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Chapter Text

Peter Parker becomes a household name at age 15 when he is attacked and kidnapped by a group of terrorists.

For Tony Stark, he is already familiar with the name. The kid was one of the recipients for his September Grant. He applied through their high school scholarship program and won the whole shebang, but Tony can admit he doesn’t….exactly remember what the project was. He was a little busy with some SHIELD and Avengers bullshit (aliens, aliens, Thor’s brother who oh yeah, is an alien it’s always aliens) that it got passed down to Pepper or someone from Research and Development. They picked him, they funded his project, and gifted him with tickets to a some world wide science convention in the rapidly developing country of Sokovia for his winter break as a present for a job well done.

Which of course just goes splendidly. His tour bus explodes, he’s the only one that goes missing, and the whole world starts to chatter.

But then three months later Peter Parker makes news again when there’s claims that he busted himself out of some Sokovian cave in a metal suit.

With an arc reactor.

“What do you mean it’s in his chest?” Tony asks for the third, maybe the fourth time since Rhodey called him and told him the news. His lab is covered in a wide spectrum of holographic reports ranging from arc reactor specs, active Avengers locations, and Peter Parker’s fucking facebook.

There’s some scuffling in the background and Tony can distinctly hear Nick Fury yelling at some poor soul, followed by Steve Rogers’ promising said poor soul that the SHIELD director didn’t mean it. “Tony, it’s insane. After that bus explosion there was a ton of shrapnel in his chest. Some doctor put an electromagnet in there to keep the stuff they couldn’t reach from going into his heart. Hooked it up to a car battery.”

Tony lets that information sit while he scans Peter’s profile: star student at Midtown Tech, fellow lover of mechanical engineering, and just a really, really bright kid. It’s no surprise. Tony can dim his ego just enough to admit that this kid’s a smarty. No one has ever been able to replicate his arc reactor. Like, ever.

But 15 year old Peter Parker can.

In a cave.

What the fuck.

“He got the arc reactor idea from you,” Rhodey continues, “Said he knew just enough to get him by for a few weeks and the clock is ticking. Fury’s flying him over at the end of the week.”

Tony spine goes rigid before he makes a weak swipe with his wrist, and all the screens go down. “I know I’m pretty much great at everything but I have to ask: what am I supposed to do? I’m not a real doctor, I’m not a surgeon I can’t...fix his heart.”

He can picture Rhodey shrugging. “Fix the arc reactor. You’re the one with top of the line tools, surely you can keep frequent cardiac arrest off his resume.”

“Does this kid even need a resume anymore? He bargained basemented my top of the line power system.”

“He’s kinda my hero for it, too.”

Tony snorts out a laugh. “But still. Why don’t they just take out the stupid thing? There’s this ridiculous scientist in Korea that can probably get the shrapnel out of his chest. Especially if it’s been drawn further from his heart.”

When Rhodey hesitates, that’s when Tony knows he’s fucked. “I don’t know if that’s an option. His body’s still recovering from the first surgery. And that’s not all. The thing is: Fury thinks he’s….valuable.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Oh no.” Tony laughs bitterly. “No, no, no. No way. I’m not going to pull a Howard and Captain America this kid.”

“This kid built a metal battle suit in a cave!”

“To escape. He should be in school doing bullshit assignments and trying to build a social life despite nerdy handicaps.”

“He’s different. He’s special.”

“Aren’t we all.”

“Fury’s DIY superhero craft is his business. I just fly the jets. But Tony, he’s…been through a lot.”

“As to be expected being captive for….what, three months? I do not want to be the psychologist poking around in his PTSD.”

“Exactly.” Rhodey sighs. “SHIELD project or not, that kid does not deserve to die from a bum arc reactor, not after what he did to escape. So fix him, okay?”

With another flick of his wrist, he pulls up Peter’s picture. Young, bright, full of naivety.

Just a kid.

Goddamnit all.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll fix him.”

That’s a promise.

So Tony works. He gets every single x-ray, picture, doctor report and blood analysis they collect on the kid and gets to work. He reads the reports and testimonies. He tries to learn this situation as best an outsider can. He’s never really thought of making a miniature arc reactor, never had the need, but now that he gets the opportunity, he finds it isn’t that hard. The replacement is done before the kid arrives.

And when Peter does arrive, Tony thinks he looks pretty good considering. He’s smaller and scrawnier than his pictures showed, probably due to the, uh, hostage situation. The lacerations on his face and the boot on his leg don’t help either but the kid looks...pretty good considering. Tony tries and fails not to stare at the bright glow through the white of the kid’s t-shirt, but he figures that’s okay since the kid won’t stop staring at him like he’s just seen Santa Claus.

“You’re Tony Stark,” Peter babbles as Tony leads him to the cot he’s set up in his lab. “ The Tony Stark.”

“The one and only. Sorta. Kinda debating whether or not my cloned brain is rattling inside your head,” he says, pushing the kid against the cot and tapping the arc reactor on his chest for good measure.

Immediately, the kid pales, and that whole looks pretty good considering outlook goes out the window. He looks sick, injured, scared. “L-look,” he stutters. “I’m sorry.”

Tony looks up from where he’s finishing the setup on Peter’s new arc reactor and squints. “What for.”

The kid looks like a deer in headlights. “I don’t know.” He admits. “I just feel like I need to apologize. I…” he swallows, looking away. “I used your tech to…”

“Save your life?” Tony finishes. “It’s not patented,” and he pauses, because holy shit it’s not patented. He didn't think any nerds would come close for at least another decade.  “Though I’ll definitely be getting on that. Even if it was, I think I could let it slide. How’d you think up the miniaturized arc reactor anyhow?”

Peter gives him a funny look before he slips off his t-shirt and lies back. “It was in my thesis I submitted for the September Grant?”

His mouth runs faster than his brain, for a change. “It was?”

Luckily, Peter doesn’t look too upset that Tony Stark himself did not approve of his grant, personally, even though the bullshit letter his office sent out said he did. “Yeah. Alternative power sources of the future, to simplify it. Make them compact for daily use so that they can power phones, medical devices, you name it.”

Huh. Not a bad idea. Tony might read his paper after all. “These pack a lot of power,” Tony taps on the arc reactor. “It would destroy your Stark Phone as we know it. Gotta make a whole new model. But it’s not a bad idea. The near future could have it work it into planes, maybe get into talks with NASA - I’m reciting you’re whole thesis aren’t I.”

Peter manages a laugh. “Kinda. But I promise it was very worthy of your grant, Mr. Stark. I had blueprints and math equations. All the bells and whistles. I just…”

“What?” he asks, hooking Peter up to the appropriate heart monitors and blood pressure readings.

“I just always imagined it powering space pioneering technology. Not….missiles that destroy villages.” He twiddles his thumbs in distress. “That’s what they wanted me to do. Build a smaller arc reactor like yours to power their weapons.”

Tony...doesn’t really know what to say to that. Stark Industries built weapons once upon a time, before this whole Avengers bullshit came to life, but he can’t imagine being some unsuspecting kid stolen from his life and being forced to do some terrorists’ evil bidding.

