Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

🖋️ Peter’s Journal Entry

How does a bastard, a nerd, the son of a genius, Grow up behind the curtains, hidden from the business? With a mother full of kindness, and a father forged in fire—

She raised me with bedtime stories. He built an empire. They call me Peter Parker — I carry her name. But blood flows like truth, and my veins burn the same 

I’m the secret in the silence, the heir behind the door. Raised in golden towers but always wanting more. More than hiding. More than lying.

More than watching from the shadows while the heroes are flying.

They see a boy with books and jokes and shaky aim,

But I’m made of iron, too.

Even if no one knows my name. 

***

I barely slept last night. Not that I didn't try — I just couldn’t. Too many thoughts. Too quiet. Too loud. When you’re sitting alone in your room at three in the morning, with a notebook full of words you’ll never show anyone... you start to feel like a ghost in your own house.

The desk lamp cast a golden circle of light over the pages. I kept writing, line after line, trying to shake off the tension that had been living under my skin for weeks. My thoughts moved faster than my pen. And they were a lot more dangerous.

“Peter. It’s six a.m. Time to get up,” came F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s calm digital voice from the ceiling.

I flinched — caught red-handed. Reflexively, I shut the notebook, like someone might actually read what I’d just poured onto the page. It was all there. The truth. The fear. And something else. A secret.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m up,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

“Your father left you breakfast. It’s in the fridge. Allegedly edible,” the AI added with just a trace of sarcasm.

“Well. Miracles do happen.”

I stood up slowly, my spine complaining — leftovers from last night’s patrol. Yeah, patrol. Because when I don’t sleep, it’s not always insomnia. Sometimes, it’s rooftops. Alleys. A mask. And the hope that maybe, just maybe, I’ll save someone who has no idea they were ever in danger.

And those words were still echoing in my head I’m made of iron, too. Only no one knows. Not even him.

The fridge greeted me with a blast of cold air and... one of Dad’s culinary experiments. Scrambled eggs with something green mixed in. I hoped it was herbs. Not powdered nanotech. Took a bite. Immediately gave up. Wrapped the plate in foil and shoved it back.

I closed my eyes and felt the familiar tingle under my skin — a buzz that never fully faded. Senses still dialed up. I could hear traffic blocks away. Smell the gas in the air. I knew the neighbors were arguing about laundry again.

I glanced around the kitchen — sleek, high-tech, spotless. But there were a few personal touches. Mostly photos of me. None of my mom.

She died when I was born. Dad didn’t talk about her much. They weren’t married, far as I know. Probably just one of his old flings. But Tony never suspected I figured that out — so I kept quiet. Instead, he filled the walls with photos of us. A few with Ned too — my best friend. And the only person who knows what I am.

“Peter, it’s time to go,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. reminded me.

I glanced toward Dad’s room — still quiet. He was definitely asleep. Good. I strapped on my web-shooters, skipped the elevator, and bolted up the stairs. I hit the roof and jumped — straight into open air.

Swinging from level to level, shooting webs at the last second to break my fall — twenty stories in ten seconds. A personal best. Not bad. I landed in the garage. Happy was already there, looking only mildly annoyed about being a high school chauffeur again. But I knew he didn’t really mind. And I liked having him around.

“Ready for school, little Stark?” he asked with a smirk as he opened the door.

“As long as school’s easier than my life,” I muttered, climbing in.

“Oversleep again?”

“Nope. Just spent some time contemplating my existence over burnt eggs and something that may or may not have been hummus.”

“Your dad really shouldn’t cook. Coming from a guy who once burned popcorn in the microwave.”

“Don’t tell him. He thinks he’s improving.”

Happy chuckled and pulled out of the Tower. We drove in silence for a bit. I liked those moments — the kind that felt almost... normal. Like we were just a kid and a grumpy uncle who accidentally ended up being family. As we drove through downtown, I watched people rush by — coffee in one hand, phone in the other.

None of them knew Peter Stark was sitting in that car. Or rather… Peter Parker. My mom died giving birth to me, and Dad… he decided I wouldn’t be a Stark. He wanted to give me something he never had — a normal life. No press. No cameras. No spotlight. Just... life. Even with Mom’s last name, I was still his son. And he knew it.

Only a few people knew the truth — Happy, Pepper, Uncle Rhodey, Ned… and a handful of Avengers. But I barely ever saw them. Dad kept me far away from that world. The world of heroes. If only he knew...

Happy turned into the usual alleyway and, like always, stopped three blocks from school.

“I’ll get out here,” I said before he could even ask.

“You sure? I could drop you at the front gate one day, you know.”

“Thanks, but... no. I’d rather not spend the next six months explaining how I got that car and which billionaire I had to charm to get it.”

Happy snorted but said nothing. He knew I wasn’t ready for people to connect me to my dad. Not yet. At Midtown High, I was just Peter. Sometimes weird, sometimes funny. But mine. Just me.

“Take care, kid,” he said, catching my eye in the mirror. “No fighting anyone.”

“Only if they really deserve it,” I said with a grin, hopping out.

As I walked toward school, I felt eyes on me. Not because anyone knew who I was. But because I was different. I wore a mask. I carried a weight. But just for today — for a few hours — I’d be Peter. Just a kid. Almost.

__

Midtown High School — your average school.

Tiled floors, bells that sounded like fire drills, and conversations I didn’t care about. Like a new TikTok trend where people flailed around like they were having seizures to music, or the latest gossip about who broke up with who because “they didn’t say hi in math class.”

Teen drama: Season 100, Episode Infinity.

Ned was already waiting at my locker, waving like we hadn’t seen each other in years instead of yesterday.  “Dude! Late again!” he said, handing me a suspicious-looking coffee. “We were supposed to hit the library before class. Exams are coming!”

 “I’m not late,” I yawned and stretched. “School just starts too early.”

 “Peter…”

“Alright, alright,” I smiled. “Sorry. Rough night. But I’m good. Really.” Ned just nodded. He didn’t say anything more — because he knew. Better than anyone. He knew that if I skipped studying for something big, it meant something really big had happened. He knew about my dad. He knew my secret identity. He’d seen me show up at his door bloody. He’d given the lectures — about being careful, about the dangers. He’d cried once, saying that what I was doing might get me killed.

But he never left. He always had my favorite chips, always built LEGO with me, and always sent me memes at 3 a.m. with, “Dude, check this out.” I loved him like a brother.

 “Hey, did you hear? Midtown wants to enter a team into the science olympiad,” he said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

 “Oh yeah, ‘cause that’s what I’m missing in life. More stress,” I scoffed.

“You can handle quantum physics and once saved me from a falling vending machine. I think you’ll manage.” I didn’t answer. I just tossed my bag into the locker and ran my fingers through my hair. In the mirror, I saw my reflection — tired, chaotic.

We headed to class. The teacher smiled at me — she liked me. They all did. None of them knew who I really was. To them, I was just the quiet, polite kid. With the last name Parker. Not Stark.

I used to like that. It made me feel... normal, even for a minute. But sometimes it’s hard to feel normal when you spend your nights stopping knife-wielding kids from robbing cupcake stands.

 “Pete…” Ned said, noticing I was lost in thought. “You good?”

 “Yeah,” I smiled faintly. “You know, the usual: school, homework, secret double life. Nothing new.”

 “Ha-ha. Hilarious,” he rolled his eyes. “But seriously, I’m here. If you need me.” And I knew he meant it.

__

Chemistry class was… well, chemistry.

I wasn’t really paying attention, because I already knew everything. Perks of being the son of a genius. Science just made sense to me.

But unlike my dad, who lived and breathed numbers and lab coats, I actually liked poetry. I never told him, but I wrote — it calmed me. In the back of my notebook, I started scribbling something new — like everyday. I wasn't ready to show this to anyone...but I loved it

__

The rest of school passed by quickly and boringly. As always.

Math — boring. History — boring with echoes. P.E. — a full-blown tragedy.

Flash Thompson was doing his usual thing: pretending he wasn’t obsessed with me, even though he couldn’t walk past without throwing out something like,

“Hey Penis Parker, got any hot plans for tonight?”

I ignored him. Flash was like a virus — he fed on reactions. And I was currently installing emotional antivirus. Meanwhile, the school hallways rolled on like a never-ending conveyor belt of teenagers with too much energy and not enough imagination. Everyone caught up in their own drama. Everyone stuck in their own bubble.

MJ — Michelle Jones — beautiful, terrifying, and way too good at sarcasm — passed me by without a word. As always. And as always, she looked like she knew everything about me.

Ned and I had physics together. After that, we split. “You around tomorrow?” he asked. I nodded.

“Just… be careful,” he added as I was walking away. I nodded again.

Because it was time for my second life. I waited for the final bell, then headed in the opposite direction — not toward the main exit, but to the old janitor’s closet behind the art room. Nobody had been in there since 2012.

I stepped inside, closed the door behind me, and pulled the red-and-blue suit from my backpack.

Routine. Boots — check. Mask — roll it up. Gloves — click.

I loved this moment — the shift. The second I stopped being Peter Parker and became Spider-Man. Not because I didn’t want to be myself… but because sometimes, this was easier. Peter Parker had responsibilities. Spider-Man had a mission.

I tugged on the old window, pushed it open, and vanished from the frame like a hero in a cheesy action movie. The city smelled like smog, pizza, and trouble. Just minutes from Midtown, and I already heard the shouting.

“KAREN,” I said, tapping my earpiece to activate my AI. She wasn’t quite FRIDAY, but I’d built her myself — and I was proud of that.

“Threat level: moderate. Jewelry store robbery. Two suspects. Handguns. No hostages.”

“Classic. Thanks.”

I landed on a rooftop across from the shop. Through the window, I saw two guys in masks — one smashing a display case, the other… eating a candy bar. “Really? A candy bar?” I called through the glass.

They both looked up. I was already inside.

The first guy took a face full of webbing. The second tried to run — and tripped on his own bag. “You know, there are easier ways to get an engagement ring,” I quipped, webbing them together like a Christmas gift.

“I miss the serious criminals… just kidding. Don’t do crimes. Byyeeee.” Sirens howled in the distance. Cops were on the way.

I was already on the roof. “KAREN, next?”

“Report: elderly woman trapped in elevator. 42nd Street.”

“Let’s go.”

__

I swung through the city for hours. The rest of the day was mostly calm. Someone lost a cat. Someone else needed directions. One guy tried to throw an e-scooter into the river. I helped everyone. Always.

I was just about to head home — maybe ten minutes before Dad would start to worry — when Karen’s voice came through again.

“Report: High threat level. Active gunfire. Three vehicles. Automatic weapons. Three civilian injuries. 118th Street, abandoned warehouse.”

I froze mid-swing. “Show me the drone feed.”

A live image appeared on my mask’s HUD. Five guys. Assault rifles. Armored trucks. They were unloading something from a van into the warehouse. Weapons, maybe. Or worse. “Well then, Karen… we’ve got a bingo.”

I landed silently on a streetlight above them. I had maybe thirty seconds before someone noticed me. Or before they tore each other apart.

I fired the first web — yanked one guy up into the air. The others shouted. Too late. I dropped into the chaos like a thunderclap.

One punch to the jaw — guy folded like a chair.

Another spun toward me with a rifle. Bullets tore the air beside my head. I rebounded off a wall, flipped in midair, and double-kicked him square in the chest. The third reached for a grenade. Seriously? A grenade? I webbed his hands to the van bumper.

I almost felt like I had the situation under control Then I heard the hiss. Too late. A sharp, blinding pain sliced through the left side of my face. The bullet grazed my mask — tore it — hit just below my eye. I stumbled. Blinked. The world blurred. Blood. Pain. The ground rushed up.

Karen was saying something, but I couldn’t hear.

Instinct. Web-shooters. I barely managed to stick to the ceiling in time. Breathing hard. Mind spinning. My face burned like a hot iron had been pressed to it.

“No more jokes,” I hissed. “Now I’m mad.”

I dropped from the ceiling like a thunderbolt. The last guy didn’t even have time to blink before I slammed him into the wall.

My breathing was ragged. My face throbbed. My mask was torn. Blood leaked from the edge of my eye.

“Karen… how bad is it?”

“You’ve got a black eye, Peter.”

“Shit… do you think Dad’ll notice?”

“Only if he looks at your face, Peter.” I rolled my eyes.

“Think he’ll believe I got into a school fight?”

“I can’t read Tony Stark’s mind. But given your personality — and his complete lack of suspicion about your secret identity — I’d say the odds are excellent.”

“Awesome. Let’s go home.”

A 30 minutes later I was already in fron of the home. I took the elevator slowly up the tower. I was hoping Dad might be busy — maybe out on a mission with the Avengers. Maybe not back ‘til tomorrow. Nope. He was on the couch. Sitting upright. Eyes locked on the elevator, like he’d been counting the seconds.

“Pete,” he said, his voice warm but worried, “It’s almost midnight. Where were you? Do you have any idea how worried I was?!”

I kept my hood up, hoping he wouldn’t see how wrecked I looked. “Sorry. Lost track of time,” I mumbled.

Tony stood and walked over. Looked me right in the eyes. “What happened to your face?” he asked softly. “You’ve got a black eye. And that nasty vein pulsing in your temple…” I hesitated. I couldn’t tell him the truth. Couldn’t tell him about Spider-Man. It would destroy him.

So I lied. Reluctantly. “Some guy at school. Got into a fight.” Tony frowned, but a faint smirk tugged at his lips.

“Name,” he said with mock menace. “I’ll kill him.”

I laughed quietly. That warmth in his eyes — I lived for it. He pulled me into a side hug. “You know you don’t have to hide your name, right?” he said quietly.

“I kept it quiet when you were younger, to give you the choice. You could be yourself. But if you want the world to know — we can do that.”

“I don’t want people pretending to like me just because I’m your son,” I said honestly. “I’d rather just be Peter.” He patted my back, holding me tighter.

“Smart kid. Smarter than your old man... And you know you can always count on me, right? No matter what.” I was about to answer when FRIDAY cut in.

“Sir, you have a call from ‘Popsicle.’” I raised an eyebrow. Dad sighed.

Before he could say anything, the TV screen lit up — and there he was. Steve Rogers. Captain America.

“Tony, we need to talk,” Steve began. “There’s a new mission. Something about Hydra remnants.” But then he paused. His eyes locked on me — like he hadn’t expected to see me there.

“Oh… That’s Peter, right? Your son?” I gave him a shy nod. My heart thudded. “Haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet,” Steve added, with warmth and sincerity.

Tony stepped in, quick. “And you won’t. Not tonight. Later, Rogers. I’ll call you back.” The screen cut.

“Captain America. Whoa,” I grinned. Tony chuckled.

“Perks of being superhero , kid.”

“Why ‘Popsicle’?” I asked, curious.

“Because he was frozen for 70 years and now he’s addicted to iced coffee,” Dad said, laughing, then pulled me into a hug. “I love you, kid.”

“Love you too,” I said. Later, I went to my room. Thanks to my super-hearing, I knew he was calling Steve back — but I chose not to eavesdrop. I tossed off my jacket, collapsed onto the bed, and stared at the ceiling. Exhausted. Bruised. Aching. But my head was still buzzing. I wanted to be more than this. Not just the Midtown nerd.

Not just Peter Parker, hiding behind a mask. I wanted to be a hero. An Avenger.

But maybe being a hero also meant being alone. Always hiding. I rolled onto my side. Maybe tomorrow it would all feel easier.

Or at least… different.

Chapter Text

Another week down. School was the same as always—too long, too loud, and packed with people who either need something from me or pretend I don’t exist. Ned kept going on about this new LEGO set we have to build this weekend (like we’re saving the world or something). Flash was being Flash. You know… a jerk.

Today’s classes? No idea. Something about mitosis, something about the French Revolution, and something about needing a signed permission slip for the field trip. Not bringing it. Not going. Hard to be Spider-Man and disappear into the woods for three days without signal. Besides, it would mean sitting through a two-hour lecture from my dad about safety and probably getting outfitted with 100 cleverly disguised government-issued weapons, collapsible Iron Man armor, and tracking devices. No thanks. Ned’ll probably be mad I’m not going, but he’ll get over it. He gets it.

But finally—it’s the weekend. Time to relax. I mean... go on patrol. But yeah, relaxing. In my language.

I hadn’t been out yet—Dad had something planned. Again. I think he’s been reading one of those “How to Raise a Teen Without Losing Your Mind” books or something, because suddenly he’s all about “family dinners bring people together,” “meaningful conversations build trust,” and “eat something, you’re too skinny.”

I don’t really get why he’s doing it. Maybe it’s his way of making up for the fact that he and Pepper split. Or because he still risks his life as Iron Man every few weeks even though he promised he’d “cut back.” Or both. I know it’s kind of hypocritical to be mad at him for risking his life when I do the same. But... I can’t help it.

Maybe he just wants to be a better dad. Before something bad to him happens... But he doesn’t have to be perfect. I just want him to be.

I know I sound like I’m complaining, but really—we’re close. It’s just that sometimes he gets way too overprotective. Like if I cross the street alone, the world might end. Anyway. Today we were having dinner together. At home. No phones. No suits. No running off to the workshop. Just me and him. And maybe some homemade lasagna.

I took the elevator to the top floor, my mind buzzing with thoughts like always. Even before the doors fully opened, my heightened senses picked up my dad’s voice. And not just any voice—that voice. The one that means someone’s about to regret answering the phone.

“No! I’m saying we can’t just send them out there like that! TELL SECRETARY ROSS THAT—”

Uh-oh. FRIDAY probably pinged him that I was home, because suddenly he went quiet. I could feel him swearing in his head.

“Okay, Romanoff… not now. Just—tell Rogers that—shit—No—Peter’s here. Later.”

I tightened my grip on my backpack strap and walked toward the kitchen. He was sitting at the table, rubbing his face like he hadn’t slept. He looked tired. And tense. His heart was pounding—I could hear it from the hallway.

Sometimes I worry he’ll have a heart attack before he ever dies in that suit. The second he saw me, though, he smiled. That soft, worn-out smile he always uses to pretend everything’s fine, even when it’s clearly not.

“Hey, Pete,” he said like nothing happened. “Ready for dinner?”

We sat at the kitchen counter—Tony Stark, master of tech and chaos, served up what he proudly called “gourmet mac and cheese,” which looked like it came out of a microwave… only shinier. Like, glowing. I didn’t ask.

“How was school?” he asked casually—too casually. Like he knew he didn’t ask often enough and was trying to make it sound natural. It’s not that he’s a distant dad. He just… spent years saving the world. I get that.

Honestly, we’re probably closer than most dads and sons just...not like that.

“It was fine,” I muttered, poking at the mac. “Chem teacher tried to explain redox reactions again, but… I’m pretty sure she doesn’t get it herself. Ned begged me to help him with a new LEGO AT-AT. Flash was being a jerk. Nothing new.”

Tony laughed, but his eyes were somewhere else. Probably still thinking about that phone call. Or something even further away. I knew that look—sitting here but mentally lightyears off. We ate in silence for a bit.

“You don’t have to force this to be normal,” I said quietly, more to my plate than to him.

He looked up. “Normal?”

“You know... dinner. School talk. Like this is some sitcom moment. I know you’re not gonna tell me who you were yelling at, even though it’s clearly eating you up. It’s okay, Dad. You’re an Avenger. You’ve got responsibilities. I get it—you don’t have to trust me with everything.”

He just looked at me. Not angry. Not sad. Just... something between guilt and worry. Like he wanted to say something but knew he shouldn’t.

“It’s not about trust, Pete,” he said. “It’s just… the world’s changing. Fast. And it’s dangerous. I just want you as far away from all of it as possible. You’re young. Hell, you’re still a kid. You’ve got time. You don’t need to carry this yet.”

I didn’t answer right away. Just kept stirring the food, then finally asked:

“What about Pepper? Is she part of all this change too?” Silence. Real silence. Tony blinked slowly, like I’d slapped him. He set down his fork. Looked like he froze for a second.

“That’s… different,” he said at last. “Not connected.”

“You didn’t even tell me what happened.”

“That’s between adults.”

“I’m your son.”

His eyes darkened, but he didn’t respond right away. “Peter—”

“Forget it,” I cut in. My throat felt tight. I missed her. The way she came to my school plays. How she could calm my dad down with just a look. The breakfasts with the three of us. The feeling of something whole.

But I didn’t push it. We just kept eating. I wasn’t stupid. I saw how much everything was eating him up.

Ever since Ultron… something shifted. Not all at once. Just a slow, quiet slide. One day Pepper stopped bringing him coffee in the lab. Then he stopped mentioning her at dinner. And eventually—stopped mentioning her at all.

That’s when he started pulling away. A little at first. Longer nights in the suit. Fewer school events. More time staring out windows like he’d lost something out there. And now he was trying to fix it. Those dinners and sweet talks. He wants to fix everything he messed up by fixing our relationship.

I didn’t blame him. Not really. I saw how hard he was trying. And how scared he was of messing it up again. Maybe that’s why he did all this—dinners, school talk, movie nights.

Maybe he didn’t know how to be a dad. But he was trying.

And I guess… I wanted to let him try.

●●●

After dinner, I cleaned up for both of us—Tony insisted he could do it faster, but I knew he was tired and stressed. I wanted to help as much as I could. 

I stayed alone in the kitchen, surrounded by the smell of fake cheese and burnt plastic. I missed the times when Pepper was cooking. 

I remembered the first time I met her. 

I was six. Dad brought me to the office at Stark Tower just for a bit, but he lost his phone and forgot a meeting, typical. And then she walked in: white shirt, perfect ponytail, clipboard in hand, and a look that said, “Tony, get it together or I will reboot you myself.” She was calm. Confident. Smiled at me and said,

“You must be Peter. I’ve heard about you. Something about a rocket engine made from toaster parts?”

“It exploded,” I said.

“The best inventions usually do,” she winked.

Over time, she became part of our chaotic little family. She made breakfast with me when Dad crashed on the couch. Helped with school projects. Grammar on my essays. When I had nightmares, she was the first one in my room—before Dad even stirred. She could quiet his emotional storms with a single word.

She wasn’t my mom. But she was... peace. Home. The steady light between two stubborn Starks who didn’t always know how to say what we felt.

I missed her. A lot.

The breakfasts. The way she made Dad laugh when he was too tense. Her presence—like an anchor. Without her, everything felt... scattered.

Later I was lying on my bed, tinkering with my Spider-Man suit. A little display inside the mask flashed with every tiny spark I fixed. Building it without leaving traces in Dad’s lab was a mission—I had to sneak parts out like a ghost and stash failed prototypes behind a shelf of robotics books.

But I did it.

My proudest achievement? KAREN. An AI inspired by Dad’s old notes on JARVIS. Not as sarcastic, but still charming.

And… yeah, I missed JARVIS. A lot.

The web fluid was mine too—designed the formula from scratch. Strong, elastic, fast-drying. Spider-Man was my creation. My secret. My responsibility.

Then—I heard footsteps.

Didn’t even need my enhanced hearing to know someone was coming. I shoved everything under the covers and pulled them over myself like I’d been asleep. Which is exactly when the door opened… and Tony Stark walked in.

From the look on his face, I’m pretty sure he thought he was walking in on something else. You know—teenager, blanket pulled up, suspicious silence...

“Uhhh…” he started, adjusting his collar. “I’m heading to the Avengers compound. Just for a bit, few things to handle…”

“Sure,” I said flatly. “Go.”

His face flickered with guilt, quickly masked by his usual autopilot expression.

“Love you, Bambi,” he tossed over his shoulder, disappearing out the door.

The second I heard the elevator descend, I jumped out of bed. Suit on. Mask down. Heart racing.

“Karen, we good?”

“Ready, Peter. I queued up your ‘Friendly Neighborhood Vibes’ playlist and loaded fresh web cartridges.”

I jumped out the window and swung off the nearest building. Gliding over Manhattan always gave me that rush. Down there—chaos, noise, people. Up here—it was just me and the air.

I flipped, bounced off a skyscraper, zipped through the streets—and that’s when I heard it.

Screams. Smoke.

I stopped short, dangling from a web over the intersection. A few blocks away—flames tore through the roof of an old apartment building.

“Fire. 132nd Street, Harlem,” KAREN confirmed.

“On it,” I said, already flying toward the blaze.

The fire spread fast. The building was an inferno—flames in every window, smoke so thick I could barely see through my lenses.

“Spider-Man! Help!”

People yelling from balconies. Kids crying. Sirens wailing. Total chaos.

“KAREN?” I rasped. My voice sounded like gravel.

“Five heat signatures on the third floor, two on the fourth… one weak on the fifth. Peter, he’s not moving.”

“Starting at the top. Obviously.”

I dove through a shattered window—and everything went blurry. Thick smoke. Cracking beams. That burning smell everywhere. I carried an old man who’d passed out—and that’s when I heard it.

Applause. But not for me. For him.

I turned and saw them. The crowd. Firefighters. Reporters. Kids with phones. And then him.

"Freakin' Captain Steven Fucking America Rogers"

He walked out of the building carrying two grown adults in his arms and THREE kids on his back. Like some damn comic book cover come to life. The crowd went wild.

“CAPTAIN!” “WE LOVE YOU!” Clap. Clap. Clap. Like the Oscars or something.

He looked serious, tired—but majestic as hell. For a second, I felt… small.

Then he looked at me. Nodded.

Like, “Nice job. Now let’s get back in there.” And something inside me lit up. Not adrenaline—something deeper. Pride. Joy. Awe. Me. Me. Peter Parker. Nerd from chem class. The kid who couldn’t save a snack from Flash Thompson—just saved lives next to Captain America.

We ran back in. Together. As equals. And for a moment—just one—I believed it.

Maybe I really am a hero.

●●●

And then, of course, everything started falling apart. Literally and figuratively.

According to Karen, there were still three people in the building. Each in a different section. Rogers and I split up — he went right, I went left. We each carried one out. An older man. A woman with a head injury — hurt, but alive.

One more to go. I went back in, sprinting up the collapsing stairs. Karen was silent.

“Karen? Where is she?!” I shouted, out of breath, trying to push through the smoke and heat.

“No life signs. Temperature exceeds 90 degrees Celsius. Peter, I recommend immediate evacuation.”

“No...” I whispered. “No, no, no…”

“Spidey!” Steve yelled from below. “That’s everyone! Come on! This building’s coming down!”

“Someone’s still here!” I screamed, leaping over a hallway buried in debris. “She has to be!”

And then I saw her.

A little girl. Six years old, tops. Way too small for all this. She was pinned under a beam. Her arm and leg twisted at impossible angles. Her face — covered in soot, but I could still see the dried tears on her cheeks. Her eyes were closed. She wasn’t breathing.

In the background, I heard Cap climbing the stairs, yelling something. But his voice was just an echo. It was just me and her.

I stepped closer and knelt beside her.

“Karen?” I asked, desperation cracking through my voice.

Her voice — usually calm — this time, it almost… felt sorry. “No pulse. No respiration. Signs of clinical death. Peter... it’s too late. I’m sorry.”

No. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

I scooped the girl into my arms. Her body was light as paper. Warm from the fire, but lifeless. I wanted to carry her out — even just on principle. But then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Strong. Steady. Unshakable.

It was Steve.

“It’s too late, son,” he said softly. “We have to go. Now. This place is about to come down.”

“But… maybe… she’s still…” I began, barely audible. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might explode.

“You did everything you could. This isn’t your fault.”

“No… we can’t just leave her. What if she’s still alive? What if you're wrong…” Steve looked me straight in the eyes.

“She crossed that line, kid. We can't control who lives, who dies…"He hesitated.“…and who tells our story.”

I clenched my jaw, shook my head. I didn’t want to hear it. She was just a kid. I saw her room — pink plushies burning in the fire, crayon drawings on the walls, a photo of her and her parents in a frame.

She had a future. And now… because of me… she had nothing.

Steve pulled me away. We jumped out the window just in time. The moment we hit the ground in front of the crowd, the roof caved in behind us. Then a wall. Then everything.

From the outside, it looked like a scene from a movie. People were clapping. I heard Cap say to a camera, “Everyone the fire didn’t take, we got out.” The crowd cheered. Reporters shouted. Flashes went off. They called us heroes.

“Cap and Spidey save the day!” someone yelled.

But I just stared.

At a couple looking around with panic in their eyes. I saw them scream their daughter’s name. Searching, hoping for her face in the crowd.

I looked them in the eyes. And slowly… very slowly… I shook my head. Their faces collapsed. The woman dropped to her knees. The man clutched his head.

There was no happy ending.

●●●

I couldn’t stay there. Not with them. Not with their applause. Not with his smile into the camera.

Not when they were calling me a hero, even though innocent people just lost their child.

I pushed off the ground and shot a web into the darkness. Every swing hurt — not physically, no… something deeper. Like something inside me was breaking. My heart was in my throat, breath coming in pieces. I had no idea where I was going. I just wanted… away. Anywhere but there.

I landed on a rooftop. I don’t know which. I didn’t care. I collapsed to my knees. My hands were shaking. I couldn’t breathe. I saw her. I kept seeing her. That small face. The dried tears.

That moment Karen said: “No pulse.”

My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. My fault.

I couldn’t erase it. I couldn’t breathe.

I tore off the mask and threw it beside me like it was choking me. I gasped for air, but it didn’t help. Inside, I was drowning. Suffocating.

“Karen…?” I whispered, more to myself than to her. “Say something…”

“Peter. Panic attack. Focus on your breathing. Inhale. Exhale…” her muffled voice came from the mask lying on the concrete.

“I can’t…” I choked. “I can’t do it…”

“Hey.” I froze. A voice. I knew it.

I turned slowly. On the rooftop, a few meters away, stood Steve Rogers.

He looked right at me. At my face. And then… he recognized me. He went still.

“Stark…?” he asked quietly. I felt sick.

I took a step back, like the word itself had hit me. My heart pounded harder.

“Please…” I whispered. “Don’t tell him. Please… don’t…”

He didn’t answer right away. But he didn’t look like he was going to stop me. Or judge me. He looked like a man seeing a kid… completely shattered.

He walked over slowly. Carefully. Like he was approaching a wounded dog.

“Okay. Easy. Breathe, Peter. You’re okay.” I let out a jagged breath. I didn’t know if I was choking or crying. Maybe both.

Time passed. I don’t know — five minutes? An hour? But eventually… I could breathe again. Cap rubbed my shoulder, saying something softly. And eventually… I could speak.

“That kid…” I began, barely audible. “She… she had her whole life ahead of her. She could’ve… been someone. Why her?”

Steve sat down next to me, leaving space. His voice had lost that usual Captain confidence. Instead… there was resignation. Maybe exhaustion.

“Death doesn’t discriminate between the sinners and the saints. It takes, and it takes, and it takes…” He paused.“I’m so sorry, kid.”

I looked at him through tears. And I smiled a little, throat tight.

“Did you memorize that ahead of time, or do you just say poetic crap off the top of your head?”

He blinked. Then let out a soft laugh. Like even he was surprised he could still laugh.

“You’re just like your dad, kid. He asks me the same thing. All the time.”

I clenched my fists. Felt my breath speeding up again. Steve immediately placed a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m not,” I growled. “Tony would’ve saved her. He always saves everyone. I… I failed."

“This isn’t your fault, Peter. I was there too. And even together… we were too late.”

“In this job, you have to accept something — no matter how badly you want it… you can’t always save everyone.” Then he fell silent. Like he remembered something. Something painful. I didn’t ask who he meant. Who he didn’t save. That would’ve been cruel.

After a moment, he spoke again. Carefully. Like something had been bothering him since he saw me. “Does Tony know?” he asked, nodding at the Spider-Man mask.

“No!” I practically jumped. “God, no. He… he can’t know. If he knew… it would destroy him. Or he’d flip out. And when he flips out, I flip out and… no… Please, Cap. Don’t tell him.

He stared at me for a long time. Then let out a heavy sigh. “You’re a kid, Peter. Too young to be doing this on your own. Too young to be doing this at all. How old are you? Twelve?”

“Fifteen,” I said. “And don’t give me the speech. You weren’t much older when you joined a war and let them inject you with some weird serum.”

“That was different.”

“Really? ’Cause from where I’m standing, the only difference is — I didn’t ask a radioactive spider to bite me and give me powers.”

He fell silent. His face twisted in slightly baffled confusion.

“…Spider…?” he repeated softly.

I nodded. I could feel myself about to break again. But Steve just kept looking at me.

“Listen,” he said finally. “I admire your strength. And your talent.”

“But that’s not enough. Without training, without learning… you’ll die. Or someone else will die because of you. Even I had to train. Avengers train every day. You’re not the exception. If you want to keep doing this… you need help. You need support. Tony can give you that.”

I looked at him. My head was pounding.

“He can’t know. He won’t train me. He’ll lock me up. Like fucking Rapunzel… with drones and surveillance cameras.”

“Language,” Steve said automatically. I raised an eyebrow. Seriously? Dad wasn’t kidding about his vocabulary.

I was about to say something snarky… but for the first time in hours, I actually wanted to smile. Just a little. After a moment of silence, Steve spoke again. Slowly. Like he meant every word.

“Okay. I won’t tell him. But on one condition. We meet up every few days. We train. You get my number. You report your patrols. You don’t work alone. Not until you learn… how not to die.”

I blinked.

“Seriously?”

He smiled slightly.

“Seriously.”

And then… I don’t even know why… I hugged him. I didn’t have the strength to play tough. Not after all of it. And for a few seconds, in Captain America’s arms… For the first time in a long time  I felt truly safe.

Chapter Text

"CAPTAIN AMERICA?!" Ned practically screamed after I gave him a very trimmed-down version of what had happened two days ago.

"You're telling me that Steve Rogers, the living legend, the walking role model, my all-time favorite Avenger... is gonna be your mentor?!"

"Shhh, someone might hear you," I whispered, barely containing my own excitement. "But… yeah. For real."

"This might be the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me. My best friend is gonna be trained by Steve freakin’ Rogers... wow."

"Need I remind you that my dad is Tony Stark?"

"I know! And I literally have to say that to myself every morning before I look in the mirror. Seriously, dude — I can’t believe this is our actual life." I smirked to myself. Honestly? Sometimes I couldn’t believe it either.

I remember the day Ned found out my real last name like it was yesterday.

We were eleven. I’d only known him for about a year, but even from the start, I knew he was someone I could trust. He was loyal, honest, and funny in this awkward, clumsy way that made me feel a little less alone. And one day, for no real reason, I just… told him.

"My dad’s Tony Stark," I said casually, like it was no big deal.

Ned laughed, thought I was joking. But then he looked at my face — and got serious in a heartbeat. That’s when I also realized how gullible my best friend could be — and how easily someone like him could get taken advantage of. I decided right then: as long as we were friends, I’d never let that happen.

A few days later, after school, I told my dad I had extra classes. Ned made up something similar for his parents. The plan was simple: I was gonna show him the Stark Tower.

We got in through a side entrance, using a card I “borrowed” from my dad’s desk. FRIDAY let us in without a question — she knew me.

We took the elevator all the way up. And when the doors opened, Ned was speechless. His eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store, and his jaw dropped like a cartoon character. He looked like he might explode from pure excitement.

I showed him every room I was allowed to go into — and he was just as amazed every time.

Then came the fun part: we played games, laughed, microwaved pizza, and goofed around like the rest of the world didn’t even exist.

And then… my dad came home. Tony Stark. A little earlier than usual.

He walked into the room, and the first thing he saw was his son and some random kid, sprawled out on the couch like they owned the place. He froze in the doorway. Didn’t say a word — just looked. First at me. Then at Ned. I knew I’d messed up. I told someone the truth without asking Dad first. Without checking if it was safe.

But Ned was… well, Ned.

Instead of freaking out, he stood up, stuck out his hand, and with a slightly shaky voice said:

"You can trust me, Mr. Stark. I won’t tell anyone. Ever."

To this day, I don’t know how he managed not to go full fanboy. But he didn’t. And that’s what I appreciated the most. I also don’t know what convinced Dad. Maybe it was the way I looked at him, maybe it was the tremble in my voice, or maybe it was how Ned spoke straight from the heart. Eventually, Tony sighed and just said:

"We’ll see."

After that, Ned started coming over more often. And since our friendship kept growing faster than anyone expected, his parents eventually asked when they were gonna meet their son’s “best friend’s parents.”

Tony was deep in Avenger stuff at that point. Everything else — including “some meet-the-parents crap” — he pushed onto Pepper.

So she handled it all. The meeting. The talk. And, of course — the mandatory NDA in triplicate.

Ned’s parents took it seriously. They even suggested Ned should sign one too. But I said no. I told them I trusted him.

And I was right. Ned never told a soul. Not once.

__

"So, when do you start training?" he asked, pulling me out of my memory.

"After school today. We’re meeting at a secret spot. Steve said he’s gonna explain everything."

"Awesome. And wha—"

"Well, well, if it isn’t Penis Parker," came a familiar, smug voice from behind us.

Flash Thompson.

"Telling your fat sidekick how lame your weekend was?" I was about to say something sharp, but another voice beat me to it — cool, bored, and completely done with Flash’s crap.

"Piss off, Flash. You act like you didn’t spend your whole weekend pretending you have friends."

MJ. She was leaning against a locker a few feet away, nose buried in a book. Her tone wasn’t angry — just tired. Like she genuinely didn’t have the energy for his nonsense. Flash bristled, muttered something under his breath, and walked away. I looked at MJ, grateful.

"Thanks," I said.

"No problem, losers," she replied, walking off without even looking up.

Her dark curls bounced slightly on her shoulders, backpack slung over one side, heavy boots clunking softly against the floor. It wasn’t until she turned the corner that I realized I’d been staring.

"Hey, dude," Ned said, nudging me with his elbow.

"What?" I snapped out of it.

"I was talking to you."

"You were?"

"Yeah. While you were busy making heart-eyes at Michelle’s back." I blushed, tightened the strap of my backpack, and muttered:

"Let’s just get to class." Then I sped up, hoping the topic would disappear.

__

School was dragging like hell.

