right,” May answered and took a deep breath. “They did another scan and there’s a lot of internal bleeding. Each wound is too small to warrant surgery but together …”

Natasha nodded her understanding. “It keeps his healing factor in overdrive.”

“Which needs energy,” May said, sniffing. “And he’s running out of that.”

Natasha noticed May’s pallor, the shadows under her eyes. “So are you.”

May shook her head. “I can’t leave.”

“I’m not asking you to. But maybe lie down for a bit.” She nodded towards the recliner by the window. “I can keep an eye on him.” May looked doubtful, but Natasha continued, “You’ll be of more help for him if you take care of yourself, May. And we’ve got your back.”

May looked up at her, a humorless laugh escaping her. “You guys actually do. Nobody would ever believe me if I told them but … you do.” She sighed. “Fine. Half an hour, then you wake me.”

“Deal,” Natasha answered.

May got up from her seat. Natasha stepped back to let her pass, but May followed her and before she knew it, she found herself in a tight hug. For a moment, she was taken aback, unsure how to react, but then she hesitantly returned the gesture. May whispered, “Thank you. All of you.”

“You’re welcome,” Natasha answered. Her throat felt tight with emotion and she cleared it softly.

May stepped back. There were tears in her eyes but she was smiling.

Not long after she had settled down in the recliner, May nodded off, as Natasha had expected. She kept herself busy by scrolling through the news feed on her phone and by messaging back and forth with Clint, when Peter suddenly stirred. Natasha set her phone down and leaned a little closer, frowning when Peter groaned softly, his face twisting in pain.

“Hey,” Natasha said, reaching out to rest one hand on his shoulder. “You’re okay.”

His eyes opened, fever-dazed and exhausted, and he muttered something that was impossible to understand from underneath the mask, so Natasha lifted it a little. “… ‘S Ben …”

Natasha didn’t know who Ben was. “He’s not here, Peter.”

Peter frowned, his eyes sliding shut and a tear escaping to track down his cheek. “… My fault.” He looked so utterly heartbroken that Natasha felt a knot settle in her chest. That knot only grew when Peter whispered, “Where’s … ‘s Mr. Stark?”

“He’s working on a solution,” she answered.

“Please,” Peter muttered. “Hurts.”

Another tear tracked down his cheek and Natasha couldn’t help but reach out to wipe it away. “I know, Дорогая,” she said softly, the endearment easier to bring over her lips in Russian. It had been a long time since she’d called anyone ‘darling’ but it didn’t feel wrong or awkward. “But you need to hold on just a little longer.”

His dark eyes found hers, a spark of determination lighting them up. “… ‘Lil’ longer.”

“Just a bit,” she said, smiling. Her thumb brushed over his cheek.

She didn’t even realize that she had started to hum until Peter closed his eyes again and whispered, “’S nice.”

“Is it?” she asked. “I never thought so.”

“’S nice, mom.”

Her heart broke and her breath hitched, all the times she’d wished for a child in her life crashing to the forefront of her mind. It wasn’t right to feel affection bloom in her chest because Peter wasn’t hers and he was sick and feverish and didn’t know what he was saying. “Peter,” she said, about to correct him but she couldn’t bring herself to do so.

Instead, she started to hum from the start, her hand reaching out to tangle fingers in his sweaty hair, and she ignored the way her eyes started to burn.

Rhodey had told Natasha that Tony wasn’t letting anybody enter, so she didn’t waste any time as soon as she was standing in front of the glass panel that separated her from the workshop. She didn’t try to unlock the door; she went straight to the person who guarded it. “FRIDAY, let me in.”

“Boss requested no disturbances.”

She’d expected that answer, but she didn’t care. “This is important.”

“What’s going on?” Rhodey asked, coming down the stairs behind her.

She’d known he would follow her, but she ignored him. What had started as annoyance in the medbay had transformed into anger on her way over here. Peter had asked for Tony several more times while he continued to battle his fever, certainly not quite understanding why Tony wouldn’t come. It had pierced Natasha’s heart, her apologies sounding more and more hollow every time she made them. Especially when he’d asked the last time, more lucid than before, and her answer had put that look of dull resignation on his face as if he couldn’t expect Tony to come and see him at all.

And it was made worse by the fact that she knew that Tony cared. He cared deeply enough to lock himself into his workshop for almost 24 hours now to try and save Peter. And she understood, she did, but it wasn’t enough. And he needed to see that.

FRIDAY said, “I’m afraid that boss will not give in to your request.”

“FRIDAY,” Natasha answered angrily, “tell him that if he ever had even an ounce of respect for Peter, he better open this door right now.”

“Nat,” Rhodey tried to interfere, “Tony’s trying to help Peter.”

Natasha whirled around to him. “If there was a way, he would have found it by now. He doesn’t help Peter by hiding down here. He has to face the truth, go over there and see him die just like the rest of us.”

Rhodey stared at her, a shocked look on his face. “Don’t tell him that.”

“It’s the truth. Peter needs him and he hides in his workshop because he can’t face him, can’t spare even ten minutes to let him know that he …,” she trailed off. Her eyes were starting to burn and she turned away from Rhodey to hide the tears that were gathering in the corners. “Does he even care?”

“You know he does,” Rhodey answered.

“And does Peter know that?” she answered.

The door clicked open and Natasha stepped inside before Tony could change his mind, quickly followed by Rhodey. She looked around the darkened room. There was one lonely light switched on towards the back of the workshop. She moved forwards, her hands clenching into fists the closer she got. She stopped when she saw him, her anger draining out of her because how could she have doubted even for one minute that Tony did care? If nothing else would have pointed towards that fact, it was this.

Tony looked defeated.

He was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall and his knees close to his chest. He was surrounded by what looked like coarse-grained sand, but Natasha suspected that it was nanobots. He was holding the housing unit in one hand. It was switched off. “I can’t fix it,” he said softly. He slammed the housing unit onto the floor, the casing cracking. He dropped it and tangled both hands in his short hair. “I can’t connect to them, I don’t know why they didn’t deactivate like all the others, I can’t trace them. The only possible solution is to introduce more nanobots into Peter’s system to retrieve the renegades, but every simulation fails. The risk of damaging him even further is too big.” He heaved something that sounded like a sob before he looked at Natasha and Rhodey, tears in his eyes. “I can’t fix it.”

“Tony,” Rhodey said.

“He’s my kid,” Tony said, his voice hoarse. “He’s my kid and I failed him.” He covered his eyes and took a few deep, shuddering breaths. “All I ever do is fail him.”

Natasha looked at Rhodey, saw his expression twisted into sorrow, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. She took a deep breath, forcing her voice not to waver as she knelt down in front of Tony. She cupped his face in her hands, waiting for him to meet her eyes before she said, “Right now, he doesn’t need you to fix this. He doesn’t need you down here. He wants you over there, in the medbay, by his side.” She thumbed tears from the corners of his eyes and ignored the ones running down her own face. “You haven’t failed him yet.” She swallowed before she added, “He asked for you, Tony. Please … he needs you.”

Tony stopped in front of the open door to Peter’s room, taking in the situation. Peter was in bed, the head slightly elevated to allow him to sit upright. He was conscious, but his face was pale and drawn, a bruise running from his jawline down his neck. It looked relatively new and like it might hurt quite a bit. Despite all that, he was wearing a smile, as thin as it was, directed at Helen, who was standing at the foot of the bed and taking notes. May was perched on the edge of the bed, while Sam had taken a seat on Peter’s other side. The sun was shining into the room and even filtered through half-drawn blinds, it made the situation a little easier to bear.

Tony shifted. Now that he was here he was unsure about whether he should even step in, but Helen had already noticed him. This pulled the attention of the others towards him as well. It was too late to retreat now.

“Tony,” May said, her expression turning hopeful. “Did you find it?”

Tony’s jaw clenched. “No,” he said. “No, I didn’t.” He stepped forward. “I wanted … I wanted to come and see you,” he said, looking at Peter, though his eyes kept darting towards May. “If that’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” Peter said before anybody else could answer. Even his voice sounded weak and slightly breathless, which explained the nasal cannula he was wearing.

“Dr. Cho?” a nurse said, leaning into the door. “Dr. Jefferson asked to see you immediately.”

Helen frowned. “Immediately? I’m with a patient.”

“In the morgue.”

Helen looked taken aback. “I … okay. I’ll come back later,” she told Peter.

He nodded at her as she left.

May leaned in to kiss his temple, asking softly, “You want us to leave you two alone?”

Peter looked at her. “Yes, please.”

“Okay.” She smiled and pressed another kiss to his forehead before she got up. “Sam, how about a walk?”

“Sounds perfect,” he answered.

May rested her hand on Tony’s arm before they left, pulling the door closed.

Tony stepped a little closer to the bed, crossing his arms since he didn’t know what else to do with his hands. He rarely felt this insecure and it was throwing him off. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Peter answered.

“How are you doing?” Tony asked, feeling stupid for even asking such a question but not knowing how else to start.