“You’re an impressive kid,” he tells him, because he thinks he might need to hear it.

“Oh, I don’t know -”

“That’s not up for debate. I read your files. You tricked them into thinking you were working for them. Built an even smaller arc reactor than promised. And then busted yourself out of a cave in…” He tries to recall some of the pictures from the report he was sent. “...what do you call that suit?”

“I didn’t call it anything.”

“Lame.” and like ripping out a bandaid, Tony pulls out his antique of an arc reactor from his chest. “You always gotta name your stuff. Right, DUM-E?”

From the corner of his lab, DUM-E gives a robotic squeak.

Peter, however, is not amused. His eyes blow wide at the sight of the arc reactor in Tony’s hands and if the heart monitor going bonkers has anything to say, it’s that the poor kid is having a panic attack.

“Relax, relax,” Tony shushes, nearly tossing the old reactor aside. “You’re okay. You can survive a few minutes without that thing in your chest. I’m gonna just - shit.”

“Shit!?” Peter squeaks. He jolts in the seat, trying to sit up, but Tony pushes him back down. “Why’d you say shit!?”

“No reason, we’re all good,” he says in a calm voice. Because he’s very calm. So calm. He’s not gonna let this kid die from a yanked magnet, that’s for sure. “There’s just...I gotta move a wire. It’s right there, no big deal, but I gotta reach inside -”

“- reach inside!? With what!?”

“My hands,” Tony says, dancing his fingers in Peter’s face. “What else? Look, it’s gonna be just fine. But you need to hold still, don’t want to touch the wire to the socket wall because -”

“Because I’ll get zapped?”

“Precisely. Like in Operation.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s - oh my god, nevermind. I’m old. I’m gonna reach in now okay? Hold still.”

“Okay…”

“You’re doing great, bud.” Tony says, his hand wrapping around the wire.

Peter whines. “What’s that noise. Why is it squishy?”

“Plasmic discharge.”

“That’s disgusting.”

Tony draws out the copper wire and Peter’s eyes bug out even more. “Seems pretty cool to me.”

“Whoa,” Peter says, finally seeming to agree with him when he sees the copper wire pulled out of him. “That is pretty cool.”

“Thought so. Here.” He passes the wire over to Peter’s hands. “Hold it for a second. But, I don’t want you to -”

It’s too late. The kid tugs on the wire and the whole thing comes out, including the magnet that very much was keeping him from...how to put it...oh, yeah. Dying.

Tony really wishes Fury had just taken the kid to a doctor.

The heart monitor explodes, as if there needs to be any fucking proof about what dumbfuckery has just occurred. Peter’s erratic breathing says it all. “Fuck,” the kid curses. “What’s happening?”

“Cardiac arrest.”

“Oh,” the kid shudders. “That feels...accurate.”

“I’m gonna fix it. Just gonna…” Tony trails off as he hastens to take the new arc reactor and plug it into the socket. There’s a jolt, Peter screams and nearly falls off the tables, but in a moment it’s over. The heart monitor shuts up, the arc reactor glows a pretty blue, and Peter Parker is no longer dying, as of this moment.

Tony rocks.

“Aaaaaaand you’re all set. Easy peasy, right?”

Peter lets out a long, steady breath before he starts to laugh, eyes slipping shut. “Yeah, yeah.” He sounds like he’s just run a marathon, which to be fair, his heart kinda did. “Easy peasy.”

The words sound like a lie.

Tony gives the kid a moment to catch his breath.

While the kid contemplates passing out for a post cardio nap on the chair, Tony pulls up more information on Peter’s recovery. He’s studied the pieces of the suit they recovered thoroughly, and even though there isn’t a complete picture, Tony knows that what the kid pulled off was off the charts genius. Tony Stark level genius.

He understands why Fury wants him.

But he still doesn’t think it’s a good idea.

He’s in the middle at looking at Peter’s torture testimonies (those fuckers waterboarded a fifteen year old, holy shit) when the man of the hour himself pipes in with an asthmatic, “Iron Man.”

Tony blinks, lowering the screens. “What’s that?”

“The suit,” Peter says, reaching for his shirt and slipping it back on. His fingers trace the bright blue glow a few times before he clarifies. “I named the suit Iron Man.”

A flicker of a smile twitches at Tony’s lip. “Just now.”

He shrugs. “Just now.”

“Iron Man. Man. Even though you are clearly twelve years old.”

“I’m almost sixteen.”

“Iron Teen.”

“No.”

“Iron Kid.”

“No.”

“We’ll workshop it.”

Peter scoffs. “For what reason?”

Again, his mouth runs faster than his brain. He’s not fond of the trend. “Because you’re on the team.”

Peter’s brow furrows. “The...team.”

“Yeah,” Tony drawls, praying this isn’t Nick Fury’s sick plan to get someone else to recruit a teenager to the Avengers. “Nick Fury talked to you about the Avengers Initiative….right?”

How Peter didn’t have another heart attack right then and there is a miracle. “The what!?”

Damn Fury to hell. Honestly.

“Fuck. Me.” Tony mumbles as he cradles his head in his hand. He takes a few calming breaths before he announces, “Forget I said anything.”

“Forget -? No!” He hops off his chair. A myriad of emotions flash across his face: confusion, fear, excitement, to name a few. Nausea, if that counts as one, which it probably doesn’t but the kid does kind of look like he’s gonna lose it. “No, what are you talking about?”

Tony lets out a deep, long-suffering sigh. “This is not my idea,” he prefaces, “But Nick Fury...basically wants you on speed dial. If something comes up.”

“What, like another alien invasion!?”

“That would be something, yes.”

Peter’s mouth hangs open. “W-what!?” He finally manages, voice squeaking like a kid’s voice does. “I can’t! I...I’m not strong. My vision is terrible, you should see my contacts prescription. I can’t even finish gym class without having an asthma attack.”

“Steve Rogers had asthma and look where he is now. It does get better. What do you kids call it these days? A glow up?”

Peter rolls his eyes.

“Steve had my dad, and you have me,” Tony says, instantly wishing he could bite his tongue clear off. "And you don't need a serum, clearly. You just need another suit. A better suit."

“I don’t want to be some…” Peter flails. “I don’t want to be some superhuman soldier.”

Tony sighs. “Look, I’m with you. You’ve been through enough. If I was the one kidnapped by a terrorist organization and forced to replicate my science fair project for some humanity dooming missile, I’d want to crawl under a rock for the rest of my life, too. But kid. It’s not that easy. You’ve got…”

He reaches forward, knuckles brushing against the arc reactor in his chest.

“Not everyone can do this,” Tony whispers. “Not everyone can take this kind of hit and come out on top. I saw your suit, saw the materials you were working with. Just imagine what you can do with my help.”

There’s a shadow of a smile on Peter’s face. “Working with Tony stark would be pretty cool.”

“I’m not saying you should listen to Fury. In fact, I’m kind of saying fuck Fury. You’re a kid. You should be a kid, going to school and hanging out with friends and not solving humanity’s greatest fuck ups. You don't have to do this right now. But the truth is… you won’t be a kid forever. And…”

“...and building an arc reactor powered suit would be pretty cool?”