Every minute felt like the clock was ticking backward instead of forward. I was buzzing with excitement about meeting Steve, but underneath that thrill… there was something else. Something that gnawed at me. I smiled at Ned, nodded like always, but inside, I felt like something heavy was pressing down on my chest.

I hadn’t really slept for the past three nights. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that burning house… and her. That little girl. Her tiny body.

I’d failed. And now I was supposed to train with a living legend, like nothing had happened. Like I deserved it.

As soon as the final bell rang, I texted Happy, told him I was hanging with Ned and would be home later. Nobody suspected anything. I’d gotten pretty good at keeping things under wraps.

I ducked into a side alley, pulled on the suit, and slipped the mask over my face.

Peter Parker disappeared in an instant.

Spider-Man was in.

Steve had picked one of the most forgotten spots in the city — an old, abandoned Avengers training facility way out near the edge of town. Hulk used to have his own obstacle course there, but ever since Professor Banner vanished, nobody really used it anymore. My dad ended up buying the place, but even he couldn’t be bothered to do anything with it.

It was perfect. No cameras, no guards, no nosy bystanders.

I got there in minutes. My heart was pounding, and my Spidey-sense was already tingling. He was inside.

I slipped through a broken window and spotted him in the shadows of the old gym — sitting on a wobbly chair, a book in hand, dressed like just some guy. T-shirt. Jeans. Calm expression.

But the way he carried himself made it clear — this wasn’t just “some guy.”

He glanced up from the book and gave me a slight smile.

“Hey, Peter.”

“Hi. I mean— good afternoon… I mean, hey.”

I yanked off my mask before I could butcher another word.

He raised an amused eyebrow.

“You know you didn’t need to wear the suit, right? No one’s watching us here.”

My face turned red instantly. Perfect. So much for looking like a serious superhero.

“Yeah, I just… you know, just in case,” I mumbled, scrunching my forehead. “Besides… I’ve kinda gotten used to it.”

Steve closed the book and stood up, walking over slowly. He seemed relaxed, but I could tell he was studying every part of me.

“So at the beggining...We’ve gotta set some ground rules,” he said. “You’ve got talent. A lot of it. I can see that already. You’ve got instincts, reflexes, solid tech. You’ve been doing this a while and holding your own.”

He paused.

“But what you’re missing… is training. Experience. Discipline. You need to learn how to actually grow from your mistakes — and make damn sure you don’t repeat them.”

That one hit me in the chest. That girl again.

“I’ll help you,” he said calmly. “I promised I wouldn’t tell your dad — even though I think that’s a dumb idea.” He smirked a little.

“But on one condition: you listen. No solo missions. No pointless risks.”

“Absolutely,” I said immediately. Maybe too quickly. But I needed this.

“I’ll give you my number,” he said. “If something on patrol feels off, if anything makes you second-guess yourself — you call me. Every time. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, straightening up like I was reporting to duty. Steve smiled faintly.

“Well then, Peter... show me what you’ve got.”

We started light. No punches. Just a quick spar. I wanted to impress him. I launched myself up to the ceiling on a web, ready to strike from above, but before I could even move, Steve reached up, grabbed my ankle, and yanked me down hard.

I landed with a loud umph on a training mat.

“Not bad,” he said. “But too loud. Too slow. Try again.”

I got up, narrowed my eyes. Now I was focused. I moved faster, dodging, looking for an opening …and finally, I caught him.

Steve was on his back, and I had both his arms pinned to the mat. The rule was simple — if you can’t break free in twenty seconds, you lose.

“Ha!” I grinned wide. “Guess my radioactive spider’s better than your supersoldier serum, huh?”

“Where’d the spider come from, anyway?” he asked, a little out of breath.

And that was it.I was off. “It was this school project— you know, summer science thing, gene lab, blah blah blah…” I started rambling. Waving my arms. Completely forgot I was supposed to be holding him down.

In one motion — faster than I could even register — Steve twisted, flipped us, and pinned me to the mat. Twenty seconds later, he called, “Time.”

I just lay there, face in the mat, catching my breath — totally embarrassed that for a second, I actually thought I could beat Captain freaking America.

“Not bad, kid,” he said, pulling me up. We sat for a minute, both catching our breath.

“Let’s meet twice a week,” he said. “Maybe more, if you’ve got time. I’ll text you later today.”

“Thanks a lot, Captain,” I said, reaching out a hand.

“Just Steve,” he replied.

“Sure thing, sir.” He laughed.

“You know… maybe you’re not as much like Tony as I thought,” he added, heading for the exit. I stood there for a second, not sure if that was a compliment or a burn. But I smiled anyway, pulled my mask back on, and leapt out the window, already drafting a text to Ned in my head:

“Dude. Training with Captain America = officially best day of my life.”

__

Over the next few weeks, our meetings became a routine. Two, sometimes three times a week—after classes, after patrols, after everything—I’d slip into my suit and head out to the edge of the city, to that crumbling training hall. The place had nothing in common with Tony’s luxury, but somehow… that was where I felt like I was truly growing.

Steve was demanding, but not in a harsh way. It wasn’t about yelling or giving orders. He taught through silence. Through a look. A sentence dropped at just the right moment.

“There are a million things you still haven't done. Just you wait… and you'll see what you're capable of.”

He taught me things I hadn’t understood before. Showed me how to slow down. Not to jump straight into action—to think first. That was completely new to me. I was all about movement, action, about "move fast before you even know what’s happening." Steve was the opposite. He taught me to observe, analyze, predict.

We started with simple things. Sometimes we’d just stand across from each other. Not speaking. He taught me how to read body language.

“Close your eyes,” he said once. “Focus on the footsteps. When you feel weight shift to the left, anticipate a move to the right. Sound, muscle tension, tiny changes—they tell you more than words ever will.”

There were days I wanted to quit. And then there were days when… when I felt like I was part of something bigger. Like I’d finally found where I belonged.

Not long after that, we started going on missions together. Some went better than others, but I always learned something. Like one of the first ones—Steve had a basic assignment from S.H.I.E.L.D. and said I could come along. Just observation—some suspicious tech exchange at a port warehouse.

“Don’t intervene unless you have to,” he reminded me through the earpiece. But of course—shots were fired. Then I slipped. Then I crashed through a window. Then…

“Heads up! Spider-Man in the building!”

Before I could say anything, Steve was already there. Jump, roll, shield like a boomerang. In fifteen seconds, he disarmed three guys and stopped the fourth with just a look.

“See?” he said casually. “Sometimes the hardest thing is not starting a fight.”

_

Another mission that stuck with me happened shortly after. A fire was tearing through an apartment building—three floors, one collapsed roof. I heard a child crying. All I could think of was the little girl I’d once failed to save. But like the Captain had taught me—I didn’t give up.

Steve coordinated the evacuation, I risked climbing in. Smoke stung my eyes. I found a boy curled under a desk. I picked him up and… I hesitated.

“Peter, you there?”

“Yeah. I’ve got him. But… I think the roof’s about to go.”

“Look to your left. Heating pipe—brace against it and push off to the side. You’ve got this.”

“Steve, but I—”

“You’ve got this, Spider-Man. I believe in you.”

And he was right.

After those missions, our relationship changed. It wasn’t just training anymore. Sometimes we stayed longer. We’d sit on torn-up mats, sipping something Steve insisted on calling “sports isotonic,” though it tasted like melted sidewalk chalk. Sometimes I felt like I was spending more time with him than with my own dad. And even though my dad was still trying to rebuild our bond, everything felt… forced. With Steve—it was natural.

“My first mentor was named Dr. Erskine,” he told me one evening. “He wasn’t a soldier. He was a scientist. But he taught me that strength is responsibility. And that you don’t have to shout to be heard.” I just nodded. Didn’t know what to say. But I felt… honored he shared that with me.

I started to care about him. Like, really care. I started to trust him. And not just because he was Captain America. I trusted Steve Rogers. I got to know him from a different side—not from TV, not from history class, not from my dad’s stories. I got to know him as a person.

Turned out, aside from strong muscles and blonde hair, he was also an artist. Sometimes, in his spare time, he’d show me his drawings. I even tried sketching something myself—but it didn’t hold a candle to his work.

-

One day, during a break in training, Steve went to the bathroom. As he got up, a sketchbook slipped from his back pocket. He’d mentioned it before—said it was old, from before the war—but he never showed me the drawings inside. I picked it up so it wouldn’t get dirty from the grimy floor, and as I set it on the table, I noticed one page had flipped up.

I couldn’t help myself—I peeked inside.

On the first page was a sketch of a young man. Maybe around twenty. Short, slightly messy hair. Handsome. A wide smile. He was looking out over the water. You could see the precision in every line. I flipped the page—same guy, this time with a little girl, probably his sister. They were holding hands. More pages followed—animals, plants, everyday scenes. But most of them featured that one mysterious man.

“Bucky,” I suddenly heard Steve’s voice behind me. I jumped. Scolded my spider-sense for not warning me he’d come back.

“What?” I asked, unsure.

“That man. In the sketches. That’s Bucky. My… friend.”

“Oh…” I said, figuring he must be an old man by now, and that it had to be hard for Steve. “Sorry, really, I didn’t mean to. It just fell out and—”

“Like any curious teenager would do,” he interrupted with a smile. “You opened it to see what Steve Rogers used to draw as a kid.”

“I’m sorry, Captain, I—”

“Pete,” he said gently, “it’s okay. I’m not mad. If I really didn’t want anyone to see it, I wouldn’t still carry it in my pocket.”

A quiet pause. I couldn’t resist.

“Were you guys in the war together?”

“Me and Bucky? Yeah. In the Howling Commandos. I thought you had that in history class.”

“I’m not a big fan of history,” I admitted, sheepish. Steve smiled.

“Can’t blame you. Those days weren’t exactly cheerful.”

“Did he… make it? I mean… through the war?”

Steve’s smile faded for a moment. I was about to apologize when he replied quietly: “For many years, I thought he didn’t. I thought I’d lost him. But lately…”

That’s when his phone rang. He excused himself, stepped away for a second, said something quickly, and then came right back.

“Sorry, Pete. That’s it for today. Avengers are calling.” And then he was gone. I was alone in the empty training room.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where he’d been just seconds before.A thousand thoughts were racing through my head —Did I do something wrong? Did I cross a line? Is this it? Is everything over now?

__

I couldn’t sleep the next night. Guilt was eating me alive. I’d pried into Cap’s personal life.

I never meant to hurt him — but what if I did? What if I went too far? What if there was something Steve wanted to say, but didn’t get the chance?

Ughhh.

I thought about telling Ned everything, just to get it off my chest. Maybe get some advice. But that felt like another invasion of Steve’s privacy.

So I just laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling, until an idea hit me.

“Hey, FRIDAY?” I said, kind of unsure.

“Yes, Peter?” she answered in that calm voice.

“Can you find any info about a guy who was close friends with Steve Rogers back in the '40s? I think his name was Bucky?”

“You’re likely referring to Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, known at the time as ‘Bucky.’ According to multiple records, and Captain America himself, he was his closest friend.”

“Cool…” I muttered, then typed his name into Wikipedia.

 James Buchanan Barnes. Born March 10, 1917, in New York City. Died in 1944. Member of the elite Howling Commandos. Gave his life fighting Nazis. Captain America was with him until the very end.

“Oh...”

Just like that, my mood tanked. And it only got worse from there. The more I read, the heavier everything felt.

I found out he was drafted before Steve ever took the serum. His whole unit got captured. Bucky was experimented on by Dr. Zola. Cap managed to save him... only to lose him again.

He fell from a train. He died.

I had to put my phone down. Just... think. I shouldn’t have pried. I shouldn’t have asked. That was his friend. Someone he lost.

How would I feel if Ned... died? No — not just died. What if he was killed right in front of me... and I couldn’t save him?

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I cranked up the music, trying to drown out the thoughts.

“Okay, just two more days till our next training session,” I told myself.

“That’ll fix everything... That’ll make it better.”

But...

Steve canceled. Then he canceled again. And again. And again.

Three weeks went by. I didn’t see him. Not once.

He still messaged me sometimes — short texts, quick apologies, excuses about Avengers missions — but not often.

We used to text: “See you at 5?” Now it was: “Can’t make it. Sorry.”

I kept sending long messages. Telling him about patrols. School. How I still wanted to help. How I was still training.

No reply.

And when there was a reply... it was cold. Distant. But I didn’t give up.

~Hey Steve, it’s me again — Peter !

Went on patrol today. Nothing wild.

One lady gave me a churro 🍩

~Still doing those exercises you gave me!

Did you see the news about that robbery I stopped?

Let me know if you ever need backup!

~Day 15 without training:

Did 400 pushups today.

Okay... maybe 300.

But emotionally? 400.

Seriously.

~Okay, I don’t wanna be annoying but...

I miss the training.

I miss talking to you.

That’s all.

__

With each passing day, my hope faded.

I was ashamed. I felt like a stupid kid who had failed. Maybe I didn’t deserve his time?

Exactly three weeks and five days after the last time I saw Steve, I gave up completely. I didn’t even go on patrol. I went straight home.

Dad was waiting in the doorway.

“Hey, Pete!”

“Hey, Dad. How was work?” I asked, taking off my jacket.

“I’m working on the BARF technology now,” he said proudly. “Remember? I told you about it a couple months ago. It finally worked. Memory design. Better than therapy.”

“Sounds… interesting.”

“Listen. I think we both deserve a break. How about a family movie night? We could watch those Star Wars movies you like so much?”

I was surprised. Honestly, I wasn’t in the mood, but I was also too tired to argue.

“Sure,” I agreed. “Why not?”

We sat together on the couch. We turned on A New Hope. A classic. I was sitting next to Dad, but I felt weird. His arm was warm. He smelled like coffee and some kind of workshop oil.

He was trying — I knew that. But this whole “family” thing still felt like an experiment.

We talked a bit about school. About how I needed to raise my chemistry grade. About how Happy lost his workshop key again. Nothing special. But there was something to it.

When I finally started to relax and lean against Dad’s side…

The goddamn Captain America came up in the elevator. With Falcon and Black Widow.

I made eye contact with Steve. Just for a second. Then he turned his head away.

“I said don’t bother me,” Dad muttered dryly.

“We have a mission. You might be needed,” Natasha said sharply.

“Take Wanda. She’s better suited,” Dad grumbled and turned back to the TV.

I pretended not to notice how he straightened up and shielded me with his body.

“Tony, it’s about the remaining Hydra agents,” Sam said calmly.

“Unless the world’s ending, I’m sure you’ll manage. When is this mission?”

“First thing tomorrow,” Natasha replied. Tony just nodded.

Then Steve spoke quietly:

“I get it, Tony. You want to spend time with your family. We’re not blaming you. Same way we didn’t blame Barton for skipping the last mission.”

“Thanks. Now goodbye.”

“But we could use at least a little support,” Steve added. “Even if it’s not you, your tech—” Tony sighed, nodded, and paused the movie.

“Okay. I’ll give you what you need. But next time, give me a heads-up before interrupting time with my kid.”

All the Avengers — except Steve — looked at me then. “Hey there,” I said awkwardly, lifting my hand a little.

Natasha smiled. Sam nodded.

“Why do you always hide him?” Sam asked. “Even Clint let us meet his kids.”

I opened my mouth, but didn’t get a word out before Dad jumped in: “Because I’d rather keep him away from dangerous superhero crap — no offense.”

He patted Sam on the shoulder and headed for the elevator.

“Come on. I’ll show you my toys in the lab. Be right back, Pete,” he added. I nodded.

They all followed him. Everyone except Steve.

“Popsicle, you coming?!” Dad shouted from the elevator.

“I’ll join in a second. Gotta use the bathroom.”

Tony sighed, pointed the way, and disappeared below with the rest. Steve waited a moment… then didn’t go to the bathroom.

Instead — he came over to me.

I froze.

“Peter… I owe you an apology,” he said, stopping a few steps away. “I shouldn’t have left you like that. No word. No explanation.”

“No, I’m sorry,” I blurted out. “I didn’t mean to cross a line, seriously. I love those training sessions. Working with you. Please don’t be mad”

Steve gave a small smile and shook his head.

“What? No, Pete… I’m not mad. Not at all. I told you — it’s not about that. I just have... a lot going on. Tough stuff. And… very personal.”

“I can help,” I said quietly.

“I know you can. But not yet,” he answered calmly. “It’s not something you fix with strength or smarts. It’s… more personal than that.”

“I understand. If you want me to…”

“It’s about Bucky,” he cut in before I could finish.

I froze again. “Mr. Barnes? Your friend? The one who… fell off the train?”

“Looks like you did your homework,” he laughed shortly. A bit sadly. I blushed but just nodded.

“Yes. It’s about him. Except… he didn’t die, Peter.”

I stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Something much worse happened to him. And for years… I thought it was over. But the truth came out. He’s… out there. Somewhere. And I have to find him. This mission tomorrow, these Hydra agents — this could be the breakthrough.”

I went pale. If he’s alive… he should be an old man. Why is he hiding? What did they do to him? I didn’t know what to say. Comfort him? Ask more? I stayed silent.

Steve was silent for a moment too. Then he sighed and added quietly:

“When I get back… I’ll try to be a better mentor. I promise. I shouldn’t have brought you into something I haven’t even figured out myself. I’m sorry I let you down.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “Really... Maybe...maybe you have one last piece of advice… before we get back to training?”

Steve smiled, light and warm — like one of those old wartime propaganda recordings. He looked like he was thinking, then said:

“Talk less. Swing more.” I burst out laughing.

“Aye aye, Captain.”

He smiled too. For a brief moment… it was like before.

“All right, kid. I gotta go before your dad realizes something’s off,” he said, turning toward the elevator. But then he stopped again, glancing at me over his shoulder.

“And one more thing. Try to promise me something.”

“Sure. What?”

“When you’re ready… tell your dad the truth.” The smile disappeared from my face.

“Secrets like that… they’re not good for anyone, Pete. Sooner or later, they come out. Better it’s on your terms.”

I nodded. I didn’t trust myself to say anything out loud. Steve just smiled. Quietly. Like he understood more than he was saying. Then he got in the elevator and vanished behind the closing doors.

I was alone. The movie was still paused. The sound long gone.

_

When Dad came back and we sat down again, the film kept playing, but my thoughts were somewhere else.

Talk less, swing more.

I know it was meant as a joke. But… I liked that phrase. It was neat — like someone had written it out beforehand. Then again, Steve often sounded like that — like he was quoting a song or a line from an old book.

Sometimes I wondered if he wrote these things down ahead of time. Some of his words sounded like a presidential speech. Or like they belonged on a museum wall.

I don’t blame Dad for making fun of him. Sometimes I wanted to laugh too.

But today… I just couldn’t.

I looked at Tony. His eyes were closed. Asleep. Of course. He always fell asleep during Star Wars. I was used to it.

I pulled a blanket over us and leaned slightly on his shoulder, watching the screen flicker with the reflections of battles. But I didn’t see lightsabers anymore.

I was thinking about Steve. That maybe deep down, he was a poet.

About MJ.

About Spider-Man.

About Mr. Bucky — what really happened to him, and whether Steve could help him.

And with all that spinning in my head… I fell asleep.

When I woke up, Tony was gone. I lifted my head from the couch, sleepy, rubbing my eyes. Weird silence. I glanced at the clock — it was past ten. Good thing there was no school today. At least that.

I looked around the living room, yawning.

“Hey, Friday? Where’s Dad?” I asked, voice still rough.

“Mr. Stark is currently at MIT, presenting his new technology called B.A.R.F.,” the AI answered.

“Right… B.A.R.F…”

Who, for the love of God, names something B.A.R.F.? Does he really not run these names by anyone sane?

Shaking my head, I trudged to the kitchen and started making myself breakfast — classic: cereal with yogurt and banana. I glanced at an old photo of me and Dad from when I was a baby, and my thoughts suddenly went back to Steve and what he said:

“When you’re ready… tell your dad.”

I imagined actually doing it. Sitting down face-to-face and saying,

“Dad, I’m Spider-Man. I’ve been hiding it from you. For months.”

Oh my God.

Just the thought made my heart race. No. Not yet. Steve said: When you’re ready. It might take months. Years. I didn’t have to worry about it yet.

For now…

For now, I should be glad that Steve is going to be my mentor again. That we still have time.

I relaxed a bit and sat down at the kitchen island, opening Instagram. I scrolled through stories mindlessly, until suddenly…

I stopped.

Headline: “INCIDENT IN LAGOS – Avengers out of control again.”

I clicked. The video loaded instantly. A building, an explosion, screams. Scarlet Witch lifting a fiery charge. She didn’t make it in time.

Explosion. Civilians. Death. I scrolled down to the comments:

 “How many more people have to die because of their egos?”

“Avengers should be under UN control.”

“They’re not heroes, they’re weapons of mass destruction.”

“Keep them locked up!”

“Ban people like them. All of them.”

My fingers trembled. My heart pounded harder.

“People like them.”

That means… people like me? I looked into the screen. Into my reflection on the black edge of the phone.

What if one day they find out about me? Would they want to lock me up too?

Keep me from Ned? From MJ? From Dad? I took a deep breath, but it didn’t help. That tight feeling in my chest stayed.

Suddenly, Steve’s words came back again. But not the funny ones.

“He didn’t die. Something much, much worse happened to him.”

I clenched my hands on the counter. Maybe the world wasn’t ready for Spider-Man. But I was already here.

And I had no intention of running from it.

Chapter Text

Four days had passed.

Only four days since the accident in Lagos, and the world had already gone completely insane.

The streets I knew like the back of my hand – the grimy sidewalks, metal trash cans, the sound of honking horns and the smell of roasted pretzels – suddenly felt foreign. Hostile.

It wasn’t about villains. It was about people. Ordinary, frightened people. They protested. They were scared. They were angry. Many had even stopped trusting Spider-Man.

I always just wanted to help. But now, they didn’t want my help anymore.

"Don’t touch me!"

"Who even are you?! Another Avenger?!"

"Get the hell out of my neighborhood, mutant!"

The internet was even worse. Headlines screamed about superhero registration. About “accountability,” “control,” “order.” With every passing hour, I felt smaller. Weaker. More and more… useless.

School wasn’t much better either. People  talked — they always do — but now it felt personal.

"I told you from the start, the Avengers can’t be trusted. First Washington, then Sokovia, and now this?"

"You could’ve guessed that Maximoff chick shouldn’t be trusted with matches, let alone human lives. She’s not even a U.S. citizen! Where did they even find her?"

"I’m not racist… but I really think they should’ve thought twice before recruiting someone like Sam Wilson into the Avengers."

"They should screen them all properly, not just let them wreck cities whenever they feel like it..."

With every comment like that, I felt like… a freak. A monster. They weren’t talking about people with powers. They were saying "mutants." Like it was some kind of curse. And then it only got worse:

_

When I saw the headline from J. Jonah Jameson — I knew it was going to be bad.

He never liked me, always yelled awful things about me. But I didn’t expect it to be this bad.

The whole article was an interview with a couple. As soon as I saw their photo, I froze. I recognized them instantly.

They were the parents of that little girl… the one I couldn’t save from the fire, months ago. I still remember their faces when I shook my head, silently telling them that their daughter — their whole world — didn’t make it.

Others survived. Just not her. And now Jameson was interviewing them, letting them talk about my failure.

“Spider-Man failed. My daughter is dead.”

“He chose others. Not her.”

“He decided which life was more valuable, and in doing so, killed our daughter.”

And Jameson?...He was thrilled. Finally, he could publicly call me a murderer. Front page. Huge letters. And some people believed him.

That night I cried myself to sleep. Not because of the hate. Because of the guilt.

But worst of all —Worse than the crowds yelling. Worse than the noise online —Was the silence. Silence at home. Silence in the workshop.Silence between me and… my dad.

He was acting like we were back in the days when being an Avenger was the only thing that mattered to him. Like Iron Man was more important than his son. Like all those months of trying to build a “normal family” had just vanished. He didn’t ask how I felt. Didn’t explain anything. He just… left.

Uncle Rhodey didn’t say much either. When I asked what was going on and what they planned to do, all he said was:

"Everything’s gonna be fine, kid… I just need to check something with your dad."

Then he left too.

And Steve? After Lagos, he sent me a short message:

"Don’t worry. I’m sorry. We need to pause the training sessions for now, but if there’s ever a crisis — I’m here."

Only…I wasn’t sure if my loneliness counted as a crisis. But I desperately needed to talk to someone.

I felt like I was about to lose my mind. The loneliness hit harder than ever, and even being Spider-Man wasn’t enough of an escape anymore. I needed to talk to someone. Someone who understood. Who really knew what it felt like to wear a mask and slowly start to feel like a stranger inside your own skin.

Ned tried. He was there for me. But he couldn’t truly understand. Not like that. With my dad, I didn’t even try. You never know how that man’s going to react. Steve was the only person who might actually listen. And the only one who — even just a little — might be able to help.

So I decided to wait. Wait until he reached out. Until things calmed down. Not bother him while he was already dealing with so much. I had to be patient.

And just wait for it.

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

Wait for it…

I kept repeating it over and over, lying in bed for the fifth day in a row.

"Wait for it, Peter. Just wait." I kept saying it to myself.

I even started writing it down in my notebook, along with all the other weak rhymes I’d scribble when things got too heavy:

Wait for it

Wait for it

I am the one thing in life I can control

Wait for it

I am not falling behind or running late

"It’d make a better song than a poem," I whispered to myself, disappointed — again — and still telling myself to be patient. To wait.

But unfortunately… I was a pretty hyper and impatient kid.

__

Early in the morning, I jumped out of bed, pulled the suit out of my backpack, and instead of heading to school — I slipped into the Spider-suit.

I couldn’t wait any longer.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Ned asked over the phone when I told him my plan.

I was sitting on the tower rooftop, the wind pulling at my hood, while he was on his way to class.

"What if Hulk’s there?! Or, I don’t know... Wanda? She can crush your brain without touching you, dude."

I raised an eyebrow, looking into the phone camera.

"Hulk went missing, remember? And Wanda’s supposed to be super nice... she doesn’t just go around frying people’s brains. But thanks for the support, man."

"I’m serious. Even if they don’t tear you apart, that’s still the AVENGERS' BASE. Cameras, security, StarkTech. No surprise visitors. Word is, it’s more protected than your dad’s Tower!"

I sighed, glancing down at the mask resting in my lap.

"I’m not going as Peter Parker. Just Spider-Man. If anyone sees me — I vanish. I’m not looking to confront anyone. I just want to talk to Steve. Or at least find out what’s going on in there."

"And what if your... dad sees you?"

I hesitated. Just for a moment. But it was enough. "I don’t even know if he’ll be there. And if he is... he won’t recognize me. Not in this suit."

Ned went quiet. Then nodded.

"Just be careful, okay?"

I gave a small smile. Weak, but real.

"Always."

__

The sun was shining beautifully as I climbed the side of the new Avengers compound.

I felt like the building itself was staring down at me — cold, unwelcoming. Like it knew I wasn’t supposed to be there.

I moved quietly, precisely. Just like Steve had taught me. I stuck to a glass panel near the conference room — the same one where my dad once showed me what a “real meeting” looked like.

And I looked through the window. I froze.

They were all there. Steve. Natasha. Wanda. Vision. Sam. Uncle Rhodey. And... Tony. My father.

He was sitting the furthest from the rest. Quiet. Rigid. Like he wasn’t even sure he wanted to be there.

This morning, he hadn’t said a word. Didn’t even burn his toast. Just left. Months of trying to be a family — gone in one second. To sit there, with them, and do... what? I looked deeper into the room — and that’s when I saw him.

Secretary Ross. Standing by the table, hands clasped, face like a damn executioner. I recognized him instantly. I didn’t know him personally — but his name came up way too often at our house.

"The regulation prick."

"A tank in a suit."

"A military fossil."

Tony and Rhodey once even printed his photo and used it for target practice in their suits — as a joke. And now that same guy was addressing the Avengers with a tone that brooked no argument.

I edged closer, palms flat against the glass. Adrenaline buzzed in my ears. My senses sharpened. I started to listen. Even through the thick glass, I could feel the tension in that room.

Every Avenger’s pulse was beating faster than usual. Surprisingly — my father’s heartbeat was the fastest of them all.

"The world owes the Avengers a great debt," Ross began. I didn’t know where this was going yet, but I could already tell it wouldn’t be pleasant.

"You’ve protected us, fought for us, and risked your lives."

I tensed up slowly, waiting for the punchline.

"Many would call you heroes," he continued, "but others might prefer the word vigilantes."

"And what are we to you, sir?" asked Black Widow, her voice firm, sitting a little straighter in her chair.

"A threat," Ross replied without hesitation. "What else would you call a group of enhanced individuals who regularly cross international borders and clearly don’t care about the consequences of their actions?"

Ross stepped to the side. I quickly ducked behind the window frame, afraid he might spot me. But he only moved to the control panel and pressed a button, lighting up a screen in front of the Avengers.

I slowly leaned back out, wanting to see what they saw.

"New York," Ross hissed, pulling up footage from the 2012 Battle of New York — Hulk smashing cars, aliens flying, buildings crumbling.

Before anyone could speak up — to remind him they were saving the world — Ross switched to the next video.

"Washington D.C.," he said, showing the aftermath of Cap, Sam, and Natasha’s fight with Hydra. Again, before anyone could object, the screen changed. "Sokovia," he added.

And that’s when I felt it — my dad’s heartbeat speeding up even more. Wanda’s too.

I stared at the footage. A massive city suspended in the air… then crashing down. Flying robots. Screaming. Death. I shuddered. I hoped that would be the last one.

But Ross had one more.

"Lagos," he said flatly, showing the last mission that had gone horribly wrong. Wanda had tears in her eyes.

"Okay, that’s enough," said Steve, clearly noticing her expression. Ross nodded and turned off the screen. Unfortunately, he kept talking.

"For the last four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and zero oversight. That is not a situation the international community is willing to tolerate any longer."

I froze, trying to understand what all of this was leading to. Were they... disbanding the Avengers?

"But we do have a solution," Ross continued, pulling out a thick folder and handing it to them.

"The Sokovia Accords. Ratified by 117 countries. It states that the Avengers will cease to be a private organization. Instead, you’ll operate under the control of the UN — only when and where the panel deems appropriate."

"The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place," Steve cut in, his tone sharp. "And I believe we’ve done that."

"Tell me something, Captain," Ross said. "Do you know where Thor and Banner are right now? Because if I lost two nukes, I’d be held accountable."

I clenched my fists. Every part of me wanted to leap through that glass, storm into the room and scream at him — they’re not nukes. They’re people. They deserve to choose their own path. But I didn’t move. I just pressed closer to the wall and kept listening.

Ross paused for a moment, then continued with a cold, forced civility:

"I would also like these documents to be signed not only by the Avengers, but by any enhanced individual engaged in superhuman activity. No more freelance operations — cape or no cape, web-mask or not."

I froze. Bad feeling.

And I was right.

"Captain," Ross said suddenly, turning his gaze directly to Steve, with a subtle pressure in his voice. "We’ve received reports that you’ve been seen on missions for weeks now, collaborating with a certain vigilante known as Spider-Man. If you’d be so kind as to share his identity… I could make sure he gets a copy of these documents as well."

My entire body locked up. Was Steve going to give me up? Say my name, right there — in front of my father? Was I about to be dragged into signing some paper that would strip me of my privacy? My control?

"I’m sorry," Steve said calmly, without hesitation. "I don’t know his name."

And I felt a wave of relief crash through my body. Not joy. Not triumph. But salvation.

"Yes, we’ve worked together," Steve continued, "but only because I’ve helped him a few times. I don’t know anything about him that you don’t already know."

Ross didn’t look pleased — not at all — but he didn’t push it further. Instead, his tone shifted, a bit more diplomatic:

 "I do hope, however, that you’ll pass along that we expect a signature. That goes for all of you. Trust me, this is a solution that benefits everyone. Just… think it over."

"And what if you don’t like our answer?" Natasha asked.

"Then you’ll be forced into early retirement," Ross replied, walking out.

_

As soon as the Secretary of State disappeared behind the door, silence fell over the room. No one knew what to say.

"Let’s move somewhere more comfortable," my dad suddenly said, slapping his palms against his knees. He stood up and walked off toward what I assumed was some kind of lounge. The others followed him reluctantly.

Meanwhile, I jumped up onto the roof of the building and listened closely to figure out where they were heading. Once I heard that everyone had gathered in one place, I slowly slid down the wall and peeked through a window. I made sure I was positioned so I could see everything, but no one could see me. I sharpened my senses again.

It didn’t take long before I heard Uncle Rhodey’s voice. Apparently, he’d started arguing with Sam.

"...Ross was awarded the Medal of Honor, which is one more Medal of Honor than you’ve got!" he snapped at Sam.

"Oh yeah? So let’s say we agree with him," Sam replied. "How long until they lock us up like a bunch of criminals?"

"There are 117 countries behind the Accords! 117, Sam! And you’re just like: Nahh, that’s cool?!"

"How long are you gonna keep playing both sides?!"

"I’ve developed a theory," Vision interrupted them suddenly, and everyone fell silent.

"Oh, that’ll clear everything up," Sam said sarcastically. Internally, I agreed with him. Vision might’ve been artificial intelligence, but he was smarter than all of them—if anyone knew what to do, it was him.

 "Ever since Mr. Stark announced he was Iron Man eight years ago, the number of known enhanced individuals has grown significantly... During that same period, the number of attempts to destroy life on Earth has risen proportionally."

"You’re saying it’s our fault?" Steve asked.

"I’m saying I see a causality. Our strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict... breeds catastrophe. That’s why... regulation is something worth considering."

I muttered under my breath. If even Vision was supporting this... could it really be a good thing? Was I the one who was wrong?

Then again... Ross wanted me—Spider-Man—to sign it too. To be controlled. I’d have to reveal my identity. I’d have to give up control over myself. But... the situation in Lagos... or Sokovia. That couldn’t be allowed to happen again.

I started to feel my head throb. With every argument, I became more torn. The Avengers kept arguing, and I didn’t know what to think anymore.

"Tony," Natasha suddenly said, "you are being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal."

"That’s because he’s already made up his mind," Steve answered for my dad.

"Wow, you know me so well," Tony replied dryly, then slowly got up from his chair. "Actually, I’ve got an electromagnetic migraine... This whole thing, Cap, just pain," he said while rummaging through the kitchen. "Who dumped the coffee grounds in the sink again?" he suddenly snapped, changing the subject. "Is this a caveman hostel or a secret base?" he added, casually switching on a hologram that displayed an image.

I leaned my face closer to the glass to get a better look. A photograph of a teenage boy appeared on the screen, maybe a little older than me. Nothing special. I didn’t understand why my dad would be showing them that.

"Oh, and this is Charles Spencer, by the way," Dad said offhandedly. "Great kid. Just graduated in engineering, high GPA. Got a job lined up at Intel, was supposed to start in the fall... But first he figured, before he sold his soul to a corporation, before he sat down at a desk, he wanted to see a bit of the world. Do something meaningful. Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Florida like I would’ve. Didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam either, which sounds nice. No... He chose to spend his summer building homes for the poor. Guess where. In Sokovia!" I heard the tension rise in his voice as he said that last part. His breathing was fast and uneven. It hurt to listen, because I knew this story didn’t have a happy ending.

"Could he have made a difference?" Tony continued. "Maybe, I mean, we’ll never know, because we dropped a building on his head while we were kicking ass" he finished, taking a sip of coffee like it was the only thing holding him together.

The rest sat in silence.

"We have no idea what we’re doing," Dad added suddenly. "We need to be kept in check. One way or another. I’m voting yes... As long as we keep doing whatever we want with no oversight, we’re no better than the bad guys."

"Tony... Someone dying because of you doesn’t mean you should give up," Steve finally said.

"Who said anything about giving up?"

"We give up when we stop being accountable for our actions. That agreement passes the blame onto someone else."

"Sorry, Steve," Rhodey suddenly cut in, "but that’s peak arrogance. We’re talking about the UN here. Not the Security Council, not SHIELD, not Hydra."

"No, but it’s still run by people. People with agendas and opinions. And those change."

"Good!" Dad snapped. "Let them change. Mine did. When I realized how much harm my weapons could do, I shut down the factories."

"Tony," Steve replied again, "that was your choice. Signing that paper means giving up my right to choose. What if they send us somewhere against our will? Or keep us grounded when we’re needed? We may not be perfect, but we’re still the best option out there."

"If we don’t agree now," Tony hissed more sharply, "they’ll force it on us later. Without asking. It won’t be pretty."

"You mean they’ll come for me?" Wanda asked.

"We will protect you," Vision replied instantly.

"Maybe Tony’s right," Natasha said suddenly, and I widened my eyes in shock. I was sure if anyone would be against all of this, it’d be her. "If we’ve got one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. But if we let go completely..."

"Didn’t you used to say the world’s governments could kiss your ass, just a few years ago?" Sam interrupted in disbelief.

"I’m just trying to assess the situation. We’ve made some mistakes. We need to regain the public’s trust."

"Did I just hear you right, sorry—" my dad interrupted, clearly pleased. "Did you just agree with me?"

"Ohh, I already want to take it back."

"No, no, no," he laughed. "Too late now."

The Avengers kept arguing for a while. The discussion was getting more and more heated, everyone throwing in their own take, everyone more and more fractured.

Suddenly I noticed Steve glance at his phone. He read something—and his heart rate spiked dramatically. He stood up without a word.

"I have to go," he said in a somber tone, then quickly left the lounge.

I froze, pressed up against the glass. I didn’t know what had just happened, but I knew one thing for sure: something had just changed. Irreversibly.

__

Three days later, I already knew that half of the Avengers had already agreed with rhe accords. Steve was still against it. My dad was still in favor.

And me?

I was in a state I couldn’t even name. Everything just felt... wrong.

On the day they were supposed to sign the document, I woke up in an especially foul mood. My dad didn’t look too thrilled either, though he never said it outright. He told me he was confident in his decision. That the accords were necessary, and he didn’t care what others thought. But I knew it was a lie.