The shadow of a smirk tugged on Peter’s lips. “I guess it could be worse.”

Tony felt something painful dig into his chest but he knew that Peter had answered that way to lighten the mood, so he went along with it and forced a smile. He settled into the chair next to Peter’s bed, only hesitatingly meeting Peter’s eyes … and finding him looking at him. This close, Tony could see that blood vessels in Peter’s right eye had burst. “Does that hurt?” he asked.

Peter shook his head. “No.” His breathing was a little off, a little faster than it should be. “How are you doing?”

“How am I doing?” Tony echoed and took a deep breath. He looked down at his hands, his fingers entwined tightly enough that the knuckles turned white. “Not … too good,” he admitted and gave a humorless laugh. He felt his eyes begin to burn, but looked up either way to meet Peter’s tired gaze. “I’m sorry, kid,” he said. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t …”

Peter nodded slowly, his gaze falling to his lap where his hands were folded loosely. He swallowed thickly. “Okay.”

Tony stared at him, his face twisting, and he pressed his folded hands against his lips. “Don’t say that,” he said. “Don’t tell me it’s okay, because it’s not.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to be angry!” Tony snapped.

“At you?”

“Of course at me,” he answered. “You should yell at me, kick me out of the room, never talk to me again because it’s my fault you’re here, because I should have known better than to put you even close to experimental technology that I obviously did not have as much under control as I thought. You should tell me you hate me.”

“No,” Peter said, tears pooling in his eyes. “That would be a lie.”

Tony stared at him.

“And I’m not good at lying. You wouldn’t believe me anyway, so it’s not even worth trying.” He started to sob. “I don’t wanna waste time on that, that would be so stupid …”

He was interrupted when Tony abruptly shifted from the chair onto the edge of the mattress, reaching out and pulling Peter against his chest. There was a moment of stillness, then of Tony adjusting his grip to cradle Peter close, of Peter shifting down the mattress a little to sit more upright against Tony, of Tony resting one arm around Peter’s back and his other on the back of Peter’s head and of Peter tucking his head into Tony’s shoulder. Peter was shaking and gasping for breath, his sobs muffled against Tony’s t-shirt. One of his hands came up and hooked around Tony’s shoulder, meeting Peter’s other hand between Tony’s shoulder blades. And Tony had never felt this scared in his entire life – not when he was trapped in a cave in the desert, not when he saw an army assembled in space, not when Pepper fell to her death, not when Steve brought his shield down.

He had never been so scared and yet so determined to hold on. Because it was the one thing he could do for Peter because Peter was …

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, turned his head and planted a firm kiss into Peter’s hair. Somewhere between seeing the first grainy footage of Spider-Man on YouTube and returning with him from Germany, he’d become attached, and he should have known that he was doomed because the first thing he’d done afterwards, when his heart had still been racing from watching Spider-Man fall during the battle, was to distance himself. And hadn’t Pepper complained more than once about this habit of his? The deflection and the distraction whenever someone came a little too close to getting under his skin. But it hadn’t worked, not with Peter taking every rejection from Tony as an incentive to try harder, until Tony had given in, until dinner every week turned into dinner three times a week and post-patrol voicemail messages had turned into post-patrol conversations over the phone, until transferring updates for the suit in the backseat of Tony’s car had turned into a tour of the Avengers Compound, until the vague idea of maybe spending some actual time with each other had turned into Peter coming to visit him for a week.

Until all of that had turned into this.

It was as he’d said to Natasha and Rhodey: Peter was his kid, somehow.

His dying kid.

Tony closed his eyes, tightened his hold, and let the tears fall as well.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NOTES

The wonderful art in this story was created by finem00 and shoyzz-art (click the links to find the art posts and leave notes :) ).

This chapter contains scene dividers by finem00.

Peter’s head was heavy against Tony’s shoulder, his body relaxed in sleep, though his breathing was a little off, not as regular and deep as it should have been. After their hug, Tony had ended up on the edge of Peter’s mattress, leaning back against the raised head next to him and stretching his legs out to get more comfortable. It had been the easiest position for both of them to look at some Iron Man specs on Tony’s phone. Tony knew that he could have moved the moment Peter had fallen asleep, but he didn’t want to. And for once, he didn’t feel like keeping up appearances, either. He could continue to try and fool himself into thinking that Peter was just his mentee, just some kid he was helping to become a hero, just a project he was investing in. But all that had done was waste time he could have had with Peter over the last year. He couldn’t waste time now. Not when it could be extremely limited.

He’d dozed off just after Peter despite himself, only waking when May and Sam had returned. Both of them had smiled upon seeing them and Tony had huffed a breath and rolled his eyes, whispering, “I can’t leave without waking him, can I?” and it was a bad excuse, but he didn’t care. He’d rarely felt this comfortable and he certainly hadn’t felt as useful to Peter in the last 24 hours as he did now. Sam had just grinned wider before taking his leave, telling Tony to let them know should he need something. Tony knew that he needed to get back to the workshop, eventually, but at the moment, he just didn’t want to. He was using his phone to run some more simulations on the nanobots and as long as he could do that without actually returning to his workshop, he would make use of it.

It was quiet.

May had nodded off on the recliner by the window, the filtered sunlight falling through the blinds softening the worried lines on her face. The moment was peaceful, almost serene, but Tony knew it wouldn’t last. So he wasn’t really surprised when Helen stepped into the room, stopping short when she saw Tony on Peter’s bed. She collected herself quickly, though, ever the professional. “We need to talk,” she whispered.

“Now?” Tony asked.

“It’s important,” she answered.

Tony knew that she wouldn’t say that unless she meant it, so he carefully shifted Peter off his shoulder and made sure that his blanket was tucked tightly around him while Helen checked the IV lines. He followed her outside, expecting that she would talk to him in the corridor, but instead she quickly walked out of the medbay and up to her lab.

A man in his forties was waiting for them there, a nervous look on his sharp features when Tony entered.

Helen closed the door. “Tony, this is Dr. Jefferson.”

They shook hands, Jefferson flashing a smile that made him look even more nervous.

Tony shot Helen a questioning look, finding her face set into an earnest expression. She seemed slightly nervous herself. It set Tony on edge. Helen crossed her arms. “Tony, is there any way your nanobots could leave your workshop out of their own volition?”

Tony stared at her, a weight settling in his chest. “No,” he answered. “I took precautions, there are particle filters in all the AC units, they wouldn’t be able to fit through there.”

Helen and Jefferson exchanged a look and she pressed, “Maybe by getting stuck under someone’s shoe?”

Tony swallowed. “How many are we talking about? What are we talking about?”

Helen cleared her throat. “I don’t know if you heard, but a staff member died.”

Tony hadn’t heard but if Helen had called him out of Peter’s room for this, he was sure that there was a connection. “Who?”

“A junior researcher in R&D. His name was Matt Riley.”

Tony’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

“You know him?” Helen asked.

“Peter interned with him.”

Helen looked at Jefferson, who brushed a hand through his dark hair tiredly. “There’s the connection.” He closed his eyes. “We did the autopsy today and the cause of death was quickly determined to be multiple organ failure.” He took a deep breath. “Due to several of the organs being punctured with no outer sign of a wound.”

Tony’s eyebrows raised.

“I knew,” Jefferson said, meeting Tony’s eyes, “that Helen’s working on a similar case right now. The enhanced kid-”

“Peter,” Tony interrupted him.

Jefferson nodded. “Peter. I asked her to consult.”

“It wasn’t difficult to find nanobots, hundreds of them were clustered around Riley’s heart,” Helen said. “Obviously, his case is much more severe than Peter’s.”

Tony shook his head. “No, to be more severe, Matt must have been directly exposed and specifically targeted. Nobody but me and people living with me were in or near my workshop and none of them have a motive to ...” He trailed off, his eyes narrowing. “Is the DODC implying that one of us killed-”

“Tony, no,” Helen said quickly. “Nobody is implying anything. We’re looking for answers.” She walked around the workstation she’d been using as a desk and pulled something up on her computer before throwing the display at the large screen attached to the wall.

It showed the enlarged picture of a nanobot, looking exactly like the ones in Peter’s blood. Exactly like Tony’s, except … Tony’s heart skipped a beat. “This,” he pointed at the picture, “this is one of the bots you found in the body?”

“Yes,” Jefferson answered.

Cylindrical body, flattened towards both ends, it looked like Tony’s creation … almost. “Oh my God”, Tony whispered, starting to feel a little faint as his mind already skipped several steps ahead and to a startling conclusion. “They’re not mine.”

Helen frowned at him. “It looks exactly like the one in Peter’s blood, which you identified-”

“Because they’re close,” Tony said. “Very close to my design. But … this one doesn’t have tentacles.”

Helen frowned and pulled up the picture of the nanobots in Peter’s blood, displaying both images next to each other. Their bodies looked the same … but the four silvery tentacles sprouting from both flat ends on Peter’s picture weren’t present in the other one.