Tony sags with relief. From one tech nerd to another, he gets it.  “I already have a prototype designed.”

Peter hums, crossing his arms, before he looks off to the side. “Mr. Fury told me people won’t leave me alone.” He looks up at Tony. “Is that true?”

“I don’t know,” Tony lies. Because he does know. People will never leave him alone again. But he supposes there’s no harm in softening the truth.  “But you’re a household name. People will recognize you, everywhere you go. I know they will. People like you don’t go away.”

“People like me?”

“Heroes.”

Peter blushes. “I’m not a hero. I didn’t save anyone.”

“You saved yourself. You took down the bad guys. Iron Man or not, you’re a hero.”

“I thought you said we were workshopping the name.”

Tony shrugs. “It’s grown on me. But we can still workshop the name. The suit. The whole Avengers offer. Call it an….internship.”

Peter’s brow shoots up. “An internship?”

“To Stark Industries. Think of it as a September Grant perk.”

Peter mulls over his words as he looks down at his chest. The glow is impossible to ignore, especially with the Stark upgrade. “They aren’t sure they’ll be able to take out the rest of the shrapnel. At least not for a few years.” He pauses, smoothing his t-shirt over the blue ring. “I’ll never be the same, will I?”

“No. You won’t. But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

Peter’s head snaps up. His eyes are shining, tired, sunken, on the brink of tearing up. But then he doesn’t. His cheeks dimple and he smiles, weary and small, but he smiles.

“You’re right,” Peter smiles. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

“Not always. School’s gonna be a nightmare and that’s definitely a bad thing.”

“High school is always a nightmare. Arc reactor beats having someone stare at your zit.”

"Do you think my aunt and uncle will let up on curfew if I'm a superhero?"

"You almost died. I think it's the law that you get to do whatever you want."

"Including baiting death for a paycheck?"

"Who says we're gonna pay you?"

“Does this whole thing mean I get to meet Captain America?”

“I’m not gonna lie Pete - it’s a very strong possibility.”

“Is he gonna lecture me like he does in the PSA videos?”

“I’m not gonna lie Pete - it’s a very strong possibility.”

"I still don't know if I want to be a superhero."

"That's fine."

“But I want to build the suit. Can we make it blue?”

“Red.”

“Blue.”

“Red.”

“Blue with a little bit of red.”

“We’ll workshop it.”

This time, when Peter smiles, he sees the kid he likely was before this whole mess began. It makes the arc reactor in his chest seem dim.

“Yeah,” Peter agrees. “Sounds good.”

Chapter Text

      Blood Toxicity - 20%

Tony stares at Peter’s pale face as he lays down on the cot, eyes shut and breathing labored. The rapid rise and fall of his chest only bring more attention to the arc reactor and the steady growing circuit board rash of death snaking through his veins.  

“How bad is it?” Peter asks, slinging an arm around across his eyes. “It’s not that bad, right?”

“You’re fine,” Tony says, which isn’t, like, a complete lie. Peter’s fine. Sure, he’s been giving a steady 8% before this last fucking mission sent him through the ringer, but he’s fine. For now. “But you need to cool it with the Iron Man suit for awhile.”

Peter gives a lifeless chuckle. “I can’t. Didn’t you hear about that Mandarin hack? He’s out for Iron Man’s blood.”

Tony probably rips the arc reactor out of his chest a little more harshly than need be. “Oh, I heard. But don’t worry. I’m working on that. You won’t have to lift a finger. You won’t even have to ditch math class.”

“I like math class.”

“Nerd.”

Peter hums, arm still over his arm, and offers no retort. It isn’t like him. The real spike of the palladium in his system must really be doing a number on him. Tony hastens to change out the palladium cores, grimacing at the charred, rusty looking thing he has to replace, and reluctantly sticks it back in the kid’s chest. It’s not fair. Take out the arc reactor and the shrapnel pierces his heart by the end of the month. Leave it in and palladium will poison him in…

He doesn’t know. 20% is an alarming spike. He doesn’t know how much more the kid can take.

But he can worry about that in a few hours, once the kid is squared away with a good meal in his stomach and a well deserved nap. Tony won’t make him worry, not yet. He pushes heavily off his workbench, spinning in his work chair all the way over to the kitchenette he has in the far corner.  “I made you a special drink.”

Peter finally opens his eyes and sits up, slipping his t-shirt and hoodie back on. “Is there alcohol in it?”

“Of course not. You don’t need it. Palladium has the same effect as alcohol. You’re actually drunk right now.”

The kid shoots him a long-suffering look, Oscar worthy with the pale color of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes. It goes without saying, but Peter feels the need to clarify, “They are not the same.”

Tony shrugs and pulls out a large water bottle from the fridge. “Just trying to save you from the path of alcohol dependency I so famously walked in my younger years. Remember: hugs, not drugs.”

Peter manages a wry smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“It’s not delicious,” Tony admits. He almost throws the bottle but then thinks better and slides across the long workbench that Peter has chosen to lean on. “In fact, it’s classified in the food pyramid as ‘gobbledygook.’ But it’ll make you feel better.”

Surprisingly, without complaint, Peter opens the bottle and downs half of it in under a minute. When he wipes his mouth with his sleeve he asks, “What’s the pro-math-class plan? The one where I don’t lift any fingers?”

“Iron Man Legion.”

Peter’s already on his second go, downing it like a frat kid shotguns a beer. “Legion. Like, an army?”

“Yeah.”

“A squad of...Iron Man suits?”

“Please don’t call it the Iron Man Squad.”

“How many?”

“I’ve designed forty. I’ve made ten.”

Peter nearly drops the bottle. “You’ve made ten!? Can-can I try one on?”

Tony shrugs. “No need. They’re essentially robots, controlled by JARVIS.”

“I can’t believe you’re trying to replace Karen.”

“I’m not. Karen’s yours, for your suit only. But each of these have their own arc reactor. I can control them from across the country. You don’t have to step into one.”

“Oh.” He frowns. “Are you trying to replace me? ”

“No,” Tony answers quickly. Because despite the fact that the kid is recklessly brave, verging on stupid, and in dire need of being benched, he can’t stand to see that hurt look on his face. “It’s just a substitute. Second string. Until I can fix that.”

Just pointing at the kid’s chest makes his own ache.

Peter looks skeptical, tired eyes not blinking or breaking eye contact as he takes a few more sips. “Last time I checked, there’s no viable replacement for the palladium core.” He says the last part in a bad JARVIS impression.

Then all of a sudden, Peter starts to waver. His face crumples just a smidge, and there’s a flash of anguish in his eyes before he looks away, downing the rest of his drink.

His eyes catch the reading from the blood test and he takes a shaky breath before he slams the bottle down on the workbench and wipes his palms down the side of his jeans.

“Hey,” Tony says softly, but the kid won’t look at him. Peter bounces back and forth on fidgeting legs and moving his hands about: they run though his hair, tug on his earlobe, get shoved in the front pocket of his hoodie. He’s crumbling faster now and it’s impossible for him to hide.