Dad was more worried than ever. He was scared the Avengers would fall apart — and no matter how hard he tried to convince everyone otherwise, he cared about them.

To distract himself from thoughts he didn’t want to face, he kept dragging me into the workshop so I could help him with projects. He claimed it was all “for science” and that I’d been stressed lately and this would help. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if he was doing it more for me… or for himself.

Even Happy noticed something was off. He tried to cheer me up, threw out a few jokes, told me about some “dark week” he once had. But he didn’t get it.

He had no idea what was really going on.

One night I went out as Spider-Man, just to blow off some steam. I helped a cat get down from a roof, caught a guy who stole a purse, and saved a kid from getting hit by a truck.

I should’ve felt relieved, proud… something. But I didn’t. All I felt was that weird gnawing sensation in my gut, like something terrible was about to happen.

And unfortunately, I was right.

I was sitting on the couch, legs pulled up to my chest, staring blankly at the TV screen.

Suddenly, the image changed and the sound sharpened.

  “...the explosion occurred this morning during a UN meeting in Vienna. At least a dozen people are confirmed dead, including the King of Wakanda, T’Chaka. The suspect has been identified as James Buchanan Barnes, also known as the Winter Soldier.”

I froze. It felt like someone had just cut off my air supply. I sat there motionless, staring at the screen.

What? What? Barnes? Mr. Bucky? Steve’s friend? The same guy who — if I remembered correctly — should’ve been, like, a hundred years old?

A former hero… did this?

Winter Soldier… The name rang a bell. Something to do with SHIELD… maybe HYDRA? But still — this couldn’t be real.

I quickly grabbed my phone. I was just about to type his name into a search bar when I saw a new message waiting.

From Steve.His first in a long time.

Call me when you can.

This number’s secure.

Below that was a phone number I didn’t recognize. My heart started pounding like crazy.

Steve Rogers — Captain America — was asking me to contact him.

I sat there for a long time, holding the phone in my hand, unable to decide whether to call. I’d waited for this moment so long, but now… I didn’t know what to think. Something was holding me back — and I couldn’t even name what it was.

But eventually, I did it. I dialed the number Captain had given me.

After three rings, I heard a voice I never expected to hear so clearly through the receiver.

"Peter?"

"Yeah… it’s me."

There was a brief silence on the other end, and then Steve let out a deep breath.

" Thank you for calling... Do you remember when you offered to help me? And I said, “when the time comes”?"

"Y-yeah."

"I think the time has come."

"Is it because of what happened in Vienna? "I asked. "About Mr. Barnes? And… the Winter Soldier?"

Steve was quiet for a moment, like he was choosing his words very carefully. Eventually, he spoke.

"Yes… But please don’t jump to conclusions. There are a lot of things you don’t know yet. But don’t worry… I’ll try to explain."

"Okay " I replied, bracing myself for whatever I was about to hear.

And then, for the next several minutes, I listened to the most heartbreaking story I’d ever heard in my life. About how Steve and Bucky had been best friends — before the war and during it.

How Bucky had “died”... but it turned out he hadn’t. He’d been captured by Hydra. And this time, no one came to save him.

He was injected with the super-soldier serum — against his will. For seventy years, he was held prisoner — frozen and thawed only when Hydra needed him.

He was brainwashed, tortured beyond imagination, and turned into a weapon. For decades, he wasn’t himself.

And now… now they were trying to pin their crimes on him.

And people would believe it. Of course they would.

By the time Steve finished, I could tell he had tears in his eyes — even through the phone. My own stomach was in my throat. I had to stay strong.

" So… you really think he didn’t do it? The Vienna thing? "I asked quietly.

" I know he didn’t, "he answered without hesitation.

And I believed him. I don’t know why — but I did.

"And that’s why I need your help. Peter… can I trust you?"

"Always "I answered, almost without thinking.

__

The next day, I was already packed and on my way to Romania. I told my dad I’d changed my mind and wanted to go on that school trip — the one I’d turned down a few months back. The trip was supposed to last twelve days. I handed him some fake permission slip, he gave me money, and I was off.

Under normal circumstances — if Tony weren’t living in constant stress, juggling pressure from 117 countries pushing for the Avengers to sign the Accords — if he’d slept more than three hours a night and paid more attention to the people around him, he probably would’ve given me a full-on lecture about safety, handed me a few Iron Man gadgets, maybe even a glove with a hidden missile disguised as a watch. He would’ve double-checked the itinerary, the teachers, emergency contacts — the whole deal.

That’s how it had always gone on every trip before. And if that had happened this time, my plan would’ve fallen apart. He would’ve known something was off. But luckily, that didn’t happen. He signed the form and told Happy to drop me off at school. He gave me a hug, told me he loved me, and to be careful.

Oh, if only he knew…

As soon as Happy dropped me off and drove away, I turned off the main road and headed to the location Steve had given me. There, I changed into my Spider-Man suit — just in case. And then I saw it. A Quinjet. Just sitting there, like it was no big deal, in some dusty old garage — a freaking Quinjet!

I climbed aboard, turned on the autopilot, and it took off right away. Just like that, I was headed to Romania. Ned would’ve died of jealousy.

Once I landed, I jumped out as Spider-Man and started moving across rooftops, trying to stay out of sight. I reached the meeting point and saw Captain America and Sam Wilson waiting.

“Hey, kid,” Steve said.

“Hi, Steve… Good morning, Mr. Wilson.”

“What’s up?” Sam nodded, then turned to Steve. “Are you sure we can trust him? We don’t even know his name. Or his age. And he sounds really young.”

“I’m sure.”

“Yeah, and besides — Steve knows my identity,” I said proudly.

“What?!” Sam raised an eyebrow. “You told me you didn’t know who he was.”

“I was trying to protect him,” Steve replied calmly. “Drop it, Sam. I trust him, and that’s what matters. If he’s not comfortable revealing his name, we’re not going to force him. That’d make us no better than the people behind the Sokovia Accords.”

“Fine,” Sam muttered. “So… let’s talk plan.”

Right. The plan. The goal was to find Bucky before the military did. We already knew which apartment he was holed up in. The idea was for Steve to go inside, while Sam and I provided cover from the rooftops.

We moved into position. I clung to a wall, Sam hovered in the air.

I watched as counter-terrorist units closed in on the building. Sam and I kept updating Steve on how close they were getting.

“They’ve surrounded the building,” I said into my earpiece, but Steve didn’t respond. He must’ve already been talking to Bucky. I’d never felt pressure like that on any mission before.

“They’re on the roof. I can’t engage,” Sam said suddenly.

I wanted to help — swing in, disarm them — but I wasn’t supposed to interfere unless they gave the signal. I was backup. They didn’t want to risk damaging public trust by having me attack a military unit. So I stayed put, just giving occasional updates on how close the soldiers were.

“Watch out!” I shouted at the exact same moment as Sam, when a grenade flew through the window where Steve and Bucky were standing. That’s when all hell broke loose. Gunfire. Explosions. I couldn’t tell who was who.

“Can I help?! Can I help?!” I yelled into the mic.

“Wait for it!” Sam barked. “Stay in position! Observe — don’t engage!”

I rolled my eyes but kept watching from behind the wall. And then… I saw Mr. Bucky for the first time in real life.

He jumped out of the window, leaping an insane distance to land on the next rooftop. He looked incredible. Like a real superhero. I’d always admired Steve’s strength — and even my own — but the way Mr. Barnes moved made his power seem even more impressive.

He started running.

“Keep eyes on him!” Sam shouted. “But don’t let him see you!”

“On it!” I called back, adrenaline surging, swinging after Bucky from a safe distance.

That’s when I realized we weren’t alone. A masked figure — clearly enhanced — launched an attack on Barnes. I clung to a rooftop farther back, unsure what to do. No one was answering me, and Bucky was losing the fight to a guy in some kind of...cat suit?

The chase began. Sam and Steve followed Bucky and the masked man. I stayed close, out of sight, just like they told me. They hadn’t called me in, so I didn’t jump in. All I did was web up a few weapons from officers down below. But I knew I could do more.

Before I knew it, the four of them were surrounded by agents. And leading them… was my uncle Rhodey.

“Congrats, Cap,” Rhodey said. “You’re a criminal.”

Then the soldiers swarmed. They yanked Bucky down to his knees. Brutal. Then they moved in on Sam, and the guy in the cat suit raised his hands, just like Steve.

I stared at him, curious — and when he pulled off the mask, my jaw hit the floor.

The Prince of Wakanda. T’Challa.

“Your Highness,” Rhodey said also shocked.

Then they cuffed everyone. I didn’t miss the fact that Bucky got the roughest treatment. But he didn’t fight it — just walked into the armored truck behind the soldiers. Steve and the others were taken to a regular patrol car.

Right before someone yanked the earpiece out of Steve’s ear, he said — quietly, but loud enough that I heard:

“Follow us. Stay low until I give the signal.”

__

As soon as I heard over the communicator that all four of them were being transported to Berlin, I didn’t hesitate for a second. I returned to the Quinjet, which—luckily—was still where I had left it. I jumped inside and immediately activated the autopilot.

During one of the training sessions, Steve gave me a list of “emergency coordinates,” places that were always supposed to be safe—bunkers, abandoned warehouses, old Avengers rally points from before everything fell apart. I found one of them—some warehouses on the outskirts of Berlin—and directed the Jet there.

During the flight, I couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened. Steve, Sam, Bucky… even that guy in the cat suit. A prince, apparently—all taken away like they were criminals. Rhodey looked at them like they were terrorists. There was something in the air I didn’t understand, but something inside me was screaming that this wasn’t over.

I reached Berlin a few hours later. I hid the Jet in an old factory, left the systems on standby, and headed out—of course, as Spider-Man. I moved across the rooftops, as usual. It was cold, wet, and smelled like smog and coffee. Typical Berlin.

I found the building where they were being held—this massive glass command center with dozens of agents, drones, and tech that probably even Tony wouldn’t understand without a manual. I perched high up on a nearby ledge and used a small drone my dad once gave me (“In case you ever want a selfie from space,” he joked back then) to peek inside.

Steve, Natasha, Sam, Prince T’Challa, and—apparently—my dad were having an intense conversation. Actually… “conversation” is way too soft a word. They were arguing. Especially my dad and Steve. I hadn’t seen either of them this angry in a long time.

And me? I couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. I promised Steve I’d help him, and I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to him. I focused all my senses and jumped to the roof of the building, listening in. After a while, I was able to determine that Bucky was being held in a separate room, restrained. A doctor was supposed to join him.

I found the right corridor, but of course—no windows. A thick wall separated us, and only my spider powers allowed me to hear anything. Thank you, fate.

I heard uneven breathing—probably Bucky’s. Then someone else entered the room. Introduced himself as a doctor.

Theoretically, nothing alarming—but the moment I heard him, my spider-sense exploded in my skull. Seriously. This wasn’t “hey, maybe don’t eat that kebab,” it was “run or something’s going to blow up.”

I froze. He sounded normal. But every cell in my body was screaming that something was wrong.

The doctor sat across from Bucky. He asked some uncomfortable questions, but I could feel it was just a front. Then he pulled out a piece of paper.

I could hear Bucky’s heartbeat speed up.

“No… please…” he said quietly.

But the doctor ignored him. Calmly, with a practiced voice, he began to read:

“Тоска”

“ржавый”

“пять”

“рассвет”

“семнадцать”

“нежный”

“девять”

“возвращение домой”

“один”

“грузовой вагон”

With every word, Bucky trembled. He panicked. He was falling apart. I didn’t know Russian, but I was smart enough to know this wasn’t a poem. These were commands. An activation sequence.

“No… no… no…” I whispered, and then I was shouting. “Stop! Don’t say that!”

I felt the exact moment the Winter Soldier took over. This wasn’t Bucky. This was a machine.

I bolted for the others.

By the time I got there, everything was chaos. Agents were running like ants. Bucky was leaping over railings, throwing people into walls. Steve and Sam were trying to stop him, but he didn’t recognize anyone.

And the “doctor”? Vanished without a trace.

I saw Bucky lunge at Steve. I tried to stay hidden. Stick to the plan. But…

“Crap,” I whispered, shot a web through the window, and flew inside.

“Hey, hey, hey! Winter Buddy, maybe let’s chill out a bit?!” I shouted, landing between him and Sam.

A metal arm answered me. Dodge. Web. Bucky’s arm stuck to the wall. For a second. Then he just tore it free.

“Okay, cool… good to know that webbing has a limit with superhumans,” I groaned, flipping to the side.

He started chasing me. I shot another web—the ceiling collapsed, a chunk of concrete fell on his head… and got pierced. Like it was cardboard.

Natasha joined the fight—with a gun and batons, fighting like a fury. Sharon Carter—at least I think it was her—was shooting a taser. Sam tried to take him from above. T’Challa, fully suited in vibranium, charged from the front.

Everyone. Everyone was on him.

And still. He was winning.

He threw T’Challa into a wall, knocked Sam out of the air, shoved Steve away, kicked Sharon, grabbed Natasha and threw her through a glass window.

And me? I was doing nothing useful. Just an annoying fly.

I tried to distract him—shooting webs, covering people, surprise-kicking, and running my mouth to irritate him. But nothing. The Winter Soldier was unstoppable. People were going down, others kept fighting, and I felt a kind of adrenaline I’d never experienced before.

And then I saw him. Up top, by the railing… my dad.

No armor. Nothing but his watch with the pop-out repulsor glove. I nearly had a heart attack when Bucky fired at him. Dad managed to block it, but he looked like he was about to collapse.

I left Steve. I ran to my dad.

“Spider-Ling, right?” he said, breathless. “What brings you here?”

I didn’t answer. I focused on protecting him. Deflecting blows, pulling the Winter Soldier’s attention, webbing him up even though I knew it wouldn’t stop him. Dad fought beside me—not knowing I was his own son. No armor, just those clever gadgets of his, and still he held his own amazingly.

And then... Bucky hit. Hard.

Dad flew back, hit the ground, and disappeared from my sight. Then the Winter Soldier moved toward the roof—probably heading for a helicopter.

Steve and Sam ran after him.

I… I was supposed to help them. I promised. But I looked at my dad lying on the ground and…

I hesitated. And ran to my dad.

“Please, live, live, live…” I whispered in panic, checking for vital signs. “No, no, no…”

I felt tears welling up. My heart was pounding like crazy.

" Please be alive...please..."

And then Tony opened his eyes. He saw me.

A wave of relief washed over me. For a moment, I forgot where I was. That I had a mask on. That he didn’t know who I was. I was just… happy.

“Ohh, thank God,” I said, hugging him without thinking. Tony immediately pulled back, confused.

“Get off me,” he muttered in a tired, irritated voice.

“Oh, right, yeah… sir,” I pulled away quickly.“Sorry.”

“What the hell are you doing in that pajamas in Berlin?” he grumbled, looking at me suspiciously. “Last I checked, people saw you in New York.”

I hesitated. Changed my voice, made it deeper.

“I saw the Avengers were here… Thought you might need backup.”

Tony raised an eyebrow but didn’t press.

“Then why are you sitting here with me and not chasing that psycho-soldier?” he snapped sarcastically. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got things to do. And if you don’t want Ross breathing down your neck, I suggest you scram.”

“Uhh… yeah. Sure. Right… Mr. Stark. Thank you… I’m glad you’re okay.”

Tony paused for a second. Like he didn’t expect that.

“You’ve got talent, kid,” he said after a moment. “I have a feeling we’ll meet again.”

He and Natasha headed to another floor.

I realized everyone rest was looking at me. T’Challa. Sharon Carter. Even a few agents.

I had no idea what to say, so I just awkwardly waved and jumped to the roof. I ran. Somewhere higher. Somewhere alone.

Only there, in the silence and solitude, I collapsed on the ground. I was breathing hard. My heart in my throat.

I wasn’t ready.

For any of this.

Chapter Text

I was lying on my back, staring up at the sky. Breathing hard.

I didn’t even know how long I’d been there—alone, tucked between the chimneys of some old building, trying to process everything that just happened. Dad… was alive. Thankfully. But Steve  had escaped. And Bucky… Bucky was still a puzzle I couldn’t solve.

As always, when I didn’t know what else to do, I pulled out my phone. Yeah, my Spider-Man suit has a pocket. A secret one—but super useful. I only keep the essentials in there.

The screen lit up with a few notifications. Two messages from Happy. He was asking how the trip was going. A bunch from Ned—mostly selfies from the bus and some random places they’d stopped at. Oh, and a dumb meme about our chemistry teacher.

I rolled my eyes.

There were also a few texts from Dad. He told me to have fun and to send him a pic of what we were up to. I copied one of Ned’s photos and sent it back without a word. Good enough to make him think I was actually there.

I was just about to put my phone away when I saw one more message. My heart skipped a little.

MJ.

"Hey, loser. Don’t forget to finish the chem project. Since you ditched the super exciting school trip, you could at least do something useful."

I smiled to myself and quickly texted back that I was on it. And then...

She called.

“Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap,” I muttered, ducking deeper between the chimneys. Somewhere quieter.

I picked up.

“Hey… MJ?”

“What’s up, loser?”

“Umm… everything’s fine. You know, just at home, nothing special.”

She went quiet for a second. I couldn’t see her, but I could feel the way she was raising one eyebrow with that amused little smirk of hers.

“Sure you are,” she said sarcastically.

“No, seriously. Total boredom. Even the math textbook’s starting to look tempting.”

“That bad, huh?” she snorted. “Okay, well, since I’m clearly interrupting your thrilling existence… wondering why I called?”

“Kinda.”

“Because I felt like it.” Her tone was teasing but warm. “And I’m bored. Been stuck on this bus with the class for almost two days and I’m this close to throwing myself out the window.”

I laughed.

“You should be glad you missed it. For real. Two hours on that bus is like a psychological endurance test. We’re on a quick bathroom break now, but then it’s back to hell. Pray for me.”

“So what, you planning to skip the next trip ?”

“No way. Next one, I’m dragging you with me. Time for you to feel my pain.”

She laughed — and even though I couldn’t see her, I could hear it.

“Can’t wait.”

“Yeah, yeah… But really, thanks for calling. You’re one of the few people in class I can actually talk to, you know?”

“That’s sweet. Even if you do call me names like, every day.”

“Yeah, but like… affectionate names,” I chuckled. “Besides, you’re not just any loser—you’re a reliable loser.”

Before I could say anything else, she suddenly said:

“Crap, I gotta go. We’re getting back on the bus.”

“Got it. Good luck. And… don’t let them break you.”

“Thanks for the chat, loser.”

“Anytime.”

“Later. Oh, and… really, thanks. You cheered me up. You’re alright.”

Click. She hung up. And I just stared at the dark screen.

“Reliable.” Yeah, right.

If only she knew how much I was hiding from her. She’d never say that. That one conversation was enough to pull me right back down to Earth.

To remind me who I really am. And why I’m here in the first place.

__

I didn’t really know what my next move was supposed to be. But I knew where I had to go.

I headed back downtown. They were still there—agents, doctors, techs. The whole place buzzed with noise, tension, and chaos.

I crouched down by the same window as before. And waited.

Eventually… I recognized the voices.

Tony. Natasha. Ross.

“You’re telling me you have no idea where they are?” Ross asked, his tone cold and sharp.

“We will,” my dad replied. “Special forces are watching the borders. Air patrols are running nonstop. One ping, and they’re mine.”

“You don’t get it, Stark. This isn’t your operation anymore. You’ve clearly lost your objectivity. Special forces will handle it.”

“And what happens if it turns into a firefight?” Natasha cut in. “Are you… planning to shot Steve Rogers?”

“If they provoke us,” Ross said immediately.

I froze.

No… they can’t...

My heart sped up. My chest tightened like it was being squeezed. Ross just kept talking—calm, like he was discussing the weather.

“Barnes would’ve been eleminated in Romania if not for Rogers. People died. Go ahead—tell me where the logic fails.”

He looked Tony straight in the eye.

“With all due respect, your army won’t be enough. You can’t match Rogers. You have to let us handle this.”

“And why shouldn’t this end the same way it did last time?”

“Because I won’t be in loafers and a dress shirt this time,” Dad said sharply. “Seventy-two hours. I guarantee it.”

Ross went silent for a moment, like he was weighing it all out. Then he gave a small nod.

“Thirty-six hours. Barnes. Rogers. Wilson.”

Tony took a deep breath. He looked like he wanted to argue—but couldn’t. The Accords tied his hands. He had no choice.

“Thank you, sir,” he said at last.

And I was honestly shocked. I had never seen my father so… obedient to someone. Sure, there were times when I was little—before he became Iron Man—when Tony actually took orders from one person: Obadiah Stane (or, as I used to call him, Uncle Obie)…We all know how that ended. But this...this was something new. And I hated it. 

Once Ross left, Dad clutched his chest and started breathing heavily.

Natasha immediately stepped toward him.

“My left arm’s going numb. Is that normal?”

“Are you alright?” she asked gently, resting a hand on his shoulder. And suddenly I felt something strange. Relief. I was glad someone cared about him. Maybe I’m not the only one who worries.

“Always,” he said softly. A quiet moment passed. “Thirty-six hours... Jesus,” he muttered, almost to himself.

“We don’t have enough people.”

“Oh yeah… Hulk would come in handy right about now. What do you think? Any chance?”

“You seriously think he’d be on our side?” she asked, and Dad shook his head. “Probably not.”

I silently agreed. Dr. Banner… he never wanted to be a criminal. He always tried to stay out of politics. But with his past—and knowing how Ross treated him—yeah. He’d never side with Ross.

“I have an idea,” Natasha said suddenly.

“So do I,” Dad replied. That surprised me. Who was he thinking about recruiting? “Where’s yours?” he asked.

“Downstairs,” she answered. I guessed she meant that prince in the cat suit… or whatever that thing was called.

“And yours?” she asked him.

Dad just smiled, stood up, and walked out.

I don’t know why, but a chill hit my stomach. Like something was already happening—without me. Behind my back.

I left the building. I swung for a long time—across half of Berlin. My head was spinning with what I was supposed to do next. I even thought about just going home. It was all too much.

On the way to the Quinjet, I tried to keep myself busy. A small fire. A stolen wallet. An elderly woman too scared to cross the street.

Eventually, I got tired. I was five minutes from the hideout where I’d stashed the Quinjet. I could’ve just gotten in and flown home. Anywhere. Found some peace. I could’ve gone to see that movie I’d really been wanting to watch. Relaxed a little.

Maybe even snuck into a party—like normal people my age do. Just left all this behind and watched how it played out…

I sat down at the edge of a tall building. Wind whipped across my mask. Everything inside me was screaming: what now?

And then—

Spidey sense. Someone was coming.

Iron Man.

Crap. I forgot he was tracking Steve—he probably had access to every surveillance camera in the city. He must’ve seen me.

“Hey, Spider-Kid!” he called out, hovering beside me. “Got a sec?”

I blinked. My heart sped up.

“Y-Yeah. Sure, sir.”

He hovered next to me mid-air. “You’ve got talent, kid,” he said—and I straightened up, surprised. "I see it. You held your own… with Barnes, with everything. I can also see you’ve got a thing for the Avengers. Always circling around us. I bet you dream of being more than just the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, huh?”

“Uhh…”

“I know you do. That’s why I’ve got a proposition for you.”

My heart jumped into my throat.bWhat? Is this happening? Is he recruiting me? Is he actually asking me to be part of the Avengers?

“Really? What can I do to help?”

I asked like an idiot, like I’d completely forgotten what Dad was up to—and who he was hunting. But then his tone shifted. It got heavier—and I remembered.

“We want to find Steve. I know you two worked together a few times. I know you like him. I do too. Seriously. He’s my friend—believe me, I know him better than you do…But he broke the law. And if we don’t stop him, the Avengers fall apart. Someone else is going to catch him—and he’ll end up in prison...We don’t want a fight—we want a conversation. But I need someone like you. You’re new, you’re fresh. You’ve helped him before, so you know what we’re dealing with. I want you to help us find them. And if it comes to a confrontation…Help us stop them from escaping.”

We looked at each other in silence. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Dad wanted to stop the Avengers? But what did that mean? He signed those stupid Sokovia Accords and now he’s like a dog on a leash.

He doesn’t even understand the full picture—but he has no choice. He has to follow orders. And now he wants me to help him do it?

To find Steve and Sam?

They were Avengers. Maybe they could still avoid prison—for now. But...

“What about… Barnes?” I asked, because I couldn’t imagine them even listening to him—let alone clearing his name. Tony went quiet for a second.

“It’s complicated,” he said. “That man blew up a U.N. building. He killed people. I know his history. I know he was friends with Rogers…But that’s not the same guy anymore. The Barnes Steve knew in the '40s is dead. All that’s left is the Winter Soldier. And Cap shouldn’t risk everyone for one man. Especially if there’s no hope left for him.”

My jaw clenched when I heard that. Dad saw no hope for him. He really believed the old Bucky was gone.

But Steve… Steve still believed in him.

Tony handed me a small phone with one number in it—snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Think about it,” he said. “But not for too long. We need your answer tonight.”

And then he flew off.

I was alone again. I sat there, on the edge of the roof, still feeling the hum of his suit fading in the wind. It brushed against my mask as I looked at the phone he gave me.

A tiny, plain phone—the kind he hates because it’s boring. No gadgets. No apps.

Just tap and call. No idea where he even got it… but it was real. There was only one contact saved:

“Stark – For Spider-Ling.”

I stared at it, wondering if I should press it.

Maybe I don’t agree with everything Dad says. Maybe I don’t understand half the choices he makes. But… isn’t now the moment I’m supposed to stand by him? Be loyal to family?

I am a Stark, after all. Shouldn’t I support him—even if he’s wrong?

I sighed.

Dad doesn’t deserve to go through this alone. Maybe I could just… be there. For him. Not to help. Just to pretend. So at least he feels like he’s got someone on his side.

I was just about to call—finger hovering over the screen—when suddenly the phone rang.

But not the one from Stark. My own phone.

A different number. Unknown. But I already knew who it was.

I picked up.

"Peter?" I’d recognize that voice anywhere.

"Steve?!"

"Hey, kid." His tone was quiet. Tense. Tired.

"Steve, what’s going on? Are you—where are you?"

"That doesn’t matter right now. Listen, I don’t have much time. Bucky... he’s back. He’s himself again. But... things are getting worse. It’s not just about him anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"There are others. Like him. More than we thought. And they’re dangerous. That doctor who hurt Bucky... he’s planning something awful. If we don’t stop him, he’s going to use them. And it’ll end in disasdisaser.

I didn’t say anything. Steve kept talking.

"Tony’s after us. Natasha too. Everyone who signed the Accords. And I get it. But I can’t stop now. Not when there’s more at stake. Peter... I know you’re torn. I know Tony’s your dad. You love him. You feel like you need to be by his side. But if you’ve ever wanted to be a real hero... sometimes, that means giving something up."

"Steve..." my voice cracked. "I..."

"I’m not asking you to pick sides. I don’t want this to hurt you. But we need you. We desperately need people. I trust you. I know you’ll do great. And any help counts. If you decide to join us... call this number. We’ll have the line open for about an hour. If you say yes... I’ll tell you where to meet us."

He hesitated for a second, then added:

"But if you choose to stay... I’ll understand. I really will."

Click. The call ended. I stared at the dark screen. I climbed down from the rooftop. Curled up on the edge, somewhere between one side and the other.

One hand still gripping that dumb phone. That stupid, old-school phone with one number. I looked at it. Then at my own phone. Two phones, two numbers, one choice.

Instead of deciding, I did what I always do when I’m falling apart. I called Ned.

"Hello? Peter?"

"I need to talk. You got a minute?"

"Yeah, sure. We’re back at the hotel. I’m alone if that helps. You okay? You sound like you’re... I don’t know, having a heart attack."

"I just got two job offers... kinda. From Tony. And Steve."

"...wait, what?!"

"My dad wants me on his side. To help them take down Steve. And Steve... Steve’s asking me to help save his friend. Or something like that."

"Hold on—what are you even talking about?" Ned sounded like he didn’t believe a word of it. And honestly, I realized just how much had happened since the last time we talked. My whole world turned upside down.

So I told him everything.

From the second I landed in Romania to help bring in Bucky... To the psycho doctor who triggered the Winter Soldier again...

The prince in the cat suit, Secretary Ross, all of it. And finally, I told him where I was now. That I was facing probably the biggest decision of my life.

Silence. Ned didn’t say anything for a few seconds. And I felt everything inside me twisting.

"Okay..." he finally said, cautiously. Then added, "So... do you know what you wanna do?"

"No!"

I let out a long breath. Looked at Tony’s phone. Then at mine. Two phones. Two paths.

Family. Mentor.

Father. Hero.

"Ned, this isn’t some dumb game. It’s not lunch table debates about comic book stuff. This is real. It could ruin everything."

"Peter... man, look, I’m just gonna be honest with you. As your best friend—I think you should walk away. This isn’t your fight. You’re a teenager. You should be enjoying a school trip, stressing over your crush, living your life. For your own good. Seriously. Just leave it alone. Let whatever happens... happen."

"No."

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see it.

"I can’t walk away." My voice cracked again.

"It’s my dad, Ned. He’s my dad. And I’m scared for him. He’s barely holding it together—physically, mentally. He needs support. He needs me. And I know if the roles were reversed, he’d be there for me no matter what. He’d fight anyone for me. Hell, he’d probably take on Thor if he had to. He’d do anything. And I... I owe him. I love him. I have to protect him..."

I clenched my jaw.

"But Steve... Steve’s my mentor. And he’s fighting for something bigger. For freedom. For people not to be treated like tools of the system. I know he’s not doing this for nothing. And... he kinda has a point, you know? The Sokovia Accords—they’re not good. And Bucky, he didn’t deserve any of this."

"So... what’s your heart telling you?" Ned asked quietly, clearly giving up on trying to talk me out of it.

I closed my eyes. And that’s when the thoughts started bursting in my head like bubbles.

Lines of words. Fragments. Voices. Not mine. Not Ned’s. It was like my brain had decided to start writing a damn musical all by itself.

In moments like this, I usually jotted everything down in my notebook. But that was back on my bed in Stark Tower. Far away.

The words just kept circling my mind, drowning everything else out.

If you had to choose

If you had to choose...

It' a tie

"I don’t know!" I yelled, breaking the silence all at once. I started rambling — just letting it all pour out, everything I’d kept bottled up. I was breathing fast. Uneven.

If you had to choose

If you had to choose...

It' up to the Peter Parker

"I’m trying to plan it out in my head, Ned, but I can’t. It’s happening too fast. Like everything’s falling apart in real time."

Rogers or Stark

Rogers or Stark

Rogers or Stark...

"One of them’s my dad, Ned! My actual dad — the only real family I’ve got left... but he’s wrong! About so many things..."

Ned was quiet for a second. Then said softly:

"You already know the answer," he said, calmly but firmly. "You’re my best friend. I know how you work. You just need to admit it to yourself... so? What’s it gonna be? Who do you choose?"

The people were asking to hear my voice...

I opened my eyes. "I..."

The Spider-Man is facing a difficult choice...

I glanced up at the sky. Dark. Empty. I sighed.

Ned was right. I did know. I knew who I had to choose.

"You want the truth?"

"Always. I’m with you no matter what."

And if you were to ask me who I promote...

"Steve Rogers has my vote."

Ned went totally silent. I could hear him inhale like he was about to say something— But he didn’t.

"I know. I know what you’re thinking. I’m surprised, too. I mean... I should stick with family..."

I have never agreed with Steve Rogers once...

"And let’s be honest, Steve’s not exactly the easiest guy. Half the time he drives me nuts. He’s so damn... noble. And rigid."

With debates on like 75 different fronts...

"But you know what?"

"What?"

But when all is said and all is done...

Steve Rogers has beliefs.

My dad has none.

"Cap has principles, Ned. And the Accords? The Accords are just... politics."

I stopped talking. And right then, I knew I’d made the right choice.

"Good luck, man," Ned said quietly. "Call me if you ever need a guy in the chair."

"Always." I smiled, then hung up. Right after that, I dialed the other number. Steve’s number.

The voice on the other end was calm but alert. Like he hadn’t slept in two days.

“Are you sure?” he asked right away.

“No… but I’m going anyway.”

A pause. Then:

“Alright. I’m sending you the location. Let’s meet there. And… thanks, Peter.”

He hung up. There was no turning back now.

__

We met somewhere on the outskirts of Berlin. A small, rundown warehouse—quiet, hidden, with rusty patches on the doors and dust floating in the air. It was cold inside.

Steve stood by the entrance. Sam was next to him. And a little further back—him.

Bucky Barnes.

Seeing him brought back flashes of that earlier fight. How he slammed me against the wall. How he took on the whole team. How he hit my dad so hard, I thought he wouldn’t wake up.

And now?

Now he just stood there calmly, arms hanging at his sides like he was afraid to move them. He kept his distance, standing off to the side, as if even the smallest gesture could be misunderstood.

He was just... there. Quiet. Silent.

I looked into his eyes but he quickly looked away, focusing only on Steve. Steve glanced back at him briefly, then came over to me and put a hand on my shoulder.

“You okay? You sure you want to do this?”

I nodded.

“Good. But there’s one thing... If we’re gonna do this, if we’re really a team, we have to trust each other. No secrets.” He nodded toward my face—or rather, my Spider-Man mask.

I glanced at Steve, then at Sam. Sam stood tensely, curious. I sighed.

“Don’t judge me before you know, okay?” I said to Wilson. “I’m on your side. No matter what.”

“Sure thing, kid… take off the mask,” Sam said, not exactly enthusiastic.

I looked at Bucky again. He still didn’t move. Mostly just stared at Steve. He didn’t look the least bit interested in my secret identity.

Slowly, I pulled off the mask and looked back at Sam.

He finally saw me. The real me. Peter Parker—Stark. He’d only seen me like this a few times, briefly, never for long. We’d never even exchanged words.

But I could tell by his eyes he recognized me.

“No…” he muttered, turning to Steve. “Dude, you can’t be serious!? A kid? The kid is Spider-Man? He’s fucking fourteen!”

“Fifteen,” I corrected quietly, but no one noticed.

“And not only is the age unacceptable, you had to make it worse. Because he’s a Stark! Tony’s kid, for God’s sake! Steve! His dad’s hunting us! What if he came here to rat us out? Or maybe he’s just using this as an excuse to skip grounding?”

I froze. Didn’t expect that reaction.

“Tony doesn’t know, Sam,” Steve said calmly. “I’m the only one who does. Peter begged me months ago not to tell. I trust him. He wouldn’t betray us. I’m sure of it. You know me—I wouldn’t take that risk if I wasn’t certain. Not when Bucky’s on the line.”

Sam stopped talking for a moment. He looked at Bucky, who stubbornly kept staring at Steve. Then Sam looked at me and back at Steve, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Alright... If you trust him, I trust him. If you say he won’t betray us, I believe you. Maybe he’s on our side... But he can’t fight. Don’t give me that look—I’m right. You can’t let him into a fight. Maybe he’s talented, but he’s still a KID, Steve!”

With every word, Sam got more worked up. Steve’s excuses only made him angrier.

“Are you crazy? Recruiting a minor to fight? And what fight, exactly!? And you hid him! Worked with him for months! Trained him! He’s not a soldier! He’s a kid—he needs to be a kid!”

“I know that... But we need every pair of hands... The situation’s tight...”

I stood there, stunned, listening to Sam yell at Captain America.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to just stand there, but... I didn’t know what to do. I could’ve jumped in and said I did this before I met Steve, but they’d probably ignore me again. All I could do was wait.

I looked at Bucky. He finally tore his gaze from Steve. He looked at me.

But not like Sam—no anger, no pity, no fear. Not like the Winter Soldier with his hatred.

No... he just watched me. Calmly. Carefully. Curious. Like he was trying to figure something out. I met his eyes. I thought he’d look away. Call me a threat or just a kid playing hero.

But he didn’t. He didn’t smile or make a face—he just watched.

And I don’t know why, but... that look gave me courage.

His clear blue eyes seemed like they could tell a story. Like they’d been through so much and just the fact that they looked at me like that gave me strength.

Only now did I realize—this was the first time I could really look at Bucky. Not during a fight, not in museum photos or Steve’s drawings. I was seeing the real Bucky. In person.

He was pale, thin, but strong—with a face that looked like it remembered a thousand wars. And though he was different from Steve, there was something between them. Something in the eyes. The jawline. The stance.

And then it hit me: It all started because he went to fight. Because he wanted to be a hero. Went to war, doing something good for the country. And then... everything fell apart. What this man had to go through... I didn’t want to think about it.

Suddenly Steve and Sam went quiet. Sam’s jaw was clenched, clearly unhappy. Steve—calm and firm.

I knew who won their argument.

“Okay, let’s make a plan,” Steve said finally, clearly meaning I was in.

I straightened up, ready to listen. We all moved closer, though Bucky kept to the farthest spot.

“Here’s what you need to know, Peter,” Steve started, “that ‘doctor’ who was supposed to check Bucky out... wasn’t a doctor at all.”

“I figured that much,” I said.

“I know... It’s bigger than that. We don’t know exactly who he is, but we know he’s got a plan. A calculated, evil plan. He blew up the UN headquarters, framing Bucky. And now he’s trying to get to Siberia.”

“Siberia?” I repeated. “Why?”

“That’s where the others are,” Bucky spoke up for the first time. “Other soldiers... like me...”

“...If he knows the words to control them, he could overthrow every government in the world before we even realize it,” Sam finished.

I watched them in awe as they finished their sentences. How well they worked together despite their differences.

“Sharon got us gear. Shields, wings, weapons,” Steve continued. “Peter, you’ve got your own stuff. We’re heading to the airport now; flight’s arranged. We’ll meet up with the rest there.”

“The rest?”

“Backup,” Steve corrected. “We managed to recruit Wanda, Clint, and...”

“That other short guy,” Sam sneered.

I raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll see,” Steve smiled.

__

Everything was set. We got into a small, beat-up car. I sat up front next to Steve. Sam and Bucky were in the back.

“Move your leg,” Sam snapped at Bucky.

“Sit in your seat, birdbrain,” Bucky shot back.

“Oh, don’t start with that...”

“GUYS,” Steve cut in. “Please, stop.”

Silence. For five whole minutes.

Then they started arguing again. Over the dumbest stuff. It sounded like a fight between five-year-olds.

Seriously, if someone told me a week ago I’d witness Falcon and the Winter Soldier arguing about how far to open a car window, I’d have laughed.

After an hour we had to stop at a gas station. They gave me money and told me to pay. I was the only one not being hunted by the government at that moment, so... it made sense.

When I got back to the car, I noticed Steve and Bucky sitting off to the side on the ground behind the car. Sam was still inside, not even trying to eavesdrop. But I couldn’t help myself.

I crept over slowly, staying in the shadows—close enough to hear, far enough to stay unnoticed.

“I don’t know if I’m worth all this, Steve,” Bucky said quietly.

“You are. Always have been. Remember? ‘I’m with you till the end of the line.’”

“Yeah, but others break the law too,  to help you. To help me. Even that kid. You said he’s Stark. Is that true? Howard’s grandson?”

“Yes,” Steve answered, his tone lower and heavier.

“He’s got his eyes.”

“I know...”

“He shouldn’t risk himself for me. Especially him. It’s cruel.” Bucky rested his head on Steve’s shoulder.

If they weren’t talking about me, I’d have thought this moment too intimate to eavesdrop on. I should’ve turned away. Left them be. But I couldn’t. I had to know how it’d end.

Before Steve could answer, Sam leaned out of the car and shouted,

“Quit cuddling with your boyfriend and let’s go!”

Steve sighed. Bucky just gave a crooked smile. They got back into the car. I did too.

And we drove off. Straight to the airport.

__

When arrived at the airport I was already bored and had to play games on my phone to stop myself from complaining. Steve told us to wait for the rest of the team. So we waited—hiding behind one of the hangars, feeling a bit like a bunch of kids planning a candy store heist.

Finally, they showed up. In some old, beat-up minivan.

Kind of ridiculous that a group of Avengers—actual superheroes—were sneaking around Europe in that junker. But maybe that was part of the charm.

The van stopped with a quiet screech of tires. The back doors slammed open.

Clint Barton was the first out. Right behind him—Wanda.

My heart literally jumped. Avengers. Real Avengers. And I was working with them. Oh man, I had to keep myself from running up and asking for an autograph.

Steve went to meet them. Clint’s handshake was firm and genuine. I stood to the side, smiling to myself. Clint looked like he hadn’t slept in three days, but that familiar spark was still in his eyes. I knew my dad liked him. I also knew he had kids—some about my age. I’d always wanted to be friends with the Bartons, but Dad never agreed. He was always too cautious.

Clint slowly walked over to me and raised an eyebrow.

“Steve told me on the phone who you are,” he said with a smile. “Nice to finally meet you, little Stark. Can’t believe you’re that kid in the spider suit.”

My face warmed up.

“Spider-Man,” I corrected quickly. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Clint Barton, sir. I’ve always wanted to meet you… and the other Avengers.”

Clint chuckled softly and tossed over his shoulder,

“Tony as a dad wasn’t enough, huh? My kids have the same problem. I’ve been in this business forever, but when Natasha shows up, suddenly she’s the big star.”

Then he patted Sam on the back and moved on.

Wanda came right after him. She was… different. Calm, but something powerful simmered inside her. Like she was holding back something big.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey!” I burst out enthusiastically. “I’m Peter. Peter Parker… Stark. Well, that doesn’t really matter. I’ve always been a fan. Your powers are seriously epic—I can’t believe we’re actually working together now!”

She smiled gently and nodded. Her gaze was calm, but I felt like she was reading me like an open book.

Steve glanced around and asked,

“So where’s your new recruit?”

Clint waved lazily toward the minivan. “He’s there. Just needs some coffee.”

He walked to the back doors and opened them. Inside was...some oridanary guy in a gray sweater and beanie. He looked like he’d just come home from a corporate job, collapsed on the couch, and slept for ten hours straight.

“What time zone is this…?” he mumbled, climbing out of the vehicle.

But the moment he saw Steve, he perked up.

“Wow. Captain America. Captain America!” He grabbed Steve’s hand and shook it energetically, not letting go. “Nice to meet you. Huge fan. Sorry for holding your hand so long. But… wow. Captain America.”

He glanced over his shoulder and noticed Wanda.

“I know you too. You’re great.”

Then he turned back to Steve, a bit more serious.

“Listen, I know you know a ton of super people. So thanks for the chance. Really.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lang,” Steve replied calmly. “But you need to know one thing: standing with us means standing outside the law.”

Scott just smiled lightly. “Not the first time.”

He turned to Sam, trying for a casual tone:

“Heyyy.”

“Hey, Tiny guy” Sam replied with a small grin.

“Listen… sorry about our last meeting.”

“It’s cool. Won’t happen aagai. EVER” Sam said firmly, looking away.

Scott looked awkward. We all just stood there silently for a moment. I just stared at him, frowning a little.

A superhero? Him?

“Scott Lang. Ant-Man,” Clint said like he was reading my thoughts.

Scott looked around at us until his gaze landed on me.

“And who’s this?”

“That’s Spider-Man,” Sam answered before I could speak.

“Really? I thought he was just an internet legend,” Scott laughed. “You got your own TikTok channel or something?”

“No… but maybe I should,” I said with a small smile.

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen.” Scott stepped back.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Sadly, no,” I sighed.

“You sure he can be here?” Scott muttered, mostly to Steve, not me. “He’s only a few years older than my daughter. I think…”

He didn’t finish. Suddenly, a long, loud German announcement came over the airport speakers. Official, loud, unsettling.

We all fell silent. Only Bucky looked toward the sound and sighed.

“They’re evacuating the airport,” he said quietly. “We’ve got maybe ten minutes.”

Steve straightened immediately. Determination burned in his eyes.

“Tony,” he said simply. I felt my heart drop to my stomach. Dad had found us.

“Get changed,” Steve ordered.

Without a word, I grabbed my suit. I pulled the fabric and felt the familiar clicks as the nanotech formed. The red and blue costume hugged me tight.

I was ready.

And I knew he was too. Tony and his team were already close.

Chapter Text

We were all ready. The whole Team Cap — that’s what I called them in my head — stood tight and focused. I felt like this was the moment I’d been waiting for my entire life. A real superhero mission. I was here, with the Avengers, and I wasn’t just helping people in my neighborhood anymore. This was bigger. I caught myself smiling under the mask. My leg bounced slightly — part nerves, part excitement. I could feel the heartbeats of everyone around me, and I knew they were just as tense.

Steve moved first. He stepped out from our hiding spot and sprinted toward the helicopter that was supposed to take us to Siberia. He was just about to reach it when suddenly… my dad showed up.

Iron Man.

I hadn’t seen him in full armor for a while. And yeah — it was different. Upgraded. Sleeker. My inner nerd couldn’t help but geek out, wondering what tech he’d added, how it all worked. I wanted to study it, maybe even tinker with it back in the lab. But another voice in my head reminded me: not now. He’s on the other side. Blood didn’t matter in this moment. Like it or not — we were going to fight.

Iron Man hovered in the air, locked in, ready to strike. He looked serious. Intense. His eyes met Steve’s.

The rest of us stayed hidden, waiting for the signal. Sam had made it clear — we don’t move until it’s absolutely necessary. And he was right. If this plan was going to work, timing was everything. I was sitting next to Scott — or, as Mr. Barton called him, Ant-Man. He was already suited up in his weird costume and looked a little tense. I couldn’t really blame him.

“So... what’s your superpower?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. If Sam Wilson had personally vouched for the guy, he had to be good. Still, I’d never heard of him. “You talk to ants? Control them or something?”

“Uhh, not exactly…” he said.

“Then why ‘Ant-Man’?”

He looked over at me and shrugged. “And why are you Spider-Man if you don’t talk to spiders?”

I paused for a second, then nodded. “Fair enough. So what can you do?”

Instead of answering, Scott just gave me a small smile, slid on his helmet, pressed a button… and vanished. Like, seriously — just disappeared. For two whole seconds I thought he’d straight-up evaporated. Then I looked down… and there he was. Right beneath my feet. Ant-sized.

“Ooohhh. Got it,” I said, grinning. “Ant-Man.”

He grew back to normal size and smirked slightly, saying nothing.

“How does that even work?!” I blurted, suddenly buzzing with excitement. I mean, you don’t see a full-grown man turn into a bug-sized ninja every day. “Is it just the suit, or do you actually have powers? If it’s powers, where’d you get them? And if it’s just the suit, did you build it? Or did someone give it to you? Does it work by itself or does it need, like, some kind of fuel? Are you a scientist? Can you only shrink, or can you grow too? Do you have super strength? I mean ants are crazy strong, so like… makes sense, right? Oh, and can you get so small that you’re basically invisible? Is there a size limit? Oh! And if it’s just the suit… can I try it on someday?”

I spat all of that out in one breath. Scott just looked at me, clearly amused. So did Clint. Wanda was hiding a smile.

“Wow,” Bucky muttered under his breath, shaking his head. For a second I thought he might actually laugh. Great. I’d just managed to entertain a Hydra super-assassin with my motor mouth. I could feel myself blushing under the mask.

Scott opened his mouth to finally answer, but Sam cut him off.

“I hate to ruin this very... wholesome bonding moment,” Sam said, voice steady but with the tiniest smirk on his lips, “but save it for later. We’re moving out.” He turned serious again and pointed. “Clint, Lang,  head upstairs. Better vantage point for covering fire.” Scott shrank down again instantly and jumped onto one of Mr. Barton’s arrows. The two of them disappeared into the upper levels of the airport.

“Me and Barnes are going left,” Sam continued. “We’ll look for alternate transport. Preferably something Stark won’t notice. There should be a Quinjet somewhere in the hangars, we’ll let you know when we find it.” He looked at me and Wanda. “Peter, Wanda, you stay here. Only move if it’s absolutely necessary.”

We both nodded. I wasn’t thrilled about being sidelined, but I didn’t argue. I really didn’t want them thinking of me even more as my dad’s kid. A second later, we were alone. We had a clear view of everything going on, but we stayed put.

Down below, my dad — Iron Man — had already landed. A moment later, War Machine touched down beside him. Rhodey. My uncle.

Both of them hit the ground hard, standing face-to-face with Captain America. I could feel my Spidey-sense tingling in the back of my skull — someone else was here. More people than we’d thought.

I swallowed hard.

“Wow, it’s so weird how you run into people at the airport,” Dad said, pulling his helmet off. Then he looked at Rhodey. “Don't you think that it's weird?”

“Definitely weird,” Rhodey replied dryly.

“Hear me out, Tony,” Steve said, ignoring their banter. “That doctor, the psychiatrist, he’s the one behind all of this.”

But before he could explain further, Prince T’Challa suddenly appeared out of nowhere — in that same black, panther-looking suit. He landed hard, aggressive and poised.

“Captain,” he said coolly.

“Your Highness,” Steve replied with a respectful nod.

“Anyway…” Tony cut in, waving a hand. “Ross gave me thirty-six hours to bring you in. That was twenty-four hours ago. You wanna help a brother out?”

“You’re after the wrong guy.”

“Your judgment is askew!” Tony snapped. “Your old war buddy killed innocent people yesterday.”

“And there are five more super soldiers. Just like him. I can’t let that doctor get to them first, Tony. I just can’t.”

That’s when I heard it — a rapid, nervous heartbeat. A few seconds later, Black Widow stepped out into the open. I’d been right. They weren’t alone. There were more of them.

“Steve…” Natasha said quietly. Steve turned to look at her, and the look on his face — hurt, almost pleading — it hit hard. “You know what’s about to happened,” she added. “Do you really want to punch your way out of this one?”

Steve stared at her for a long moment. His eyes were full of sadness. Like he didn’t want to do this — but knew he had no choice.

“All right, I've run out of patience,” Tony said loudly, then added, “We’re doing this!”

At that exact moment, Natasha raised her hands and aimed her Widow’s Bites — those signature electro-stun things on her wrists — right at him. At the same time, Prince T’Challa moved lightning-fast, kicking Steve and ripping the shield from his hands. He stood tall now, holding it, surrounded by the rest of them.

Steve was defenseless and completely surrounded. Natasha was aiming at him. So were Iron Man and War Machine. And his shield — his biggest weapon — was gone. The prince of Wakanda had just taken it from him.

I glanced at Wanda standing beside me. She’d frozen. Literally. I wanted to tell her it was going to be okay. That we had a plan. I tried not to think about the fact that maybe... they had a better one.

“You’ve been busy,” Steve said calmly, like he wasn’t surrounded and outgunned. He raised his hands, like he was giving up — but we all knew he wasn’t going to go down that easy.

“And you've been a complete idiot,” my dad shot back. His voice... cracked a little. Like something inside him had already broken. “Dragging in Clint...‘Rescuing' Wanda from a place she doesn’t even want to leave, a safe place. I’m trying to keep...!” He paused mid-yell, took a deep breath, then finished, voice low and trembling, “I’m trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.”

“You did that when you sign the Accords,” Steve said sharply.

Even I felt that. Harsh. Brutal. And judging by the look on my dad’s face, it hit him too. I knew how much the Avengers meant to him. He never wanted this split. For a second, I felt a twinge of guilt for choosing the other side... but I shoved it down.

Tony’s expression hardened. He glared at Steve. “Okay we are done,” he snapped. “You’re gonna turn Barnes over, and you’re gonna come with us. Now, because it's us or a squad of J-SOC guys with no compunction about being impolite!...come on, man,” he added, almost pleading.

The tension in the air was thick — like static before a lightning strike. Everyone was holding their breath.

Then I heard it. A voice in my earpiece. I looked at Wanda — she heard it too.

“We found it,” Sam said. “Quinjet’s in Hangar 5, north runway.”

I couldn’t help but smile and looked back at Steve. He stood calmly, like he’d been waiting for that exact update — like things were finally starting to turn our way.

Then an arrow zipped past.

It landed right next to T’Challa. He dodged it with ease, giving Steve a look like Really? An arrow? You think that’s gonna work on me? But what he didn’t see... was Scott — tiny Scott — hanging on to that arrowhead. He launched himself at the last second, landing squarely on Cap’s shield.

“Okay, Lang,” Steve said, shifting into a fighting stance.

Scott instantly grew back to full size and landed a full-force kick straight into T’Challa. The prince was caught completely off guard. Even with all his power, he flew backward and hit the ground hard. I saw my dad’s confused expression — just for a second — before his helmet slid back into place. T’Challa scrambled to get back up, but before he could dive for the shield, Scott already had it.

“I believe this belongs to you, Captain America,” he said, handing it over to Steve.

And right then, I heard my dad’s voice, quiet, muffled by the helmet, but clear as day to me. If it wasn’t for my Spider-Sense, I probably wouldn’t have even picked up on it.

“Okay, Friday scanned the rear. I see two heat signatures. One’s Maximoff. I’m going in.”

And just like that, he blasted off — straight toward our hiding spot. My eyes widened and I instantly turned to Wanda.

"He’s coming!" I shouted. "Iron Man!"

Then I pressed my earpiece again. "What do I do?!"

"Stick to the plan," Steve’s voice came through, a little out of breath — he must’ve already started fighting T’Challa. "Keep your distance. Web ‘em up."

"Got it," I replied, short and sharp. Then I pushed off the wall and I was airborne — ready to go.

Tony was flying straight toward us. I caught a glimpse of Natasha trading blows with Scott, Steve going at it with T’Challa, and Rhodey cutting across the runway toward Sam and Bucky, trying to block their path to the hangar. Clint was somewhere up high, waiting to take his shot. And then... I felt something else. Something off. Vision. But that was for later. Right now, my biggest problem was my dad landing with a boom right in front of me and Wanda.

He hadn’t looked at me. Not yet.

“Wanda, I think you hurt Vision’s feelings,” he said, lifting his repulsor and aiming it right at her.

“You locked me in my room,” Wanda snapped back.

“Okay, first of all: dramatic. Second: I did that to keep you safe.”

I couldn’t help it — I rolled my eyes. Thank god for the mask, because it covered my face. It didn’t cover the annoyed sigh that slipped out, though. Total reflex.

I mean... of course he said it was “for her safety.” That’s how he always justified everything. That was basically my entire childhood. I was sick of it. Sick of how he’d risk his life every day for the Avengers but kept me wrapped in bubble wrap. My whole life was “safety protocols.” He never even told the world about me. We lived in the most secure tower in the country. Every rule, every condition — always about “protecting” me.

I got it. I knew the Afghanistan thing really messed him up. But still. It had been years. And now he was pulling the same lines on Wanda?Yeah, no wonder I was pissed.

She tilted her head, looking at him with that dangerous expression. If we weren’t on the same side, I might’ve actually been scared.

That’s when Tony finally turned and looked at me, like my sigh reminded him I existed.

“Hey, Underoos. Long time no see.”

“Mr. Stark,” I said calmly, crouching low, one hand on the ground, the other raised, classic launch pose. Instinct.

“Sorry you turned down my job offer,” he said, playing it cool. “Guess you got a better deal. What was it? Higher salary? Full benefits? Retirement plan?”

He was joking. But I could hear it — underneath. Disappointment. Hurt. Maybe even... betrayal.

“Right side,” I said quietly. He rolled his eyes.

“Look, kid. There’s a lot you don’t know. You’re not seeing the whole picture, so—”

My gaze hardened. I was done with this.“And you always assume you do.”

Tony gave a dry laugh.“Trust me, I’ve got my reasons. I’m usually right.”

“Exactly,” I cut in. “That’s your problem. You assume you’re usually right. You assume that you’re the best. The smartest. That no one can challenge you. And maybe... maybe that’s why everything’s falling apart.”

He didn’t say anything. Just hovered there a few feet off the ground, still aiming at Wanda, but watching me now. Waiting.

And then I asked the question that had been burning in my chest for years. Short, simple... but it carried a lifetime of weight.

“Why do you assume you’re the smartest in the room?”

“What?”

“Why do you always assume you’re the smartest in the room?” I repeated, sharper this time, while switching the settings on my web-shooter to the electric mode — my latest upgrade.

Tony stared down at me, half annoyed, half amused. “That’s just how it goes, genius. I am the smartest in the room.”

“No. You just think you are. You assume you're right — even if everyone else has to suffer for it.”

“Look, Underoos—”

“Spider-Man,” I cut in. “I’m Spider-Man.”

“Fine... Spider-Man. I liked you, you know. I really did. I saw a future for you — with the Avengers. But clearly that’s not gonna happen. You’ve already made up your mind about me. And that’s kinda dumb, considering you don’t even know me. You don’t know why I do what I do.”

“I know enough to see how you operate. And you know what?”

Tony tilted his head. “Hit me.”

“Soon that attitude may be your doom.”

Before he could reply, I fired — a web-grenade, mixed with a jolt of my newest electric webbing. Deep down, I was silently thankful he’d been too busy lately to notice I’d been sneaking into his lab and making upgrades.

Unfortunately... he deflected it.

Instead of wrapping around him and frying his system — like I’d planned — the web bounced off his repulsor and shot upward, smacking into the upper level of the parking structure. I winced as I heard the crack — sharp and loud.

The roof started to collapse. Cars tumbled like dominoes. My heart stopped. Wanda reacted instantly. Her eyes flared red. She lifted her arms, using her powers to stop the falling vehicles mid-air — not to crush Tony, but to slow him down. Pin him, maybe. Hurt him? Hopefully not kill him.

At least... that’s what I hoped.

After a few tense seconds, he was buried under a pile of cars. I knew he’d be fine. His suit could take it. But still, my heart was pounding out of my chest.

Then I heard FRIDAY’s voice, sharp and urgent: "Multiple system failures detected."

Tony groaned, irritated. "Yeah, thanks, I detected that too."

Only then did I breathe a sigh of relief and jumped back into the fight elsewhere. I glanced one last time at my dad.

And a thought crossed my mind—what if he had been... just a little different? What if he didn’t obsess over the fight all the time? What if he knew how to just stop?

__

I remember when he was kidnapped in Afghanistan. I was barely seven. He was only supposed to be gone for the weekend. Business trip. He did that sometimes. But he didn’t come back for months. Uncle Rhodey and Pepper took care of me. Tried to keep me calm.

“Your dad’s a stubborn man,” Rhodey would say. “When he sets his mind to something, he gets it done. He never stops fighting.”

And he was right. Dad came back. But he wasn’t the same anymore.

For the first few days, he was softer. More present. We actually spent time together, and it felt... nice. But then came the obsession. Security checks. Alarms. Surveillance. He started monitoring everything—my school, our home. And him? He shut down. Worked day and night. Locked himself away. Either he was with me, or he was completely alone.

At the time, I didn’t understand. I thought it was fine. But later, I realized... it was trauma. And he didn’t know how to deal with it.

I spent time with Pepper too, but even she was... distant. Constantly worried. You could feel the tension in the air. Obadiah started hanging around more and more. I used to like him, but after Dad’s kidnapping, his smile just seemed fake. I didn’t trust him.

And just few weeks later, I saw Iron Man for the first time:

I was bored at the California house and snuck into the lab. I wanted to mess around. Maybe blow something up. I had no idea he’d be in there. I saw him hovering in that silver suit, grinning, happy. I remember gasping. I had never seen anything like it.

“Whoa,” I whispered, catching his attention.

“Pete?!” he called out, shocked. He landed immediately and stepped out of the suit. Rushed over, picked me up. “What are you doing here, bambino?”

“You’re a superhero now?” I asked, full of wonder.

He laughed. “No, sweetheart. Not a hero. It' just a project. Forget about it.”

“But it flies! That’s so cool! I’ll never forget this. Not ever!”

“Yeah…” he murmured, “I like it too. But it’s not finished.”

“I know. I can tell,” I said proudly. “It still needs color.”

“Silver’s not enough?”

“Nope. Boring. Make it like that car!” I pointed at his red-and-gold convertible.

“You know what, kid... that’s a pretty great idea. I’ll do it, under one condition,” he said with a mock serious face. “You can’t tell Pepper. She’ll kill me.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” I whispered, tugging on his hair like it was a secret. “But Daddy…”

“Yeah, Pete?” he whispered back, smiling.

“Can we get ice cream?”

He laughed and started walking toward the door. “Great minds think alike. Ice cream... I’ve been thinking about that all day.”

He gave the suit one last look, told FRIDAY to repaint it, and walked out of the lab with me.

That’s how Iron Man was born.

_

And then everything got worse.

Obadiah betrayed us. Turned out he had been scheming for a long time. He tried to kill Dad. Tried to kill Pepper. They said he tried to get to me too—but Dad stopped him before he could even try.I was asleep that night. Totally unaware.

Dad won. Obadiah died. And we survived. I thought it was over. That maybe, after everything, things would finally calm down.

But instead... he told the whole world he was Iron Man. And my life never went back to normal.

_

Two years later, I almost died at the Stark Expo. His robots went rogue and started attacking civilians. Then came the Battle of New York.

I remember sitting with Pepper on a jet, watching the live broadcast as Dad flew a nuke into the portal. He called me.

“Pete?” he said, voice tired, barely audible over the noise.

“Dad?! What are you doing?!” I was crying. “Come back!”

“I love you, kid. More than anything in the whole world. Remember that, okay? I love Pepper. I love Rhodey. I love Happy. Tell them that please... And and remember, I love you most of all, Pete. More than anything. Please remember that.”

“Dad? DAD?!” Then he disappeared into that hole in the sky.

I was ready to fall apart, until seconds later, he came crashing back down. He made it. Hulk caught him mid-air. I saw it all on the screen. He lived. He beat Loki. He came back.

And again, I thought—maybe now it’s over. But no. There was always something else.

The Mandarin. Hydra. Ultron.

He never stops.

One night, a few weeks before the whole Mandarin mess, I walked into his workshop. The place smelled like oil and burning circuits. Helmets and parts were scattered everywhere.

“Dad?”

“It’s late, bambino. Go to bed.”

“You’re not sleeping either.”

“I’m working.”

“But you don’t have to. It’s not even a job. They’re not paying you for this.”

“It’s for safety. Your safety.”

“But you already have so many. It’s enough. You don’t have to keep building. But you still do it non-stop!”

“Kiddo... go to sleep.”

“You too.”

“I will. Once I’m done.” But deep down, I knew—he’d never be done.

“Why?” I asked suddenly.

“Why what?”

“Why do you build like you’re running out of time?”

He looked at me. Didn’t say anything. Just pulled me into a hug. He walked me to my room. Then went into his own bedroom. And then... minutes later, he slipped out again. Back to the lab. Thought I wouldn’t notice.

_

I love my dad. I really do. But looking at him now… I think things could’ve been different. Our life could’ve been quieter, easier, better if, after Obadiah, he’d just stopped. If he’d let us breathe.

I remember telling that to Pepper once. Before they broke up. She looked at me sadly and said, “The world wouldn’t have survived.”

“Someone else would’ve saved it. Another Avenger.”

“Maybe... but Tony? Your dad? He wouldn’t have saved himself.”

“Do you think he’ll ever stop? With Iron Man? With the Avengers?”

“I don’t know... he’s the kind of man who... well... is never truly satisfied. He’ll always want more. Build more. Do more. Save more."

And Pepper was right. I knew it now. He will never be satisfied.

__

I tore my eyes away from my dad and took off, heading toward Steve without looking back. I joined the center of the fight just in time to see Cap and Scott blow up a huge truck.

“Oh, come on!” Rhodey shouted, diving out of the way as the explosion lit up the sky in front of him.

The shockwave hit me like a freight train. I had to cover my ears — my senses were already on the edge of overload.

“My bad!” Scott yelled, sounding like a guilty kid. “I thought it was a water tank! Sorry!”

Then he took off toward the quinjet with the others. I bolted after them without hesitation.

“Oh no, now I’m pissed,” Rhodey muttered, getting up and regaining his balance.

I avoided looking at him and focused on running. Sam and Bucky flanked us from the side, Wanda was right behind me, and Clint, Scott, and Steve led the charge.

“Over here!” Steve shouted, pointing toward the hangar. “That’s our ride!”

We all ran side by side. I could feel adrenaline pulsing through every inch of me. For a moment, I really thought we were gonna make it. We were so damn close. And then... my spider-sense went off.

“LOOK OUT!” I shouted, slamming on the brakes just in time as a giant blue laser beam sliced through the air in front of us, carving a crater into the ground.

Vision.

He hovered above the battlefield, looking down at us with that same calm, unreadable face.

“Captain Rogers,” he said evenly. “I know you believe you’re doing the right thing. But for the greater good… you need to stand down.”

Seconds later, Dad and Natasha landed in front of us. Rhodey and T’Challa joined them almost instantly. We were standing face to face. Like something out of a war movie.

We had the numbers — but they had Vision. My heart was pounding.

“What now, Cap?” Sam asked, never taking his eyes off the other side.

Steve stared ahead, his voice cool and steady. “We fight.” And we charged.

It was total chaos. Everyone against everyone. What used to be a team was now a warzone. Friends had become enemies.

Cap and Iron Man clashed head-on. Blow for blow. Word for word. Not far off, Natasha and Clint — best friends, practically family — faced off on opposite sides.

“We’re still friends, right?” Natasha asked with a crooked smile as Clint knocked her to the ground.

“Depends how hard you hit me,” he shot back with his usual smirk. Nat leapt up, flipped him onto his back, and was about to kick him when—

Wanda caught her mid-move and tossed her aside like a rag doll. I jumped in immediately, webbing Nat to the floor before she could recover.

“Ew,” she muttered in disgust, staring at the sticky mess. “This stuff come out of you?”

“No! I mean— it’s just webbing! I made a special formula in the lab and—”

“Less talk, more fighting!” Wanda snapped as she deflected a barrage of bullets from War Machine.

But he wasn’t done. Suddenly, a new weapon popped out of his suit — blasting us with high-frequency sonic waves.

Wanda screamed in pain, clutching her ears, then collapsed. Thanks to my spider-sense I dodged it, but I saw it, she was down. Our strongest teammate was out.

“Crap,” I muttered, launching toward Rhodey.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw T’Challa laying into Bucky — and not like someone trying to stop a threat. He looked like he wanted to kill him.

This was bad.

I swung up into the air, got above War Machine, and hit him with everything I had,  wrapping him in webs, trying to lock down his suit.

“Hah,” he chuckled dryly. “Kid, you don’t get what’s going on here.”

“Cap said you’d say that,” I replied, tightening the webbing. I shot another line around his legs to keep him grounded. “He also said to aim for the legs.”

“Oh yeah? What else did Cap say?” Rhodey asked, short of breath, trying to lift off.

“He said you think you’re doing the right thing. You are not. But that’s the problem. That’s what makes it dangerous.”

“…That part, he got right,” Rhodey muttered, and then launched a missile straight at the boarding ramp above me.

It collapsed instantly. I caught it just in time — barely. My arms shook under the weight, but I held it. I had to. Couldn’t let it crush me.

By the time I shoved it off, Rhodey was gone, already engaged with Sam. I was exhausted — but I couldn’t stop.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw Natasha break free from my web. “Oh no…” I whispered.

I lunged at her to stop her, but she was fast — striking immediately. Her hits were sharp and precise. I blocked, ducked, dodged — but I was up against one of the best agents in the world.

“Stark was hoping you’d be on our side, Spidey,” she said coldly, never missing a beat.

“Yeah, I know… But I’d rather be on the right side,” I answered, dodging her kick and countering with a web shot.

Then Cap’s voice crackled in my earpiece: “We need backup! Something big! Now!”

I froze, trying to think of something. That’s when I heard Scott’s breathless voice nearby: “I— I think I’ve got something! But I can’t hold it for long!”

Before anyone had time to react, Scott grew. Massive. Giant-Man. The entire airport shook under his feet.

“Holy shit” I whispered, eyes wide as dinner plates.

Then all hell broke loose. My dad and Rhodey tried to stop him, but Scott just casually reached out and grabbed War Machine like he was a toy — completely immobilizing him.

Steve, Bucky, and I bolted toward the quinjet. We sprinted full-speed, weaving through the scattered Avengers. The mission was clear: get Bucky out of here. That was the plan. And get as many of us to Siberia as possible — stop the doctor before it was too late.

We were so close. I could feel it — that tiny spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, we’d pull this off. I wasn’t even thinking about the fact that Vision had taken Scott down, shrinking him back to normal, or that Wanda was still lying on the ground, unconscious. None of that mattered right now. We had a chance. We were doing this. I was helping, and it was working.

We were standing right in front of the quinjet when... Natasha appeared.

She blocked our path, weapons in hand, jaw clenched tight. We froze. This was it. The end of the line. She was going to stop us.

For a long moment, she looked at Steve, then at me… and something shifted in her eyes.

“I’m gonna regret this,” she muttered, lifting her weapon — but not at us. She turned and fired behind us, right at T’Challa, who was sprinting toward the jet. It hit clean — the prince of Wakanda hit the ground hard.

We had a clear shot.

“Thank you,” Steve said quickly.

“Go. Now.”

We didn’t hesitate. We raced aboard the quinjet, and the engines roared to life. The aircraft lifted off, gaining altitude fast. Just below us, Sam flew alongside, covering our escape. I couldn’t believe it. Natasha switched sides. She actually helped us. Oh, Dad is gonna lose it… But we did it. We were flying away.

And then... it happened.

Vision appeared in the air. His forehead began to glow — that beam of energy charging up.

“He’s gonna fire!” I shouted, my spider-sense screaming in every nerve. “Move! Sam, MOVE!”

That warning was just enough. Sam veered away in the last second — barely dodging the blast. But it hit something else.

The beam slammed straight into War Machine’s armor mid-flight. Rhodey dropped instantly. He was falling like a rock, spiraling out of control, nothing to stop the crash.

“Noooo!” I screamed from the ramp, watching him plummet.

“Rhodey!!” Sam yelled, diving after him.

Steve and Bucky had to grab me to stop me from leaping out. “Uncle! NO! NO!!” I shouted, fighting them, desperate to fly down and help.

And all I could do was watch — a heartbreaking sight: My dad, racing toward Rhodey in panic. Vision, hovering in mid-air, frozen in horror at what he’d just done. Wanda, still unconscious below. Sam, chasing after Rhodey with everything he had.

And then… the impact. Distant, muffled — but it echoed like a bomb in my chest. Rhodey hit the ground. Hard.

Meanwhile, the quinjet kept climbing. We were pulling away.

In one last glance, I saw my father kneeling beside my uncle, probably scanning him for vitals. And then — in rage and grief — he fired a missile straight at Sam, who was standing nearby.

They disappeared behind the horizon.

I just stood there. Frozen. Staring into the sky like he’d suddenly come flying back, like he’d tell me he was okay, that nothing happened.

“Pete,” Steve said gently, stepping up beside me. “He’s gonna be alright. Rhodey’s tough. He’ll make it.”

“You don’t know that…” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. And before I knew it, I was wrapped in Steve’s arms. Crying. Completely breaking down in his embrace.

I didn’t care who saw. Didn’t care that Bucky was right there. Didn’t care we were running for our lives. Didn’t care that the world was falling apart.

I just cried. And cried.

Until finally… I fell asleep.

Chapter Text

A Few Months Earlier

July, 2015

 Finally—summer break. That long-awaited moment when I could just stay home and... do absolutely nothing.

Dad was busy with a new MIT project, Pepper had the whole world on her plate as Stark Industries’ CEO, and Ned was off at summer camp, not coming back for another two weeks. Seriously, I’m the son of a billionaire and somehow I still had absolutely nothing to do.

Okay, fine—it was only July. If I overheard right, Dad was planning to take me and Pepper somewhere for the entire month of August. Maybe a yacht trip. Maybe the Maldives. Maybe India. Something in the category of “luxury escape from reality.” But that was still a month away.

I didn’t want to sound like some spoiled brat, so I kept my mouth shut. Those would be big plans. Amazing, even. But sometimes... sometimes I just wished I had something to do. Something more than hanging with Ned or lurking in Dad’s lab. Something that meant something. Something good. Like what Dad does. Like what the Avengers do.

I’ve always loved watching them save people. They looked strong, brave, sure of themselves. Everything I’ve never been.

I didn’t inherit Tony Stark’s charisma or courage. Sure, I got his brain—but I also got this weak, easy-to-break, sickly body. Maybe it came from my mom. I’ve heard she was delicate, often sick. That’s why she died when I was born… and I guess I got that part from her, too.

I sighed and dragged myself out of bed. Checked the time—1:30 p.m. Peak vacation wake-up hour. I shoved on my hated glasses and headed to the kitchen to grab a very late breakfast. What I didn’t expect was to find someone already there.

"Uncle Rhodey!" I called out, practically throwing myself at him for a hug.

"Hey, kid. Don’t tell me you just woke up?"

"In my defense, I was awake two hours ago… just on my phone the whole time."

"We gotta find you something to do," he said, pouring himself coffee. "You're gonna rot away here otherwise."

"Then get me a job in the Air Force," I said, deadpan. Rhodey just barked a laugh and shook his head like that’d be an actual national disaster.

I winced a little. Okay, maybe I wasn’t exactly soldier material, but he didn’t have to make it that obvious. I could survive boot camp… probably.

"What are you even doing here?" I asked, a little annoyed.

"What, can’t visit family anymore?" he shot back, rummaging casually through our fridge. "Seriously? Tony didn’t buy salmon? I had a craving."

"Rhodey, if you're here to talk to Dad, he’s not home."

"Yeah, that’s why I’m here," he said, pulling out an apple and taking a bite. "Ran outta coffee. Figured I’d borrow some of yours."

"You know stores exist, right?"

"Yeah, but this is cheaper."

"You’re rich."

"Yeah, but this annoys your dad. Way more fun." I smirked. Okay, fair point. "And hey," he added, pointing his apple at me, "about that whole ‘you need something to do’ thing—don’t worry. I got you."

__

Turns out he wasn’t kidding. Two days later, he landed me—well, not a job exactly, but something pretty close: a summer internship at the Stark Research Campus.

It was this small, mostly-forgotten lab owned by Stark Industries, located on a research campus just outside New York. Built back in Howard Stark’s day as part of some mysterious project called “Legacy.”

Officially, it was meant for genetic research and extreme environment testing. Unofficially? Not even Tony knew much about it. The whole thing was shut down after some incident in the ’90s. Not long after that, the lab was cut off from the rest of Stark Industries—basically abandoned.

Uncle Rhodey said Dad had recently decided to revive it. They’d modernized the facility, restarted some DNA and cellular adaptation research, even built a small Howard Stark exhibit inside. And for the first time, they opened up a summer program for gifted students. So when Rhodey said he got me in, I practically exploded from excitement.

There was only one thing left to do: tell Dad. And, well, let’s just say he wasn’t thrilled:

"You know I could build you your own lab, like, five floors down, right? With full AI, mind-controlled gloves, and your Spotify playlist synced up? We could work together—it’d be fun."

"But it’s not the same, Dad."

"I know… that’s why I’m saying yes."

My eyes went wide.

"Wait—wait. You mean… you’re letting me go?!"

"Yeah, bambino. Reluctantly. But I think Rhodey’s got a point… you need to get outta the house."

"Oh my god. Oh my god. HOLY SH—"

"Language."

"Right, sorry. Thank you, Dad! I love you!" I shouted, throwing myself into his arms and hugging him tight. I couldn’t believe this was really happening. I ran to get ready for my first day.

I didn’t sleep that night. I lay in bed buzzing like it was the premiere of a new Star Wars movie. I kept picturing myself walking into that lab like a pro. Maybe I’d even invent something big…

The next morning, I put on a crisp white button-up. All the way to the neck—because that’s what real scientists do. Fixed my hated glasses. Redid my hair at least ten times before giving up. I still looked like a high-school clone of Tony Stark, and nothing was gonna change that.