“The tentacles serve to connect the bots with one another and form the suit,” Tony said. “This one doesn’t have them. Maybe it’s another generation, a variation of my bots … but that would mean the ones attacking Peter …” He wiped a hand down his face. “It would explain why I couldn’t form a connection to them, why I couldn’t trace them. There’s a chance Peter didn’t get infected with my bots.”

Helen nodded. “Because it’s highly unlikely there are two different outbreak sources in such a short timespan.”

Tony huffed a breath.

“If they’re not yours,” Helen said, “whose could they be?”

Tony stared at the screen. “I gave my specs to the DODC a couple of months ago.”

Helen stared at him. “What? But … I didn’t think you shared suit technology.”

“It’s not a hard no. I don’t hand over suits and if I share technology, I usually do it in a limited fashion. Like I shared a limited version of the arc reactor tech with them because I thought it was useful.” He took a deep breath. “But for this, I gave Ross the full specs in exchange for him granting house arrest at the Compound for Steve and the others.” He closed his eyes. “Ross wanted a suit, I told him no. The specs were a compromise.” He shook his head, nausea clawing at his throat. “I also gave him samples.”

“Why didn’t you mention this sooner?”

“I didn’t think of it sooner,” Tony said. “Because I checked which project Marlow’s team was working on before setting up Peter’s internship and they’re not working with anything dangerous. I didn’t consider …” He pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath. “Damn it, they must have worked with nanotech off the record!” he snapped, turning his back towards Helen and Jefferson. “And when Peter cut himself in the lab … he must have got in contact.” His eyes were burning, his chest feeling tight. “I wasted so much time.”  

The intercom clicked and a woman said, “Dr. Cho, Code Blue in Mr. Parker’s room.”

Tony felt like he was punched in the stomach. For a moment, everything around him seemed to freeze, growing distant, a gasp stuttering out of his chest. Then Helen brushed his shoulder as she pushed past him at a run and the world snapped back into place. Tony started to run as well, following closely behind her, barely dodging people who got in his way, almost stumbling down the stairs in his haste. His body felt numb, his mind racing, his heart beating out of his chest.

Code Blue, he knew, meant that the worst was quite possibly happening.

And it was happening to Peter.

Scott was standing a few steps away from the bed, Peter’s aunt grasping his hand tight enough to hurt. She was shaking and Scott had put an arm around her in support automatically. Clint had braced one knee behind Peter to keep him on his side, one hand holding the IV lines up and out of harm’s way while Peter’s body shook with a seizure. A nurse and a doctor were there, too, the nurse keeping an eye on the time while the doctor had one hand on Peter’s shoulder to help Clint keep him turned on his side.

Just a few minutes ago, everything had been fine.

Clint and Scott had arrived at Peter’s room to find May perched on the edge of Peter’s bed, one hand on his shoulder as he was just waking up and Peter sitting upright, clutching his head, complaining of a sudden headache. It had been Clint, who’d known that something was wrong. Scott had been confused at first when Clint had asked Peter to smile and to raise his arms, and while Scott was still processing what seemed off about Peter’s forced smile, Clint was already pressing the bell. It was then that Scott noticed the way one side of Peter’s face seemed to droop.

The seizure had started right after.

Scott didn’t know how much time had passed by the time Helen was running into the room with Tony on her heels, but he slumped in relief when the seizure started to fizzle out. He saw Peter’s eyes blink open, tears tracking over his face and onto the mattress.

May pushed away from Scott and hurried over to the bed, kneeling down to be on Peter’s level and reaching out to touch his cheek. “It’s okay, baby,” she said.

Peter looked confused and lost and in pain and Scott hated it. He glanced at Tony, trying to get any clue on whether he had found a way to help Peter, but Tony’s face was frozen into a hard expression, the pallor to his skin and the tremor in his hands the only hint that he was affected by the situation. Clint settled into a position that looked a little more comfortable, though he stayed close behind Peter.

Scott swallowed, his heart beating up into his throat, and he felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room as he watched Helen’s face harden while she listened to the doctor. She nodded curtly and met May’s eyes, “I need a CT scan done.”

May nodded, but Peter whimpered and sobbed. “No.”

Scott realized with a pang that this was the most scared and hurt he sounded since this whole ordeal had started.

“No, please.”

May made a soothing sound. “Baby, it won’t hurt one bit-”

“’S gonna,” Peter moaned. “Please.” He sobbed. “’S gonna hurt.”

“Peter,” May answered, “I promise-”

“No,” he whispered and closed his eyes.

“May,” Tony said softly.

She turned to look at him and Scott saw that her eyes were wet.

Tony crossed his arms. “He’s not talking about the scan. He’s talking about the surgery. Whenever there was a setback like this, he had to undergo surgery.”

May’s eyes widened in realization.

Peter moaned, reaching for May with a trembling hand. “Sick,” he said. “’M gonna be …”

May pulled his head to hang over the edge of the bed as he lost his battle against the nausea and Scott quickly held a bin under Peter’s mouth. Peter moaned and Scott reached out on instinct, brushing his hair out of his sweaty forehead. Clint helped to settle Peter back onto the mattress properly, his hand squeezing Peter’s shoulder in support.

Helen’s voice was firm when she spoke, taking control of the situation. “We need that scan now and we will have to operate. I think we’re looking at a brain hemorrhage.” She looked at Tony. “We’re running out of time.”

Tony’s jaw clenched and he exchanged a look with May. “Give me a sec?”

She stepped away from Peter to make space for him and Scott moved away as well. Tony crouched down by Peter’s head, his hand cupping Peter’s cheek. “I’m sorry, kid, but you’ll have to.”

Peter’s breathing hiccupped and he shook his head. “’S bad.”

“I know,” Tony whispered. “I know it’s bad, buddy, but we have to do it. So we can help you. They probably got your brain and caused a hemorrhage and we have to get in there to fix it.”

Peter closed his eyes, his expression pained. “S’op … talk.” He winced. “Don’ ‘now.”

“Tony,” Helen said. “He doesn’t understand that right now.”

“I know,” he hissed in her direction.

Scott swallowed. Peter’s speech was starting to slur heavily, his hands trembling where they fisted his hospital gown.

May put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Let me-”

“Wait,” he said and leaned forward, his hand wandering to the back of Peter’s neck and his forehead pressing against Peter’s temple as he whispered something that was impossible to hear for Scott.

Peter moaned. A few seconds ticked by in silence, then he murmured. “’Kay, sir.”

Tony nodded and pushed away from the bed, standing next to Scott with his arms crossed and his face hard. Clint came to stand next to Scott while the breaks on Peter’s bed were released and he was wheeled out of the room, May grasping his hand tightly as she walked beside him.

It was silent for a long moment before Tony said, “I’m a jerk.”

“What did you tell him?” Clint asked.

Tony looked at him and shook his head. “I need to make a phone call,” he said before he left them standing.

“Stark,” Ross said gruffly. “You pulled me out of an important phone call. I hope that this is at least about a life and death situation.”

Tony clenched his fingers around the phone, staring out the window of the unoccupied room next to Peter’s. “What did you do with the specs I gave you two months ago?”

There was a long pause. “This is about Mr. Parker,” Ross finally said.

Tony cursed. “Who told you about that?”

Ross gave a long-suffering sigh. “The Avengers’ living quarters are a private area of this Compound, the medical facilities aren’t. I was merely interested in why Dr. Cho was called in on short notice. You are aware that we pay her, right? Not you. And we pay for the treatment your kid is currently undergoing and for the staff taking care of him. I get expense reports, Stark.”

Tony pressed his lips together, biting down a remark about the DODC being nothing more than a tenant at the Compound. There were more important things to discuss and alienating Ross wouldn’t help him right now. “What did you do with the specs?”

“I handed them over to R&D in the hopes that somebody would surprise me.”

“Who did?”

“I’m not gonna give you names, Stark. I’m on my way to the Compound, though. We can talk in person in a couple of hours.” With that, he hung up.

Tony felt his hands clench around the phone, felt his chest cinch tight and his throat constrict, his frame shaking … if he’d known sooner, if he’d connected the dots sooner, if he hadn’t focused so much on his bots … he could have saved Peter, spared him the pain and the fear … but he hadn’t. He’d let Peter down – again. He let out a shout of anger and slammed his fist against the wall. Blinding agony raced up his arm and he screamed out again, this time in pain, before collapsing to the floor in a heap.

“Hey!” someone said and a shadow fell over him.

Tony’s eyes blurred with tears as he looked up, barely recognizing Rhodey through the veil of his tears as his chest heaved.

“Okay,” Rhodey said and he sounded worried and far away. “Okay, Tony, I need you to breathe.”

He was breathing, wasn’t he?

Everything started to feel a little faint, a little out of reach, hands grabbed his shoulders, black spots danced in front of his eyes and the world tilted sideways, then into nothing.

He woke to a dimly-lit hospital room and Rhodey looking at him from a chair next to his bed. “Hey,” he said when Tony blinked at him in confusion.

“What happened?” Tony asked.

