Chapter Text
As if it were some predetermined ritual in the eyes of the universe, Tony was the last to wake up in the Stark household. He sort of rolled over, blinked his eyes open, and realized it was half past nine. Pushing himself up quickly, he turned to the other side of the bed, neatly tidied and startlingly vacant. Smacking his lips together, he looked back to the clock at his bedside, betrayed.
“You didn’t set an alarm,” Pepper spoke from somewhere behind him, sounding like the bathroom doorway. He huffed at her, peering over his shoulder and towards his wife. She was holding a towel, gently running it through her hair, and she was already dressed.
“I didn’t think I needed to set an alarm, honey-bun,” He snipped, and rubbed a hand down his face. He wasn’t really a morning person, and that wasn’t Pepper’s fault…so far. “I have such an impressive circadian rhythm, they should start calling it the Ton adian-rhythm.”
Pepper shook her head at him fondly, disappearing back into the bathroom, the mirror still steamed from her apparent shower. “I’m almost one-hundred percent certain that’s not how that works, my dear,” She said, as she hung up her towel and reached for her hair dryer.
“I have three phd’s, I get to say how it works,” He grumbled, and covered his head with his pillow, preparing for the impending roar of sound from the blow-dryer.
He brushed his teeth and ran a hand through his hair, looking down at his pajamas and shrugging before heading towards the door.
“Your cane,” Pepper chided, almost immediately as his fingers touched the doorknob, and he muttered under his breath about her sixth senses, thinking of Peter’s. He felt a little giddy, connecting Pepper and Peter together, casually, now that the two had met and formed an emotional attachment. It was as if the world had righted itself, at least in his head, and everything was finally, finally in its place.
He thought, for a brief moment, that that must’ve been why he had slept so long, and so soundly. He no longer had something hanging over him; he no longer had to worry about where Peter was, alone, without him .
He braved the stairs, Pepper only a few paces behind him, and they both heard their daughter talking animatedly at someone in the living room. Her voice was strong, carrying itself well throughout the house, and Tony couldn’t help the smile spreading across his face as he made his way towards them. Rounding the corner, he spotted the back of Rhodey’s head, one of his arms spread along the back of the couch. He was nodding along seriously to something Morgan was telling him, her legs crossed as she sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, a half-finished bowl of cereal at her elbow as she furiously scribbled with her crayons.
“Good morning,” He greeted, enthusiastically, and craned his neck as he approached the living room rug, trying to spot Peter or Happy in the kitchen. He tried not to frown when he realized they were missing, wondering if his head of security was just outside, and the kid was still upstairs.
“You slept in!” His daughter called, accusatory, as she spared him a glance from the paper in front of her.
“I did,” He agreed, smiling. “And I’m so sleepy and tired, I think I’m going to go back to bed!”
“Noooo,” She whined, and he started to turn back towards the stairs, pretending to yawn, moving past Pepper, who hid her amusement with perfect grace. Morgan barrelled towards him, wrapping around his legs from behind, giggling and protesting the whole time. “You’re awake now, so you have to hang out with me because you love me!”
Tony tapped his cane along her back, and hobbled in a slow circle, pretending he couldn’t just crane his neck over his shoulder to see her. “Well, I don’t know…honey, do you think that’s right? Do I have to spend time with our daughter because I love her so, so much?”
Pepper, completely stoned face, took the mug Rhodey offered her and glanced at him. “Yep.”
“You heard the woman!” He bent over, reaching between his knees to tickle Morgan in her ribs, just enough so she loosened her grip, and he scooped her up into his one arm hold. “Hello and good morning, little miss.”
“Good morning, daddy,” She giggled back, and he brought her back to the coffee table, sitting her down and accepting the second mug that Rhodey had poured for him.
“Where’s my forehead of security?” Tony asked, as he sat down next to his best friend, letting his head hit the cushion at his back as he sunk in.
Pepper made a noise of confusion from across the room, picking at the breakfast made at the table. Morgan shook her head, hard enough that her hair flew in her face, whipping back and forth, strands sticking to her mouth. Rhodey stayed silent, his mouth to his own cup, his eyes forward. Tony honed in on him, sitting up straight.
“Where’s Happy?” He reiterated, his eyebrows shooting up when his best friend continued to avoid his gaze, taking a big gulp of his drink. “What? What am I missing?” He looked wildly towards his wife, who had begun to peel an orange, her back to him, blissfully unaware.