I wasn’t sure what scared me more: being the youngest person in the lab… or pretending I wasn’t Tony Stark’s kid.

Dad was firm.

"If anyone asks, we don’t know each other. You’re Peter Parker—young genius who got in on his own. Which, to be fair, is totally true."

"But—"

"I don’t need anyone chasing you around campus trying to dissect your brain. Or worse—kidnap you. Do you know what a group of rogue scientists would do to get at my DNA? Trust me, it’s for your own good...You sure you wanna do this?"

I looked him right in the eye. "Yeah. I’m sure."

He sighed, like he knew there was no stopping me. Handed me a lunch packed in a sleek Stark Industries container.

"Be careful out there."

"Always." Smiling, I bolted down to the garage, where Rhodey was already waiting to take me in.

__

The lab I was assigned to work in was tucked away in the oldest wing of the research campus. Hanging above the entrance was a rusted sign that read:

“LEGACY – Environmental Mutation & Genetics Study – Est. 1982.”

Inside, I was greeted by Dr. Ellis — the textbook definition of an overworked scientist who looked like he hadn’t slept in three days and had no plans to change that.

“Ah, Mr. Parker, I assume? Rhodes said you’re something special. Guess we’ll see about that.”

“I’ll do my best,” I replied.

“Ground rules: don’t touch anything without gloves, don’t move anything without permission, and stay out of the old storage rooms and restricted areas.”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t want some mutant experiment from the '80s crawling out and eating you alive,” he said in a deadpan voice, cracking the slightest smile.

He laughed. I didn’t.

__

A week into the internship, I was still waking up every morning with the same excitement. By the time I got home each night, my mind was buzzing with everything I had learned.

We were studying genetics, cellular mutation, DNA adaptation… stuff I’d only ever read about in textbooks or niche science articles. Now, it was real. I had access to top-tier equipment, actual conversations with real scientists, and tasks that pushed my brain to the limit.

I finally felt like I belonged somewhere. And with every passing day, I was getting more comfortable.

Until that one afternoon:

I’d stepped out to use the bathroom when I heard hushed voices around the corner. Instinctively, I froze.

“Howard Stark… had some nerve.”

“You shouldn’t be messing with that.”

“I was just curious if the rumors were true. They say he tried to recreate the Super Soldier Serum.”

“Yeah, and people have tried for years. Nothing came of it. Every test subject died. Just leave it.”

“I only wanted to read—come on.”

“They're old files. Didn’t help back then, and they won’t help now. You shouldn't have pulled them in the first place. They belong in the trash,” a sharper female voice snapped.

They kept bickering for a bit longer until finally, they moved on. I held my breath as their footsteps faded. Once the coast was clear, I couldn’t help myself. I had to see what they were talking about.

Quietly, I slipped into the room they’d just left. A while back, I’d accidentally overheard the master access code they used for most of the doors.

Okay… maybe not accidentally. I may have peeked. But in my defense, I was just curious. It wasn’t like I’d been planning to sneak around. Still, I was suddenly very glad I’d remembered it. I made it in without anyone noticing.

Inside, I looked around for clues. On one of the desks, there were old folders — thick binders labeled “Project: LEGACY.”

On the first page was Howard Stark’s name… and a drawing of a spider. I froze. A spider? In a genetics project?

I didn’t have time to dig deeper. I heard footsteps. Someone was coming back. Panic set in. I bolted toward a rear door, assuming it led back out.

It didn’t.

No lab, no familiar hallway — just a long, dark corridor lined with closed doors. I could hear someone entering the office behind me, so I tiptoed deeper into the passageway, doing everything I could to stay quiet.

If I got caught now, they’d definitely kick me out.

Nice going, Parker, I scolded myself silently. This dumb curiosity of yours is gonna cost you the whole internship.

At the end of the hall, I found a heavy, dust-covered door with an old nameplate that read: “Howard Stark – Laboratory Access.”

It was locked with a keypad.

“Damn it…” I muttered.

I tried the master campus code first. Nope.

Then something stupid.

“1234.” Nothing.

“6969?” Still nothing. Right — like my grandfather would use something obvious.

Think, Peter, think!

And then it hit me.

Howard had a son. People love their kids — just look at the kind of passwords my dad uses for his phone and everything else. If my grandfather thought even remotely like that… maybe he used a date.

My dad was born in… so…

I typed in my dad’s birthday.

Beep. Nothing.

“Damn it.”

Think, Idiot, Think. What else did I know about my grandfather? He fought in the war. He was a genius scientist. Dad always joked that Howard loved Captain America more than he ever loved him.

Was there a chance…? I quickly Googled Steve Rogers’ birthday.

July 4th. Seriously? Of course Captain America had to be born on Independence Day. Alright. Let’s try it.

With shaking fingers, I entered the code: 0704

The door unlocked. I let out a breath and slipped inside, quickly shutting the door behind me. My heart was pounding like crazy — but I grinned. I’d done it. I was inside Howard Stark’s secret lab.

__

The room was… old, abandoned.

But it looked like someone had just walked away one day and never came back. Desks, equipment, sketches on the walls. I slowly stepped deeper inside.

There were photos of my grandfather with other scientists, files that had been torn and partially destroyed — like someone really didn’t want this stuff to be found.

Intrigued, I kept looking. Digging through more and more.

I completely forgot I wasn’t supposed to be in here. That I was only supposed to hide for a minute, then sneak back out before anyone noticed. But I couldn’t stop. I was completely absorbed.

So many incredible things —And all of it… It belonged to my family.

I never knew my grandparents. They died in a car accident, years before I was born. Dad barely talks about them — and when he does, it’s mostly about Grandma. I know they were close.

But Howard...? I don’t know more about him than any other kid who had to learn about him in school. So yeah — no surprise I was curious.

My eyes suddenly caught a folder buried under a pile of junk in the far corner. I carefully pulled it out — handwritten notes. My grandfather’s notes.

It felt strange that no one had found them before — not even Tony. This place had to be completely untouched. For years.

Which made me wonder: why? What were they so afraid of?

I couldn’t help myself. I pulled the papers from the folder and slipped them into my backpack, slung over my shoulder. I didn’t even know why I did it.

Maybe I just wanted to satisfy my curiosity — my inner nerd? Or maybe… maybe I just wanted to feel closer to my family.

...

"Technically, it wasn’t stealing, right? It belonged to Howard Stark. My grandfather. So… I can take it" I told myself that as I zipped the bag closed, fully aware I was taking it no matter what.

I just needed the moral permission. To feel okay about it. So I could keep looking around this abandoned lab without guilt.

Other than the torn-up papers, there wasn’t much to get excited about. Most of the cool tech I’d already seen in Tony’s lab — just newer, cleaner, better versions. I walked from desk to desk, shelf to shelf, thinking maybe it was time to leave — when something caught my eye.

A terrarium. Big. Professional-grade. Sitting on one of the side tables.

On the glass, someone had scribbled drawings of spiders, numbers, chemical symbols — And one big warning across the front:

Venomous. Do Not Touch!

That would’ve been fine — except… The terrarium was empty.

And worse — one corner of the glass was cracked. Not shattered, but… punctured. A tiny hole, just about the size of a fingertip.

It looked…Bitten through?

“That’s insane…” I whispered.“Spiders can’t bite through glass.”

Then I heard it. A sound. Something was skittering. Above me.

I looked up and immediately started to sweat. The ceiling was covered in webs. Thick, sticky, stretching from one side of the room to the other. And in them — dozens of spiders.

Big ones. Way too big.

Each one different — like they came from completely different species. And they moved too fast. Too deliberately.

I had no idea how I didn’t notice them before. Now… they were everywhere. And I was barely holding back a scream.

I wasn’t scared of spiders. But these weren’t normal spiders.

A few of them started lowering themselves toward me on webs — like they’d been waiting for me to notice them before making a move. They began landing on me. Crawling across my body.

I started backing away slowly. Then faster. Then full-blown panic.

I swatted the ones off my shoulders, my neck, my back, my hair. Bolted out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me.

Only then did I realize I was shaking. I let out a shaky breath, my heartbeat loud in my ears.

Frantically, I patted myself down, trying to feel if any of them were still on me. I thought I’d gotten them all. I sighed in deep relief.

I made my way back the same route I came, doing my best to stay unseen.

And to my surprise — it worked.

Nobody stopped me.

I don’t know if it was fate or dumb luck, but all the people who almost caught me before seemed to just… vanish. Bathroom breaks. Lunch. Whatever.

I slipped back into the main lab with ease, slid into my usual workstation, and tried to look normal. Like nothing had happened.

Like I wasn’t still buzzing with adrenaline and dying to look through the documents I’d just stolen. Everything was going perfectly.

_

That evening, when Happy came to pick me up like he did every day, I climbed into the car.

“Everything good? How was the day?” he asked.

“Same as always… just tired,” I said. I yawned and let my eyes close for a second. And that’s when I felt it.

A sting.Sharp. Sudden.

Like something had… bitten me. High on the back of my head.

I winced from the pain and reached up to feel what it was. My fingers closed around something small.

Something that… moved.

A shiver went through me.

Sitting in my palm —was one of the spiders. It wasn’t moving. But it was looking at me.

And I don’t mean some random, mindless insect glance. No — this was eye contact. Real, intentional eye contact.

Like whatever was in that tiny body… knew who I was. I froze.

For a second, I couldn’t look away. The air in my lungs felt heavy, and my heart was stuttering — speeding up, slowing down, speeding up again.

Something about that moment was… broken. Or maybe — from that moment on, nothing would be quite right again.

Then instinct kicked in. Before I even had time to think, I crushed it in my other hand.

The spider disappeared with a soft crunch. My hand trembled.

I didn’t feel satisfied. Just… sad. Empty.

Like I’d ended something I didn’t understand. Like I’d just done the one thing I wasn’t supposed to do.

“What was that?” Happy asked, clearly having heard the smack.

“Nothing… just a spider,” I said quietly.

And then my head started to throb. I could feel something changing. Not on the outside. On the inside. The pain grew with every second, radiating from the back of my neck down through my jaw. Like something was moving through me — taking over.

I swallowed hard, suddenly remembering the warning I’d seen on the terrarium earlier:

VENOMOUS. DO NOT TOUCH.

I wanted to tell Happy. I wanted to call my dad. To scream that something was wrong. That it hurt. That it wasn’t just a regular spider.

But I didn’t say anything. Not to Happy. Not to my dad, who — when I finally got home — asked me how my day was, just like always. I nodded. I smiled. I lied. I didn’t tell Ned either. Or Pepper.

I just… stayed quiet.

And when I finally made it to bed, it didn’t feel like falling asleep. It felt like shutting down. Like the power was being cut. It wasn’t just my neck that hurt anymore.

Everything hurt.

My skin was burning hot to the touch — like I had a fever of over 104. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might rip right through my chest.

Something was happening. Something bad. Something… unnatural.

But I was too exhausted to think about it. It was like my brain was short-circuiting. My thoughts were slow, distant, foggy. Logic was trying to scream, “Go to a doctor!” But my body wasn’t listening anymore. It was frozen. So I just closed my eyes.

Not because I felt calm. But because I was sure it would be the last thing I’d do today. Because if I opened them again — I wouldn’t be me anymore. If I even opened them at all.

__

The first thing I felt was hunger. Not like, light morning hunger. No. This was something almost primal — a raw, brutal need. Like my body had just woken up from a long sleep and suddenly wanted everything at once.

And then it hit me — I felt something. I was awake. Alive. And more than that… I felt good.

I jumped out of bed. Fast. Too fast. But nothing hurt — not my head, not my neck, nothing at all. I was breathing deeply, like my lungs were suddenly holding more air than they ever had. Every muscle in my body felt tight, ready, alert.

“Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” I called into the room.

“Yes, Peter?” she replied — and her voice rang in my ears. Literally.

I doubled over, clutching my head. It was like she’d screamed straight into my skull through a megaphone.

“What time is it?” I whispered.

“It’s eight A.M., Peter. You can go back to sleep. It’s Saturday — no lab sessions today.”

“Right, right… thanks,” I muttered, still stunned. Something wasn’t right. Or maybe — too right.

And it just kept getting weirder. F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice still echoed in my head, but not just hers — everything was louder. The wind outside. The dripping faucet in the bathroom. A car driving by, two blocks away.

And the light. It was sharp — like needles in my eyes. Every source of it felt like it was beaming straight at me.

“Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.…” I croaked. “Softer. Please. And… dim the lights.”

“Of course,” she said, much more gently this time.

Only then did I dare open my eyes. Relief hit instantly. My senses calmed down, just enough for me to think again.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., scan me. Am I sick?”

“Your body is exhibiting ideal health parameters, Peter. In fact… healthier than at any point in the past 14 years.”

“…Okay,” I muttered. “That’s new. So what was that? The light, the sound—?”

“It appears you experienced sensory overload. I can gradually increase stimulus levels to help your body adapt.”

“That’d be great, Fri,” I said softly...But I wasn’t really listening anymore.

I stopped the second I caught my reflection in the mirror. I walked closer. Something was off. Something had changed.

I reached for my glasses from the shelf. Put them on. The world instantly blurred. I took them off. Everything was razor-sharp again. Perfectly clear.

“What the…?” I whispered.

I tried it again. Glasses — blurry. No glasses — perfect vision.

My eyesight had healed. Just like that.

I stepped closer to the mirror. Stared at my face. I was… different. Not just seeing better — I looked better.

I pulled off my shirt. And froze.

There were abs on my stomach. Real ones. Not “a faint outline” or “if I flex just right under good lighting” — no. Straight out of a superhero movie.

My shoulders — broader, stronger.

My chest — defined.

My skin — tight, smooth.

Like someone had taken my body and cranked it through a character editor on max settings.

“This is insane,” I whispered in disbelief.

I didn’t even notice F.R.I.D.A.Y. adjusting the lights back to a tolerable level. The world started to feel manageable again.

“If you experience another episode of sensory overload,” she said, “I recommend moving to a dark, quiet space. I can continue to gradually adjust stimuli to help your system acclimate.”

“You’re the best. Thanks. Uh… is Dad home?”

“Mr. Stark is currently in the lab. Would you like me to notify him?”

“No! Please, F.R.I.D.A.Y., don’t tell him what you just saw,” I blurted. My heart jumped. I knew what would happen — panic, tests, quarantine bubble. I just… needed a minute. A minute to understand it myself.

“I’m required to notify him of any changes in your health.”

“Yeah, but only if it’s getting worse, right? And right now… it’s getting better? Right?” I asked, unsure. She paused.

“As you wish, Peter.”

I smiled to myself. And looked in the mirror again. The new me. Stronger. Faster. Better.

“…Freaking awesome,” I whispered. “Now I’m gonna go eat.”

__

Over the next few days, I started noticing more changes.

First, my metabolism. I was constantly hungry. But I wasn’t gaining any weight. I was burning through food at a ridiculous rate. I could eat three full breakfasts and still have room for three more. Bread disappeared like popcorn. Happy started asking if I was planning to open a bakery. And Dad laughed that maybe they’d been starving me at school all this time. Of course, I just smiled it off.

Then came the strength. Not like “I can carry more grocery bags now” kind of strength. I’m talking mythical, physics-breaking strength.

One day, while Dad was down in the lab, just for fun... I lifted the couch. With one hand. Just picked it up and held it in the air. No effort at all. I put it back down and jumped away like it was on fire. That wasn’t normal human strength. It was absurd. Cartoonish.

And then came speed. I could run across the entire roof of the mansion in seconds. I jumped higher than I thought possible — like I weighed half as much. Like gravity had stopped caring. Like I was turning into some kind of superhero.

And that’s when something clicked.

I remembered that conversation I’d overheard in the lab — Scientists talking about how Howard Stark had been trying to recreate the super-soldier serum. He wanted to make a new Captain America.

Continue the legacy.

…Is that what this was?

Was I some kind of new Cap? Was the spider carrying super-soldier serum?

I started reading. Devouring every bit of info I could find on the serum, on Steve, on the experiments. I started analyzing every part of my transformation. And at first, everything lined up. I could do all the same things.

But then one morning, I leaned my hand on the wall and… I couldn’t pull it off. I was stuck.

Slowly, I lifted my other hand and touched the wall with it too. Stuck.

Then I raised one foot and pressed it to the wall. That one stuck as well. I had no idea how it worked, but somehow I was clinging to the surface. Then, cautiously, I raised my other foot — the last thing keeping me grounded — and I just… hung there. Attached to the wall.

I took a deep breath and started climbing. Up the wall. Like a spider. Before I knew it, I was on the ceiling. Just sitting there. I didn’t fall.

Even though I was upside down, I didn’t feel blood rushing to my head. It felt completely natural.

And I knew, without a doubt, Steve Rogers couldn’t do that. This wasn’t the super-soldier serum. This was something else. Something… spider-y.

So I started training. Learning.

__

I told Dad I was backing out of the summer internship at the lab. He was shocked.

Pepper and Rhodey were even more surprised. And I felt a little guilty — they’d worked so hard to set that up for me.

But I told them I’d be done in two weeks anyway, and I wanted a real break during summer. Said I was a teenager, and I needed time off — not more work. They understood. They agreed.

They didn’t need to know that wasn’t the real reason. I backed out because I needed time. Time to figure out what was happening to me. To test the limits of my new abilities.

Every morning I left the house early. I practiced wall-running, tested my strength, tuned into my senses — which, by the way, were basically radar.

I could hear more. Feel more. The air moving. Vibrations through the ground. Every little sound.

_

One day while climbing, I lost focus and slipped off a pretty tall wall. Slammed into the ground — hard. Normally, I would’ve broken something.

But now? Just a bruise. A small one. And weirder still — a few hours later, it was completely gone. No mark. No pain.

My healing was on a whole different level. All of it was. It didn’t follow any logic. No rational explanation…

And that’s when I remembered. The files.

The ones I stole that day from Stark’s basement archive. Project Legacy. I’d been so caught up in the spider stuff, I’d completely forgotten about them.

I locked myself in my room, sat on the bed, and pulled the papers out from the bottom of my backpack. Documents. Notes. Howard Stark’s personal files.

 “Project LEGACY aims to reconstruct the super-soldier serum using modern biotechnology.

Primary obstacles: No Erskine. No Compound X.

We’re attempting a new route – spider organisms show strong genetic adaptability.”

That’s what it said on the first page. Below that — equations, chemical formulas, DNA structures.

And under those — two photos of Steve Rogers, taken during the war. Before and after taking the serum. The difference was dramatic.

I flipped through more pages — mostly technical data. Thanks to everything I’d learned during my internship at the Stark Foundation, I could at least understand some of it.

I knew which spiders they used. Which elements.

But one question kept burning in my head: Why am I still alive? The spider gave me something incredible... but it should’ve also killed me. It was venomous. And yet… I survived.

I turned another page. Finally — fewer equations, more handwritten notes.

 “Initial tests show that spider DNA can transfer traits to other organisms.

Problem: rejection. None of the test subjects survived the transfer.

The venom acts too quickly. It kills before the serum can take effect.”

Underneath, someone — probably Howard himself — had scribbled a rushed, barely legible note:

 “Theoretically... we need something that allows the genomes to merge smoothly. Something like… special DNA.”

I kept reading, growing more frustrated. And then something fell out from between the pages.

A small, thin, old CD. One word written on it: LEGACY. I froze.

“Hey, Friday?”

“Yes, Peter?”

 “Do we still have a CD player anywhere in the Tower?” The AI went silent for a moment. Even though CDs weren’t that ancient, my dad hated outdated tech. He replaced everything with the latest models. I hoped one relic had survived.

 “Check the old workshop on the tenth floor,” she finally replied.

I let out a breath.  “Thanks, Fri.” I ran to the elevator.

Inside the workshop, I found a TV with a disc slot. With trembling hands, I slid in the CD and hit play.

The footage was grainy, but clear enough. A lab. The same one where I’d found the disc.

Howard Stark stepped into frame. I’d recognize him anywhere. The face of my grandfather still appeared in old photos, articles, history screens.

“Year: 1991. December fourteenth,” he said. His voice sounded like my dad’s… but also completely different. “Time: 10:08, if we’re being precise.” He smiled, but then his expression sobered as he looked straight into the camera.

 “I did it. It worked. Two weeks without sleep, my wife made me crash on the couch, but... I did it. Or at least I think I did.” He was speaking fast, full of excitement.

 “I haven’t tested it yet. But the data checks out. It has to work. All that’s left now is… the trial.”

He looked toward a terrarium. I knew what was inside.

“Honestly, I’m a little scared. But if this works… Project LEGACY will succeed. We’ll carry on Captain America’s legacy. And the world… needs a new hero.”

He paused. Then stared directly into the lens — as if looking at me.

“If I’m going to test it… I have to start with myself. We don’t have any other candidates. I’m recording this in case something goes wrong. If I die — abandon this project. If I don’t — fix what needs fixing, and move forward.”

I froze. My eyes were wide open, my hands shaking on my knees.

My grandfather had created something that actually worked. That’s why I’m still alive.

 “When Steve Rogers died, I didn’t just lose a friend. I lost my life’s work. The serum we created — Erskine and I — it was gone. Hydra took everything.”

Howard pulled out a jar filled with glowing blue liquid — the serum.

“We tried to recreate it. We injected small doses into several volunteers… nothing. Their bodies rejected the substance...After a few tweaks, it did take… but the volunteers changed. They became wild. Aggressive. Unstable. That kind of result — that’s what Hydra wanted, not us.”

He shook his head.

“That’s when I realized: we need something more biological. Something that adapts naturally. Something that bonds with DNA without massive machinery.” He paused. Then smiled slightly.

“That’s when I had the idea: spiders. Strong. Fast. Can walk on walls. Brilliant creatures. If we could merge their traits with the serum… The result could be even more powerful than Rogers. This— This could change the course of history.”

I looked down at my hands. I was the result of this experiment

Howard continued:

“The venom was the problem. It killed all the volunteers. The non-venomous spiders were too weak. We had to use the venomous ones — but it never worked. Human and spider DNA… they just wouldn’t bond. Too different.Unless…” Howard looked ahead proudly and smiled.

“…Unless they were specially programmed.” He turned the camera toward a terrarium. Inside — about ten large spiders.

“I created my own spiders. Genetically modified. Programmed to work only with my DNA.”

I froze.

“Or the DNA of my child… and potentially their children. And knowing Tony — that might be quite a few,” he added with a dry, ironic smile.

I stared at the screen. I couldn’t look away. I’m his grandson.

And somehow — I inherited just enough of his genes for the spider not to kill me. To give me these powers.

“I’ll secure the gene sequence. The spiders you see here… they’ll die. I don’t even know which are originals anymore. There were two at first. Now there’s a whole mutant family. They breed like crazy. In theory, they all carry the DNA I need, but I’m not taking chances. Once I return, I’m getting rid of them. The fewer radioactive spiders in this world, the better. One is enough.”

Howard looked directly into the camera — serious, sharp.

“Two days from now...December sixteenth, my wife and I are going to a conference. There, in the second lab, I’ll test everything. I’m taking the serum with me. If it works — it’ll be destroyed. Too dangerous to keep around. I’ll leave only one portion. For our future candidate. A new soldier — like Rogers.”

He took a deep breath.

“If someone’s watching this… If you’re the one who got my spider. Please. Don’t let us down. You’ve been given great power, and with great power… comes great responsibility. From now on… history has its eyes on you.”

The screen went dark.

I sat there motionless, staring at the screen as it slowly faded to black. Howard disappeared — but his words kept echoing in my head:

"With great power comes great responsibility."

But something kept nagging at me. Why didn’t he end up testing it on himself? Why weren’t there more recordings? Why was there nothing else left?

I started wondering… what did happen next?

I quickly typed his name into the search bar: Howard Stark – date of death.

And then I saw it. December 16th, 1991.

Two days after the recording. Exactly like he said. He was supposed to go to a conference. Take the serum. Test the new spider.

That was the day everything was supposed to begin again. That was the day he was supposed to create a new hero.

And instead… he died. A car accident. There were countless articles. Headlines shouting about the tragedy, the loss of a genius, about his wife.

But as I scrolled through page after page, there wasn’t a single mention of the serum. Not one word about any materials recovered from the crash.

Like everything had just… disappeared. Like it never existed at all.

I didn’t know what it meant. Did someone take it? Hide it? Was it just an accident… or something more? I had no way of knowing. Not now. Maybe not ever.

But I knew one thing for sure: What he made… what he created… now lived in me. That was all that was left of his work. Of his legacy. And I couldn’t waste it.

I clenched my fists, feeling my heart pound faster. Thoughts swirled through my mind — but one was as clear as a beacon in the dark:

I’m not throwing away my shot. 

He wanted a hero. So that’s what he’ll get.

__

The next day, before the sun had even fully risen, I went down to Dad’s old lab. The place I used to just observe from the sidelines…now became the place where I got to work.

I didn’t wait. I didn’t ask anyone for permission.

I started with the basics — materials I recognized, the kind I’d seen in use before. Tear-resistant fabric tech. Motion-compression systems.

I designed a suit that would move the way my body now could. Then came the web formula. Inspired by the structure of actual spider silk. Light. Elastic. Unbelievably strong. Perfect.

Web-shooters — compact, precise, wrist-mounted. They worked exactly how I imagined.

And finally — Karen. The AI.

Not as advanced as FRIDAY, but smart enough to guide me. She started learning from me — and I learned with her. After returning from vacation with Dad and Pepper… everything was ready.

That’s how Spider-Man was born. Not by chance. Not some cosmic joke. But by choice. By a legacy that shouldn’t have survived.

And yet… it survived in me.

Now.  May 2016.

Quinjet:

I woke up suddenly, like someone had yanked my power cord out of the wall. My heart was pounding, my hands were slick with sweat, and Howard’s voice still echoed in my head:

"With great power must come great responsibility."

I blinked. Where…?

My head was resting against the seatbelt, the seat was hard as a rock, and through the window I could see only clouds and the gleam of the Quinjet’s wing.

Reality hit me like a wave.

Quinjet. Siberia. The Winter Soldier. The airport fight. Rhodey… oh, Rhodey.

I ran a hand over my face. That dream — my memory — was still clinging to me. I hadn’t thought about that day in a long time.

The bite. The days right after. Howard. Everything that changed.

I didn’t know why my brain decided to dredge it up now. Maybe nerves. Maybe the fact that my spider-sense hadn’t stopped buzzing since the second I stepped on board.

Even in sleep, some part of me was screaming that danger was coming. Something big. I clenched my hands on my knees. They were still shaking a little.

Then I heard a whisper. Soft. Warm. From the far side of the cabin.

Steve was sitting next to Bucky, leaned in slightly, one hand on his shoulder. He was speaking in a low voice. I couldn’t hear it all — just bits and pieces.

“…not your fault…”

“…you’re not alone, Bucky…”

“…it’s gonna be okay. I promise… to the end of the line, yeah?”

Bucky didn’t say anything. He stared at the floor, jaw tight. He had that look — cold, hard — but it was obvious he was fighting a storm inside.

Steve gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Their eyes met.

They didn’t need to say anything else. That one look held everything. History. Pain. Anger. But also something softer. A wordless kind of care.

I looked away, embarrassed. Not because they were, like, hugging or anything — it was just… private. And I felt like I wasn’t supposed to see it.

My brain whispered only one thing: give them this moment.

So I focused on the hum of the engines and tried to pretend I hadn’t just witnessed the softest look Captain America had probably ever given anyone. I tightened my seatbelt and glanced down at my hands.

“Oh, Pete,” Steve said a moment later, noticing I was awake. “Good to see you. You feel okay?”

“Yeah… I think so,” I mumbled.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bucky still sitting quiet — but a little more at ease now.

Steve hesitated, then added,

“If it helps… I got in touch with Natasha. She’s off the grid, still hiding from the government, but she found out Rhodey survived. He had surgery… but he’s gonna be okay. Not sure if he’ll be walking any time soon, but I’m sure Tony’s taking care of him...As for the rest of the team… unfortunately, they were arrested. But we’ll handle that later. I’m not gonna let them rot in prison.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. Rhodey was alive. My uncle was alive. Maybe hurt, but alive. Everything was going to be okay.

“Thank God,” I said — and for the first time in days, I really smiled.

Steve gave me a pat on the shoulder and headed toward the cockpit.

And I was left alone with Bucky.

We sat in silence for a while. Awkward, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that felt... strangely familiar. I wasn’t afraid of him. I knew he wasn’t the same Winter Soldier anymore.

Eventually, Bucky was the first to speak.

“You’re Stark’s kid, right? Howard’s grandson?” He asked it suddenly, like he’d been debating with himself for a while. Like he’d forgotten he was allowed to ask questions at all. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was true.

I blinked, surprised he’d started a conversation. “Yeah, that’s me… You knew my grandfather, didn’t you? I heard you talking with Steve earlier.”

“I did,” he replied with a faint, sad smile. “I knew him well… You’ve got his eyes, you know?”

Then he looked away, like he couldn’t bear to stare into the same eyes Howard once had. I didn’t understand why.

The silence returned, and Mr. Barnes looked even sadder than before. I wanted to cheer him up. I just didn’t know how.

“Hey… you know, if you ever had your own toy line, it’d probably be called ‘The Winter Plushy’? Or like, ‘Bucky Bear.’”

Bucky stared at me stone-faced.

“Or not. Okay. Sorry. Bad attempt.”

He just looked at me — and then… the corner of his mouth twitched. Barely. But it was there. A smile.

The Winter Soldier smiled. Mark it down.

Before I could say anything else, Bucky spoke again, clearly a little more comfortable now. “You know you talk in your sleep?”

I blinked, startled. “What? Oh no. Seriously? Loud?”

“A little. But nothing understandable, so relax.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice. Tiny, but definitely there.

“Oops… Sorry.” I scratched the back of my neck. “Maybe it’s stress. My spider-sense… it’s kinda like a sixth sense. It’s been freaking out lately. Like it knows something bad is about to happen.”

“Maybe it does,” Bucky shrugged. “Or maybe you just have really crappy instincts.”

“Could be both.” I smiled slightly — then decided to ask a risky question.

“Hey, Mr. Barnes—”

“Just Bucky.”

“Uh, okay, Bucky… do you… I mean, you and Steve… um, you know. Are you guys… like…you know...umm like a thing...Or something...”

Bucky’s eyes went wide. He stared at me, completely thrown off. I never thought I’d see that look on his face.

“WHAT?” he asked, his voice kind of… panicked?

“Hey, no judgment. Seriously, none. You can trust me. I don’t see anything wrong with it, really. I was just wondering. It’s just… the way you two look at each other, it’s kind of… well, you know. And I was just curious. I didn’t want to upset anyone or overstep or anything. It’s just… you know.”

“I…” Bucky started, then stopped. It looked like he was building the sentence in his head.

“Well… me and Steve… I don’t know. It’s just… there’s a lot going on right now, and I… I’m a mess. Totally screwed up… sorry for the language...What I mean is — I’m not the same Bucky he remembers. And I don’t know... I still don’t remember everything. And him… he wants the old me back. And I don’t know if I can be that. Even if I wanted to, there’s just so much happening, there’s no time to even think about… that. I haven’t even let myself think about it and…”

“Okay,” I cut in before he spiraled further. “I get it.”

Bucky smiled faintly at me, and we sat in silence again. After a moment, I said, “But never say never.”

Mr. Barnes looked at me — and actually snorted. A real, honest laugh.

“You’re unbelievable, kid.”

“Always at your service,” I replied, giving a mock bow.

I smiled to myself — and suddenly I got it. Why Steve cared about him so much.

“I like you,” I said, and Bucky’s jaw dropped in surprise. “You’re kind. And you can be trusted.”

I expected a lot of reactions — a smile, a nod, maybe even a “thanks” or a “I like you too.” What I didn’t expect was for him to drop his gaze and go totally quiet. He looked like a very sad puppy.

And for a moment, I thought I saw tears in his eyes.

“Listen, kid…” he finally said, voice low and shaky. “I have to tell you something… about your grandparents. I…”

But before he could finish, the cockpit doors slid open. Steve was back, pulling on his gloves.

“We’re heading out. Landing in a minute.”

We looked at each other. Siberia.

“You can finish later,” I told Bucky with a smile. He gave me a faint nod, and we started getting ready.

A few moments later, we landed.

We were ready. As ready as we could be.

Chapter Text

The moment the Quinjet’s doors opened, an icy wind cut straight through me, cold enough to reach my bones. The air was dry, heavy. I looked ahead—white. Just white everywhere. Snow covered everything.

Siberia. No doubt about it.

My spider-sense was going crazy—more than it ever had before. But it wasn’t the usual “Incoming bullet, left side!” or “Duck, someone’s about to grab you!” kind of warning. This felt… deeper. Like it was screaming at me about the place itself. Like it knew I shouldn’t be here. That something was going to happen. Something bad.

But there wasn’t a better option.

Steve stood at the ramp, ready to move. Bucky was checking his weapon, his eyes cold and focused, like he was already a few floors underground in his head.

“You want something, kid?” he asked flatly, jerking his chin toward the weapon stash. His tone wasn’t hostile… but it wasn’t warm either.

A chill ran down my spine. I kept wondering what he’d been about to tell me earlier—about my grandparents—before Steve cut him off. One second he’d been that surprisingly decent guy I was starting to connect with, and the next, he was back to the cold soldier. It had to be serious.

“No, thanks,” I said quietly. I couldn’t even imagine pointing a gun at someone, let alone… pulling the trigger. “My webs are enough.”

“Suit yourself,” he muttered, moving to stand next to Steve. I stayed a step behind them—ready, but tense. I wanted this to end once and for all. Save the soldiers. Stop the man responsible.

But Steve and Bucky didn’t move yet. They just stood at the opening, looking out at the snow, like they didn’t even need to talk to know what the other was feeling. After a moment, Steve finally spoke—not to me, and not about the mission. He just… started reminiscing.

“You remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?”

“Was that the time we used our train money to buy hot dogs?” Bucky asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. A real smile. Gentle. The kind you wouldn’t think belonged to a guy who’d spent decades as a weapon. I watched from behind, feeling more and more like a third wheel.

“You blew three bucks trying to win that stuffed bear for a redhead,” Steve said.

“What was her name again?”

“Dolores,” Steve answered without missing a beat. Like he had every girl Bucky ever dated in the ‘40s memorized. “You called her Dot.”

“She’s gotta be a hundred years old by now.”

“So are we, pal… so are we.” Steve gave Bucky’s shoulder a pat, and they just stood there for a moment, staring at each other—intensely. Like they were speaking more with their eyes than their words. Like the rest of the world didn’t exist outside that second.

I didn’t want to interrupt, but this was a mission, not a nostalgia trip. And honestly, I was getting tired of being sidelined.

“Hey! Not to ruin your little moment, but maybe save the flirting for later?” I called out, pulling my mask over my face.

“What?” Steve whispered to himself, sounding genuinely confused about where I’d even gotten that idea.

“We’ve got a job to do, right?” I added, heading down the ramp.

The snow swirled around me. A freezing gust slapped the back of my neck, and I thought—not for the first time—that what I really needed right now was a cup of hot cocoa more than my web-shooters. I turned back. The two super-soldiers were finally following.

We reached what looked like a massive rock. But from the other side, there was an entrance. A bunker. Buried deep underground.

The doors were open. The doctor had already been here.

“He can’t have been here more than a few hours,” Steve said, peering into the darkness.

“Long enough to wake them up,” Bucky replied, moving inside.

With every step, my spider-sense screamed louder. Not sharp, not specific—just this constant, suffocating wrongness. Everything about this place was bad. Everything.

No matter what we did next, it felt like we were walking straight into a tragedy we couldn’t stop. Steve went in first. I followed. Bucky closed the gap behind us.

We stepped into hell.

__

We were descending in the elevator, the metallic groan of the mechanism echoing through the narrow shaft. I had no idea what we’d find at the bottom. Maybe nothing. Maybe a nightmare.

Without realizing it, I drifted closer to Steve, like just standing in his shadow might make me feel safer. Less alone.

“You okay, Pete?” he asked quietly, his voice carrying that familiar note of concern— the kind you usually reserve for family.

I gave a small nod. Weak. Not convincing, and he knew it.

Steve sighed. “You know… you don’t have to do this. You could still back out. Wait upstairs in the Quinjet. You’ve already done more than enough. I just… I don’t want to put all of this on you.”

I smiled faintly, almost apologetically. “A little late for that now, isn’t it?”

He let out a short breath of a laugh, but his eyes stayed soft. “Yeah… guess so.” He hesitated. “It’s just… I hate the thought of you losing your childhood over all this.”

I glanced at him. He genuinely meant it.

“My fate was sealed the day that spider bit me,” I said. It was true… just not the whole truth. Technically, my fate had been set long before that—on the day Howard Stark created his special super-serum and programmed it into spiders designed to work only on Stark DNA. My DNA. I’d never told Steve that. Back when he was still my mentor—before all the chaos—I was afraid that if he knew, he’d see me differently. I knew how much he respected Howard, what they’d been through together. I didn’t want to break that.

So I’d stuck to the safe, old version: radioactive spider, escaped from some lab.

Steve gave a small nod. “Yeah… I suppose so.”

Suddenly my spider-sense flared, spinning out of control. Stronger every second. We were close. Too close.

The elevator stopped with a soft clunk, and the doors slid open to reveal a hallway swallowed in shadows.

Bucky stepped out first, rifle up and ready. Steve followed with his shield raised. I crawled onto the ceiling, gliding above them. Safer for me—and better for the element of surprise.

A burning feeling twisted in my gut. This was bad. Really bad.

The base looked like an old, forgotten storage facility—empty, cold, silent… until I heard footsteps. Still far enough away that Cap and Barnes couldn’t pick them up, but my senses caught them easily.

“Someone’s here,” I said, turning toward the sound. Steve nodded and motioned for us to move in.