“You had a panic attack,” Rhodey answered. “Your blood sugar was extremely low and you were dehydrated. Any of those things could have caused you to keel over, we’re not sure which one did it.” He held out a glass with orange juice.

Tony reached out to take it and winced when pain shot through his hand. He looked at his scraped knuckles in confusion.

“Oh, yeah,” Rhodey added. “The wall won. Nothing’s broken, though.”

Sunlight was making its way into the room around the edges of the blinds and Tony checked the clock above the door. He had been unconscious for just over an hour. “Where’s Peter?”

“Still in surgery.” Rhodey pressed his lips together. “It’s not looking good, Tony.”

“All we need is for the bots to shut down and his healing factor to catch up.”

“Yeah, we know that much, Tony. But how are we gonna do that?”

“By finding out who created them.”

Rhodey frowned. “I thought-”

“No,” Tony interrupted him. “They’re not mine.”

“But how?” Rhodey asked.

“I made a deal with Ross to get him to allow Steve and the others to come stay at the Compound.”

Rhodey’s eyes widened. “Tony, does Steve know about that?”

“You didn’t,” Tony answered. “What do you think?”

Rhodey shook his head. “Damn.”

“Yeah. Ross gave the specs to R&D and I think he knows who is responsible, but he wouldn’t tell me. He was on his way here, though. Did he arrive?”

“If he did, I haven’t heard about it.”

Tony gulped down the rest of the juice and swung his feet from the bed, jamming them into his sneakers.

“Sandwich,” Rhodey said, holding out a plate with a ham sandwich.

Tony knelt down to tie his shoes, ignoring the plate Rhodey waved in his line of sight. “Peter cut himself in the DODC lab,” he said. “He didn’t say on what but he was getting his phone, so I guess somewhere in Marlow’s lab. I did a check on Marlow’s projects before I signed Peter up for the internship and there was no mention of nanotech, so if Peter got infected there, something iffy is going on.”

“Sandwich,” Rhodey said again.

Tony grabbed it from the plate and stuffed it into his mouth, using his free hands to navigate the screen of his phone while he left the room. His scraped knuckles stung painfully, but he ignored it.

“Tony, what’s the plan?” Rhodey asked, coming after him.

Tony didn’t answer, too busy accessing the visitor list of the Compound. He tucked the phone into his pocket and removed the sandwich from his mouth, quickly chewing and swallowing. “He’s not here yet.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“We’re not doing anything,” Tony answered pointedly. “I will have a chat.”

Rhodey grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. “Tony, not that I’m not glad to see that you think you can still find a way to fix this, but don’t get into trouble while you do so.”

“I’m not going to watch Peter die,” Tony snapped. “Not as long as I can do something about it and now, I finally can.” He sniffed and averted his eyes. “He’s my kid, Rhodey, I can’t let him down.”

“Your kid?” Rhodey asked.

“In a manner of speaking,” Tony said. “He kinda latched onto me.” He met Rhodey’s eyes. “Got through the cracks. You were right.”

Rhodey smiled. “I know I was.”

Tony rolled his eyes and tugged his arm free. He took another bite from the sandwich, turning towards the exit.

“Tony!” somebody called behind him and he turned around to face May, who walked towards him from Peter’s room with Scott in tow. She was pale, her eyes red. “Where are you going?” she asked. “Don’t leave him, he needs you here.”

He grasped her shoulder. “May, I think we can still fix this.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She swallowed, her expression turning determined and resolute. “Okay,” she said. “Okay, go.”

Tony took her hand and squeezed it in encouragement before catching Scott’s eyes, silently asking him to take care of her. Scott nodded at him.

The moment Tony and Rhodey entered the reception area of the DODC, three security guards squared their shoulders and stepped into their way. “Sir,” one of them said, focusing on Tony and ignoring Rhodey altogether, clearly aware of who was posing the problem. Tony suppressed a curse. Of course Ross had informed the DODC that he might turn up. The guard lowered his voice, tilting his head towards the door. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I have authorization to be here,” Tony answered, holding up his badge.

“Access for the Avengers was suspended until further notice.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “By who?”

“Secretary Ross,” the guard answered.

“I don’t have time for this,” Tony said and tried to side-step him but he stepped into his way again, unmovable. Tony glanced at his nametag and smirked. “Agent Dawson, you don’t want to get in my way.”

Dawson shook his head. “With all due respect, sir, I have to ask you to leave.” His dark eyes found Rhodey for the first time. “Both of you. Secretary Ross will be in touch, there is no reason to cause a scene.”

Tony tapped his watch and pulled the Iron Man gauntlet over his hand, but kept it pointed to the ground.

The two guards behind Dawson shifted, one of them gulping visibly. Dawson didn’t let on whether the gauntlet perturbed him, his stance and expression calm and determined. “Deactivate your weapon or we’ll have to arrest you.”

“You and what army?” Clint’s voice asked from behind Tony.

He glanced back over his shoulder to find Clint, Sam, Steve and Natasha standing there alongside Rhodey, who was smiling at him, holding up his phone. “Called for reinforcements,” he said.

Tony would never admit to it, but he was a little taken aback. Steve and the others were risking a lot by getting involved in this situation. The agreement had been clear that they were not to cause any trouble. And having Tony’s back in this situation was a clear violation.

It had become quiet in the reception area, staff who had been passing by on their way home staring at them in confusion.

“Stand down!” Dawson said, his hand on the handle of his gun. His fingers were twitching nervously, though. It was clear to him that they were outnumbered, Tony thought. Even without their weapons, the Avengers were still dangerous enough. However, Tony hesitated. He didn’t necessarily want to cause a fight. The last thing they needed was to end up as the aggressors in this situation. As much as he wanted to find a solution to Peter’s situation – and fast – he needed to think of the bigger picture. Attacking the DODC wouldn’t help them.

Proving that the DODC had lost control over one of their inventions on the other hand could.

So he decided to diffuse the situation. “I need to see Dr. Marlow.”

“I’m sure you understand that’s not possible, sir.”

“I’m right here,” someone said and Dr. Marlow stepped forward. He was around Tony’s age and looked friendly enough, though his expression was understandably tense, his dark eyes glancing at Tony’s gauntlet nervously. He was holding a briefcase and wearing a light jacket. Clearly, he’d been on his way out.

Dawson turned around to him, alarmed. “Sir, I must ask you to-”

“No,” Marlow answered and came closer. “If there is an issue, I want to know about it.”

Tony nodded at him. “Tell me how to deactivate the nanobots.”

Marlow stared at him in confusion. “The nano … I don’t work with nanotech.”

Tony raised his hand, the gauntlet pointing straight at Marlow. “Think again.”

There was the click of a gun, the safety disengaging and out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Dawson pointing his weapon at him. Marlow raised a hand in Dawson’s direction, keeping his dark eyes trained on Tony. “My team does not work with nanotech, Mr. Stark.”

“Why should I believe you?” Tony asked.

“Because we already arrested the responsible person.”

Tony turned around to Ross, who was standing near the entrance with his hands folded behind his back.

“And if you lose the gauntlet, I’ll let you sit in when I talk to her.”

Deborah Ramsey was one of the more brilliant minds working in the DODC. Tony knew that because she had been one of the first hires, when he had still been much more involved and helped to assemble the R&D division. Now, as he stared at her through the one-way mirror of an interrogation room, all he felt was anger. Ramsey looked calm and collected, as if she was just waiting for a friend to turn up. Her dark hair was tied into a neat bun, her hands folded on top of a file, her green eyes looking at the mirror as if she was aware that she was being watched. A smirk was tugging at the corner of her lips.

Ross was straightening his suit jacket. “Believe me, Stark, I don’t want a dead child on the DODC’s hands,” he said, answering Tony’s question of why he should trust him.

Clint, leaning against the wall in the corner with his arms crossed, scoffed. “You still sanctioned this research.”

Ross rolled his eyes. “I didn’t sanction its use. As I already tried to explain to Stark and Rogers, we might very well be on the brink of a civil war. Conventional weapons do not work on some mutants. They’re resistant to bullets, others can control projectiles headed for them with a wave of their hand, some have a healing factor that makes normally fatal wounds heal within minutes.” He tugged his tie into a place. “There’s even rumors about two or three of them not being able to die at all.”

“Oh, one of them dies,” Natasha answered. She was standing next to Tony, her eyes focused on Ramsey. “But he can walk it off.”

“I assume you had the pleasure of meeting Wilson,” Ross said to her.

She scoffed. “I wouldn’t call it pleasure.”

Tony shook his head impatiently. “We’re running out of time. Let’s get started.”

Ross held out a hand, palm up. Tony rolled his eyes and removed his watch, handing it over.

“Yes, let’s,” Ross answered, tucking the watch into his pocket, and opened the door to the interrogation room, Tony close on his heels.

Ramsey smiled at them flatly, her fingers drumming on the file.

Tony and Ross took seats opposite her. Tony bit his lip, giving Ross the lead.

“You’re aware why you’re here?” Ross asked.

Ramsey tilted her head. “Because you want to understand what I have to offer.”