“Hey,” Tony repeats, walking over to him. It feels like approaching a small, baby deer in the woods. He puts both hands on his shoulders and hopes it’ll get the kid to look at him, but he’s got his eyes determinedly set on Butterfingers in the corner of the lab. “I’m gonna fix it, okay? I’ll figure it out.”

Peter lets out another shaky breath before his whole body sags. His head falls forward, tipping to rest against Tony’s shoulder. “Okay.”

Hugs aren’t really Tony’s specialty, he doesn’t really give them out to anyone, but the kid makes him want to learn to be the best hugger in the world. He wraps his arms around him, and pulls him close, tucking him under his chin.

“Just,” Tony sighs into the kid’s hair. “Take it easy until I do, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.”

       Blood Toxicity - 42%

If this palladium wasn’t killing Peter, Tony would do it himself.

“You’re an idiot,” Tony chastises as the kid crumples into a chair in his lab. He’s quick to at least replace the core before he really tears into a lecture.  “I told you, no Iron Man suit!”

“What was I supposed to do, Tony?” There’s an edge, sorta, to his voice that might be somewhat forceful if he wasn’t so spent. “The bomb took down a whole block in Queens! I had to get those people out of that building!”

“No, you didn’t!” He turns on the blender, hoping the sound will give him some final say.

It doesn’t. “The Iron Legion hasn’t been field tested yet!”

“That was the field test!” The blender shuts off and Tony’s shout echoes harshly off the walls. “I deployed them as soon as the reports were filing in. Ten Iron Man suits would have been just fine in getting those people out.”

“You don’t know that!” Peter’s own shout is cut off by a harsh cough. Palladium poisoning or just rubble gunk in his lungs, who can be sure, but the sound is like nails on a chalkboard to Tony. “I’m still the best option!”

“You can’t be the best option if you’re dead, Peter!”

Peter’s face falls. It’s like he’s never even considered he’s dying, never even entertained the thought…but that can’t be true. He's too smart for that.

But it is the first time someone has said it to his face.

“How bad is it?” Peter asks, voice hoarse. “The blood test - how bad is it?”

Tony grips the counter, nearly knocking over the gobbledygook he’s made for Peter. He takes a few breaths, ragged and harsh, before he pours the sludge in a tall glass and marches over to make the kid chug it.

“How bad is it?” Peter asks again softer, more broken. The kid reaches out for his sleeve and grips it tight.

He doesn’t want to look him in the eye. He can’t. “Bad,” he croaks out. “Double what it was last time, Pete.”

The kid sighs and takes the drink, downing it as much of it as he can in one go.

Then, silence.

Tony’s made the promises, but he can’t deliver. He’s tried everything. Looked at his dad’s notes, called other scientists, worked with Banner, but no dice. He’s even put his stupid Stark Expo on hiatus until he can find a way to save Peter Parker but he just can’t.

He’s never come across a problem he can’t solve, and it fucking sucks.

“What’s your dream vacation?”

Tony blinks, pulling out of his thoughts. “Dream vacation?” he repeats, because he’s not sure he’s heard correctly. “What are you talking about?”

Peter’s already downing the last few drops of his drink. “I should take Ben and May out on a vacation. A real nice one. Bill it as a SHIELD expense or something. You’ve been all over the world. Where should we go?”

He doesn’t like this kind of talk. He knows what this kind of talk means.

“We’ll talk about it when we get you all sorted away.”

“I know you’re trying,” Peter says slowly. “But it’s okay. Really. I understand.”

Tony shoves the heels of his hands into his eyes and convinces himself he’s not tearing up.

“Florence,” he finally says. “There’s a lot of great places. Barcelona. Bali. A damp cave in Sokovia.”

Peter actually smiles at that one.

“But Florence was always my favorite.” He refuses to look that kid in the eye. He continues to rub at his eyes until he sees spots. “You’ll find out when I take you. You, Ben, May. I’ll take all of you. Once you’re all better.”

“...yeah?”

There hasn’t been a problem Tony hasn’t been able to solve.

“Yeah, buddy. For sure.”

But the uncertainty is gobbledygook on his tongue.

      Blood Toxicity - Absolutely critical holy fuck, Peter -

He figures it out just in time.

It takes days of no sleep, no food, no showering to find the answer, hidden in the clues his father left behind. It’s almost sentimental, not really, but almost, and Tony is at least grateful for Howard in that moment for saving Peter’s life.

Because dear God, that kid does not deserve to die.

He’s about to start figuring out the synthesizing of a whole ass new element when Steve Rogers brings the kid in. Tony’s heart almost stops because Peter looks like a corpse, he’s so pale. But he’s fine. He’s murmuring quips and answering questions and putting up a fit with the IV that they have to stick him with.

“Hey buddy,” Tony says, and for the first time in weeks, he can really look him in the eye. Really offer him a smile that feels real. He smooths down one of Peter’s stray curls dangling across his forehead.

Peter grins back. His eyes are sunken and the ugly circuit board rash is snaked up all up his neck, spread out all across his chest. It looks painful, and yet he smiles. “You figured it out, huh?”

“Told you I would. You just gotta hold on a bit longer. Me and Cap have to take a jackhammer to my lab. Among a few other things.”

“I - what? Jackhammer? I want in on that.”

He honestly can't believe this kid sometimes. “You can literally shoot plasma blasts and fly and you’re disappointed about not getting to participate in a little property damage?”

“You’re always telling me not to break your stuff. When will I ever get this opportunity again.”

Tony’s grin feels downright wild. He cups the kid’s cheek and gives it a few gentle pats. “Good news is you have time to find out.”

And for the first time in a long time, Peter looks relieved.

       Blood Toxicity - 0%

“Heard you got that Mandarin hack.”

Peter takes a running leap onto the couch in Tony’s lab, whining a little when he remembers he’s worn his glasses today and almost broken them. “Of course. I’m just sorry about your Iron Legion. They kinda....well, they kinda…”

“Blew up?”

“Yeah.”

“I heard.” Tony waves off the guilt. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just support, and I can fix them.”

“Second string,” Peter says smugly. “No match for the OG.”

“They’re pretty damn close.”

“Not really. You and Fury will get my full report on Monday.”

“Kid, you haven’t filled out the proper paperwork once. None of you Avengers do.”

He shrugs, shrugging his backpack off and using it as an extra, unlikely pillow on the couch. “It’s hard. I have art essays to write. The Hulk can’t hold a pencil. Steve Rogers doesn’t even know what a laptop is I mean, honestly. If you want some real results, give the man a typewriter. Respect the elderly.”

Tony snorts out a laugh, mentally noting that he definitely needs to buy Steve Rogers a typewriter for Christmas. “What’s an art essay and why do you have to write one at a STEM school, for Christ’s sake.”

Another shrug. “I dunno. A paper on a famous painting is the gist. We have to go to a museum and pick one out.”

“You do know there’s a Rothko literally in this lab, hanging right above your head.”