We stopped in front of a huge, metal blast door. Whatever was behind it… could be anything. Bucky raised his rifle higher, Cap shifted behind his shield, and I stayed above in my usual Spider-Man crouch.

The noises grew louder—metal striking metal, without any attempt at stealth.

“You ready?” Cap asked as the door began to creak open.

We both nodded.

A flash of gold glinted in the gap, streaked with red. My heart stopped. No… could it—?

Yeah. Iron Man. My dad had found us.

He walked toward us at a calm, measured pace. Steve leaned out from behind his shield, surprised. Tony lifted his faceplate and stopped halfway, scanning each of us in turn. His gaze lingered on me for a beat, like he was trying to solve a puzzle—figure out what was behind the mask. But then Steve cleared his throat softly, and Dad’s focus shifted back to him.

“You seem a little defensive,” Tony said in his usual cool, confident tone.

“It’s been a long day,” Steve replied, stepping forward slowly. He glanced around, as if expecting a squad of soldiers to storm in any second. I might’ve thought the same thing—if my spider-sense hadn’t stayed quiet. Not a twitch. Whatever else was going on, my dad wasn’t here to attack us.

I dropped from the ceiling, landing next to Bucky. He stayed tense, rifle still aimed square at Iron Man.

“At ease, Soldier. I’m not currently after you,” Tony said, noting Barnes’ stance.

I frowned. Wait… so Dad had switched sides? “Then… why are you here?” I asked before I could stop myself.

He gave me a slightly puzzled look but shifted his eyes back to Steve.

“Could be your story’s not so crazy… maybe. Maybe I wasn’t right this time.” He paused. “Ross has no idea I’m here, and I’d like to keep it that way… otherwise I’ve gotta arrest myself.”

“Well, that sounds like a lot of paperwork,” Steve said with a small smile, lowering his shield.

A spark of hope lit up inside me. Maybe… maybe this was it. Me, Cap, and Dad—on the same side again. Maybe everything could still work out.

“It’s good to see you, Tony.”

“You too, Cap… sorry for before… you know,” Tony said, giving him an almost apologetic look. I nearly forgot to breathe. My dad didn’t apologize often. Ever, really. Once over selling weapons. Once over Ultron. That was it. Seeing him apologize to Cap? That was a shock.

Steve gave a small nod, telling him it was okay. Iron Man smiled, relief flickering over his face.

“So… alliance? Cap and Iron Man, back together?” I asked, grinning—forgetting to change my voice like I always did around him. If he noticed, he didn’t let on. Just smiled and nodded.

His eyes flicked to Bucky, who was still gripping his rifle tight. “Hey,” Tony called out in that signature tone of his. “Manchurian Candidate, you’re killing me. There’s a truce here. You can drop it…”

Bucky glanced at Steve. Only when Cap nodded did Barnes finally lower his weapon.

Within moments, the four of us were moving again. I leapt back up to the ceiling, crawling just above Steve’s head. Stark glanced upward, squinting.

"That crawling thing you do? Gives me the creeps."

I smiled apologetically—then remembered he couldn’t see it through my mask. "Sorry," I said softly.

Tony turned to Steve. "How old is this kid, anyway? Do you even know who he is?"

Steve looked at me, and I shook my head. The less Tony knew, the better.

"Not the time. If Spidey wants to tell you who he is, that’s his call," Cap said, then added while looking straight into my eyes, "…and I hope he does it soon."

I sighed and looked away.

"So, how’d you even know I was telling the truth?" Steve asked, glancing at Tony.

Stark exhaled and brought up a hologram. An image of a man floating lifeless in a bathtub appeared—grim and unsettling.

"Ugh, gross," I muttered, turning my head. "I’m gonna hurl." Tony quickly shut the image off.

"This guy was supposed to be the shrink for our friend here—" he nodded at Bucky "—a top psychiatrist who could’ve helped us figure out what the hell is going on. Instead… last night he was found dead in his own tub."

Another image popped up—this time of the man who had been posing as the doctor in Berlin. Bucky visibly flinched at the sight. Steve instinctively grabbed his arm. Tony noticed but didn’t comment, just raised an eyebrow.

"FRIDAY ran his ID… Helmut Zemo. Baron. Soldier. From Sokovia," Tony said. Steve’s posture immediately stiffened.

"Oh…" Steve breathed.

"Yeah. I don’t know how he got all his intel or exactly what he’s after, but in his hotel we found a synthetic face mask and a wig."

"And that means…?" I asked, still not seeing where this was going.

Tony gave me a look like I’d just failed basic math. "It means that while they look a little fake in person, on grainy old street cameras, they can make you look like someone named Sergeant Barnes." He pointed straight at Bucky.

"Ohhh…" I muttered, finally getting it. "The UN thing."

"Yep." Stark turned to Steve. "Guess you were right after all."

Cap just gave a faint smile. "Only thing that matters now is we’re on the same side. This base is crawling with super-soldiers, and we need to find them—before Zemo does."

Tony nodded, and we kept moving deeper into the base. We hadn’t gone two minutes before I got that sinking feeling—like we were walking straight into a trap.

"He’s waiting for us," I whispered, my voice shaking.

"How do you know?" Tony asked.

"I just… do," I said, not knowing how to explain the crawling dread in my gut.

The long hallway finally ended. We stood before the entrance to a massive, pitch-black chamber. The air was heavy, suffocating—like something out of a horror flick. Along the walls stood rows of heavy cryogenic pods.

I dropped silently to the floor and crept closer, wanting a better look. As we stepped inside, every pod suddenly lit up with a pale, cold light. I froze.

Each one held a person—frozen, trapped. The super-soldiers Bucky had warned us about.

But the worst part? I couldn’t hear their hearts. Nothing. Aside from ours, I caught just one other… and maybe a second, far off. Could’ve been my paranoia. But the soldiers? Nothing. No sign of life.

"They’re dead…" I whispered, my stomach knotting. I’d never been this close to so many dead people at once.

Steve gave me a wide-eyed look and set a comforting hand on my shoulder. A chill ripped through me—that kind of warning you just can’t ignore. Then, from the speakers above, came a calm, almost gentle voice laced with menace:

"If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep."

I knew that voice instantly. I’d heard it in Germany. Zemo.

I glanced around, tense. He was here. I could feel it. Disaster was coming, but no one else seemed to realize.

Steve moved forward, searching for the source. We followed.

"Did you really think I wanted more of you?" Zemo asked.

"What the hell?" Bucky muttered, staring at the dead super-soldiers.

"I'm grateful for them, though," he said calmly. "They brought you here."

Suddenly, another light switched on, revealing the massive steel doors, thick as tank armor. Behind the glass stood him — Helmut Zemo. I shuddered at the sight of his calm, confident face.

Bucky aimed his rifle at him, Tony raised his gauntlets, and I mentally prepared for a fight. Steve was the first to move — he threw his shield with full force at the door. The metal rang hollow, and the shield bounced back almost unaffected.

"Please, Captain," Zemo said with contempt. "The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets."

"I'm betting I could beat that," Tony growled.

"Oh, I'm sure you could, Mr. Stark. Given time," Zemo replied confidently. "But then you'd never know why you came."

At that moment, I sensed another presence. Someone alive. Not a warning of an attack — just the awareness that someone was there. I turned my head and saw a figure in the shadows. The black, feline outlines of a mask. King T’Challa.

He stood still, not attacking Bucky, just listening. Our eyes met. He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling me to be silent. I don’t know why, but I trusted him. I nodded slightly, and he slipped back into the shadows, continuing to listen.

"You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?" Steve asked, shifting my focus back to Zemo.

I was glad he said that. It meant the King of Wakanda would hear the truth. Understand who really killed his father.

Steve stepped closer to the door, looking Zemo straight in the eyes.

"I've thought about nothing else for over a year," Zemo hissed. "I studied you. I followed you. But now that you're standing here… I just realized… there's a bit of green in the blue of your eyes." He chuckled softly. "How nice to find a flaw."

I felt chills down my spine. I’d seen Loki, Ultron, the Mandarin, and many others... but there was something about this man that made him seem the most dangerous of all. Not because he was a monster… but because he was just a man.

"You're Sokovian," Steve said, responding to Zemo’s earlier monologue. "Is that what this is about?"

"Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell," Zemo answered calmly, but with a clear threat in his voice. He stepped a little closer, and I could now clearly see the hatred in his eyes as he looked at the Captain. "No. I'm here because I made a promise."

His gaze shifted from Rogers to me. For a split second, I saw a strange gleam in his eyes. Satisfaction. As if everything was going according to plan. The Captain didn’t notice — he was too focused on analyzing his words.

I, however, felt like Zemo was looking at me a little too closely. Like there was a hint in his eyes: "I know who you are… and what runs through you."

"You lost someone?" Steve asked quietly, his voice filled with sadness.

Zemo tore his gaze away from me and looked back at Rogers. He took a deep, heavy breath. For a moment, he looked like he was truly in pain. Maybe, if he weren’t a mass murderer, you could feel sorry for him.

"I lost everyone," he finally said. Steve straightened up, understanding the weight of those words. "And so will you," Zemo added, then turned on his heel and pressed a button behind him.

I felt a threat on a scale I had never experienced before. Every nerve in my body screamed: Run. Now. My spider-sense was pulsing wildly. I closed my eyes, bracing for a blinding flash of an explosion. But instead of a bang — I only heard the familiar crackle of an old monitor powering on.

I slowly opened my eyes. On one of the dusty desks in a corner of the room, the screen lit up with a greenish glow. I furrowed my brow, trying to figure out what was happening.

"An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again," Zemo whispered loud enough for us all to hear, but soft enough to sound like a threat spoken straight into our souls. "But one which crumbles from within?... That’s dead. Forever."

Tony took a slow step toward the screen. I followed him, even though deep down I knew it was the worst decision we could make. Moments later, the four of us were staring at the monitor as the video began to play.

And then... I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. On the recording, I saw a familiar interior — a lab I knew all too well. I glanced at Dad. His face showed he hadn’t connected the dots yet… but that was only a matter of seconds.

Because right after that, out from the camera’s view stepped none other than Howard Stark.

Dad gasped sharply.

My heart froze. I already knew what this footage was. I turned my gaze to Zemo. He was staring straight at me — smiling in a way that said: This is exactly what I wanted.

"What is this?!" Tony’s voice cut through the air like a blade. He pointed at the figure of my father on the screen, his eyes burning with anger and shock. His gaze locked onto Zemo.

"The truth. The plain truth," Zemo replied with a smile that looked more like triumph than joy. "The full footage is very long, so I left you... the best parts." He paused, then slightly inclined his head toward Bucky, who flinched. "I had to shorten it. Because there’s a second thing you need to see afterward."

Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand, trying to calm him. Both of them looked at the video.

"We shouldn’t watch this…" I whispered, feeling fear squeeze my throat. "This is going to end badly."

No one listened to me. Their eyes were glued to the screen, as if Howard’s voice alone hypnotized them. On the footage, Howard smiled faintly and began to speak:

"Year: 1991. December fourteenth. Time: 10:08, if we’re being precise." My heart stopped. I knew this film. I knew what was about to happen.

I looked around. Steve looked at me questioningly, clearly worried. He knew it was my grandfather, but had no idea where this was going. Bucky looked like he was about to cry. Dad… just stared shocked, as if trying to find logic in what he was seeing.

I still didn’t understand why Zemo was showing this. What was so important about it? At worst, they’d learn how I got my powers — but that shouldn’t break the Avengers… right? The footage jumped a few seconds ahead. Howard continued:

"When Steve Rogers died, I didn’t just lose a friend. I lost my life’s work. The serum we created — Erskine and I… it was gone. Hydra took everything… We tried to recreate it. We injected small doses into several volunteers… but the volunteers changed. They became wild. Aggressive. Unstable. That kind of result — that’s what Hydra wanted, not us."

I looked at the dead super soldiers in the chambers around me and felt something tighten in my stomach.

"That’s when I realized: we need something more biological. Something that adapts naturally. Something that bonds with DNA without massive machinery… That’s when I had the idea: spiders."

Tony and Steve looked at me at the same time. I looked away. I felt my cheeks burning and my heart pounding in my ears.

Howard kept talking, unaware that his words were tearing me apart inside:

"The venom was the problem. It killed all the volunteers. Human and spider DNA… they just wouldn’t bond. Too different. Unless… they were specially programmed."

I clenched my fists. I already knew what I was going to hear.

"I created my own spiders. Genetically modified. Programmed to work only with my DNA… for now, of course. Just for the test... if this will work, I will create a new one with new DNA for our new hero... But for now it works only for my DNA...... Or the DNA of my child… and potentially his children. And knowing Tony that might be quite a few."

I felt Steve’s gaze burning into the back of my neck. He understood now. Dad… still seemed to be defending himself against accepting it, his eyes darting from the screen to me and back. I saw tears beginning to well in his eyes.

Howard continued:

"Two days from now… December sixteenth… my wife and I are going to a conference. There, in the second lab, I’ll test everything. I’m taking the serum with me. If it works — it’ll be destroyed. Too dangerous to keep around. I’ll leave only one portion. For our future candidate. A new soldier — like Rogers."

Then it hit me. Hydra killed him. Took the serum. Created their own soldiers. That’s why he died on the road that day. That’s why he never finished the experiment, why Project Legacy was shut down. And why no serum was found at the accident site.

__

Dad looked at me now without any barriers. I saw the pieces of the puzzle starting to come together in his mind. One glance at me seemed to say "yes, it’s possible," and the next — "no, it makes no sense." Like he was trying to convince himself he was wrong.

He opened his mouth, wanted to say something… but the voice got stuck in his throat. He closed it, swallowed, tried again:

"Please…" he started quietly, but his voice trembled "please, tell me I’m wrong."

"I…" I began, but the words wouldn’t come out.

Tony shifted his gaze to Steve. There was something between pain and anger in his eyes. He pointed at me.

"Who is he?" he asked sharply.

"Tony, I…"

"WHO IS HE?! Simple question. WHAT IS HIS IDENTITY?!"

"Tony, listen to me…" Steve tried, but Stark wasn’t listening anymore. He looked at me again. This time tears glistened in his eyes.

"Steve… please. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you didn’t bring my boy here…" His voice broke.

I felt my heart tighten in my chest. I couldn’t stay silent any longer. "It’s not his fault…" I finally said, no longer changing my voice around them. Now I sounded just like myself.

Tony took a half step back. He recognized me. "P… Pete?"

I reached for my mask, slowly took it off. I looked him straight in the eyes, trying to speak calmly, though fear squeezed my throat.

"Please, Dad… I didn’t plan this… none of this…"

"No… no, no, no…" he shook his head, pacing in circles. "How? Why? Damn it, why?! Fuck it! Why my son? My little son! Fuck, why?!"

"Sweet family, huh?" Zemo interrupted.

"SHUT UP!" Tony roared, but kept pacing like a predator in a cage.

"When I heard about Spider-Man, I thought it was just another new hero. Nothing special, these days every country has one. But then I found this recording… and I realized only Stark could be him. Of course, it’d be stupid to assume Iron Man is secretly a friendly neighborhood spider too. It meant there was someone else out there… carrying Stark DNA."

"So I started digging. And imagine my shock when I found out that famous Tony Stark, playboy and murderer, has been playing family for fifteen years. One time, the "playing the woman" didn’t end so well. A little mishap, and he’s born."  A mocking smile appeared on Zemo’s lips as he looked at me." Peter Parker, the boy who kept his mother’s name, who died in childbirth. A boy so pathetic his own father won’t publicly admit him… And then I was almost delighted when I discovered that this son plays hero… without his knowledge."

Tony looked at me again. There was pain in his eyes, but also something I was afraid to name.

"And when I found out that son has been training with Rogers for months… who knows his identity but doesn’t tell his so-called friend… I knew I had to use it."

"Rogers?" Tony looked at Steve questioningly. He lowered his gaze, guilt written all over his face.  "He’s 15 years old for Christ’s sake! He’s still a kid and…"

"Dad, I’ll explain…" I started, but Zemo cut me off.

"No, no… family therapy later. Now I have something else to show you."

"WE DON’T WANT ANYTHING FROM YOU! "I shouted, feeling my rage growing inside.

But he just clicked another button. The screen behind us changed image. Now it showed a dark, empty road at night.

A cold wind seemed to blow even through the speakers. I didn’t see what was so important about it, I wanted to focus on the crisis of my secret identity. To calm the situation down. I turned back to Iron Man. But he had already averted his gaze from me and was staring at the screen.

"I know this road…"  he said quietly. I looked there too and froze seeing the date in the corner. December 16, 1991. The day my grandparents died.

Suddenly a car appeared in the recording, speeding wildly. Tires squealed, headlights cut through the darkness, until the vehicle slammed into a big pole with a deafening crash.

Tony took a few steps toward the screen. He kept throwing me short, broken, piercing glances.

A motorcycle emerged from behind the wreck. It stopped abruptly. A man got off. No — a shadow of a man. Long hair covered his face, and the only clearly visible part was a metal arm shining in the headlight’s glow.

I glanced instinctively at Bucky. He was curled up, like every inch of his body tried to hide from this image.

"Help my wife…" I heard a soft, pleading voice of my grandfather barely escaping the wreck. He was injured, crawling on the ground.

The Winter Soldier approached him and brutally grabbed his hair, forcing him to kneel and look him in the face.

Howard froze. Something between fear and disbelief showed in his eyes. "Sergeant Barnes?" he whispered, recognizing his tormentor.

"Howard!" my grandmother Maria Stark’s scream tore through the silence from inside the car.

Tony looked at Bucky like at a murderer. Harshly, sharply, with anger that could burn everything around. But Bucky didn’t move an inch.

Tony shifted his gaze back to the screen. He caught one last glimpse of the Soldier punching my grandfather in the face. Once. Twice. Again. And again. Again and again. Punch. Punch. Punch. Each one heavy, debilitating. I heard the crack of breaking bones, saw blood running down Howard’s cheek. I looked away — afraid that if I saw one more punch, I’d never forget that image. I covered my face with my hands, fearing I might vomit.

"Howard! "Maria shouted again as her husband’s lifeless body collapsed onto the asphalt. Tony flinched, as if someone had stabbed him in the heart.

The Winter Soldier grabbed my grandfather’s body and brutally shoved it back into the car, seating him in the driver’s seat. Then he went around the vehicle to the other side. Where Maria was sitting.

I heard my dad take a deep breath, as if trying to hold back a wave of anger and pain.

Bucky leaned toward my grandmother. Grabbed her by the throat. Looked her in the eyes until her last breath left her body. When it was over, he approached the camera recording this. Aimed. Shot.

The image went black.

__

I looked at Bucky now, understanding what he tried to tell me earlier. My first impulse was anger. Fight or flight. This man killed my grandparents. Brutally, with cold blood.

But then I remembered that it really wasn’t him. It was Hydra. They forced him. Tortured him. He had no choice, no control. If I had to blame anyone, it was the agents who sent him. Hydra. Every person who had a hand in it except Bucky himself, who was also a victim.

I looked at Dad.

He looked… broken. Like someone ripped his heart out and stomped on it. Too much. Too fast. Too many wounds opened at once.

I felt a sudden impulse in my body — an instinctive warning. And a second later Tony lunged at Bucky like a furious lion.

"Tony… "Steve grabbed his arm.

Dad stopped. For a fraction of a second, he looked at me — that look was a mix of pain and love. Then he turned back to Steve. They stood so close their foreheads nearly touched.

"Did you know? " he finally asked. His voice was quiet, but heavy in every word.

I froze. Could… could Steve have known? All these months when I trusted him completely, when he was my mentor, could he have known the truth… and not told me or my dad?

I looked at Captain. Guilt was so clear on his face you could almost reach out and touch it.

"I didn’t know it was him… " he said quietly.

"Don’t bullshit me, Rogers! "Tony snarled like a wounded beast. "Did you know?!"

Steve hesitated. He looked at me as if seeking permission in my eyes to tell the truth… but in my mind, I begged him to deny it.

"Yes."

That one word shattered my world.

I took a step back. Tony did too. Steve Rogers. Captain America. The man I trusted without limits. The man I considered a friend. He knew. And stayed silent."

"Why?" I whispered.

"Pete, listen…" he began, but Tony cut him off:

"First my son, whose life you're risking, and now this?! How many more secrets does the famous Captain America have?! What else are you hiding, Rogers?!"

"Tony, please…" Steve tried to explain, but Dad wasn’t listening.

He smiled to himself in a way that unsettled me. That’s when I felt it — he was about to attack. My instinct screamed to warn: "Steve, watch out!"

But… I didn’t. Maybe out of betrayal, maybe shock. I just stared blankly as Dad fired a repulsor blast. Steve flew two meters back, hitting the wall.

Bucky immediately drew his weapon. A burst of shots ricocheted off Iron Man’s armor, and Dad was already rushing at him. First hit. Second. Another.

At some point, he grabbed Bucky by the throat and lifted off into the air.

"Dad!" I shouted.

"Don’t get involved, Pete!" he snarled, landing with the Winter Soldier and slamming him into the ground so hard the floor shook. "Go somewhere safe and don’t move from there!"

I stood frozen. Then Captain’s shield flew past me and hit Dad’s armor with a dull thud. Steve jumped on him and kicked to the side, but Dad caught him and bound his legs with special metal cables.

Bucky got up and started protecting his friend, attacking Tony again and again. Iron Man pushed him away like a rag doll. The next moment Steve broke free and lunged at him with all his might.

Two super soldiers against one man in a steel suit. The fight was fierce, brutal, and so even I had no idea who would win.

I stood in the middle of this hell, paralyzed.

I couldn’t choose a side. I couldn’t hurt Steve, even though he betrayed me. I couldn’t help Dad either, because he… he wanted to kill Bucky. Even though he knew about the brainwashing, the torture he endured, all he saw was a thirst for revenge.

Steve didn’t hold back either. He defended his friend with a fury that could kill. I felt like vomiting.

"Peter, I told you: get out of here before something happens to you!"  Dad yelled, aiming the repulsor at Bucky’s head.

Bucky pushed his hand away, and the blast hit one of the metal capsules standing in the room. There was a crack, and the soldier’s body inside fell onto the floor.

I looked around nervously. I felt like I was about to panic. I wanted to stop this, to stop… someone. The one who really started this. And then I remembered him. Zemo.

I dashed to the door where he had been standing earlier. It was open.

"Damn, he got away…" I whispered.

I wanted to shout to them that the real enemy was free, that this needed to wait. I screamed. No one heard me. So I ran.

__

Cold air hit me the moment I stepped outside. I stopped and listened. I could hear voices, but they were too far away. Then, like he stepped out of the shadows, he appeared around the corner... him.

"Oh crap, it’s you..." I said, my voice shaking.

"Hey, kid," the prince replied quietly.

"Zemo got away, he... he..."

"I know where he went. He’s close." He turned and started walking ahead.

I looked at him, unsure what to do, until he suddenly looked back at me, waiting.

"You coming?"

"What? Oh... yeah, sure," I stammered, rushing to catch up.

"So, you’re Stark’s son, huh?" he said with a clear Wakandan accent. "That’s the last thing I expected."

"Oh... so you heard? Oh shit, should I say Your Highness? Sorry, I... I don’t know..." I started babbling nonsense, like I usually do when I’m stressed.

"You can just call me by my name. It’s okay." He looked at me closely. "And yeah... I heard the whole conversation. Everything."

"So you know he’s innocent," I said softly.

T’Challa looked at me from behind his mask and slowly nodded. "Yes... Turns out Sergeant Barnes is just as much a victim as my father or many other innocent people."

"But my dad... he’s trying to kill him! Brutally!" My voice shook, tears started streaming down my face again. I wished my mask was still on inside so no one could see how much I was falling apart.

"Stark is acting on emotion," T’Challa said calmly, his tone low. "Even though he admitted he was wrong before, now he feels betrayed. He listens to instinct, not reason."

"I feel betrayed too," I said, looking down at the ground. "Steve hurt me. I don’t like what he did... but I’m not trying to kill anyone!"

"I tried," he answered without hesitation. "I tried to kill Barnes before I understood the truth. One piece of evidence that he killed my father was enough to send me into a rage. Your father’s going through the same thing. Now he doesn’t think about Barnes being controlled. All he sees is that his friend hid the truth from him... and the truth about his only child."

I looked at him. "I never meant to lie to him. I never wanted it to end like this. I just wanted to... do something good."

"And you are," T’Challa replied. "You chose the side of truth, even if it meant going against someone you love. You stand up for a suffering man. You regularly help people selflessly. And now... instead of joining a brutal fight that won’t end well, you’re coming with me. You want to catch the real enemy."

"And what if..." I hesitated, "they kill each other? I don’t think I can handle it if one of them dies."

The prince looked at me seriously. "That will be their choice. All three of them are great warriors. But if it helps, I don’t think they’re capable of killing each other. Definitely not Stark and Rogers."

I nodded, trying to believe it, even though the sounds of the fight still echoed in my ears. Screams, hits, the metallic clang of a shield.

"What are you going to do?" I asked quietly. "When we find Zemo?"

T’Challa sighed and said, "I don’t know yet." But I glanced at the sharp vibranium claws extending from his gloves and figured out what he was planning.

"You can’t kill him," I said pleadingly. "Then you wouldn’t be any better than him... or my dad."

The prince looked at me but said nothing, just kept walking. I followed beside him.

Not long ago, just the thought of walking beside the prince of Wakanda would have made me the happiest kid in the world. Now I just wanted to turn back time. Never go to that lab. Never get these powers. Just be a normal teenager worried only about a math test.

"Oh man... a math test," I muttered out loud.

T’Challa turned to me slowly, lifting his helmet. He looked at me like he was thinking, seriously? Now?

“Sorry,” I muttered, feeling myself flush.

The sounds of the fight hit me again in waves. I pressed my hands over my ears, but it didn’t help.

“He didn’t have control, Tony! He didn’t want this!” Steve yelled in the distance.

“I don’t care! He killed my mom!” my father growled, followed by a series of gunshots.

I stared at the ground, trying to focus on anything else. Then I noticed the cat-like helmet in T’Challa’s hand.

“Why do you even dress up like a cat?” I asked instinctively, figuring it was better than listening to the chaos behind us.

T’Challa raised an eyebrow, but when he saw my downcast face, he understood I was just trying to distract myself.

“That’s not a cat,” he said calmly. “It’s the Black Panther. Protector of my country for generations.”

“That’s vibranium, right?” I asked, glancing at the black armor’s surface.

He smiled slightly. “Yes.”

“But how? The textbooks say my grandfather collected the last of that metal...”

“The truth is, no one in the world really knows Wakanda,” he said with a hint of pride. “It’s a beautiful country, more advanced than any other. We have endless vibranium and technologies you can only dream of. But we stay hidden. The world only sees what we want it to see.”

“Wow...” I breathed out. “That sounds incredible.”

T’Challa smirked softly. “It is incredible.”

We walked in silence for the rest of the way until I suddenly felt someone else’s presence. T’Challa sensed it too. We stopped and looked ahead. Sitting on a rocky ledge, phone in hand, was Helmut Zemo. He was playing the same voicemail over and over.

The prince stepped forward first.

“I almost killed the wrong man,” he said to announce himself.

“Hardly an innocent one,” Zemo replied without looking up, as if he expected us.

“This is all you wanted?” I asked sharply. “To watch them tear each other apart?”

A fake smile appeared on his face, but his eyes showed pure indifference.

“Oh, Peter... what a surprise. I thought you’d join the little brawl inside.” I said nothing. Every word felt pointless. Zemo continued: “You weren’t my target, if that worries you. No hard feelings. You’re a charming kid, I won’t deny it. Sorry for the brutal last few days. You were just an extra link, needed for the plan to work. A side dish to consume Stark entirely. And now... what you do doesn’t matter anymore.”

T’Challa took a step toward him. “And what does matter?” he asked calmly.

Zemo took a deep breath, like he was ready to confess something he’d carried for a long time.

“My father lived outside the city...” he began quietly. “I thought we’d be safe. My son was excited. From the car window, he saw Iron Man. I told my wife, ‘Don’t worry. They’re fighting in the city. We’re far from danger.’”

His voice broke, but he went on. “When the dust settled... and the screams stopped... it took me two days to find their bodies.”

I closed my eyes. A lump rose in my throat. Images of destroyed Sokovia and hundreds, maybe thousands, of innocent people lost filled my mind.

“My father...” Zemo’s voice grew quieter. “Still holding my wife and son. And the Avengers? They went home.”

T’Challa stepped closer. I did too. At that moment, I couldn’t even hear the fight behind us anymore. Only this conversation mattered.

“I knew I couldn’t kill them. More powerful than me tried. But... if I could make them destroy themselves...” He stopped, and I nervously glanced toward the base. I knew I’d have to go back and stop them before something irreversible happened.

Zemo looked at the prince. “I’m sorry about your father. He seemed like a good man. With a devoted son. ”

T’Challa retracted the claws on his glove. “Vengeance has consumed you... it’s consuming them. I’m done letting it consume me.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. At least there wouldn’t be another murder...for now.

“Justice will come soon enough,” the prince added.

But Zemo wasn’t listening anymore. A gun appeared in his hand. He raised it, aiming the barrel at his own temple.

“Tell that to the dead,” he whispered.

Without hesitation, I shot a web. The weapon was ripped from his hand and flew to the side before he could pull the trigger. A second later, T’Challa subdued him and twisted his arms behind his back.

“The living aren’t done with you yet,” he said coolly.

T’Challa cuffed Zemo, then without a word led him toward the black jet. He pushed him inside, making sure the handcuffs were tight and that Zemo had nothing on him that could cause harm. Only then did he turn to me.

I stood frozen, staring at him. “What now?” I asked quietly.

“I’m taking him to a high-security prison,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Then I’m heading back to Wakanda.”

“And what about...?” I trailed off, knowing exactly who I meant.

His gaze hardened.

“What they do now is their choice, Peter. For your own good, you shouldn’t get involved.” He stepped closer. “You’re a young, talented, smart kid... You have a bright future ahead. You can come with me. To Wakanda. Everyone will welcome you with open arms. You don’t have to get mixed up in any of this. You’re a victim in this story, just like many others... Kids your age shouldn’t be fighting for their lives. They shouldn’t be skipping school to fight Avengers around the world. Wakanda offers safety. Peace. Rest. I think that’s what you need.”

My throat tightened. Wakanda? Would I just leave? Run away from it all?

“I...” I hesitated. “My dad’s there. And Steve... I can’t just leave them. I’m angry with them, sure... but I love them. And Bucky... if they kill him, then what? And if they don’t? If he keeps living as a wanted mass murderer? What kind of life is that?!”

T’Challa narrowed his eyes, weighing my words. “If you ask, I’ll help Sergeant Barnes. I owe him that. But right now, my priority is to take this man where he belongs before he hurts anyone else.”

“And what if by then they’ve all killed each other?”

“That won’t be your fault anymore. It’s not your duty to save them.”

“Here the prince is right,” Zemo suddenly spoke, making me jump since he’d been quiet until now. He lifted his head and looked at me with strange calm. “Even if you go there, no one else will see it. If you don’t go, no one will find out either. No one will blame you. No one will even know what happened there. Just like many other things from today. No one knows... and no one ever will... because no one else was in the room where it happened.”

I froze. The way he said it sounded like a challenge. And in that moment, I felt I had made my decision.

“Sorry...” I said, looking at T’Challa. “They’re my family. I have to stop them.”

The prince gave me a serious look. “Are you sure?”

I glanced at Zemo, who smirked slyly, clearly pleased my answer was what he expected.

“Maybe... I just want to be in the room where it happens.”

Zemo raised an eyebrow but said nothing. T’Challa nodded. He didn’t look happy, but I felt he respected my choice. Respected me.

“I’ll be here for another twenty minutes,” he said calmly. “I need to prepare for takeoff.”

I understood what he meant. This was my time. My twenty minutes to possibly change my mind. I turned and ran back toward the base, my heart pounding in my chest.

__

I burst into the room and saw… my father. He was holding Bucky down, brutally wrenching his metal arm from his shoulder. Bucky screamed in pain.

“DAD, STOP!” I yelled, but it was too late. The metal snapped free with a crack and fell to the floor, and Bucky slumped down beside it, breathing hard.

Tony glanced at me for a second, then refocused on his target.

“PETER, WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE?!” he roared, dodging a blow from Steve’s shield while looking for a way to finish off Bucky.

“HE WASN’T IN CONTROL! YOU CAN’T KILL HIM!” I shouted, running toward them, feeling like the distance between us was a marathon.

Dad frowned in anger.

“WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON?!” he screamed. “GO TO A SAFE PLACE OR YOU’RE GROUNDED FOR LIFE—”

He didn’t finish. Steve hit him from the side, knocking him to the ground. Before I could react, Captain lunged at him with his shield, striking again and again. Every hit was heavy, brutal, full of rage. I saw Steve raise the shield high, ready to deliver the final blow.

“Steve!” I was beside him now, grabbing his arm. “Please…”

He stopped. Looked at me with that soft, almost apologetic gaze. Lowered his shield.

“Sorry, Tony… for today,” he said quietly. “…but he’s my friend.”

Dad lay on the ground, looking at him with pure contempt.

“So was I…” he hissed, then quickly threw his own shield at him. Now it wasn’t about Bucky anymore. They were just fighting each other.

“YOU LIED TO ME!” Tony struck as if every word was a punch. “YOU STOLE MY SON, DRAGGED HIM INTO THIS WAR KNOWING HE’S FIFTEEN! YOU TURNED HIM TO YOUR SIDE AND NOW YOU DEFEND THE KILLER OF MY PARENTS?!”

His voice cracked on the last word. Steve didn’t back down, knocked him down again, and with a powerful hit to the reactor, disabled his power suit. Dad fell, breathing heavily.

I looked to the side—Bucky was sitting, leaning against the wall, grimacing in pain. I ran to him and helped him up.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Why are you helping me?” he whispered in disbelief.

“Because it wasn’t your fault.” I pulled him to a safer spot, then turned back to the scene between Steve and my father.

“You don’t deserve that shield,” Tony snarled. “My dad made it.”

Steve stared at him for a moment, then… dropped the shield. Walked over to me and Bucky, wrapping his friend’s frail shoulder with his arm. He looked at him like he was his whole world. Everything he’d do would be worth it for him. Then he looked at me questioningly.

“You coming with us, Pete?” I shook my head.

“I don’t blame Bucky for anything… but you… you lied to me, Steve. You asked for help with Hydra without saying it was about my family. Don’t ask me to trust you again.”

Steve swallowed hard but said nothing.

“Go,” I added. “…and hide well.”

Bucky gave a weak smile. “You’re a good kid.”

I nodded slightly and smiled back at Bucky, avoiding Steve’s gaze. Then they left. I heard the Quinjet take off.

I walked toward Dad, picking up my mask from the ground and crouching beside him.

“Are you hurt?” I asked coldly.

“Pete… you shouldn’t be here. Or see this,” he whispered. “Sorry I didn’t notice how far apart we’re drifting… that I didn’t see how much you’ve changed… That you got these… these powers.”

“Are you hurt?” I repeated, sharper this time.

“Peter, please…” he tried to get up but slumped back down. He was hurt.

I put on my mask and turned on the comms. “Karen, tell Vision and Rhodey Iron Man is injured. Send them my coordinates.”

“Help’s on the way,” I said, removing the mask.

“Good... Pete, we’ll go home… we’ll do it together. Fix everything. Solve this…” His voice trembled.

“Together?” I raised my voice, tears filling my eyes. “Like when you ignored my screams that Bucky was controlled and didn’t want to hurt anyone? I saw you, Dad. You were ready to kill them… even if I stood right there.”

“Bambino, you don’t understand many things yet.”

“Oh, I understand far more than you think,” I answered sharply. Dad didn’t reply. He was too exhausted. I glanced at my phone’s clock.

“Help will be here in an hour. You’ll manage.”

I turned and headed for the exit.

“Where are you going?! Peter! You’re not going to Rogers! He’s long gone… Peter, come back! PETER! ”

I didn’t. I walked on, mask in hand, tears streaming down my cheeks. When I reached the hangar, T’Challa stood by the jet, arms crossed.

“Less than sixteen minutes… that went fast,” Zemo mocked from inside.

“Shut up,” T’Challa growled. He looked at me, and in his eyes, I saw something I desperately needed—calm. “Get in, kid. Wakanda heals.”

I wiped my tears and gave a faint smile. “Thank you… for everything.”

T’Challa nodded. And we flew away. Far from Siberia. Far from war. Straight to the gentle peace of Wakanda.

Chapter Text

I woke up in a bed so soft, it felt almost ridiculous. For a moment, I just lay there, letting the warmth of the sheets and the give of the mattress sink into me. Then I stretched slowly, feeling muscles that had been tense for far too long finally loosen up.

From somewhere in the distance came the smell of fresh fruit—so strong it made me want to get up right then and see what was on the table. In the background, I could hear children laughing, the sound of play carrying through the sun-warmed air.

I stepped out onto the balcony of my guest quarters and, like every other time, froze in place. The view… it just stole your breath away, no matter how many times you saw it. It was another world. Towering skyscrapers, straight out of a sci-fi movie, blended seamlessly with wild, lush nature. Everything pulsed with life—colors, sounds, movement.

It felt like I’d stumbled into a place that could only exist in dreams.

T’Challa had personally chosen this room for me—and it was obvious he’d put some thought into it.

Honestly, I’d been shocked they even let me stay here. When I first arrived in Wakanda, I figured I’d get an unused apartment somewhere, maybe even a little hut on the outskirts of the city. I wouldn’t have minded, really. But the prince—and the entire royal family—had decided I deserved a room in the palace. And they had more than enough guest rooms to spare.

So for the last two weeks, I’d been waking up inside the royal residence of the King of Wakanda, in a place that looked like paradise… but still felt foreign to me.

Those two weeks had been… strange. Not good, not bad—just different.

Mornings started with breakfast out on the terrace with the royal family. Shuri would always slide some kind of exotic fruit my way—stuff that looked like it had been designed for a space opera.