“Which would be …”

“A weapon,” she answered. She slid the file over the table. “My report.”

“Report?” Ross asked, accepting the file but not opening it.

“On the experiment.”

Tony’s fingers curled to fists, his jaw clenching in anger.

Ross opened the file, leafing through the pages. Tony saw flashes of CT-scans and tables, a lot of text. “You wrote a report on what the nanobots did to the Parker kid?”

“To make it clear,” Ramsey said, glancing at Tony, “I didn’t expose him intentionally. I’m still not sure how it happened. I didn’t even know he was exposed until Mr. Riley approached me.” She smiled at Ross. “But I gathered all the required data for the report once I knew. You’ll be happy to hear that investing in this technology is worth it. The decline in the subject’s health is clear to see. Even with a healing factor, the infestation reaches a point where the subject will succumb to the injuries.”

Tony spat angrily, “You’re talking about a kid! He isn’t a subject, he is a terrified child who didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

Ramsey’s expression remained calm as she answered, “As I said, it wasn’t intentional.”

“You should have said something as soon as you knew!” Tony snapped.

She smirked. “I had the unique chance to watch the bots at work. I couldn’t pass that up. You’re a scientist. You should understand.”

Tony stared at her in disbelief.

Ross intervened before he could answer. “So, Matt Riley died because he was going to expose you.”

She huffed a laugh. “Riley might have had the smarts but he didn’t have the conviction. He went to work for Dr. Marlow because he didn’t believe in the technology and when he found out that Parker was infected, he had the audacity to come to my home and threaten me.”

“Because he wanted you to help Mr. Parker,” Ross concluded. “And you wouldn’t. How did you kill him?”

“I had a syringe of them with me to conduct some experiments at home.” She shrugged. “It didn’t take long for the first effects to show. He died quickly. There’s an annex in the report about the effect on non-mutant subjects.”

Tony had heard enough. “How do we stop them?”

“You deactivate them,” she answered.

“How?” Tony asked.

Ramsey leaned back in her chair. “I want immunity.”

“What?” Tony asked.

“I want immunity,” Ramsey repeated. “In exchange for the kid’s life.”

“There is no way,” Tony said, rage making his voice shake. “No way I’ll let you get away with this.”

Ross got up, taking the file. “I think we’re done here.”

“No,” Tony answered, glaring at him. “We’re not done.” He pinned Ramsey with a cold look. “Tell me how to deactivate them.”

Ramsey crossed her arms but didn’t answer.

Tony slammed his hands on the table. “Tell me how to do it!”

“Stark,” Ross said sharply.

“I’m not leaving without the information,” Tony said.

“You’re leaving,” Ross said, “or I’ll have you arrested, too.” He opened the door.

Tony refused to move.

“If you think that you being in a cell is going to help Mr. Parker, then I’ll be glad to prove the opposite,” Ross said.

“Tony,” Natasha said from the door, tilting her head to indicate he should leave.

Tony stared at Ramsey, his jaw clenched, his hands in fists. But he knew that Ross was right; being in a cell wouldn’t help Peter at all. He rose and leaned over the table, getting closer to Ramsey. “This isn’t over,” he said, before he brushed past Ross and out of the room. He waited for the door to close before he turned on him. “If you think I’m going to accept that, you’ve got another thing coming. I won’t hesitate to get a suit down here and make her answer.”

Ross shook his head. “I’ve got some phone calls to make. Let’s give it two hours, see if she changes her mind.”

“We don’t have that kind of time, Ross!”

“And you don’t seem to understand that she doesn’t care. She wrote a dossier on a dying kid.” He slapped the folder against Tony’s chest. “You can threaten her, hurt her, but think about the consequences.”

“I don’t care about the consequences.”

“She could give the incorrect answer under pressure, Stark. She could tell you something that would make things even worse if you hurt her. Do you want to risk that?”

Tony glared at the closed door to the interrogation room.

“This is my turf, Stark,” Ross said. “Let me make some phone calls, pull some strings, find a solution. Two hours. That’s all I’m asking from you.”

Tony clenched his jaw.

Natasha’s hand gripped his shoulder, squeezing gently.

“One hour,” Tony said.

“Ninety minutes,” Ross answered.

Tony clenched his fists, taking a deep breath, but he nodded.

Tony found May by Peter’s bedside when he returned to the medbay, holding one of Peter’s hands in hers, pressed to her cheek. She was alone, but Tony had seen Sam and Scott in the waiting area, so he assumed that she’d asked them to leave. Peter was lying still and unresponsive, the monitors beeping steadily next to him. There was a ventilator hissing in the corner, pushing air into Peter’s lungs through the tube taped to his mouth. His head was covered in bandages.

Tony hadn’t thought that it was possible to be even more frightened, to have his heart even more broken … he’d been wrong.

“They put him into a medically induced coma,” May said without turning around to him. Tony wondered whether she just assumed it was him or whether she didn’t care who entered at all. She sounded tired and hollow. “To help recovery.”

Tony swallowed and stepped closer.

“Did you find it?” she asked.

So she did know it was him.

He didn’t have the heart to tell her that someone had decided to use her nephew as a lab rat. “We’re close,” he said instead. “Hopefully.”

She turned around to him. Her eyes were red but her cheeks were dry. “Do you want to sit with him?”

Tony hesitated.

May got up from her chair.

“No,” Tony said quickly, “you should-”

“You should, too. I think it would be good for him to hear your voice.”

Tony stepped forward slowly and sank into the chair. May pulled one of the others closer and sat down next to him. Tony stared at Peter’s face, half-obscured by the ventilator and so … empty, as if he was ... he reached out for Peter’s hand, finding it reassuringly warm. He curled his fingers around Peter’s. “Hold on a little longer, kid,” he said. “I know how you hate to let things go, so … don’t.” He struggled then, not sure what to say.

May’s hand on his back was warm and he felt her leaning her head against his shoulder. “Can I ask you something?” she whispered. Tony didn’t answer and she took it as consent. “What did you tell him, before the surgery?”

Tony winced.

“It’s just …” She hesitated. “He was so scared before and … don’t get me wrong, he still was after but … he tried not to show it.”

“’You’re stronger than this, Spider-Man’,” Tony said. He closed his eyes. “I wanted to show him that I believe in him and it came across as dismissive and I …” He shook his head. “The way he called me ‘sir’ … he only does that when he gets … intimidated. He did it after the ferry when I thought the best thing to do in response was to …” He shook his head. “To tell him that he should be better than me. What kind of person puts that kind of pressure on a kid? I’m not … father material. I know you and Rhodey and the others think that’s what I am to him, in a way, and I want to be. I wish I could be. But when things get tough, I overreact and I’m not good for him. Not like this.”

There was a long pause, then May said, “When Peter was seven and he’d lived with me and Ben for what must have been half a year, I took him to the park on my own for the first time. I’d only ever taken him there together with Ben because …” She sighed. “I don’t know. Becoming his parent wasn’t easy for me, for a while. Ben and I had discussed kids but we’d decided to wait, so … I wasn’t prepared and I felt safer doing stuff like that together with Ben because he was … he was a natural, you know. Good with kids in general, great with Peter in particular. But school ended early on that day and Ben was at work and Peter begged me to go see the frogs, so we went. And he fell into the pond.”

Tony huffed a laugh.

“I’d told him to stay away from the edge,” May said. “I wasn’t looking for just a moment, checking my messages, and he … fell.” She sighed. “A jogger saw it happen and fished him out and I … I just lost it. I shouted at Peter, right there, about not listening to me.”

“You were scared.”

“So were you after the ferry,” May said. “And maybe, just like me, you felt guilty for not keeping an eye on him.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“No, of course not. But it’s something that happens when you’re a parent.”

Tony turned to look at her.

May smiled. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think he believes that you were dismissive,” she said, rubbing her hand up and down his back. “I think he’s losing hope and needed you to remind him that he has to hold on. And that he is capable of doing that.” Her smile became teasing. “And as for the rest, I think all you need is practice. Get away from Spider-Man and Iron Man for a little while, out of the workshop, away from mentoring. Do something fun together.”

“You want me to take him to see the frogs?”

May laughed. “If he wants to,” she said, “why not?”

The ninety minutes Tony had given Ross were almost over when there was a knock on the door to Peter’s room. Tony and May turned and Tony was surprised to find Ross standing there. He put a hand on May’s arm and got up to join him in the corridor, closing the door to Peter’s room behind them. He wasn’t sure whether the news Ross had were good ones and he wanted to be the one to tell May in case they weren’t.

To his surprise, Ross held out a USB stick and a folded piece of paper. “This should do it.”

“What?” Tony asked, confused.

“You’ll find everything you’ll need to control the bots on the stick. The paper has the deactivation code.”

Tony took the piece of paper first, unfolding it to stare at the line of numbers and letters in disbelief. “She gave you this?”

“Yes.”

“Just like that?”

Ross heaved a sigh, shaking his head. “Her price is not the matter of interest here.”