“A whatgo?” Peter asks, craning his neck to see. He takes one look at the painting and declares, “How am I supposed to write seven pages on a block of orange?”

Tony groans, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my God. I’m definitely taking you to a museum. I can’t believe the extents I have to go just to keep you cultured.”

Peter gives a childish giggle, carefree and mischievous. He adjusts his position on the couch so he’s hanging off the side, upside down. “Oh, to be schooled by a real metropolitan. I can’t wait.”

He rolls his eyes, but can’t fight his own smile. The kid has that effect on him. “I can take you Saturday, after my meeting with Oscorp about some biotech project they want funding on.”

“Sounds riveting.”

“Trust me, I tried to get out of it but Pepper says I have to go.”

Peter shoots off the couch then, renewed with energy, and Tony can’t even find it in himself to be bothered by his constant fidgeting. It means he’s healthy, he’s alive, and he’s safe to do as much Iron Man shenanigans as SHIELD pleases.  “Afterwards, can we get Gelato?”

“Gelato.”

“Yeah,” Peter affirms, wandering over to where Tony sits at his workbench, swiping through a bunch of screens. He pokes and prods at every piece of machinery and Tony throws a rubber stress toy at his head when he accidentally pulls out a loose part on one of his new projects. “I want to get accustomed to more Italian culture, you know, before you take us.”

“Hmmm,” Tony says, nodding his head. “True. I do recall my promise.”

“So you will take us to Italy?”

“Sure. Since you’re not immediately dying, think you can put it off until summer?”

Peter’s eyes blow wide. “Wait, really? I was kidding but like….wait, really? We can go?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony waves off his excitement. “We’ll make a whole show of it. May, Ben, Pepper. Maybe Rhodey if I’m feeling generous. But yes, Peter, we can go.”

The wind is almost knocked out of him when Peter tackles him into a hug. “That’s awesome,” he mumbles into his chest. “May and Ben have always wanted to go to Italy.”

“And you?”

“I’ve always wanted May and Ben to be happy.”

God, this kid. He wraps his arms around him and lets the kid burrow himself underneath his chin. The last time they had done this it felt like a goodbye. Now it feels...God, this is what parents must feel like all the time.

How sappy.

When Peter finally lets go he doesn’t stray far, choosing to lean against Tony, resting an arm on his shoulder. “When in summer?”

“Whenever.” Tony smiles, reaching up to poke one of Peter’s dimples with the blunt end of a stylus. “We’ve got time, remember?”

He gets tackled into another hug.

“Thanks for saving my life,” Peter whispers.

“I’ve got your back,” Tony says, patting the kid’s back for emphasis. “I’ve always got your back, kid.”

He can feel Peter’s heartbeat, strong and steady.

Chapter Text

In typical Stark flair, Tony makes a spectacle of himself when he takes a dive in front of Picasso’s Les Demoiselles d'Avignon.

He’s honestly not sure how he didn’t pass out on the front steps of the museum. Or in the car on his way to Queen’s to pick up Peter. Or in the parking lot of Oscorp when he had to give himself a good five minute pep talk that it was just a stupid spider bite it’s not like he was in Australia where those things actually kill, okay, Tony you’re fine get a grip. He needs to school Peter in art if it's the last thing he does. 

Obviously his raging fever and harrowed senses agree that it might, in fact, be the last thing he does.

The meeting at Oscorp had gone...terribly. They’re so below him, honestly, that working with them just isn't worth the catch-up and he knew that going in. But sometimes he’s gotta do things for appearance sake and for business relationships and for the beautiful Pepper Potts because she told him to and she’s the boss and he loves her. So he went. The spiders were new, and judging by Oscorp research, possibly a rip off of a fifth grade student’s science fair project so Tony wasn’t really concerned about sneaking into the room to get a better look. And even when the spider bit him and it hurt like hell, it didn’t concern him either.

When he smashed it under his shoe, that...yeah, that concerned him a little. He’s hoping he won’t have to cut a check for that. And honestly, he probably won’t considering that spider is a deadly dud and his body finally gives into the fever and pain, taking a dive in front of Picasso’s Les Demoiselles d'Avignon.

Oh, and Iron Man. Well, kid. The kid. Iron Peter. Wait, no that’s -

“Tony?”

Peter is nothing but a blurry mess in front of him. He can tell there are other people swarming closer, trying to see what’s going on, but Peter remains a constant, hovering above him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Peter asks softly. “What hurts?”

God, the room is one spinny, blurry mess. “You look like a Picasso painting,” Tony says, too tired to crack a grin at the irony.

“That’s very funny,” Peter says, but his tone makes it clear he does not think it is very funny. A shame. “Can you sit up?”

He does, but Peter does all of the heavy lifting. Which is saying something considering his limbs are toothpicks. Immediately, Tony recognizes that this is a bad idea for him and who he is as a person at this museum, today, and possibly -

“Tony? Tony.” Peter grabs his face in the palms of his hands before his head can fall forward and his chin can meet his chest. “Shoot, you’ve got a fever.” Tony barely recognizes the beeping from his watch as Peter fiddles with the controls that can take his vitals. “105 are you fucking -”

“Don’t swear,” He slurs, trying and successfully pushing the kid away so he can lay down and take a nap on the cool, tile floor.

“You’re on fire .”

“Cool party trick, huh?”

“No! No, it’s not - ugh, hold on.” There’s more beeping and tapping as Tony closes his eyes. He jolts back to reality when Peter says, “Cap? It’s Peter. Can you get some of SHIELD’S doctors down to the MOMA stat? I don’t have my suit.”

Tony groans. “No, don’t tell Cap on me.”

“Stop,” Peter shushes when Tony tries to push him away.

“Tattletale!”

“Tony, please, you’re sick -” There’s some more garbled noise followed by more pleading from the kid, “Yes, Cap, it’s Tony! He’s sick. It’s something weird I just know okay please you have to get here.”

Reality is really warping on him at this point, and he starts to wonder if LSD was a thing back in the early 1900s. It’d certainly explain Picasso’s work. Or like, the spider that bit him. Not that LSD and radiation are like remotely the same thing but like…

For the first time ever, Tony internally acknowledges that thinking can be pretty hard.

He closes his eyes just as Peter starts patting his cheek with the back of his hand. “No, no, no! Stay awake. Please.”

Before he passes out, he tries to at least smile. There’s bound to be someone taking a shitty photo on an outdated phone that will make the front newspaper and he’d like to keep his trademark smile.

He has a feeling that isn’t what happens.

When Tony wakes up, Peter is looking at him like he’s an alien. And honestly, Tony feels a bit like one. Because he feels amazing. And someone who fainted in front of the general public should, generally, not feel amazing.

“Hey,” Peter says slowly. Tony winces at the volume as he looks around: he’s in his bed, at his penthouse. How that happened, he doesn’t know. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Tony mumbles. Even his own voice is too loud. “What time is it?”

“Noon.”

Tony frowns. When he and the kid got to the museum it was well past noon. “It’s Sunday.”

Peter grimaces. “It’s Tuesday.”