“Well,” Rhodey began, slowly, clearing his throat. “We came down here at around the same time. And he and Peter—”
“Peter’s awake?” Tony interrupted, unable to stop himself. “I thought he would’ve jumped at the chance to sleep in…”
“He didn’t,” Morgan piped up. “He wasn’t in his room when I got up. I really wanted to color with him,” She gestured to the setup in front of her, a second heap of papers neatly stacked at her elbow. She pouted at him, clueless to the way his stomach dropped.
He turned back to Rhodey, his knuckles white against the arm of the couch. “Don’t look at me, I wasn’t involved,” He told him firmly, and Tony continued to stare, unblinking. After a moment, he could see him crack. “But I did see the car leave.”
Thirty minutes later, with Pepper’s permission, he was suited up and flying towards the dot on his map, labeling Happy’s car just beside the Avenger’s Tower.
What was he thinking , part of him screamed, as air whistled around him. Did we do something wrong , a smaller part of him questioned, tightly wound in his chest, sitting between his lungs and making him claustrophobic in his own skin.
He ignored his first instinct to barge right back into Peter’s apartment, his fingers still itching to put his address in as a destination. He must’ve left for a reason. He wouldn’t appreciate him invading the space he obviously wanted—most people wouldn’t drive three hours away without saying a word if they wanted him to follow them. See, he was learning.
He landed on the balcony of the penthouse, the suit already melding away from his skin as his feet touched the ground. He stormed inside, FRIDAY opening the doors ahead of him, and he spotted Happy, standing and leaning at the counter as he scrolled through alerts on a computer.
Tony stopped short, halfway out of the room, and whirled on him. “You took Peter? You left? ”
“I did,” Happy told him, evenly, and he didn’t look scared or guilty. He just looked calm, sympathetic, the jerk. “He came to me this morning. Asked to leave. So, I listened.”
“He’s just a kid, he’s been going through something and he doesn’t know what’s good for him right now,” He ran a hand down his face, exhaling and trying to keep himself from crying. He was frustrated, and sad, and he knew that Peter had probably asked to leave. He felt like he’d failed him. He felt like he’d kept him trapped when he was just trying to do something good. “God knows if he’s thinking straight—we need to get him back.”
Happy’s face did a little twinge, his lips thinning and his eyes crinkled. It was almost like pity, if Tony hadn’t known better. “Maybe we should let him go,” He lifted a hand when Tony went to protest, continuing quickly, “Look, I can’t claim to be an expert on this kid and I don’t know his in’s and out’s, but…he trusted me enough to come to me and ask me for this. I think he at least deserves a little respect for that, doesn’t he?”
Tony frowned, and considered his words, and then frowned more deeply when he realized he was right. “We can’t just leave him alone…”
“It probably isn’t easy being around strangers,” Happy said, gently.
“It probably isn’t easy being around your family who thinks you’re a stranger,” Tony countered, and the other man had the decency to look ashamed—the lines around his mouth concerned and frustrated.
“You can’t keep him on a leash,” Happy managed, eventually, looking defeated. “The fact here is that this is where Peter wanted to be. I’m sure he had his own reasons for not saying anything,” He closed his laptop, walking out to put a hand on Tony’s shoulder, steady. “I’m sure he’s not saying goodbye, Tones. He’s just…being a little punk.”
He barked a laugh, and his friend patted his arm, and he felt himself relax a little. “You’re right. God, you don’t even remember it, but he was such a little punk. He was also all,” He made a gesture with his hand. “Bright-eyed and bushy tailed and ready to please. He used to send you voicemails, every single day, and…” He trailed off, feeling the nostalgia lose its levity. “Well, we never answered.”
“We must’ve been jerks,” Happy spoke, slowly, his face grim, a strange sort of remorse held in the lines of his face; a self-appointed condemnation for events completely erased from his mind. He did spend a few hours in the car with the kid, Tony thought to himself, it's hard to avoid liking him.
“We were,” he agreed. “And now, we’re going to do better.”
He stepped away, fixing his pajama shirt and walking towards the hallway leading to the more domestic aspects of the interior. “Where are you going?” Happy called after him, sounding exhausted.
“I’m going to take a shower,” He shot back, grinning. “And then I’m going to find Spider-Man.”