Tony’s eyes widened as he realized what that meant. “You gave her immunity?!”

Ross’ eyes narrowed, a scowl settling on his face. “It’ll save the kid’s life, you should be happy.”

Tony shook his head. “So, the ninety minutes you wanted … you used them to make a deal with her. Without any of us present.”

Ross was clearly annoyed now. “You had no right to be present, Stark. I was being polite when I allowed you to join the interrogation.”

Tony scoffed. “And she’s already gone, isn’t she? You already got her out of here.”

“Perfectly legal.”

He held out the USB stick again and Tony accepted it, clenching his fingers around it. “She basically admitted to human experimentation, Ross. Why did you give in?”

Ross smiled thinly. “She may be misguided and she may be a risky investment, but she developed something that our government wants right now.”

“A way to kill mutants?”

“A way to even the playing field.” Ross tucked his hands into the pockets of his suit. “Listen, the way I see it, we all win. The government gets the bots, you get your kid and the DODC gets a potentially valuable asset.” Tony’s heart skipped a beat, his eyes narrowing at Ross as he continued, “That kid of yours is quite something. Smart as a whip, dedicated and … talented. We might need Spider-Man on our team one day.”

Tony’s jaw clenched. “You knew?”

“You’re surprised? He’s not the most subtle, Stark. Washington, combined with his connection to you, gave him away. Granted, not many people do know. Just those who might need to one day.”

Tony stepped closer to him, lowering his voice threateningly. “Well, whoever else knows can keep their distance. Spider-Man’s an Avenger.” Which wasn’t technically true, but Tony wasn’t willing to admit that at the moment. Definitely not to Ross.

“Spider-Man is a child,” Ross answered, not intimidated at all. “Unlike you, we’re not the types to recruit child soldiers. Who knows what’ll change until he turns twenty-one, though? The Avengers might not even exist anymore. They barely do now, do they?” He smirked. “But, please go on, Stark. Train him, equip him, prepare him … it’ll make it easier for us one day.” He clapped Tony’s shoulder. “See you for the amendment negotiations.” He turned to leave, but stopped again to look at him. “By the way, Barton and Lang will not be allowed to leave the Compound, but family visits will be granted twice a month. To repay you for your part in the creation of this weapon.”

With that, he left.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NOTES

The wonderful art in this story was created by finem00 and shoyzz-art (click the links to find the art posts and leave notes :) ).

This chapter contains scene dividers by finem00 and the last wonderful piece of art for this story created by shoyzz-art.

As soon as the program on the stick loaded, Tony could see it was picking up on signatures, starting to list all the active bots inside Peter’s body. There were a lot. His stomach twisted just a little more with every line that got added to the list. It was more than the 30 he had suspected at the beginning. Thankfully, the list stopped after the 53^rd entry.

“What happens when we shut them off?” May asked, looking between him and Helen. She was sitting by Peter’s bed, her hand grasping his tightly. “Will they just … stay inside him?”

“I would assume,” Helen answered, “that his body will slowly start to get rid of the bots, breaking them down over time.”

Tony looked at his laptop screen and then back at Peter’s bed. “I wouldn’t be so sure. He had a fever when his body first realized that something was off, but it went away. These things managed to convince his immune system that they were supposed to be there. It won’t break them down.” He sighed. “But once they’re deactivated, we can think about what to do next. There shouldn’t be any harm in them staying where they are. I can change the activation code and nobody will be able to switch them on again. It’s an interim solution, but it should work.”

Helen nodded.

Tony looked at May. “I think that’s all of them,” he said. May nodded at him, her fingers squeezing Peter’s hand. Tony clicked ‘Deactivate’ and a small window popped up, asking for the deactivation code. While Tony entered it, he felt nausea crawl up his throat, a fear that they didn’t have the right code, that Ramsey had tricked them, that he was possibly making things worse … he clicked ‘Enter’.

The status of the bots changed, switching over to ‘Deactivated’ one after another. They remained silent while it happened, staring at Peter as if the mere deactivation would cause him to open his eyes.

It wasn’t that easy.

“I’ll feed this program to FRIDAY,” Tony said. “Let her run diagnostics on whether it actually worked.”

Helen nodded. “Okay, so we wait until that happens. If he stabilizes any further, we will get him out of the coma and then we need to see what kind of damage the brain hemorrhage left behind.”

May looked at her. “How bad do you think it is?”

“Hard to say,” Helen answered. “He’s got that healing factor but he’s weak, so recovery will still take a while.”

“But he’ll be okay,” May said. “Right?”

Helen pressed her lips together. “The brain’s a complicated thing. I can’t make any promises, May.”

May looked at Tony and reached over to take his hand.

Tony and May didn’t move from Peter’s room the whole night, taking turns napping on the recliner, though neither of them were able to rest properly. FRIDAY was able to confirm that the bots in Peter’s system were deactivated in the early hours of the morning and Helen decided to let Peter come out of the coma, starting to gradually wean him off the medication.

Throughout the day, the Avengers came to visit – either alone or in pairs – sitting with Tony and May and keeping up conversation while they waited for Peter to wake. Time passed faster with the distraction of them coming around and Tony was glad for it. Waiting for Peter to wake up was harder than he had thought. He felt like time was crawling by and with every minute, he felt his anxiety rise. He’d looked up brain hemorrhages on his phone while they had waited, every link he clicked leading to another, even scarier scenario. He’d stopped himself after a while, but the knowledge remained, burnt into his mind, the possibility of Peter losing the ability to remember things, to recognize people, to understand speech, the risk of his personality changing … it was too much to think about, too hard to even consider.

And the guilt, the guilt was still sitting heavy on Tony’s chest, the knowledge that this wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t given Ross the specs …

“Hey, baby.” May’s soft voice brought him out of his thoughts and he lifted his head, looking at her leaning closer to the bed, her hand cupping Peter’s cheek. “Hey, baby,” she repeated and there were tears in her voice.

Tony hurried around the bed to look at him, finding Peter awake and blinking at them in confusion. His jaw moved around the tube in his throat and Tony noticed an increase in Peter’s heartbeat, the monitor beeping just a little bit faster. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s just the respirator.”

Peter’s eyes drooped closed again, his expression going slack. May kept stroking her thumb over his cheek, making soothing noises whenever Peter’s eyebrows twitched together until he calmed and fell back asleep.

Peter woke up several more times during the evening and night, becoming more and more lucid each time, though he fell back asleep quickly.

May was taking a nap and Tony was answering a message from Pepper when he felt a tentative touch on his arm. He turned his head and saw Peter looking back at him. “Hey, buddy,” he said, putting his phone aside to turn to face him, taking Peter’s hand in a gentle grip. During the last few times he had woken up and become more lucid, they’d noticed that the touch seemed to calm him.

In the afternoon sun streaming through the window, Peter looked exhausted and pale, dark shadows under his eyes, but something was different about the way he looked at Tony, as if he was for the first time really there. The ventilator pushed air into his lungs and Peter’s eyes widened, his other hand coming up to touch the place where the tube rested on his lips.

“It’s okay,” Tony said gently. “Helen said they might remove it tonight. You won’t have to deal with it much longer.”

Peter’s hand fell onto his chest. He stared at Tony with wide, dark eyes and raised his hand to the tube again. There was no sign in his gaze that he’d understood Tony’s previous words, just a frightened look.

Tony felt a heavy weight settle on his chest, dread curling in his stomach. “Did you understand me?” he asked, but he didn’t give Peter the chance to indicate an answer. “It’s okay, they’re going to remove it soon.”

Peter’s hand dropped again and his fingers in Tony’s hand twitched. Tony squeezed them gently. He huffed a relieved laugh when Peter squeezed back shakily.

“There you are,” he said. He felt heat burn in his eyes and blinked the tears away before they could fall. “You made it, kid,” he said softly.

3 days later

“What is that?” Clint asked in disgust, peeking at the green goo that was simmering on the stove.  

Scott nudged him aside none too gently, using a wooden spoon to stir. “Broccoli soup.”

“Broccoli soup?” Clint echoed and pulled a face. “Why do you hate us, man?”

Scott glared at him. “This happens to be one of my top ten dishes.”

“Why are you making soup? It’s summer.”

“Well, we had broccoli,” Scott answered.

“Like that’s a reason,” Clint grumbled and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. He looked at the others, who were scattered around the communal area. “Dinner sucks, who wants to order pizza?”

“Hey!” Scott protested.

Rhodey, sitting at the dining table, barely looked up from the screen of his laptop. “Freeze it. We’ll eat it when we get desperate enough.”

Scott put his hands on his hips, huffing a breath. “I slaved away in the kitchen for hours. And you won’t eat it?”

Sam pulled a face, momentarily distracted from whatever reality show he was watching with Natasha and Steve. “Come on, Scott, you actually would rather eat that than pizza?”

Scott grumbled a no and turned off the stove.

“Great,” Clint said, taking out his phone. “I’ll order in.”

May seemed to take pity on Scott. “I think the broccoli soup was a great idea. We could tell Peter that’s his dinner. Tease him a bit.”