T’Challa was polite and calm, though I could tell he was watching me more closely than he let on.

Ramonda… she had that “grandma” energy, the kind where she could scold you one moment and pull you into a hug the next, and somehow you’d forget what you were even arguing about.

I wandered the gardens, learned about their customs, practiced bits of the language, and even trained a couple of times with the Dora Milaje. They absolutely wiped the floor with me—after every sparring session I wanted nothing more than to face-plant into a pillow. I worked alongside Shuri in the lab, running all kinds of experiments, laughing like we’d lost our minds.

The Wakandans treated me with a mix of curiosity and kindness, though I knew I’d always be an outsider here. Some would come up and ask about New York, American traditions, even my Spider-Man abilities. T’Challa told me on my very first day that I didn’t have to hide them here. And even though I hadn’t put the suit on once, I still got to goof around with the kids—climbing walls with them, listening to their laughter.

The royal family welcomed me with open arms. I don’t know what T’Challa told them about me, but from the start, everyone treated me like I belonged.

Okoye gave me a full tour of the palace as if my being there was completely natural, and Ramonda hugged me, saying I could stay as long as I needed. They all thanked me for helping capture Zemo, though I couldn’t shake the feeling I hadn’t really done much at all.

__

The first few days, I barely left my bed.

Sad. Convinced I’d made a mistake. That I never should’ve left my dad. That I could’ve stopped him before it was too late.

I hated myself for the kind of son I’d been.

But every time I tried to picture going back to him, all I could see was that one scene—

him trying to kill Bucky.

Him going after Steve.

Steve…

Maybe I shouldn’t have left him either. I’d betrayed both sides. Ended up completely alone.

Steve had hidden the truth about me… and even though he’d been my mentor for months, even though I admired him, I couldn’t look at him the same way anymore.

I sat in those thoughts for days—until Shuri showed up. She was the one who pulled me out of it. Showed me the beauty of Wakanda. Turned my mind away from all the things weighing me down.

Turned out, she wasn’t “just” a princess. She was a genius. And she was amazing. Plus, she was the closest to my age out of the whole royal family, so talking to her was… easy.

Now, after two weeks, I was starting to feel more confident. More like I belonged.

I was endlessly grateful to Wakanda for taking me in—especially considering they were still deep in mourning for their king. Damn Zemo.

●●●

That morning, like always, I left my room and headed down for the royal breakfast.

“Hey, white boy,” Shuri greeted me with her usual jab as I sat down next to her.

“Hey yourself,” I said with a grin, reaching for some food.

T’Challa and Ramonda weren’t there yet. Since the king’s death, both of them had been drowning in new responsibilities. T’Challa was preparing for his upcoming coronation to officially become the new king, and in Wakanda, that was a huge celebration. There was so much to get ready for that family meals were becoming a rare luxury.

“So, what’s the plan today?” Shuri asked through a mouthful of food, which, coming from her, didn’t sound rude at all, just… normal.

“I don’t know. You tell me,” I shrugged.

“I’m going to a nearby village for some royal, boring-as-hell meetings,” she said with exaggerated gestures, making it clear how little she was looking forward to it. “But this afternoon, I’m working on a new suit for my brother… picture this: Black Panther, but with nanotech.”

“You could actually do that?!” I blurted, wide-eyed. Back home, nanotech was still something you mostly read about in science articles, not part of your daily wardrobe.

“Uh-huh,” she said proudly. “Wanna join me?”

“Sure,” I said, finishing the last bite of fruit.

Shuri smiled, got up, and tossed something at me in Xhosa:

“Ndizokubona ngo 3:00 PM kwi lab yam.”

I blinked, trying to decode what she’d just said. After a moment’s hesitation, I nodded slowly, which only made her grin wider as she headed for the door.

“Hey, Shuri!” I called after her. “Just to be sure… that means I’ll see you at three in your room, right?”

She laughed without turning around.

“In the lab, Spidey. But close enough! Keep practicing, and don’t be late.”

She disappeared from sight, and I just shook my head, smiling to myself, before going back to my breakfast.

__

After my usual morning routine—a short walk around the palace, playing with the kids, and a few pre-scheduled lessons on Wakandan history, language, and customs—I still had almost three hours until I had to meet Shuri.

I lay down on my bed, staring out the window, just in time to see one of those giant, Star Wars–looking ships fly past.

Ned would be losing his mind right now…

Oh. Ned.

Slowly, I reached for my drawer and pulled out my phone.

I hadn’t turned it on since I’d arrived in Wakanda. Honestly, I’d been scared to.

T’Challa had told me only one thing—that my dad had made it home safe, and that he had no idea where I was. On my first day here, I’d written him a letter. Told him not to look for me, that I was safe, and that he shouldn’t worry. Nothing else. I’d asked T’Challa to send it from a source that would look legit, so Dad would know it really was from me. I didn’t want him calling the cops or turning the world upside down to find me.

But… I don’t know if that was enough for him.

I didn’t even know if anyone in Wakanda had told him anything. Or if anyone told him anything at all. I was scared to see his messages.

I was scared to see Ned’s or MJ’s too. The school trip had ended long ago, classes had already started… and I wasn’t there.

Ned had definitely heard about the disaster. About the Avengers falling apart. He knew I’d been there. He had to be freaking out.

I know it’s pretty weak of me—not reaching out. But at first… I just didn’t have it in me. And later… it just felt weird.

Still, I knew this day had to come sooner or later. So finally, I lifted the phone and pressed the button. I took a deep breath as the screen lit up… and started scrolling through the notifications.

The first thing that popped up? Messages from Dad. Every app possible. Constant notifications.

I didn’t have it in me to read them—so I swiped them all away without even looking at the content.

Next one — a number I didn’t recognize.

So, Steve.

~I don’t know where you are, Peter, but I hope you’re safe. If it means anything, I’m sorry. Truly. And please remember… if you ever need help — you can always ask me. I’ll always help you.

I felt my throat tighten.

Steve regretted it — that much was clear. But the thought that he knew about my grandparents’ deaths and kept it from me… not just from me, but from my dad, too… That was too much.

I know he didn’t mean to hurt me. I know he’d never do that on purpose. But… I can’t forgive him yet.

Not yet.

I scrolled down. MJ.

My heart started pounding like crazy. A few unread messages. I started with the ones from her trip.

~ Hey, loser. You’ve been quiet for a while, so I just wanted to remind you that I exist. Trip still sucks, thanks for asking.

~ Remember to prep your part for the chem project?

~ Hey, loser. You’ve been MIA for two days. Everything okay?

《Missed call》

~ Peter, why weren’t you at school today? Trip ended yesterday, in case you forgot.

~ Peter, it’s been a week since you last said anything. Not even to Ned. He’s trying to cover for you, says you’re sick, but I can tell he’s lying. What are you up to?

~ Peter!

Last message sent four days ago. My stomach clenched. Damn. I didn’t answer. Switched over to my chat with Ned.

There was a lot more there:,

~Hey, Peter. How’s your… you know what?

~The trip’s boring. You having fun with Cap?

~Holy crap, Peter. I saw the news. That airport fight… they showed a picture. YOU WERE THERE?!

I swallowed hard and kept scrolling.

~Peter, the news says Spider-Man’s wanted! They want to know who he is! Supposedly in seventy-one countries! Spider-Man, Captain America, and Barnes are all wanted! SEVENTY-ONE COUNTRIES, DUDE!

I didn’t know that. Although… thinking about all those accords, it made sense.

~DUDE! Everyone online’s talking about how they arrested the Avengers on Cap’s side. Are you okay?!

~Peter, where are you? Your dad showed up at my house in full Iron Man armor asking if I was hiding you here. I told him I hadn’t seen you in over a week, but he still searched the whole place! Thank God my parents weren’t home.

~Peter, I don’t know if you’re reading this, but I heard your dad telling the principal you were on a student exchange program. I know that’s a lie—he’s just covering for you. What’s going on?!

~DUDE, DID YOU HEAR?! Captain America broke the prisoners out of the Raft and they all escaped! Now they’re looking for not just you guys, but also Falcon and Wanda! And apparently Black Widow too!

I couldn’t stop a small smile from forming. So Cap really did free them. Good. I just wondered… where Bucky was now.

~Peter, please, answer me. I’m worried, man.

I lowered my head. The guilt burned. I promised myself that once I finished going through the rest, I’d call him.

Next up — Happy.

~Hey, Pete. It’s Happy. I don’t know what’s going on. Your dad’s not saying anything. All I know is you didn’t actually go on that trip and that you’re… somewhere. Tony’s worried, but he pretends he’s fine around me. Please, come home.

A shiver ran down my spine. The next message was from… Pepper. Oh no.

~Peter, sweetheart. Where are you? Tony’s been avoiding me for two weeks, and Happy says you ran away from home. Are you okay? Remember, honey, you can always come to me if you want.

Tears pricked my eyes.

“Damn it,” I whispered to myself, scrolling down.

Uncle Rhodey. More tears started coming.

~Hey, Pete, it’s your favorite uncle… good news. I’m alive. And I might even be able to walk again, thanks to Tony’s tech.

~Listen, your dad’s a stubborn bastard. Won’t tell me what happened. Not a word. All he said was you two had a fight and you ran away, but you sent him a letter saying you’re safe. That’s it.

Relief washed over me. At least my dad was keeping my identity secret. The fewer people who know, the better.

~But I’m not stupid, kid. You know what the last thing I remember from the airport was? A certain red guy in spider pajamas yelling ‘uncle’ at me. Not hard to put two and two together.

Crap. He heard that. Now he knew who I was. Like things couldn’t get any worse.

I kept reading.

~I’m not mad. Honestly? I’m impressed. The way you swing around walls—that’s some crazy stuff. Can’t believe my own nephew can do that. Wow. And not long ago you couldn’t even run two laps around the gym.

I laughed a little through the tears.

~I’m guessing Tony already knew. That’s why he hasn’t said anything. Look, I don’t know what exactly happened. I know you both probably feel hurt. I don’t know what went down in Siberia, but remember you can always count on me. I love you. No matter what, kid.

The tears started flowing faster down my cheeks. Damn it… I set my phone down for a moment, trying to calm myself.

When I finally stopped crying, I remembered the promise I’d made to myself.

Ned.

If anyone deserved an explanation right now, it was him. He’d been there from the very beginning.

With shaking hands, I pulled up my contacts and tapped his number.

One ring, two, three, and then—

“Peter!” Ned whispered, for some reason.

“Hey,” I answered weakly, not sure where to start.

“Holy crap… it’s you,” he still spoke in a whisper. “Hang on a sec.” Then, louder—but clearly not to me: “Ma’am, may I go to the bathroom?”

Oh, right, I thought. I’d forgotten that classes had just started in the States.

“Mr. Leeds, class just started,” I heard the teacher say.

“It’s urgent, sir. I think I ate something bad. I really, really have to—”

In the background, Flash burst out laughing. I rolled my eyes. I’d already managed to forget how much that guy annoyed me.

Luckily, Ned’s excuse worked, because moments later I heard him thank the teacher and leave the classroom. Once he was, presumably, a safe distance away, he started talking normally:

“DUDE?! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?! YOU’VE BEEN OFF THE GRID FOR TWO WEEKS! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED I WAS? ARE YOU OKAY?!”

“Yeah… Ned, I’m… I’m fine.”

“What happened?” he asked, and I took a deep breath and began telling him.

I told him about Siberia. About how Tony switched sides and joined us. About the dead super soldiers. Then about Zemo and the recordings he played. About the wounded look in my dad’s eyes when he found out I was Spider-Man. About the other video—the one about my grandparents’ deaths. About how Bucky had done it, and how my dad had wanted to kill him.

“God, Ned… it was awful,” I said, tears in my eyes. I told him how I went with the future king of Wakanda to arrest Zemo, how he told us his story, how I came back to stop the others from fighting—but it was already too late. “Ned… I just… I don’t know, that’s too much. I had to get away from both of them.”

“I get it,” Ned said, shocked, clearly holding back more questions. “But where are you now? Don’t tell me you’re hiding out on the streets. You are son of Tony Stark, you won't survive as a homeless person ”

I laughed under my breath.

“No…no... remember when I told you about the prince of Wakanda?”

“Yeah. The ruler of some third-world country who somehow has a bulletproof cat suit and super strength. Sure.”

“Black Panther,” I corrected him. “Well… he said I could go with him. To Wakanda.”

“EXCUSE ME?! THE FUTURE KING OF A COUNTRY JUST SAID YOU COULD GO WITH HIM?!”

“Yeah…”

“SO YOU’RE IN AFRICA RIGHT NOW?!”

“Yes, but—”

“Holy crap! What’s it like? Wakanda… I heard it’s super poor, but if the king took you in, you’re not living in some tiny hut, right? Where do they even get that suit from? On TV they always say it’s one of the poorest countries! So, what’s it like? Are you okay there? You sure?”

He bombarded me with questions, and I couldn’t help but smile. God, I’d missed him.

“No… it’s not like that. Wakanda’s incredible. Dude, you can’t even imagine. First of all, it’s way bigger than anyone thinks. Most of the land is what the world sees as jungle. They have a force field, like camouflage—no one uninvited can get in.”

“What?!” Ned shouted. “But how?”

“ Wakanda shows the world only what it wants them to see. The truth is, it’s the most advanced and developed country in the world! You wouldn’t believe it—the buildings, the technology… and at the same time, everything is tied into African traditions. They really value their culture. And they fight like crazy. They’ve got an army that could take down Steve if they wanted to! They’re called the Dora Milaje—all women, and they’re amazing.”

“Stop, man, my brain’s gonna explode,” Ned said. “You’re telling me that what everyone calls a third-world country is actually the most advanced nation with the best tech and military… and they’re hiding?”

“Yep.”

“And no one knows?”

“Except the Wakandans.”

“And you.”

“And me...and now you.”

“Oh man, I feel like I’ve just been told some forbidden secret! Are you even allowed to tell me this? Are you gonna get in trouble? Are they gonna kill me for knowing?”

“No… they’re not gonna kill you,” I said, though I hesitated. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him… Crap, did I just betray Wakanda? “But please, don’t tell anyone. Especially not my dad. NO ONE. I’m begging you.”

“Peter, you have my word,” he promised solemnly. “Now you HAVE to tell me what you’ve been doing for the past two weeks!”

“Oh, man, it’s wild,” I said, and launched into it—training with Okoye, meeting Shuri and seeing how insanely smart she was, the Wakandan traditions, and the kids I played with. Stories so unbelievable Ned couldn’t wrap his head around them.

Then he returned the favor, telling me about school and a field trip.

“MJ’s worried, you know?” he said, and I felt my face heat up. “I am too… and I miss you. When are you coming back?”

“I…” I hesitated. “I don’t know yet. But I’ll keep in touch. I promise.”

“Okay… but you will come back, right?”

“Ned, I…” I faltered. “There’s a lot going on, I don’t know… I don’t know anything right now. I just have to focus on… the present.”

Ned sighed, resigned. “I get it. Love you, man. Good luck.”

“Bye, Ned,” I said, and hung up.

●●●

We’d talked for over an hour. I needed that. The only shame was that he had to bring up my return. I didn’t even know if I wanted to go back. I liked it here, but it wasn’t home. I also didn’t want to overstay Wakanda’s hospitality. But then again… did I even have anywhere to go back to?

With a heavy breath, I stood and headed toward Shuri’s lab.

Working there helped. It always did. I guess I got that from Tony. Whenever I’m too stressed, all I need to do is head to the lab, throw myself into some project, and forget about the world.

And oh my God — all the projects in Wakanda.

As Tony Stark’s son, I’m obviously used to tech that’s way beyond anything normal — artificial intelligence, Iron Man suits, holograms, robots. I know it. I grew up in it.

But what Shuri does? That’s a whole other level. That’s pure magic.

In these past two weeks, I’ve learned more than I had in an entire year of school.

Nanotech is changing the face of science.

When we were working on a new Black Panther suit together, for the first time in a long while, I felt like I was doing something good. I felt like I was actually helping.

“This is incredible,” I said as we were finishing up. “The whole suit fits into this one necklace.”

“And it links to only one owner,” Shuri added with a proud smile. “Wanna make one for you?”

I frowned, not getting it. “Uh… what, a Black Panther suit? Isn’t that just for the king or something?” I asked, confused. Shuri burst out laughing.

“No, dummy,” she said, still laughing, and I could feel my face heating up. “I meant for Spider-Man. A new suit with nanotech. We’ll merge my design with yours. It’ll look the same, except it’ll be made from vibranium and fit into a little pendant.”

“Uh… I don’t know,” I said, unsure.

“What? Your suit’s good enough? People are gonna shoot at you and you’ll just be like: ‘Wait, wait, my suit’s not bulletproof’?”

“That’s what my Spidey sense is for,” I said. “I can dodge bullets.”

“Yeah, sure, I get it… But it’s always better to be careful, right?” She saw I was still hesitant, so she added, “And what if there’s an attack? Terrorists, thieves, whoever? And you’re just Peter. What are you gonna yell? ‘Don’t kill anyone, I need to go suit up real quick’?”

I laughed a little. “Okay, I see your point… I just mean, I don’t know when I’ll be Spider-Man again. I’m not ready yet. I don’t know if I ever will be. That suit… it ruined everything I had. My family fell apart because I wanted to be a hero… I don’t wanna waste your time on something I might not even use.”

Shuri gave me a sad smile.

“You’ll come back to Spider-Man. I know it. Sooner or later, you won’t be able to stop yourself from helping people.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Yes, we do,” she said firmly, but with a grin. “And in the meantime… we’re gonna make you a suit so awesome, all the Avengers will lose their minds.”

I laughed and nodded. We got to work.

●●●

After a few more hours in the lab, I was completely exhausted… but also insanely proud.

The new Spider-Man suit still looked like my original design, but I’d made a few changes. The spider emblem on my chest had a sleeker shape, and the eyes could move with me, reflecting my expressions and emotions.

And that was just the start. Now the suit was made from vibranium — practically indestructible. I still couldn’t believe Shuri let me keep it.

It was all powered by nanotech, which gave it way more functions than before. Mechanical spider-legs could extend from the back whenever I wanted. The controls were super simple. The web-shooters were fully integrated into the suit, so my only job was to keep making web fluid. Shuri was fascinated by my formula and bombarded me with questions.

The best part?

The whole suit could collapse down into a small bracelet I wore on my wrist all the time. It looked like a simple red band wrapped around my arm. That way, I could have Spider-Man with me anywhere and suit up in a second if I needed to.

The only thing that stayed untouched was Karen. Shuri asked if I wanted her to help improve her — make her even better.

“No,” I answered instantly. “That’s my project. I want Karen to be something that’s only mine. No one else’s help.”

“I get it,” she said with a small smile, and we went back to work.

Before long, it was all done. Full Spider-Man mode. I thanked the princess for her help and the tech she’d shared with me, then headed back to my room.

I didn’t know when I’d return to New York. I didn’t know when I’d be ready to be Spider-Man again. But I knew I could do it at any moment.

With a smile on my face, I fell asleep — for the first time in a long time, feeling like maybe… it was going to be okay.

●●●

The next couple of weeks were even better. I spoke with Ned regularly. I kept ignoring the messages from MJ, my uncle, Happy, and my dad.

I didn’t even open the ones from Tony. I kept telling myself I’d be ready someday. And in the meantime… I had other things to keep me busy.

I met new people. I saw so many breathtaking places in Wakanda that the greatest travelers in the world would’ve been jealous. I swung around as Spider-Man just for fun, and no one minded. Everyone knew who I was. I felt… lighter. Calmer. Healthier in my head, more confident in myself.

I liked going into the city—not just the main one near the palace. I loved every part of this land. I felt safe. Peaceful. Quiet.

It’s quiet uptown.

After an entire day of swinging around and playing superheroes with kids (I was getting better at the language every day), I decided to head to the lab in the evening.

I was just about to go inside when I suddenly heard a voice coming from a medical room a few doors down.

Not just any voice. I froze mid-step.

Steve.

My heart jumped into my throat. For a second, I didn’t know whether to run or follow the sound. My hearing sharpened on its own, like my body had made the decision for me.

I crept down the hallway until I reached the medical room. Through the slightly open door, I saw all of them: T’Challa, Steve… and Bucky.

He was sitting on a metal bed, dressed in white, a bandage wrapped around the stump of his left arm. Steve held his other hand. They stared at each other with that same intense look they always had.

Doctors bustled around them, but he looked… calm. Strangely calm.

It's quiet uptown. 

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, his voice sounding almost like a prayer.

Bucky lifted his eyes to him and, with that tired half-smile, replied:

“I can’t trust my own mind. Until they can get this… thing out of my head, going back into the freezer is the best option.”

My stomach twisted. No. He can’t go back in there.

I watched as the doctors helped him into the cryogenic chamber. Slowly, they closed the lid. White mist rose from inside, and Bucky disappeared into it.

“Thank you,” Steve said gratefully, shaking the king’s hand.

“Your friend is a victim… just like my father,” T’Challa said quietly, looking at Steve. “I’m glad I can help at least one of them.”

I wanted to turn away. Slip out. Avoid a conversation with Steve. But then my shoe caught on the doorframe, making a loud enough sound to give me away.

“Peter?!” Steve looked at me like he’d seen a ghost.

“Hey…” I mumbled, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.

“What are you doing here?”

“Wakanda decided to offer him sanctuary… in difficult times,” T’Challa answered for me.

“You’ve been here the whole past month?” Steve asked, stunned. I only nodded quietly and glanced at T’Challa.

“When did they get here?” I asked him. The king sighed.

“Captain Rogers asked me for help a few days ago… I wanted to tell you, but I thought it would be unnecessary stress.” I nodded. I understood.

Silence fell.

Steve took a step toward me.

“Peter… I wanted to—” He hesitated for a moment. “Can we talk?”

I hesitated too. Did I want to? Well… sooner or later, I’d have to. Might as well get it over with. I gave a stiff nod.

Steve exhaled in relief, and we walked together toward a quieter spot. I looked back one last time at Bucky in the ice, then turned away.

“How long will it take?” I asked first.

“What?”

“Bucky,” I said. “How long will they keep him there?”

Steve sighed and rubbed his face with both hands.

“The doctors say at least a few weeks… until they find a way to remove the Hydra programming.”

“Oh…”

We stood on one of the balconies, looking out over the Wakandan landscape.

“Listen, Pete,” Steve began, and I tensed. “I’m sorry… I asked for your help without telling you everything. Honestly, I didn’t even realize those two things were connected. Forgive me. I shouldn’t have kept the truth about your grandparents from you.”

“That’s not even the point,” I said quietly. “I didn’t know them. I don’t miss them… But you hid it from my dad. He trusted you, and you kept that secret for a while. That’s… I don’t know, just wrong.”

“I get it. I shouldn’t have done that… I was going to tell him, but there was always something… then Bucky—” Steve’s face turned into that of a kicked puppy. “I don’t know, it’s just… when it comes to Bucky, it’s like the rest of the world disappears.”

“And that’s the problem. You focus on him so much, you don’t think a hundred percent about everyone else,” I said calmly, not looking at him.

“That’s why I want to apologize. I was supposed to be your mentor, to train you… and I let you down. I never should’ve taken you to Germany. It was too much… you’re so talented that I forget you’re still just a kid.”

“Okay,” I replied quietly, unsure what to think. It was all… a lot.

“Do you like Wakanda?” Steve asked, deliberately changing the subject.

“It’s quiet here… I’ve never liked the quiet before,” I replied, closing my eyes.

For a moment, we just stood in silence.

“Does Tony know?” he asked eventually.

“He has no idea where I am… I sent him a letter saying I’m safe.”

“I don’t know if that’ll be enough for him,” Steve said, and I smiled faintly.

“Me neither…” The silence returned, but it wasn’t awkward like before. I knew my relationship with Steve would never go back to how it was, but… it wasn’t doomed either.

“I forgive you,” I said softly. Steve blinked.

“What?”

“I forgive you,” I repeated. “You didn’t want this… any of this. I know you tried… I know that. You don’t deserve to be hunted or hated. I’ve been thinking a lot… it won’t be like before, but I don’t want to hate you.”

“Pete…”

“So yeah. I forgive you. Everything you’ve done, you did for Bucky. You’re in love with him, so—”

“What?” Steve cut me off, and I rolled my eyes. Seriously? Even now he was staying in the closet? While I was here graciously forgiving him?!

“Oh my God, Steve, it’s the twenty-first century,” I said sharply.

“Yes, I know, but what do you mean by—”

“Come on, everyone can see that whatever’s between you and Bucky isn’t platonic. That ‘till the end of the line’ thing? That’s basically ‘till death do us part.’ It’s so obvious—literally everyone sees it!”

“I…” Steve hesitated. “I don’t know how Bucky feels… he’s got bigger problems right now than—”

“Oh my God… you only have to look at him to see he’s head over heels for you. What am I, your matchmaker? I’m trying to forgive you and you—ugh. Just… when he gets out of the ice, ask him out and be done with it. God, who am I living with?” I said, waving my hands dramatically to show my exasperation. Steve snorted.

“This isn’t the 1940s, man. No one cares who you date anymore. Just stop being such an idiot about it.” I had no idea where this sudden confidence came from, but I was proud of it.

“Okay, okay… I get it,” he said, and I was glad he’d finally stopped denying it.

“And thank you for everything ” he added, and I hugged him. God, I’d missed him. “Forgiveness… can you imagine?” Steve said during the hug, and I laughed.

“Are you staying in Wakanda?” I asked.

“I can’t… I need to help Sam and Natasha stay in hiding. Find a safe place for Wanda. But I’ll visit from time to time.”

“And what about Clint and… that other guy? The one who shrinks?”

“Scott? Well, they both have families, so they took a deal. House arrest,” he replied, and I frowned in surprise. Honestly… not the worst outcome.

“And you? How long do you plan to stay in Wakanda?” he asked.

“I...”

“You forgave me… maybe you’re ready to forgive your dad. I’m sure he misses you.”

“Not yet,” I said simply. What my dad had done… that was too much. He didn’t just keep a secret like Steve. He’d tried to kill a man. In cold blood. I understood he was in pain, but I couldn’t erase the image of my father’s murderous face.

Steve only nodded. He understood. He patted my shoulder and said goodbye. He had to go, but promised we’d stay in touch. Said that once Bucky was healed, he’d try to visit us.

“And remember,” he added on his way out, “your dad is in pain… and I know he regrets everything. Sooner or later, you’ll have to go back to New York.”

I let out a quiet sigh, watching Steve disappear through the door.

His words echoed in my head. Should I go back to New York?

“It’s quiet uptown,” I whispered to myself, closing my eyes. 

Chapter Text

December 24, 2000

Christmas. For most people, that meant family, a Christmas tree, carols, and snow outside the window.

For me, it meant bass pounding from the speakers, champagne flowing by the gallon, and a mansion full of people I neither knew nor wanted to know. Models, actresses, ad guys. One big, glittering zoo.

“Merry Christmas, ladies!” I shouted, tossing a handful of bills toward two models. “Look what Santa Tony brought you.”

“Oh, Tony…” one of them giggled, clinging to my arm, clearly expecting more.

“Maybe we should move somewhere a little… quieter?” I suggested with a grin, when suddenly, I heard my name.

“Tony! Tony!”

That voice.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. Happy.

“Sorry, sweetheart, duty calls,” I muttered, making the classic call me gesture.

Before I could blink, Happy had me by the arm, dragging me away.

“Really, Hogan? I was in the middle of something here. Don’t you have anything better to do? It’s Christmas! Live a little!” I snapped.

“You’re drunk.”

“And you’re not. Which is the real mistake here. Come on, I’ll get you a drink.”

“Tony…” he pressed.

“What?!”

“I’m your bodyguard. My job is to make sure you don’t die, puke all over yourself, or knock someone up because you’re too drunk to use protection.”

I burst out laughing. “Relax, Hogan! This is called living. You worry too much, you know? That’s your problem. Don’t think...just live.”

“Tony… listen. I know the holidays are rough for you, but—”

“Rough? Why rough?” I cut him off, grabbing a drink off a tray.

“Tony…”

“One—my parents didn’t die on Christmas, they died before Christmas. Two—it was years ago. Three—you’re killing the vibe. So do me a favor and scram. I’ll call you if I need you.”

Happy sighed, clearly annoyed and hurt, but gave up. He waved me off and walked away.

“Too bad Rhodey’s not here…” I muttered. “At least he knows how to drink properly.”

I wandered back through the crowd to pick up where Happy had interrupted, but the supermodel had vanished into thin air. Irritated, I headed upstairs.

And that’s when I saw her:

On the balcony. Glass of wine in one hand, cigarette in the other. Red dress, long brown hair spilling over her shoulders. Her face calm, a little bored, like the whole party was just cheap glitter to her.

I stepped onto the balcony, raising my hand casually. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

“Mr. Stark,” she said evenly, though a flicker of surprise crossed her face.

“That’s me. And you are…?”

“You don’t know your own guests?” she arched a brow.

“I’ve met hundreds tonight. Mostly models and actresses, which, I admit, I adore. But you? You outshine all of them, and I’d remember that. Which means you’re not one of them.” I gave her my best smile and was delighted to see the faintest blush rise on her cheeks.

“I got an invite as part of the scientists’ group,” she replied, pretending at indifference.

“Beautiful and brilliant. Rare combo.”

“And married,” she added dryly, lifting her hand to show the ring.

“Next you’ll tell me happily married?” I teased, but she didn’t answer. “So, what’s my guest’s name… or should I just call you ‘the gorgeous genius’?”

“Mary. Mary Parker.”

“Parker…” I narrowed my eyes. “Ah. Richard Parker’s wife? I’ve heard of him. Supposed to be a brilliant scientist. Shame we never worked together. And where is he tonight? Not exactly polite leaving a woman like you alone on Christmas Eve.”

“Work,” she said flatly, clearly not thrilled. “Not everyone’s a billionaire, you know.”

“His loss. My gain. Christmas came early for me.”

“Mr. Stark…”

“Tony,” I corrected.

“Tony... I love my husband.” She smiled apologetically.

“I don’t doubt it. But can he say the same?”

“Of course. He’s just… busy.”

“So busy he left you alone on Christmas Eve at a billionaire’s party?” I tilted my head. “You’re a scientist too, right? You could’ve been working with him. Unless… maybe work wasn’t the real reason. Maybe he just didn’t want to spend the holidays with you.”

She hesitated. “It’s not like that…”

“Come on. Let me show you how a woman should be treated on Christmas.” I extended my hand, theatrically, like to a queen.

Mary laughed, but slipped her hand into mine anyway. We went back downstairs and danced.

When the song ended, we kept talking. She tried to keep her distance. I tried to break it down. But we really clicked. She was funny, smart, sexy. Didn’t flatter me because of my name, didn’t care about my money. And I had to admit—I liked it. A lot.

And then…

Well. A few more glasses, a few words too many, one smile held too long.

Not long after, we were in my bedroom.

A week later:

“Oh my God!” Happy yelled, pacing the room.

“Shut up…” I groaned, squinting. My head felt like it was in a vice after last night’s bottle. But in my defense, how the hell was I supposed to not drink after news like that?

“I told you, Tony! I warned you! Literally that night! Literally hours before it happened! And you brushed me off! I warned you, man!” Happy kept ranting, flailing his arms.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I snapped, annoyed.

Rhodey, standing nearby, burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny!” I barked at him.

“You’re right. It’s serious,” he said calmly, though still smirking. “But admit it, Tony, this was inevitable. Sooner or later, given your lifestyle, this was bound to happen.”

I sighed, burying my face in my hands.

“Okay, okay, let’s be rational,” Rhodey said, raising his hands. “First things first… are you sure it’s even yours?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well...” Happy nearly jumped. “You said she’s married, right? Could be her husband’s kid!”

I shook my head. “She hasn’t seen her husband in a month. Guy’s overseas. She only got pregnant last week.”

“Could be a false alarm,” Rhodey suggested.

“Nope. Doctor confirmed. It’s one hundred percent.”

“Okay, but… what if she’s with someone else too?” Rhodey pressed gently.

“Exactly!” Happy jumped in. “Maybe she’s got other lovers, and she just came to you ‘cause you’re rich. Wants money.”

I shook my head again, my gut twisting. “No. That’s not her.”

“You don’t know her.”

“But I know she wouldn’t do that!” I snapped.

“Tony…” Rhodey began, but I cut him off.

“She said she doesn’t want a dime. In fact, she told me she’d lie to her husband. She’ll tell him it’s his. Pretend the baby came late. She doesn’t need me for anything. She only told me because she wanted to be fair. She doesn’t want my help…”

“Perfect, then,” Obadiah’s voice cut in from the back of the room. Cold, sharp. “If that’s the case, what’s the problem? She raises the kid, you do nothing. Just forget it, and move on.” He smiled, almost satisfied, like he’d handed me the perfect solution.

“The hell no!” Rhodey snapped. “That’s your kid, Tony. You can’t just walk away.”

“Rhodes…”

“No way! You don’t just abandon your own child.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear. “Unless you want to be just like your father.”

“Stop!” I exploded. “This is my business! Mine! I’ll handle it…” My voice cracked as I caught myself. “…I don’t even know why I told you guys. If she doesn’t want me in the kid’s life… maybe that’s for the best. We go back to normal. End of story.”

“See?” Obadiah spread his arms. “Tony’s right. Let’s forget about it.”

“Jesus, I need some air,” I hissed, grabbing my jacket and heading for the door, ignoring Rhodey’s eye roll and Happy’s furious glare.

Obadiah caught up to me in the hallway, laying a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“Right call, Tony. You’re on top of the world right now. You’ve got a future bigger than anyone can imagine. A woman with a child would only slow you down. I won’t let anything stand in the way of your greatness.”

I nodded slowly, though deep down, I wasn’t sure if it was really the right call at all.

●●●

The months kept passing, and I… I kept trying to push down the guilt. But it clawed its way back every single time I let myself think about Mary, even for a second.

Rhodey had finally stopped bugging me every day, telling me to just call her. Happy gave up on those murderous glares too, like he got bored of reminding me what an idiot I was.

Obadiah still helped me run the company with that same pride in his eyes.

Everyone else… just moved on. No one brought it up anymore.

Everyone except me.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

How many times I picked up my phone. How many times I hovered over her number. How many times I… put it back down, knowing I’d only make things worse. I wasn’t cut out to be a father. I’d screw that kid up sooner or later. My dad was awful. I wouldn’t be any better.

Richard would do better. Richard was better. That kid would have a home, stability, a normal life. A happy one.

And me? I’d just blow up the Parkers’ marriage, tear their family apart, throw everything into chaos. Richard would find out he wasn’t the real dad, Mary would live through hell at home, and the kid… the kid would get the worst version of me.

No. This way was better. This was the best for everyone. That’s what I kept telling myself.

I wasn’t going to be a father. I wasn’t.

...

Of course, life had other plans.

...

It was a sunny afternoon in mid-July. I was lying on the couch, scrolling through applications for a new assistant. Another boring day, another fake sense of peace.

And then the doorbell rang.

I rolled my eyes.

“Rhodey, if you forgot your keys again, just ask J.A.R.V.I.S. to open the door for you!” I yelled. He was the only one who’d ever just show up like that. Well… Happy might too, but he always carried spare keys. Obie? No chance,  he was at a conference in Tokyo.

The bell rang again.

“Rhodey! Ask J.A.R.V.I.S.!” I shouted, more annoyed this time.

“I’m afraid it isn’t Colonel Rhodes, sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. replied calmly.

I frowned. “Then who the hell is it?”

“My facial recognition suggests… Mary Parker. Born Fitzpatrick.”

My heart shot straight into my throat.

I hadn’t heard that name in months. I made everyone act like she didn’t exist. Like she’d never existed.

And yet… I froze.

I pushed myself up from the couch, unsteady, like the floor had suddenly gone soft beneath me. Every step toward the door felt like it weighed a ton. I took a long breath before my hand touched the handle.

And there she was.

Mary Parker.

Almost as beautiful as the last time I saw her. Only now, instead of a red dress, she wore a simple gray sweater. Instead of that bored, distant look on her face, she looked… broken.

And she was pregnant. Clearly. Undeniably.

“Oh my God… Mary.”

“Tony… I’m sorry, I…” Her voice cracked, and tears welled in her eyes.

I didn’t even hesitate. “Come in. Please.”

We sat down. I wanted to say something stupid, crack a joke, anything to break the tension—but Mary spoke first, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry for barging in like this, Tony, but… something happened… shit.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” I said quickly, my worry spiking. “What happened?”

She drew a shaky breath.

“Richard and I had a research trip planned in Tokio. But because of my pregnancy… and my health issues, I’ve always been a bit frail, in and out of hospitals, the doctors told me not to fly. Said it was too risky. So… the ticket that was meant for me went to Richard’s brother, Ben. He flew with him. They even brought his wife, May. That was two days ago.”

“I get it, but what does that have to—” I started, but she cut me off, her voice breaking completely.

“The plane crashed, Tony.” Her whole body trembled. “They’re gone. Richard, Ben, May… all of them.”

I just stared at her, stunned. Like the world had gone silent, erased for a moment.

“Oh my God…” I whispered.

“I’m not here to ask you to be a father,” she said through her tears. “But I… I need help. At least until the baby’s born. Please. I have no contact with my family, and Richard’s entire side is gone after the crash. I… I can’t do this alone.”

Everything inside me screamed that this was a trap. That I’d screw it all up. That I wasn’t strong enough.

But I knew I couldn’t walk away. Not now. Not after this.

I pulled her into my arms, holding her tight, like I could shield her from the whole damn world.

“Of course, Mary,” I whispered. “I’m here.”

●●●

After a few hard conversations, we finally came up with a plan. I’d support her. Help financially, make sure she had the best doctors, the best hospital. And later—the best education.

What I still hadn’t decided was whether I’d actually be present in the kid’s life.

Mary was from New York, so naturally, that’s where we moved. She wanted to go back to her city, and I needed to stay close.