Oh, what the fuck.

“What the hell happened!?” he asks and ow. Loud. His voice is honey to the human ear, why is it betraying him like this? He can’t possibly be yelling.

"You were out of it for days after you fainted. Dr. Cho ran some tests but..." Peter is still looking at him strangely. “We aren’t...sure.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Tony furrows his brow. “How do you not know -”

When Tony lifts his hand, the blanket sticks to it.

The blanket. Sticks. To his hand.

And the most horrifying part is Peter doesn’t look so surprised.

“What the - !?” He shakes his hand like a madman, but it won’t come off. When he tries to pull it off, it won’t come off.

Oh, boy. His life is a bad sci-fi movie.

Peter just sighs, “Yeah.”

Bit of an understatement, in Tony’s book. “How is this -!?

“Yeah.”

“My hand -”

“Yeah.”

“Is sticking -”

“Yeah.”

“Can you please say something other than ‘yeah’, kid?”

All of a sudden, Peter bursts out with energy. “Well! I’ve been watching you flail and stick to shit for the past few days! The shock factor has kind of faded.”

As Tony’s jaw goes slack, the blanket finally unsticks.

“Yeah,” the kid says, again, and Tony almost loses it. “When you tossed and turned, you stuck. When you started to relax, you unstuck. So maybe tuck your anxiety deep, deep inside yourself for a bit, and you’ll be less sticky.”

“Insightful. You should be a therapist.”

“Look, I’m just the note taker,” Peter huffs. “And from what I can tell you’ve been…”

Tony clenches his fist; his knuckles bleed white. “What.”

“...Captain America’d.”

He blinks. He’d had the same thought, back when Peter had become Iron Man and need his help.

But that means...

“Something messed with your DNA,” Peter goes on to say. “When we were at the museum and I used your watch to have JARVIS check your vitals, he picked up...nonsense.”

“Your scientific vocabulary is really shining. You’re really flexing that September Grant.”

Peter rolls his eyes and continues on with his top tier descriptions. “We detected the nonsense when we did more tests while you were burning through a fever of 108-”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Peter reiterates, and as annoying as it is, Tony kinda sorta gets it by now. “There’s, like, insane mutations. None of us have any idea what could have caused it.”

But Tony knows. Oh, does he know. And he could sue the shit out of them if he felt like it. Maybe. He did slip in there without them really knowing. Sorta. Yes? He’ll work out the kinks later. “It was a spider,” he says.

Peter squints, not quite believing. “A spider.”

“A radioactive spider.” Tony shrugs. “From Oscorp. It bit me.”

The kid winces, face screwed up in horror and shock. He curls into himself and clutches his hand like he'd been bitten, before bellowing, “Why did you let it bite you!?”

Tony scoffs, affronted. “Why’d you let yourself get kidnapped and shoved in a Sokovian cave.”

He’s pretty sure the kick mumbles dickhead but Tony decides to act the Adult and let it slide. “Okay. Fine. A spider bit you. Do you know where the spider is so we can go get it?”

“Probably dead on the floor somewhere. I’m sure the janitor’s swept it up by now, but feel free to go dumpster diving if that’s your idea of a fun time.”

“Sometimes talking to you is like pulling teeth. Do you know that?”

Tony shrugs. “Says you. I feel great. Better than I have in months. I can see better.”

That surprises Peter. He makes a 180, clearly no longer equating this conversation to pulling teeth. “What’s that mean?”

“I’ve always seen fine but…” Tony looks around. Colors never looked so amazing. He kinda wishes they were back in the museum. He has a feeling art is going to be a real trip now. “It’s like I upgraded cameras. Everything’s in HD. It’s almost too much. You're arc reactor is...” he glances at the kid's chest and squints. "A little bright."

He zips up his jacket. “Is that all?”

Tony winces, sticking a finger in his ear, wiggling it around. “You’re kinda loud. I’m kinda loud. But no one’s shouting.”

Peter jumps out of his seat and announces, “Be right back,” and runs down the hall. He stops several hundred feet away and he knows this because Tony can hear the footsteps stop and then Peter says, “Peter Parker picked a pretty pearl for Pepper Potts.”

Tony doesn’t really know what he’d say to that if Peter was in front of him. Good thing he isn’t.

Then the footsteps resume, louder as he gets closer, and then he runs back, still the hopeless out of breath asthmatic boy he was when he left. “So?”

Tony knows an experiment when he sees one. He’s gonna pass with flying colors. “Peter Parker picked a pretty pearl for Pepper Potts.”

The kid is beyond excited. “Oh my god, you heard that!? I whispered it from the other side of the whole floor! That’s hundreds of feet away. That’s like…” He pauses, and Tony thinks he’s going to say something scientifically intelligent, but all he gets is, “ stupid far away.”  Which, fair. It is stupid far away.

But then it hits him. “Wait you whispered that?”

“Yeah!”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah!”

“Peter.”

“Yeah?” The kid blinks and then grins, sheepish. “Right, right. Sorry.” And then he springs back. “But really! This is so cool! You have super hearing, your vision is insane , you can stick to things. What else can you do?”

Tony blinks. What else can he do? He’s not sure, but it’s the first time in five years his joints aren’t screaming at him, so it’s gotta be pretty good.

So he grins. “We’re gonna find out.”

“Pick up that car.”

They're in his workshop, which includes all his cars. His very nice, very rare, collection of vintage and high tech cars. “You’re just really going for it, huh.”

He shrugs. He’s donned on the Iron Man suit for a reason Tony’s a little afraid to ask about. But he has a feeling it’ll involve something as stupid as him trying to pick up a car. “Cap can pick up a car,” Peter says.

“Yeah, well, I’m not Cap.”

He shrugs again. “No, you’re not. But I already know that he can’t hear or see as well as you can. He doesn’t have the radioactive touch.”

“Radioactive touch.”

All annoying things come in threes: the kid shrugs one last time. “Dr. Banner played with radiation and look at how strong the Hulk is. He can pick up a car. He can throw a car. He can throw several cars.”

Okay. That’s a fair point.

“If I can’t lift it and I get squished, stay away from my funeral,” Tony warns. He goes over to one of his beloved Audi’s and, like an idiot, tries to pick it up from the back bumper.

To his horror, it’s rather easy. The back wheels come up with ease so Tony tips it further until he can get underneath it and lift it above his head.

Turns out Oscorp makes a hell of a spider.

Peter’s jaw goes as slack as his. “No way. No way! This is the coolest thing! Can you hold it with just one hand?”

Tony drops one arm. It’s still kinda easy.

“So….” Tony grunts, finally setting the car down when Peter, finally, has nothing to say. “We can add super strength to the list.”

“I can’t believe this,” Peter gushes. “Do you think you’re bulletproof?”

He points a threatening finger. “Don’t you dare.”

“One shot.”

“No.”

“One shot from Rhodey, and he only shoots you in the leg.”

“No.”

“One shot from Natasha and she-”

“I’m not letting any Avenger shoot me.”