Turns out, Peter felt no shame in ghosting him and running all the way back to Queens. As soon as dusk came, Tony spent less than ten minutes scouring security cameras before he found the sticky-footed vigilante swinging his way through Brooklyn, chasing the flashing lights of a police cruiser. He followed him around for a bit, mapping his route and waiting for a lull in activity. Eventually, Peter stopped at a rooftop in the financial district, and he didn’t move. That’s when Tony suited up, leaping off of the same balcony he landed on that morning, flying towards his kid. He tried not to let himself dwell on the whole leaving-without-saying-a-word thing, grinding his molars as he spotted red and blue at the edge of an office building. He tried not to be too angry; he tried not to be too upset.
He landed with a dull clank, and Peter was already standing, watching silently as he touched down.
“Spider-Man,” He greeted, hoping that the more emotional aspects of his tone were masked by the voice modulation. It was hard to tell exactly what Peter was thinking through the mask; emotionless white lenses blank and eerie, a shift from the mechanical flair of the Stark-made suit. “I thought you were on vacation. Far away from the city.”
“Iron Man,” Peter returned lightly, unassuming. “I thought you were retired. I mean, before you were dead and all.”
“I’ve made an exception,” Tony told him, dryly, and he felt the smallest clench in his stomach when he realized the masked vigilante was smiling. That was the softness in his tone, that was the sincerity. “Kid, why didn’t you tell me you wanted to be here? You can tell me if you want to be in the city and not upstate, I’m not your warden.”
Peter stood from his crouch, stepping away from the ledge and holding himself stiffly, his arms close to his sides. “I’m sorry,” He said, and bounced a little on the balls of his feet. “I didn’t know how to tell you what I wanted. It just seemed easier to leave and to…to figure out the other stuff later,” He shrugged, like it was the easiest thing in the world, to have forgotten what it was like to be wanted somewhere. “I wanted to tell you that I was leaving, but I didn’t want you to fight to have me stay. I’m not sure I would win that fight.”
“Kid…” Tony began, and knew he was quickly losing his composure. “You just…disappeared,” He said, quietly, and felt like it wasn’t enough to make his point. “I had you back, and I knew where you were and…and I just want to know where you are. I don’t want to keep you on a leash or box you in but—” He sighed, letting the armor fall away from his body, stepping out and onto the concrete. “Can you at least give me a heads up when you’re about to run 130 miles away?”
Peter didn’t move, and didn’t have the mechanical lenses of his mask to show any expression other than painfully blank, but Tony knew he was smiling.
“Yeah,” He said, and there was a small part of his real voice that crackled through his flippant facade. “I can do that. Or, like, leave a note if I can’t find you. I can…I’m going to try harder with this. I’m going to try harder to get used to someone looking out for me again.”
Tony spread his hands out theatrically. “That’s all I ask,” He grinned, “Or you could even send a text. That’s right, I’m hip .”
He was close enough now that when Peter swatted at him, barking a laugh, it connected lightly with his chest. “Right,” The kid said, sarcastically, as he recovered his voice from amusement. “Because the first thing I think of when I hear ’ Tony Stark ’ is ‘ hip with the kids ’.”
“I’m detecting a hint of insincerity…” He said, pretending to be hurt, furrowing his brows. Peter snorted, obviously finding something about his act amusing, which he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset about.
“And I’m detecting a hip replacement surgery in your future,” He countered, and Tony felt his jaw drop, struggling between offense and amusement, pride welling in his chest at the ease in which his snark was returned to him. He lost the battle, it seemed, when his face cracked open into a huge smile, and he felt himself laughing, deep within his belly. Peter joined him, without the hesitation he had been expecting, and the two of them fell into a comfortability; an understanding between mentor and mentee; an acceptance of care.
“So…” Tony said, letting his suit compact back into individual nano’s, flying to his wrists. “The suit is…new.”
He could feel the heat of Peter’s gaze even through the barrier of the mask. “What’s wrong with my suit now ?”
“It’s just so…blue,” He gestured vaguely with his hand, squinting at the aforementioned fabric, shiny and bold. “Have you considered incorporating more safety measures? Maybe a second layer that’s made entirely out of steel, or bubble wrap?”
“I’m leaving this conversation, now,” Peter informed him, and promptly walked straight over the edge of the roof. Later that night, though, he texted that he was back at his apartment after a successful patrol. Tony smiled at the message, and rolled over in bed, content to fall asleep knowing both of his kids were safe and sound.