Clint couldn’t help but grin at that. “You have the best ideas, May.”

Natasha chuckled. “Don’t be cruel. He just got out of hospital.”

Steve looked around. “Where is he anyway?”

May laughed. “Where do you think?”

“Okay,” Mr. Stark said, double-checking the wiring in the web-shooter and pushing the small container holding the tiny screws a little closer to Peter. “Good job, you can close it up.”

Peter shifted in his wheelchair, leaning over to try and pick one of the screws up, but his hand shook so badly that he withdrew it with a noise of frustration, cradling it against his chest until the shakes started to subside.

“It’s okay,” Mr. Stark said. “Take your time.” He took a sip of coffee. “Or take an out, whatever you prefer.”

Peter considered taking him up on his offer. He’d been down in the lab with Mr. Stark for over two hours, taking a web-shooter apart and exchanging some of the wires. He was by now pretty sure that the work wasn’t actually necessary, the wires were all fine, and had come to the conclusion that Mr. Stark was trying to train his fine motor skills. He was good about it, letting Peter decide every step of the way whether Mr. Stark should take over and complete some of the harder tasks. It was still frustrating, though, considering that having steady hands had been one of his strengths even before the spider bite. Now, his right hand was far from steady, tremors making it difficult for him to do things which had come naturally to him before the bots. His legs were just as affected. Walking wasn’t an option for him at the moment. Not without support. Helen had told him that his body would recover, eventually, and he knew that he was actually quite lucky to have come out the other side relatively unscathed.

Matt hadn’t.

Peter felt a stab of grief at the thought … and guilt, too. Matt had died because Peter had gotten infected and Peter had gotten infected out of stupidity.

Mr. Stark’s hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him gently. “Are you spiraling again?” he asked softly.

Peter swallowed. “Yeah,” he admitted.

Mr. Stark’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “Stop it.”

Peter looked up at him and Mr. Stark smiled sadly, pushing the container with screws closer. Peter tried to pick up one of them again and succeeded, though his hand shook as he moved it to cling to the magnetic screwdriver. He managed to screw it in, though, his shoulders relaxing in relief when it was done, even though it had taken much longer than it would have just a few days ago. Mr. Stark kept watching him the entire time, his face neutral. Sometimes, Peter was able to catch him looking sad or angry, but he kept those emotions hidden away carefully most of the time.

Peter had the suspicion that Mr. Stark was spiraling, too.

“Hey guys,” Rhodey said, poking his head through the doorway. “Clint’s ordering pizza, so dinner’s in half an hour or so.”

“Perfect,” Mr. Stark answered. “We’ll be done by then.”

Peter busied himself picking up the second screw, but his hand cramped again and he pushed away from the workstation. “I want an out.”

“Okay,” Mr. Stark said.

Peter liked that he didn’t try to pressure him into doing things. It made for a nice change from his physical therapy. He’d had the first session this morning and the therapist was friendly but unrelenting, and even though Peter knew that it was kind of her job, he still felt exhausted and frustrated afterwards. Rhodey, who’d had his session before Peter and had stayed to keep him company, was the only one who knew he felt that way, though. Peter didn’t want to worry May or bother Mr. Stark. He knew that the both of them were ecstatic about his progress over the last couple of days. He didn’t want to drag them down. It had helped to talk to Rhodey about it, though.

Mr. Stark put the rest of the screws in and looked at Peter, his brow furrowing. “You okay?”

Peter nodded. “My hand’s just tired.”

“We’re done for the day anyway,” Mr. Stark said, smiling. “And we probably won’t have time tomorrow with Lila’s birthday party and the barbeque.”

Peter rubbed his wrist. “I’m going home the day after tomorrow.”

“I know,” Mr. Stark answered. “You’ll have to bring your suit next time you come around.” He took the handles of Peter’s wheelchair, pushing him towards the freight elevator at the far end of the room. It was a bit of a detour to get upstairs, but Peter wasn’t strong enough for the stairs yet and after the awkward embarrassment of having Steve carry him down when he’d come here for the first time after his release the day before, Peter preferred it.

“Yeah,” he answered non-committedly, not sure what else to say. Peter didn’t really want to go back to New York, but May had to return to work and he also didn’t want to leave her so shortly after everything that had happened. Besides, Mr. Stark had mentioned that Miss. Potts would be back from her business trip soon and he didn’t want to be in the way.

The freight elevator let them out at the side of the house and Tony pushed Peter around the corner to reach the entrance door.

“There you are,” May said when they reached the communal area.

“What’s that smell?” Mr. Stark asked, letting go of the wheelchair handles to look into the pot on the stove.

“Broccoli soup,” Scott said grumpily. “Don’t comment on it.” With that, he held his head up high and walked over to the dining room table to sit.

May crouched down by the wheelchair and brushed one hand through Peter’s hair. “Are you okay, honey?” she asked. “You look sad.”

Peter shook his head. “I’m fine,” he answered.

“You sure?”

He nodded, forcing a smile.

Her hand cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing just under his eye. “If you say so.”

May leaned back in her chair, soaking in the sun bathing the terrace in a warm light and breathing in the fresh air and the smell of barbeque. Clint’s older kids Lila and Cooper were chasing around the grass with Scott’s daughter Cassie in tow, playing some variation of catch that May didn’t quite understand, while Clint was holding his little son Nathan who was busy doing a toddler puzzle with Natasha.

May was sad that she had to return to New York tomorrow. The Compound was surrounded by woods and mountains and Sam had mentioned that there were some trails nearby that allowed gorgeous views. She didn’t get out of the city nearly enough. The last time they’d had a proper family vacation – her, Peter and Ben – they’d gone to Fahnestock State Park for a couple of days when Peter had been ten. But they needed her back at work, so they had to leave.

Or at least May did.

She looked towards the parasol, under which Clint’s wife Laura had taken refuge from the sun with Scott. Next to them, May found Tony and Peter sitting close to each other and looking at something on Tony’s tablet. Peter had seemed quiet and pensive since dinner the night before, clearly mulling something over. May knew that it wouldn’t do to push him to talk. Peter was someone who needed to think about some things himself, work out all the angles, before he opened up. Sometimes, he didn’t open up at all, him switching back to his normal behavior the only indication that he’d worked his problems out himself.

This time, May had a suspicion what was wrong, though.

“You can take the boys out of the workshop but you can’t take the workshop out of the boys,” Rhodey said, settling into the chair next to her.

May chuckled. “Seems that way.” She knew that, if Peter was able to walk steadily, he would probably be running around with Clint’s kids and Cassie. Peter had a talent to connect with kids, sometimes babysitting their neighbors’ twins when both of them had to work at the same time.

“Did you know there was a bet going on that Peter is actually Tony’s biological son when he first arrived here?”

May laughed. “Really?”

Rhodey grinned. “Yeah. I mean, you gotta look at it this way: Tony was always alright with kids. You know, little fans walking up to him, wanting a picture, that kind of stuff. But he never spent time with kids. And suddenly, he announces out of the blue that there’s a kid staying at the Compound for a week.”

“Didn’t know he kept Peter that much of a secret.”

“I knew he was going to New York on a regular basis. I always assumed he was meeting up with Spider-Man.”

“You weren’t wrong.” She sighed, looking back at Tony and Peter. “You know, when I told people that Peter got an internship with Tony, they told me to turn it down.”

Rhodey looked at her in surprise. “They did?”

“I wasn’t sure myself whether I should allow it,” she said. “Peter’s a sensitive age, he didn’t have a guy in his life to look up to and as much as I hate it, there are things he probably doesn’t want to talk about with me. I wasn’t sure whether it was the best idea to let him spend time with a guy who spent most of his twenties and thirties chasing models and drinking alcohol.” She looked at Peter. “But it was a tremendous opportunity,” she said. “So I allowed it.” She raised her eyebrows. “Then I found out that Peter wasn’t doing an actual internship but spent the time he always claimed he was with Tony jumping off buildings and swinging through the streets.”

Rhodey chuckled. “Must have been quite the shock.”

“I wanted to kill him,” May said. “I thought that all he cared about was Spider-Man.”

“I don’t blame you,” Rhodey said. “That was probably the reason he got into touch with Peter.” He paused, looking towards them, engrossed in whatever they were looking at. Tony had put one arm around Peter’s shoulders so they could huddle closer together. “It’s not just that anymore, though, and I think that’s a good thing … for both of them.”

“Yeah,” May answered thoughtfully. “It is.”

Steve was in the kitchen putting left-overs in Tupperware boxes, when Tony entered. “The kids demand ice cream,” he said, “and by kids I mean Clint, Scott and Sam.”

Steve chuckled while Tony got the tub out of the freezer and set it out to thaw a little. There was a pause during which Tony switched on the coffee machine and placed a mug under the nozzle and Steve wrangled Tupperware into the full fridge.

“I was thinking,” Tony said then, “of sending Vis a message, see whether he and Wanda would like to come back.”