“Spoilsport.” But his disappointment doesn’t last long. His face lights up like the damn arc reactor. “Hey, since you’re pretty sticky, think you can walk on the ceiling?”

Tony heaves a heavy sigh, shoulders sagging. The things he does for this kid. And his curiosity. “If I fall -”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t go to your funeral. I got it. Now climb, Spider-Man!”

The nickname hits him harder than it probably should. It sounds so much like the other Avenger aliases: Captain America, Iron Man, Black Widow. It feels...strange. Troublesome, maybe? It feels like something he doesn’t deserve to be a part of. There’s a high chance he’s overthinking this entire thing but just in case: “Nope. I am vetoing Spider-Man.”

The kid is not happy about that. “You were the one that told me you gotta name your stuff!”

“Um, I have a name? A cool name. Tony Stark? Beloved icon and billionaire genius? Ringing any bells?”

"You're reinvented. A new you. You need a new name." Peter pouts a little. “Spider-Man is a cool name, I promise.”

The feeling just won’t leave. It feels like danger and responsibility and Nick Fury breathing Avengers Initiative down his back. “No Spider-Man.”

But Peter is persistent. “We’ll workshop it," he says, throwing his words back from so long ago. He activates his suit and grabs Tony before flying them up to the high ceiling and then literally throws him on it.

Surprise, surprise. He sticks.

Maybe he doesn’t have a choice. Maybe he really is the Spider-Man after all.

Chapter Text

Tony’s working on web combination 549 when Peter comes tumbling down to his lab, a smile about to crack his face into pieces.

“Tony, Tony, Tony!” he chants over and over again, sounding like the carefree child he always deserves to be.

He adjusts the wrist strap on his arm before he pulls his middle and ring finger in, clicking the button and letting a long strand of synthetic webbing shoot out all the way across his lab. “What? What? What?”

Peter is momentarily distracted by the webbing. His eyes go all kinds of shiny and impressed. “Hey! You’re doing it! You’re embracing the spider!”

Tony blows out a breath, gives a one shouldered shrug. He presses the mechanism once more before another web comes out, this time like an explosion, and creating a large splatter like web on another wall. “I’m giving it a shot. A few shots.” He doesn’t take the web shooters off, but he does roll down the sleeves of his jumper. “Now, what’s got you coming down her shouting like a kid in a candy store.”

“Yinsen’s here!” he exclaims, tossing his arms above his head. He almost knocks the glasses off his own face. With a quick adjustment he takes a step to the side to clear the entryway to his lab where Dr. Yinsen himself appears.

The list of people that Peter Parker trusts implicitly is fairly short, but Dr. Yinsen definitely makes the cut. Peter’s been pretty open about his whole ordeal in Sokovia: the arc reactor, the media, prescribed talk therapy, and Iron Man in general make it pretty much a priority. But Peter’s always been protective of the details concerning Yinsen. Yes, the papers all give the facts and figures of what went on in that cave: Yinsen helped Peter break apart materials, weld with steady hands, and even took a bullet for the kid despite not being the one with the armor when they busted out. But three months is a long time to be stuck with one person. There are things Peter has told Yinsen that he’ll likely never tell anyone else, not May, not Tony, not even Ben. Their bond is special; Tony knows the kid calls him every day, almost without fail, just to say hello. Even after the trauma had faded just a little, he explained that his new normal just didn’t feel normal if he didn’t talk to Yinsen.

So it’s always a good day when Peter brings him around.

“Hello, Mr. Stark.” Yinsen greets. He’s looking good, even though the grip on his cane seems a little...harsh. He didn't recover quite so well from Sokovia like the kid had. Peter seems to pick up on it and immediately leads him to a stool by one of Tony’s work benches.

“Doc,” Tony greets with a smile. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

“Oh,” he sighs softly, fiddling with the edge of his own glasses - round and nerdy, just like Peter’s. “A little bird told me you’ve been bitten by a magic spider.”

This time Tony sighs, a little frustrated. He’s been trying to keep the whole thing quiet, which is a rarity for him. Tony hasn’t exactly seen his birth certificate in a hot minute, but he’s pretty sure his middle name is Ostentatious, or something of the like. Subtlety isn’t in his nature.

Peter’s face crumples in guilt and he starts scuffing the floor with his worn and tired sneakers.

The list of people Peter Parker trusts implicitly is fairly short. But Tony’s is even shorter. But Peter’s on that list. So if he trusts Yinsen with the whole Spider-Man idea, so does Tony.

“It’s fine kid,” he breathes out, walking over to ruffle Peter’s hair. The kid perks back up instantly, watching with curious eyes as Tony rolls up the sleeve of his jumper once more, fessing up one of his wrist shooters for the two of them to check out. “Go ahead. Knock yourself out.”

Yinsen’s fascination is much softer, as is his handling of his device; like holding a gemstone to the light. “Fascinating…” he whispers before he clicks the mechanism and lets a web shoot out - it nails Peter right on his shirt.

“Does this wash out?” Peter asks, tugging on his tee.

“Hadn’t gotten to the machine washable part of the formula yet.”

“Aw, man. This is my Decathlon shirt!”

“Sorry, bud.”

“You replicated spider silk,” Yinsen goes on to say. “Very impressive.”

Tony shrugs off the praise. “Biology and chem haven’t always been my focus, but I did invent a whole new element to fix all…” he gestures to Peter, “all that. So. Wasn’t too hard.”

Yinsen laughs when Peter pouts. The kid grabs the wristlet in retaliation and slaps it on his own arm, aiming it playfully at Tony before he turns and aims for the last clean wall, a glass wall, in his lab. “How strong is this stuff?” Peter asks, plucking the outstretched webbing like a guitar string. “The tensile strength seems amazing.”

“Almost as strong as I am.” Tony grins, and Peter rolls his eyes. “Bet it could have sewn up the Titanic before she sunk.”

“Really?” Peter asks. He sounds a little skeptical which is kind of insulting. Did the kid conveniently forget who he's talking to? “You really think this could stop a giant ship from tearing in two?”

Tony shrugs. “With enough of it in the right…” he gestures wildly. “...formation. Probably.”

“Cool!” Peter squeals. “You'll be a superhero in no time.”

When he scoffs, Peter’s face falls.

“Don’t look at me like that, kid,” Tony mumbles, turning back to his workbench to work out web combination number 550. “I’m not cut out for that Avenger shit and you know it.”

Peter tries a timid smile. “They let me in, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, but you’re…” he gestures to all of Peter, words failing him. Trying to sum up all that is Peter Parker is harder than trying to sum up all of what Tony Stark is. And that's saying something. “We’re not the same, kid.”

“No,” Peter agrees, word drawn out and confused. “But that’s good, isn’t it? Tony, you’re stronger than Captain America. Like, way stronger! And you stick!”

Yinsen blinks in surprise. “He sticks?” He points to Tony. “You stick?”

Peter claps his hands excitedly, eyes drifting to the ceiling. “Do the thing.”

“No.”

“Please! Do the thing!”

“No.”

“But it’s so cool!”

Tony sighs, rolling his eyes, but gives in. With his other wristlet, he aims for the ceiling and lets the web stick there before he takes a few steps and swings, letting himself stick to the top of the wall. He crouches on all fours and scurries onto the ceiling before looking down. Peter is elated. Yinsen, a bit horrified.

“Ah,” he finally breathes out. “You stick.”

“I….stick.” Tony agrees. It doesn’t feel like a very cool super power when summed up. “And besides being able to rearrange any living room furniture set with ease, the buck kind of stops there.”

Yinsen keeps staring at him from below, and it’s enough to make Tony feel self-conscious. Not an easy feat for someone with the higher vantage point. He drops back down to the floor, but Yinsen’s eyes follow. “What are the webs for, Mr. Stark?”

“I dunno,” he bluffs. “Just messing around.”

Yinsen smirks. “Liar.”

Tony doesn’t even have time to act affronted because Peter immediately chimes in with a “Pants on fire,” in sing-songy voice. He turns to Yinsen and starts explaining as if Tony isn’t there. “It’s for trapping. Just like real spiders. Trapping bad guys and bad weapons."

"A weapon, by definition, is already bad."

"Tony’s really fast now, too. He can also see and hear like, everything. And his health bar is at maximum, always.” He lowers his voice in a fake whisper and adds, “I’m a little jealous.”

“Don’t be jealous that the freaky spider didn’t bite you, kid. That’s weird.”

“It’s not weird! You’re a superhero because of it!”

Again with the superhero shit. “Peter,” Tony closes his eyes and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. While Peter is a little right on the nose with the whole health bar is at maximum, always, the amount of times he gets migraines and headaches is starting to get ridiculous. Lack of sleep? Migraine. Skip even one meal? Migraine. Get lost in his own stupid head? Migraine. Peter tries to talk him into becoming some dude named Spider-Man that saves the world with other Avengers? Big Ass Migraine. He needs to figure out something to filter out everything.

There’s a tap on his shoulder and he opens his eyes to see Peter pressing one of his Iron Man helmets that was sitting in the lab, ready for repairs, into his hands.

“Put it on,” Peter whispers and Tony does. There’s a greeting from his AI, Karen, before everything sort of muffles, including the light.

“Oh, that’s better,” Tony says after a moment. He can barely hear his own voice. The ache in his head is already starting to subside. “I didn’t program this.”

“No, I did.” Peter is still whispering. "I could tell you get overwhelmed sometimes. I made it just in case. Neat, huh?"

“Didn’t think you knew how to do that." He pauses, looking at him through the helmet. It's like it's dusk at the beach in his lab. It's all very calming. "Or that you knew that."

“I bootlegged your arc reactor in a cave, remember?”

“You never let me forget.” As quickly as the headache started to come on, it goes, and Tony feels well enough to take the helmet off. He hands it back to Peter, who holds it in his own hands for a few seconds, giving the dents and scratched a good look over.

“You’ll need a helmet. Or like, maybe a mask?” Peter nods to himself. “To filter out...everything.”

Tony’s fingers curl as he eyes at his wrist. He’s already considered this, which is something he doesn’t want to admit. He’s imagined what he can do with his strength, his speed, his senses. As stupid as embracing the whole spider persona seems, he finds himself dreaming of a world where he’s never without it, using his webs to climb, trap, swing -

“What do you think, Yinsen?” Peter’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. “Mask or helmet?”

“You’ve got a spare helmet right there. And it works. Just give him one of your spare suits,” he nods to the wall that is Iron Legion 2.0., and Peter just about loses it.

“No! I’m the one with the cool suit! This is copyright infringement.”

“I dunno,” Tony sighs dramatically. Getting the kid worked up is really fun. “It’s my materials. My legion. Plus, I’m super strong. I can be Iron Man now. Like you, but better. Because no asthma.”

“You can’t be Iron Man,” Peter scoffs. “It’s taken. You’re Spider-Man.”

Tony groans at the name, still not fond, and Yinsen laughs at his expense. “Spider-Man sounds like some sort of B movie horror monster. Like I’m made of spiders.” His eyes drift back to the suits from the Iron Legion. “But then again, if I were some sort of Spider-Man -”

“- aha! - “

“I’d need a suit of some kind.”

Peter clicks his tongue, uncertain. “You wouldn’t want one of those,” he jabs his thumb to the suits. “You’re way too flexible for that. You need...something like spandex.”

“Kid. If you think for one second I’m going to put on some fucking spandex onesie -”

“You need to move around! Shoot your webs! You can’t do that in an Iron Man suit.”

“Well,” Yinsen intervenes. “Not one of those. What do you know about nanotechnology?”

Tony blinks. Right before this whole spider bite business, it was on the top of his priority list. A new, better suit for Peter. And when the Avengers were working on getting the Black Panther to join the team, Tony had seem the suit Shuri built in action, and it made him want to work on it even more. There was a lot to be done with nanotechnology. He just never considered it could be for him.

“Huh,” he muses aloud. “A nanosuit. I’ve been meaning to really dig into that, but then all this spider shit happened. I was gonna build one for Peter -”

“Ooh, really!?”

“- but I could also build one for myself,” he admits quietly.

Yinsen smiles. “You could call it the Iron Spider.”

Tony snaps his fingers, eyes going wide. “I like it. I like that. That’s good.”

“What?” Peter protests. “No!”

“The Iron Spider. That’s way cooler than you, Mister Tin Man in a Can over here. Thanks, Doc.”

“Yinsen,” Peter whines pathetically. “You’re ruining everything.”

“Relax,” Tony says as Yinsen pulls Peter into a hug, ruffling the kids hair. “No one’s cramping your style. It’s just a suit. I’m no Avenger, remember?”

“Yet,” Peter is quick to add, stretching away from Yinsen. “You aren’t an Avenger, yet."

He feels the headache coming back already. Great. “Kid -”

“You’ve got talents, Mr. Stark,” Yinsen interrupts in a way that should be rude but isn’t. His voice is soft and commanding, begging to be heard. “You brain and now this strength? It would be a shame not to use them.” he grins, and Peter nods along. “You’ve never wasted your talents before. Don’t start now.”

Peter tosses back Tony the other wristlet. “The spider chose you. You’re a chosen one. How cool is that?”

Tony scoffs, but he puts the web shooter back on his wrist. It feels right. He’s not sure if Spider-Man is something he should do, someone he should be, but this somehow feels right. He can't shake the feeling, no matter what. So maybe the kid has a point, and maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he should hold a press conference, demonstrate all his web combinations and declare I am Iron Spider...No. Spider-Man. Maybe he should keep it to himself and hope he can hide it from the world before Nick Fury does what he did to Peter. But that might not work. It’s not like Tony Stark isn’t famous. He’s been in the spotlight his whole life, he always will be. This isn’t something can easily hide…

Ugh. Honestly, he doesn’t know what to do.

Well, that’s not true.

He knows how to build. He’ll always know how to build. He’s already got the webs. That’s something. He just needs to keep building. He’ll build and build until he knows what’s right. He’ll find the answers. So the next step...

He’ll start with a suit.