Steve paused, looking at him in surprise. “I thought you were out of contact.”

“We are,” Tony answered. “His transponder’s off but I can send him messages.” He sipped his coffee. “We should see that we get the team back together,” he continued. “Prepare for when the amendments are dealt with. Think about … what we want to do as a team from now on. How we want to work together.”

“We,” Steve said, raising his eyebrows in question.

“We,” Tony confirmed. He shrugged. “I might not put on the suit again but … it’s not a hard no anymore.”

Steve closed the fridge and crossed his arms. “Glad to hear that.”

“And when the team is back together, when the amendments are done, when we think about recruiting, maybe … you could check in with T’Challa. Check up on Barnes. See … whether he might want to join as well.”

Steve was caught by surprise. “Tony, you don’t have to-”

“Maybe,” Tony said quickly. “Haven’t made up my mind yet.” He looked at Steve. “I’ll think about it some more.”

“That’s okay,” Steve answered. He swallowed, hesitating before he asked, “Why the change of heart?”

“I told Ross that Peter’s an Avenger.”

Steve frowned quizzically. “Okay.”

Tony sighed and admitted, “He knows Peter’s Spider-Man. And he more or less told me that the DODC will recruit him as soon as he’s old enough so I …”

“You want to protect him.”

Tony nodded, sipping on his coffee. “I mean, technically, Peter is an Avenger,” he said. “I offered. Just because he turned me down doesn’t mean-”

“He turned you down?” Steve asked in disbelief, laughing.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sore about it. Don’t laugh.”

Steve seemed to have trouble stifling his laughter and an amused grin remained on his face.

“He made a mature choice,” Tony said. “Of wanting to wait until he’s old enough. I respect that.”

“But you’re still sore.”

“Of course I’m sore,” Tony answered, exasperated. “It’s the Avengers. Don’t all kids these days want to be one?”

Steve shrugged. “You got a special kid there.”

“Yeah,” Tony said with a sigh. “I know.”

May joined them, smiling at Steve in greeting before she turned to Tony. “Can we talk?”

He frowned. “Sure.” He figured that May wanted some privacy and with the terrace door open and everyone flitting in and out of the house, the communal area wasn’t exactly the right place. “My office?”

She nodded and followed him down the corridor.

“What can I do for you?” Tony asked and closed the door, gesturing to the two chairs by the window.

May settled into one of them, sparing a glance at the group on the terrace and the kids running around before she looked at him. “Do you think you might be able to keep Peter for another week?”

“Another week?” Tony asked.

“Only if you want to,” May said quickly. “It’s just … the two of you didn’t really get to spend the week together like you planned and I think he’s pretty disappointed that we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“I thought you would want him home,” Tony said carefully, trying not to show how much he wanted to agree.

“I want him home,” May answered. “But I’ll be working and his friends are on vacation. He’s bound to be home alone all day except for his PT appointments and I don’t want that. I can’t take any more vacation, either. I think this is actually the best solution.” She looked at him. “If it’s okay with you.”

“Yes,” Tony said. “Of course.”

May smiled. “Great.”

Tony nodded.

May got up and headed for the door.

“May,” Tony said, stopping her in her tracks.

She turned around to him.

“I may …” He swallowed. “Maybe I’ll take him to the movies sometime or … to the mall or maybe on one of the trails if he feels up for it. Just … you know … to get out of the Compound for a little while.”

May pressed her lips together. “I think he would like that.”

“Thank you,” he said, hesitating for a long moment before he added, “I am actually glad you asked, I … wasn’t going to, I didn’t want to impose, I just … this … means a lot.”

May looked at him, her expression melting into a smile, then she came back and wrapped him into a hug. “Thank you.”

Peter gripped the parallel bars tight and pulled himself out of the chair, biting his lip when his left leg started to tremble. He walked forward despite that, using the parallel bars to support himself. It was exhausting and it took a long while, the silence in the gym only interrupted by his unsteady steps, but Peter was able to get from one side to the other, slumping a little when he’d reached it.

He had never thought that walking ten steps could be so difficult.

Then he realized that the wheelchair was still where he’d left it, all the way back at the other end of the parallel bars. “Crap.”

“That’s why you shouldn’t be doing this alone,” May said behind him.

Peter ducked his head. “Crap,” he repeated.

“Busted,” May answered as she pushed the wheelchair over to him and pulled the brakes. She helped him sit down and then braced her hands on the armrests of his chair to lean in close. “You had PT today already. Don’t overdo it.”

“I didn’t manage to do this during PT,” Peter answered. “I thought I could give it another try.”

“Rhodey is going to be disappointed that his PT buddy went off on his own.”

Peter cracked a smile. “But I managed.”

May smiled as well and leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead. “You managed.” She crouched down in front of the chair. “We’ll have you jumping off buildings again in no time.” She took a breath, her expression turning serious. “Peter, I talked to Tony a couple of minutes ago and we agreed that you should stay here a little longer.”

Peter stared at her. “Stay?”

“Yes. Instead of going back home with me tomorrow,” she answered.

“So you’d be going back to New York alone?” he asked.

May nodded. “For a week,” she added.

Peter bit his lip, undecided. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy at the prospect of staying at the Compound longer. The problem was that he didn’t want May to go back to New York alone. He knew that she’d been scared and that she still worried about him. The distance wouldn’t be easy on her.

She noticed his hesitation. “Listen, baby, I’ll be working anyway. I don’t want you to roam the apartment all day alone. I know Ned is still on vacation with his family. You would have company here. And you could spend more time with Tony.” She frowned. “Except of course if you really don’t want to stay-”

“I want to stay,” Peter said quickly. “I just … don’t want you to be alone.”

May’s expression melted. She leaned in to pull him into a hug. “I’ll be fine,” she said.

It was long after Clint’s family had left, late in the evening when the air was turning just a little bit colder and the wind picked up a bit to brush through the trees. Peter found Mr. Stark perched on one of the recliners outside, sipping on a beer.

“Hey,” he said, moving the chair over the threshold with a push of the wheels.

Mr. Stark reached out to slow the momentum and pulled Peter a little closer. “Hey.”

“May told me earlier,” Peter said. “About staying longer.”

Mr. Stark’s eyes caught his. “I hope it’s okay with you.”

“With me?” Peter asked. “I hope it’s okay with you. I know that Miss. Potts is coming home soon and you’re busy with the Avengers and with working on equipment.”

Mr. Stark shrugged. “I’m always busy working on equipment and there’s no rush. I’m asking Happy to bring your suit back when he takes May home tomorrow and we can work on that as well. And concerning Pepper,” Mr. Stark added, “she wanted to meet you anyway.”

“She did?” Peter asked, his eyes widening. “That’s so awesome.”

Mr. Stark frowned. “Careful, you almost sound more enthusiastic about spending time with her than about spending time with me.”

“Well …,” Peter answered teasingly, drawing the word out.

Mr. Stark gasped. “You wound me.”

“She is amazing, though, Mr. Stark. She’s the CEO of a major tech company and everyone said she wouldn’t be able to do it but now, she’s totally doing it, and she’s doing a lot for underprivileged kids and she’s just funny and … amazing.”

“Careful, Casanova,” Mr. Stark said with a grin. “Your crush is showing.”

Peter felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. “My friend MJ thinks she’s really cool.”

“Well, maybe I can arrange for your friend MJ to meet Pepper one day as well. And me. ‘Cause, you know, certified superhero here.”

Peter grimaced.

“What’s that face?” Mr. Stark asked, frowning.

“MJ’s kinda … not so into you.”

Mr. Stark raised his eyebrows.

“Because of the weapons division.”

“Which I shut down.”

“Which is why she doesn’t hate you. She just … disapproves.”

Mr. Stark huffed a laugh. “She sounds like a real charmer.”

“She is,” Peter answered and felt his cheeks flush even more. He quickly averted his eyes, when he caught Mr. Stark’s grin widen.

“Oh, I see,” he drawled.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just don’t think I need to be worried about you coming between me and Pepper.”

Peter shrugged and looked towards the forest. “If you’re really fine with me staying, Mr. Stark, I’d love to.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Peter smiled at him. “And we can totally work on my suit. I’ve got loads of ideas.”

“I’d like to hear them,” Mr. Stark answered. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before he added, “And I was thinking … maybe the two of us can catch a movie sometime this week.”

“A movie?” Peter asked, confused.

“Or have dinner. Go window shopping at the mall. Whatever you kids do to have fun these days.”

Peter kneaded his hands nervously. He had never really spent time with Mr. Stark outside of Spider-Man stuff. The only exception had been playing on the PS4 a few days ago and even then, they’d discussed his grades and extracurricular activities and MIT. “That sounds cool, Mr. Stark.”

“Of course it does,” he answered. “It was my idea.” He smiled at Peter, something soft and relaxed in his expression. “So,” he said, “wanna give me a preview on those update ideas you have?”

Peter grinned. “How much time do you have?”

Mr. Stark leaned back in his chair. “As long as you need, kid.”

END

April 2020