I lived in my own tower, and I got her an apartment just a few blocks away—close enough that I could always reach her.

Mary was still buried in grief. She was taking it hard, and even though I tried everything I could to comfort her, it didn’t always work. I could give her everything. But the one thing I hadn’t given her was an answer about what I’d do after the baby came. I was scared as hell.

And I hadn’t told anyone that I was in contact with Mary again. No one knew what I was doing.

I mean..it’s not like I was some lunatic planning out a future with her. We weren’t getting married or anything. I was just helping… but I knew that if any of my friends found out, it would turn into a big deal.

__

After a few weeks, I got used to the new rhythm. I went shopping with Mary, bought a crib, helped set up a nursery in her place. We started getting along. What we had could even be called friendship. I genuinely liked her. I enjoyed going shopping with her, reading about childbirth.

I didn’t even really mind when she yelled at me. Or when she decided on her own how her child’s life would go.

She was firm. She told me the baby would take her husband’s name, Parker. Because she wanted him to have a normal childhood. Nobody would know he was Stark’s kid, at least until he turned eighteen.

That way he’d have a chance at a normal life. No cameras, no headlines, no endless pressure.

And she was right.

Who was I to take that peace away from her? If my father had even a fraction of her instinct, maybe my life would’ve turned out differently…

I didn’t yet know what exactly I’d be to this child. I only knew one thing: even if I lost my courage one day, at least I’d make sure Mary and the baby were taken care of for life.

---

One day, we met in the medical wing of my tower.

Yeah, I built a damn hospital in my tower. For Mary. And no, that didn’t mean anything.

The doctor was examining her, checking her vitals, smiling to herself.

“Your due date is in September,” she said. “That’s less than a month away.”

My heart sped up.

“Do you want to know the sex?” she asked.

I looked at Mary.

“Your call, mummy,” I joked.

“God, don’t call me that,” she snorted, and I grinned. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was really starting to feel something.

“Yes. We want to know,” she said at last.

And I tensed up. Inside, I prayed for a girl. Stupid, I know. But I thought maybe then there’d be less of a chance I’d turn into my father.

“So… you’re going to have… a boy,” the nurse said, dragging it out for effect.

Something twisted in my stomach. I smiled, but crookedly. Mary noticed right away.

“Okay,” I muttered.

“Tony, don’t stress.”

“I’m not stressed… it’s great news. A boy, right. A son… a boy. A tiny me who cries and needs to be fed… and he’s a little me and…”

“Listen. If you don’t want to have anything to do with our son, just say so!”

“I do! I swear I do… it’s just… a lot.”

She rolled her eyes, irritated. 

"You never show it. You throw doctors, money, apartments at me, but you still haven’t told anyone. You’re not preparing to be a father. You talk about financial support, but not once have you said whether you want to raise him with me. After all this time, you have to decide. I gave you time. I told you I wouldn’t force you. This is your decision—but you’ve kept me hanging for almost a month! I need your answer. Don’t give me hope just to crush it later. Tell me right now. Do you want to be our son’s father or not?”

"I…" I hesitated, my throat tightening. “I need some air.” I walked out, leaving her in the office, feeling like the biggest asshole alive.

In the elevator I was breathing hard, like I was going to explode. When the doors opened and I saw Rhodey, I felt relief.

“Oh, thank God. Please tell me there’s some disaster out there and they need a genius right away,” I blurted.

“Hey, Tones,” he said calmly. “Haven’t seen you in a month, and that’s your greeting? What’s going on?”

“I…”

“You disappeared. What happened? Why did you suddenly ditch California and lock yourself up in this tower? And don’t tell me you’ve got strippers stashed here, because I don’t wanna deal with that again… Tony?”

Rhodey kept talking, but I wasn’t listening anymore. My head was full of other voices: my father, Obadiah, Happy. Each saying something different. Each demanding something else.

Maybe Obadiah was right. Maybe I really wasn’t cut out to be a father. Maybe I’d fail. I was at the height of my career, my work was my life… but was that it?

Was I supposed to live forever in an empty paradise, surrounded only by models and money?

Suddenly I saw Mary’s face. Her eyes disappointed, but still full of hope. I remembered the day I met her, what a jerk I was hitting on a married woman. What a jerk I was leaving her for most of the pregnancy. And yet, she came back. She was here now. Smiling.

And then it hit me: I had been given a chance. A chance at a different life. A chance at happiness.

I made my decision.

I didn’t know what kind of father I’d be. But I knew one thing:

I’d be in my son’s life.

“Hey, Tones… are you even listening to me? What’s with you?” Rhodey asked, eyeing me.

“I’m gonna have a son, Rhodes,” I whispered. And for the first time in forever, I smiled for real.

“What? Tony, are you high?” He looked at me like I was crazy. I burst out laughing.

“I’m gonna have a damn son!” I shouted and hugged him like a kid.

“What?! Wait—you mean…?”

“Yes!”

“You mean Mary…?”

“She’s downstairs, at her check-up. Rhodey, I’m gonna be a dad! It’s a boy, Rhodey!” I said, laughing, forgetting my worries for one bright moment.

“Oh my God!” He laughed and clapped his hands. “You finally came to your senses.”

“Oh, you better believe it wasn’t easy.”

“No doubt… but I’m so proud of you,” he added with a smile. “And I promise—I’ll be the best uncle that boy could ever dream of!” he announced, full of enthusiasm.

“I don’t doubt it, Platypus,” I said.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe everything really would be okay.

●●●

Rhodey, of course, didn’t leave me alone. For the next hour I had to explain to him, in detail, everything I’d been doing for the past month.

“You’re an idiot, keeping this to yourself.”

“I know, man, I know… In my defense, I only fully accepted being a dad about an hour ago.”

“Because you’re an idiot.”

“I know!” I shouted back, laughing. Rhodey laughed too.

“Oh my God,” he said through his laughter. “I can’t believe you’re going to be a father. Tony Stark with a kid… When you told me about the pregnancy, I was shocked, and honestly disappointed you didn’t want anything to do with the baby.”

“Rhodey—”

“I was pissed, man. You robbed me of the chance to be an uncle… Then I tried to forget it, to ignore it, just like you told me to. That way I didn’t have to think about the fact that somewhere out there was a tiny human with Stark DNA.”

“Gross.”

“Truth hurts… But now my brain is finally catching up to reality. And damn. You’re going to be a father.”

“Yeah…” I answered, almost regretfully. “Guess I should go downstairs to Mary and tell her I made my decision.”

“Good luck, man.”

I smiled, but before I could say anything, my phone rang.

I looked at the screen and immediately knew something was wrong.

It was the head midwife.

I glanced nervously at Rhodey and, with trembling hands, picked up.

“Mr. Stark,” she said, her voice tense. “We have a problem. You’d better come down immediately.”

“What happened?”

“During the exam, Ms. Parker started experiencing strong contractions… we tried to determine the cause and—”

“What?! What is it?!” I shouted, terrified.

“The labor started early. We just transferred Ms. Parker to the delivery room.”

“But the due date is in a month!”

“Premature births happen, Mr. Stark. Please, come quickly.”

“I’m on my way.” I hung up and bolted toward the elevator.

Rhodey, realizing how serious this was, ran after me. I saw his face, fear, confusion, but also determination.

The silence in the elevator was so heavy it felt like it might crush us. Rhodey finally muttered:

“Tony… what’s happening?”

“Mary’s going into labor early.”

“Oh God…”

I nodded. I couldn’t say more.

When we reached the medical level, nurses were already waiting. I kept asking what was going on, but their answers were quick, rushed. “Premature birth. We have to act fast. Don’t worry, we’re doing everything we can. ”

That “don’t worry” sounded like the worst joke in the world. How the hell was I not supposed to worry when nobody would tell me anything?!

Mary was in the delivery room. I wanted to go in, I yelled that I was the father and had a right to be there, but they stopped me. Said it was too dangerous.

Rhodey and I sat in a small waiting room. We both stared at the wall, drowning in silence. My breath came fast, uneven.

“Rhodey…” I started quietly. “I know I’ve been an idiot these past months. I ran from responsibility, thought it would be enough just to… pay for everything. But no. Not like this. I want to be in this boy’s life. Really be there. What if he… what if he dies now and I never even get the chance to be a dad?”

Rhodey looked at me with seriousness. “Tony, he’ll be fine. You hired the best people, the best doctors. They know what they’re doing.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Don’t torture yourself, Tones. It won’t change anything. Try to get ready. Your kid’s about to come into the world, and it’ll be fine… You’ll have a whole lifetime to torture him with your inventions and your terrible cooking.”

I laughed nervously, then nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. But… I’m still scared.”

Rhodey was about to answer when suddenly a doctor walked out. We both jumped up, but before we could say anything, the doors opened wider.

His face told us everything before he even spoke.

“No…” I whispered, broken.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “We did everything we could, but her body was too weak. The labor was too fast, too sudden… we fought as hard as we could. But we couldn’t save her.”

I felt something inside me shatter. Mary was gone? That couldn’t be real. This morning we had breakfast together, we’d just been at the doctor’s. We only just learned the baby’s gender. She was yelling at me a few hours ago. She couldn’t be dead… no…

I don’t remember everything that happened after. I know I ended up in that room. I ran, pushed the doors, someone tried to stop me, but I broke free. I went inside, into the delivery room—I had to see it with my own eyes. And I did…

She lay there. Still. Pale. Peaceful, like she was just asleep. I walked up, fell to my knees beside the bed, grabbed her hand—it was already cold.

“Mary?” I whispered. “Mary… I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mary… listen, I already made my decision, I made it long ago, I was just too scared to accept it…” I whispered, clutching her hand, tears burning my cheeks. “I want to be in your life, I wanted a family, Mary… I’m sorry. I should’ve told you months ago, when you first found out you were pregnant… I’m sorry, I…” My voice broke, I sobbed, pulling back from her.

I didn’t really know what was happening, but then I felt someone’s arms around me. Rhodey. He was always there for me.

I held on to him, crying into his shoulder, furious at myself. Furious at the universe. The one time I finally accepted the idea of family… that very same day, she had to die. Like I was cursed.

She was gone, and there was nothing left except…

My eyes snapped wide open as I realized. The doctor had said only Mary had died… so that meant…

“The boy?” I blurted out, pulling away from Rhodey. “What about the boy?”

The doctor gave me a small, sad smile. “The boy’s alive.”

“Where is he, can I see him?”

“He’s premature, Mr. Stark… born about a month early.”

“Yes… but what does that mean? Where is he?” I asked, panic rising. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.

“We’ve placed him in an incubator for now. But don’t worry, Mr. Stark. Your son is in good condition for a premature baby. He does have some breathing issues, so we need to keep him there until he stabilizes.”

I only caught fragments of his words. The only thing that mattered was: the boy lives. That was it. That was enough.

“Can I… can I see him?”

“Of course. This way,” the doctor said gently.

I don’t know how my legs carried me, but somehow they did. Rhodey walked beside me, silent, but I felt his support.

They led me into another room.

And there he was. Inside that strange machine—an incubator—lay him. My son.

Tiny, red, hooked up to wires and machines. Breathing fast, restless. He was so small I thought if I touched the glass I’d break him. But he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I knew instantly I would do absolutely anything to protect him.

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Well done, Tony,” Rhodey said, looking at the boy too. “You did it.”

“Yeah…” I whispered, wiping tears from my face.

“Got a name in mind?” he asked softly. I frowned. Me—Tony Stark—naming a real, living person. My son.

My boy, so sweet, so innocent. So tiny. Like he’d stay that way forever. Like he’d never grow up…

And then I remembered my favorite childhood story. About a boy. A magical boy who never grew up. About the wonders he created, and the wonders that surrounded him.

I knew the perfect name.

“Peter,” I whispered.

“Nice… it suits him. Peter Stark.”

“Parker,” I corrected. “That’s what Mary wanted. She didn’t want him growing up under the eye of the paparazzi. We won’t announce it publicly. He’ll be Peter Parker… at least until he’s old enough to decide for himself who he wants to be.” I finished, never taking my eyes off the child.

“See?” Rhodey said. “Little Petey’s only just been born and you’re already a thousand times better dad than Howard ever was.”

I smiled faintly. I hoped that was true. I wanted it to be true.

And I knew that from now on, I’d do absolutely everything for this kid.

●●●

They say time flies. They’re right. You blink, and suddenly your kid isn’t a baby anymore—he’s growing up right in front of you.

I can’t even tell when it all slipped by.

It feels like just yesterday I was pacing the hospital hallways, waiting for them to finally let me take Peter home.

A couple weeks after he was born, it happened—I carried him out of there, so small and fragile I was afraid I might break him if I held him too tight. And right then I knew: my life would never be the same.

Rhodey was there, of course. He helped me with everything. We set up a room, filled it with toys Peter couldn’t even understand yet, but we didn’t care.

Eventually, I told the others.

Happy was thrilled—he practically turned into a kid himself, insisting on helping however he could.

Then there was Obadiah. He wished me luck, said all the right words… but his tone didn’t quite match. I pretended not to notice, but deep down, I knew he wasn’t happy about it. He still came around, visited, even helped with Pete sometimes. But every time I brought Peter up, I could see his face change, like the light dimmed a little.

What was I supposed to do, though? Pretend my son didn’t exist? Spend a single day not talking about the best thing that had ever happened to me? Not a chance. Especially when he was growing up so fast.

Before I knew it, Pete was three years old—walking, talking… God, the talking.

The kid could talk me into the ground. He was a little know-it-all, curious about everything, asking questions even I didn’t have answers for. I loved him more than anything.

I tried to make the most of every moment... because part of me knew we might not have as many moments as I wanted.

Peter was sick a lot. Always catching something. His asthma had been there since the start. There were nights we ended up in the hospital, and no matter how smart I was, I couldn’t “fix” my own kid. I was terrified I’d lose him one day.

The doctors warned me, given his immune system, his condition, he probably wouldn’t live to old age. The best they could do was make sure he’d grow up.

When they told me that, it felt like the ground gave way under me. But I couldn’t fall apart. Not now. Not when I’d finally found something that made me happy.

I don’t know how I would’ve done it without help.

Rhodey wasn’t lyig, he really was the best uncle anyone could ask for. Peter adored him. Rhodey took him on walks, taught him new words, spoiled him with toys I never would’ve chosen myself.

We lived in the tower, in my world of glass and steel. And I was happy. For the first time in my life, I was truly happy. I couldn’t even imagine what I’d be doing if Peter wasn’t here. He gave me joy, he gave me purpose.

The only thing missing was Mary. I missed her every single day. When Peter asked about his mom, I told him the simplest truth—that she was gone. He was too young to understand more, and I was too broken to explain it anyway. I promised myself that someday, when he was older, I’d tell him everything. But not yet. Not then.

The world kept looking at me, wondering why Tony Stark—the playboy, the party king—had suddenly changed. Sure, I still went to events, galas, parties. I didn’t stop being me. I just… did it less. Because no matter where I was, no matter what I was doing, I always had the same thought in the back of my head: I have to get home.

My son is waiting for me.

●●●

He grew up too fast. Sadly. But that’s life.

I knew the moment would come when he’d have to face the world, kids at school, teachers, questions that never had simple answers.

One evening we sat at the table. I looked him in the eye and said, very seriously:

“Remember, Bambi… to everyone, you are Peter Parker. That’s your name. That’s your life. Who your dad really is—that’s something you can’t tell anyone. Not even new friends. The only person at your school who’ll know is the principal. Understand? It’s for your safety, okay?”

He was just a kid, but a sharp one. He understood. He nodded, then started getting ready for his first day.

School was hard for him.

Not the learning—he was brilliant at that. A real genius.

It was the other kids. They laughed, they teased. He wasn’t as fast or as strong as them, and they made him pay for it.

He didn’t meet his friend—Ted… Fred… Ned?—well, his real friend, until he was ten. Which meant those first years at school were lonely.

It killed me inside. So many times I wanted to storm in there, shout at them to leave him alone, to show them who he really was. But I couldn’t. I had promised Mary…

At least he had me. I was always there. And he had Uncle Rhodey. And Happy.

And he had Pepper. Yes. Pepper. She came into our lives exactly when we needed her most.

Officially, she was my new assistant. In reality… something much more.

She was patient, warm, with that smile that could make even the biggest problems feel small. She talked to Peter, always knew how to make him feel important. She played with him, helped with homework. None of that was in her job description. She did it because she wanted to. For him, she was like a second mother.

For me… she was someone I was scared to admit I was starting to feel more for.

That was his childhood: between the hallways of school and the halls of my lab. Between learning and the secrets we carried together. It was good. Not perfect, but we were happy.

If only it had stayed that way… that would be enough.

But then came 2008. And my world turned upside down. 

Peter was seven. We went to our house in California for the summer. The sun, the ocean, family time—it was supposed to be the perfect summer.

I even cleared my entire schedule. No meetings, no work… except one.

The only professional thing on my calendar that summer was a trip to Afghanistan.

Jericho. My latest invention. A weapon of mass destruction. A presentation for the military, and another fortune for me.

That morning, I said goodbye to Peter the same way I always did when I had to leave for a few days.

“Don’t go, Daddy,” he said sadly.

“Hey, Bambino, look at me,” I told him. “It’s just a weekend, okay? You’ll stay with Pepper and Uncle Happy, and before you know it, I’ll be back.”

“But I want to go with you…”

“I know, kiddo. But someone has to guard the house while I’m gone. I need a brave protector… Can you be that brave for me?” I asked, knowing exactly how to reach him.

He went quiet, thinking it over… then nodded firmly.

“That’s my boy!” I smiled, pulling him into a hug.

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, Bambi. I’ll see you in two days.”

Two days.

That was the plan.

Instead, the terrorists came.

A short trip for the weekend became three months of hell. Kidnapping. Torture. A cave. Building weapons for the same people who used my weapons to kill innocents.

Only there did I finally see how much pain and death my creations had caused. I wasn’t fixing the world. I was breaking it. Breaking the world my son was growing up in.

I had to change that. For him.

I thought of him every single day. Every morning I woke up wondering: How’s Peter? Is he okay? Is he sick? Is he missing me too much? I knew one thing, I had to escape. I had to do it for Peter.

And so, in the darkness of that cave, the first Iron Man armor was born. It was built for one reason: my son. And the hope of leaving him a better world. I escaped the hell.

And I was never going to be the same man again.

●●●

Of course, after that, everything only got worse. I escaped, but I never stopped fighting. I built new suits, anticipating the threat that was coming.

And of course, as usual, I was right. Not long after my escape, it came to light that Obadiah had been behind the kidnapping. Then he tried to kill me… and threatened to do the same to Peter.

I remember lying there half-conscious, paralyzed, barely able to force out a whisper

 "You can’t…"

He only laughed darkly.

"Oh, but I can, Tony. That kid has been standing in your way since the beginning. Because of him you never reached higher. I wanted you to get rid of him, but you couldn’t ever do anything right. You kept saying you wouldn’t be his father, but I knew you’d change your mind someday. And I couldn’t let that happen."

My throat tightened; breath caught.

"What…? "I whispered, not yet grasping where he was going.

Obadiah smirked.

"If only that Parker whore had gotten on the plane with her husband, just like I planned. She would’ve died before that baby was even born. Problem solved. When she gave birth earlier, I thought maybe luck was on my side after all, but no. She had to die, and the brat kept clinging to life."

My heart froze in my chest.

"You…? You did that? The plane? The Parkers…?"

"Tony, money can buy so many things. Even blowing up a plane, and no one ever finds out who ordered it. You’re a billionaire, you should know that."

"You killed them…" I whispered with effort, lips barely moving. "You killed Richard, his brother… so many innocent people."

"Don’t waste your breath, Tony. "he hissed."You’ll be dead soon anyway. And then I’ll deal with your sweet Pepper… and finally with that brat."

I had never felt fear like that before. But I had also never fought so fiercely. And luckily, this time I won. I escaped.

I killed Obadiah. I saved my son.

Moments later I told the world I was Iron Man. Naively, I believed it would scare enemies away, that no one would dare strike me or my home. That it would protect Peter. But of course, life isn’t that simple… new threats appeared.

Two years later, I was on the brink of death again. Dying. My arc reactor was poisoning me, and all I could think about was what would happen to my child once I was gone.

I wrote my will, prepared for every possibility.

And yet… somehow, I survived. Again.

It happened every time. I brushed against death, over and over, and still I lived.

That same week, when I fought side by side with Rhodey against an army of drones, I met Nick Fury and heard his plan to build a secret team of superheroes. It was a time when the world was undergoing drastic changes.

I met Natasha, a super-spy straight out of a movie.

In New Mexico, Thor appeared, a real alien, and supposedly also a god.

And some scientist, trying to replicate the super-soldier serum, turned into a monster called the Hulk and leveled an entire city.

The world was becoming more dangerous. More extraordinary.

And I had to do everything to protect Peter from it.

The only good thing that came out of that time was that I finally stopped being an idiot and started dating Pepper, seriously. I loved her and she loved me. She accepted me, flaws and all.

I told her about Mary, about my parents, about all my worries. She loved me anyway.

Peter was happy, and I was happy. Still, I kept improving my weapons, sensing that a greater danger was yet to come.

A year later, of course, another earthquake. They found Steve Rogers. Captain America. My father’s legend, a man from seventy years ago, frozen in ice, waking up as if nothing had happened. He hadn’t aged a single day.

"That’s so cool!"  Peter shouted when he heard about it on TV.

I nodded. Outwardly, I played it calm, but inside, all I felt was fear.

The world turned upside down.

And I had no idea where it would take us. But I knew it wouldn’t be anywhere good.

●●●

And of course, I was right. Again.

In 2012 the invasion came. Loki. The Chitauri. The sky over New York tore itself apart, and the Avengers stood shoulder to shoulder for the very first time.

Me? I flew a nuke straight into space, convinced I was saying goodbye to my son for the last time.

I closed my eyes as the darkness swallowed me, ready to die. I was terrified, but in a way… I was at peace. Because I believed I had saved the world. I had saved my kid.

But fate had other plans.

I survived. Again. Just like every other time.

The Hulk caught me, slammed me back to Earth alive, and the world was safe—at least for the moment. I went home to Peter.

He cried in my arms, sobbing for what felt like forever, and I cried with him. We both knew we’d come within an inch of losing each other.

From then on, the Avengers were part of my life. When I trusted them enough, I told them about Peter… but I never introduced him. I kept telling myself it was for his safety. Truth was, he’d been so close to death so many times already that I started treating him like glass. Fragile. Breakable. I was overprotective, controlling—hell, probably even possessive. But how else was I supposed to protect an eleven-year-old kid growing up in the shadow of my enemies? I never knew what would get to him first: his fragile little body, or the next lunatic trying to kill me.

Pepper stood by me. The Avengers grew stronger. And Peter… well, he grew up too. And like any eleven-year-old boy, he started becoming his own person.

One day he just casually told his friend I was his dad.

Perfect timing. The government breathing down my neck, Fury playing his games, the Avengers still trying to figure out how to be a real team—and my son decides to blow our biggest secret.

I understood, I really did. But I was too exhausted to deal with it. I asked Pepper to handle it for me.

Looking back, that’s when the cracks started to show.

Iron Man became the priority. I became the priority.

I couldn’t sleep. Every night I saw New York burning. Every night I fell back into space. Fear chewed me up from the inside. But I couldn’t stop. Not then. Not while Peter was growing up, stepping into the world.

Quitting wasn’t an option.

When the Mandarin put Happy in the hospital, I fought with everything I had. I lost the Malibu house, but I kept fighting, because Peter was hundreds of miles away in New York, waiting for me.

When S.H.I.E.L.D. turned out to be Hydra in disguise, I fought on. No breaks.Non-Stop No rest. I couldn’t stop until I knew my kid had a future.

And then… I built Ultron.

I told myself it was for him. For Peter. I was blinded, paralyzed by the fear of losing him. And I ruined everything.

I created a monster that leveled a city.

My invention killed people. And when I came home, Peter threw his arms around me, thanking God I was still alive..but in his eyes I saw it. Disappointment. That single, quiet accusation I’ll never forget:

“Dad… how could you? You killed those people.”

That day was the beginning of the end. The distance between us wasn’t subtle anymore. It was sharp, sudden, undeniable.

And it was my fault. All of it.

Peter was a teenager now. He needed a dad for the hard stuff. I tried, God, I tried—but more and more, I kept failing.

I couldn’t live with what I’d done. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did.

So I locked myself in the workshop. Shut myself off from Peter. Half the time I didn’t even notice. I just kept walling myself off from everyone.

If I’d had half a brain, I would’ve gone to therapy. Got the diagnosis: PTSD, depression, the whole package.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t admit something was wrong.

God, I was so damn stupid.

Pepper screamed more, I buried myself in work more. I wanted to make it up to her, to whisk her away, take her and Peter on some vacation, pretend we were a normal family. But I knew throwing money at it wouldn’t fix a thing.

I was drowning. Bruce was gone. Thor vanished. The Avengers kept shifting, and Ross wouldn’t stop waving Ultron around like a dirty card he could play anytime.

I was so consumed by all of it that I didn’t even notice Peter was changing.

Rhodey set him up with workshops, internships. I made sure it was safe, and I was glad he had something to do. But I didn’t see it. Didn’t see when it happened.

Looking back, it’s so obvious. How did I miss it?

The inhaler disappearing.The glasses—gone overnight. He said he switched to contacts, but I never saw him put on glasses again, not even at night.

Suddenly he’s eating more, not getting tired, his PE grades shooting up. One time his sweatshirt lifted and I thought I caught a glimpse of abs. Peter Parker with abs? I laughed it off, told myself I was seeing things.

I ignored it. I was blind.

And when Spider-Man showed up in the city, instead of stopping and thinking—who is he, where did he come from—I was too busy watching my relationship fall apart.

__

Pepper was yelling at me:

“You’re here, but you’re not really here!”

“What are you talking about, Pep?”

“Take a break! Tony, you need to stop. You have a son, you have me… stop driving yourself into the ground, you have to stop!”

“I can’t, Pep,” I sighed. “I can’t. I have to protect you, I have to—”

“You have to stop this family from falling apart! Do you even know what’s going on at my job? At Peter’s school? Have you even asked Rhodey how he’s holding up? Or thought about how Happy’s date went?”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“That’s exactly the problem! You don’t see anything. Not me, not this family. Your son is growing up, Tony. He’s slipping away. I don’t know if he’s partying, studying, or both—but I see the change. He lies. To me, to you, to everyone. And you don’t even notice.”

“What…? Pete doesn’t...Pep, what are you even saying?!”

The fights dragged on. Long. Heavy. Weeks at a time. And then one day… even though I loved her, and she loved me… I woke up and she was gone. She needed a break.  I was alone.

And I realized I had to fix myself.

Deep down, though, I knew it might already be too late.

Still, I tried.

I started reading parenting books—guides on raising teenagers. FRIDAY dug up the best ones for me. I made Peter breakfast, organized family dinners, movie nights.

One night, he looked at me across the table, the picture of a cheesy sitcom family, and said:

“You don’t have to do this, Dad. You don’t have to pretend everything’s fine. I know you’ve got Avengers stuff going on. I know it’s important, and you can’t tell me the details, but… I get it. Really. I trust you.”

My stomach twisted.

When did he get so grown-up? Since when did my kid have to tell me that a family dinner wasn’t something he needed?

I didn’t want to become my father. God, I wanted to avoid that at all costs. I needed to change something fast.

But before I could even figure out how… it all started to crumble.

Lagos. The Accords. Ross. The endless fights between Avengers.

I had to sign. People were right—I was reckless, impulsive. Maybe if someone had oversight, the tragedies wouldn’t keep happening.

Of course Saint Steve Rogers, Mr. Captain America  our favorite popsicle, had to disagree.

I loved him, I really did. He was one of my closest friends. But sometimes, I wanted to knock those perfect teeth right out of his mouth.

It started with arguments. Then Vienna. The Winter Soldier murdered people, and Rogers was too blinded by loyalty to see it. He risked everything just to protect Barnes.

At least… that’s what I thought at the time.

The airport battle. Even then, something felt off. Like we didn’t know the whole story. I wanted to figure it out, to talk it through, to do anything to stop the Avengers from falling apart. Like it or not, they’d become my family.

But there was no time. Steve wanted to run. Ross was breathing down my neck. Rogers vanished with his crew.

And then hell broke loose. We fought. Rhodey almost died.

I stood later in the hospital, staring at his X-rays. I had never imagined I would end up in a situation like this. I was quietly grateful that at least Peter was away on his school trip, and didn’t have to see it.

Again. God, how blind I was.

“Really got into your veins, huh?” I asked Natasha when she stopped beside me. “The double agent role. You just can’t resist.”

I was sharp, but also wounded. She had betrayed us. Switched sides. Freed Rogers. Left me alone.

“Yeah, but it’s not my life hanging by a thread right now,” the Black Widow answered coldly, and I flinched.

The Avengers had fallen apart. My found family was slipping away. As if everyone I loved was leaving, one by one.

“T’Challa told Ross about you,” I added dryly. “He knows you helped Rogers. I’d advise you to run.”

She nodded, almost turned to go, but then suddenly asked:

“That Spider-kid… do you know who he is?”

“No. I wanted to recruit him, but he was already on Rogers’ side. He never gave me a name, nothing. Why?”

“Just… when Rhodey fell, I swear I heard Spider-Man shout at him.”

“Then he was probably trying to catch him.”

“No… it sounded more like… like he knew him. Maybe even called his name, or…” She shook her head. “You know what? Forget it.”

I rolled my eyes, irritated. What was she talking about? It was impossible for Spidey to know Rhodey. Was this just another of her gamesOnce again, I was blind.

I didn’t want to accept the truth, even when my mind was already whispering it. A little voice in the back of my head told me who Spidey was… but until I had proof, I refused to believe it.

I hadn’t accepted it when I found out Zemo had framed Barnes.

I hadn’t accepted it when we flew to Siberia, and Spider-Man kept acting strangely around me.

Only when I saw Zemo’s tape — the recording of my father saying that only someone with Stark DNA could inherit the spider’s power — only then did I finally understand.

And nothing could stop the truth.

My son.

My boy, who had spent his whole life fighting illnesses and hospitals, while I feared for him every step of the way… the tiny boy born a month too early… He was Spider-Man. A superhero saving people. And fighting against me.

He had lied to me for months, and I hadn’t noticed a thing. He had gone out at night, risking his life, and I… I thought I was protecting him.

How could I not have seen it? What kind of father was I?

My brain was shattering. Peter tried to explain, but I could tell he was panicking. I wanted to say something. I really wanted to fix this.

But then Zemo showed the second recording. Barnes killing my parents.

Steve knew. He knew and stayed silent. He hadn’t trusted me about the Accords, he hadn’t trusted me about Barnes, not even about my own son. And now it turned out he had been hiding this truth as well.

Something inside me snapped.

The fight began.

I remember shouting to Peter to run, as I threw myself against two super-soldiers at once.

I remember Steve trying to speak:

“I’m sorry, Tony. But he’s my friend.”

“So was I,” I answered in a broken voice, and went back to the fight.

I remember ripping Barnes’ arm off. I remember Steve throwing me down, slamming the shield at me again and again… I thought he was going to kill me. I thought he wouldn’t stop.

This would be my end. I’d die at the hands of my friend.

When dizziness struck and my suit started failing, I thought of life and death.

And I had just one final thought before this slaughter… this man will not make an orphan of my son.

The rest was a blur. I know I fought back as best I could. I know Peter returned. That he tried to stop us. That he stood between me and them, shouting at Rogers too, just as hurt. And then… he let them go. Just like that.

Then he turned and walked toward me.

And as he approached, I didn’t see a superhero in a mask.

I saw a tiny boy in an incubator, fighting for breath.

I saw a child asking endless questions about the world.

I saw a kid building his first invention. Crying in my arms after twisting his ankle.

So many versions of my son. So small, so fragile.

And now before me stood a teenager, strong, brave. I was so damn proud of him… even if he had fought on the other side. I don’t know why I never told him. I should have. I was always proud of him.

I ruined everything.

I knew it.

I tried to calm him down, tried to talk, but Peter was furious. He wouldn’t listen. He yelled:

“I understand a lot more than you think!” he hissed. “Help will be here in an hour. You’ll manage.”

And he walked away.

“Peter! Peter, come back!” I shouted, but he was already gone.

An hour later Vision found me and carried me out. I told him to scan the whole area. No trace of life. Peter had left. He couldn’t have gone with Steve, but apparently T’Challa had been there too. He was the one who arrested Zemo.

If Peter hadn’t gone with Steve, it was obvious he had gone with him.

He flew far away, with the king of a foreign nation.

And even though I lived. Even though I came back home. Even though Peter and Rhodey were alive… I knew this time I had lost everything.

My worst nightmare had come true.  I was alone.

●●●

It had been a month since everything. Since the fall of the Avengers.

Since the last time I saw my son.

I was sitting over old Hydra files. Digging through recordings, reports, scraps of information. I did it to keep my mind busy. To try to understand what had really broken me.

I’d been watching for hours. And I couldn’t stop.

It was terrifying. Disguisting. 

I saw them strapping Barnes into that damned chair. Saw how they tortured him, shattered his mind, and built it back up into something else. I read every document on “mind control.”

“Damn it…” I whispered. “Steve was right.”

Barnes… he didn’t kill my parents. It was the Winter Soldier. And Barnes never wanted to be him. He had no control.

It wasn’t him who killed my mom… it was Hydra.

And yes, maybe Steve broke my heart by hiding the truth from me. Maybe nothing will ever be the same between us again.

But what I saw… what Barnes went through… that had nothing to do with Steve. That man was a victim, and he deserved help.

I realized I had to do something. I had to fix this.

I already knew my son was in Wakanda. That much was obvious.

Looking at T’Challa’s technology, Wakanda was far more advanced than anyone could have guessed. No king of a so-called third world country runs around in a bulletproof panther suit. Probably made of vibranium.

If he could afford that, he could certainly afford to take in one extra spider-kid.

I also suspected Barnes might be there too.

Rogers, Wilson, Romanoff… they could hide anywhere. But Barnes? He needed sanctuary. And doctors.

Wakanda was the perfect place for that.

Now I had to find a way to prove his innocence. I had to change the accords while I still had the power to do it.

And most importantly, I had to find Peter and apologize.

“Hey, Friday,” I finally spoke.

“Yes, Mr. Stark?”

“Patch me through to Rhodey and… and Pep. Tell them I want a meeting. It’s urgent. Also, call Ross. Tell him I’ve got a proposal for him. We’ll need to negotiate.”

“Right away, boss,” my AI replied.

I sank into the couch, staring at nothing, with only one thought in my head:

That maybe, if I played this right, my plan could save us all.

And if it worked… I’d take Pete on the longest trip of his life. And from then on, I’d finally be the kind of father he deserved.

Chapter Text

Wakanda was… good. Warm. Before I even realized it, two months had passed, and I’d already grown attached to the place.

My Xhosa had gotten a lot better, and Shuri had gone from “the princess who teases me” to someone who honestly felt like an older sister. She’d roll her eyes, throw sarcastic jabs, but I always knew I could count on her. T’Challa was like the older brother I never had, and Wakanda itself was starting to feel like a second home.

Life here suited me. I kept in touch with Ned regularly, sent short replies to Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy—just enough to let them know I was alive and that I loved them. Anything more felt too painful. I muted everything else. Cowardly, I know.

I hadn’t answered MJ. Or my dad.

I couldn’t bring myself to lie to MJ, and I had no idea how to explain everything. And Dad… I still couldn’t talk to him at all.

Yeah. Coward.

I knew I couldn’t keep ignoring him forever. Sooner or later, I’d have to leave Wakanda and face him. People here kept gently hinting that confrontation was inevitable. But no one was pushing me out, and for now, I was content to just exist in this bubble and not think about what came next.

I was still “spider-manning,” even if not intentionally. The daily Wakandan training kept my body sharp and my reflexes wired. The Dora Milaje were unreal—nothing like training with Steve. Don’t get me wrong, Cap was an amazing mentor, but these women… they were on a whole different level. I never expected I’d need to use what they were teaching me.

I was wrong.

After T’Challa’s coronation, his long-lost cousin showed up—Erik. Killmonger.

He wanted the throne. Said Wakanda had been hoarding its riches while the rest of the world suffered. His methods were brutal. He killed Zuri and challenged T’Challa to ritual combat, “killing” him and taking the throne. He even burned the heart-shaped herb, cutting off the Black Panther power for good.

And as extreme as he was, I understood his frustration. Racism, oppression, injustice—they’re real, and Wakanda really was the most powerful nation on Earth doing nothing. Killmonger wanted Wakanda to fight back, to arm the oppressed.

But starting a war, turning pain into more pain? That wasn’t the answer. You can’t trade one kind of suffering for another.

During the chaos, Ayo hid me in a secret outpost. She told me to stay put, that if Killmonger found me, he’d probably kill me. I didn’t even know T’Challa was presumed dead, or that half our allies had gone underground.

It wasn’t until I heard the sounds of battle that I realized I couldn’t just sit there. Ayo’s warnings or not, I couldn’t.

I grabbed my suit and went.

I fought alongside the Dora, standing against Killmonger’s supporters. I wasn’t the hero of that story, but I knew exactly where I belonged—using what I could to protect the people who’d given me a home. I saved a few lives. I made myself useful. And apparently, according to a lot of people, I looked pretty amazing doing it in my nanotech suit, swinging webs and all.

In the end, T’Challa won. Wakanda was safe. Everyone thanked me, some even asked if I needed therapy for the trauma.

They didn’t get it. That fight wasn’t traumatic for me—it was liberating. For the first time since the airport, I felt alive. I was made for this. Helping people, standing up to villains—that’s my element. Even now, in Wakanda, I swing around the city looking for anyone who might need help. But this isn’t New York. Crime doesn’t lurk around every corner. It’s a peaceful country. Beautiful.

Most of the time, Spider-Man was just a curiosity, someone to ask about powers or take selfies with. And I liked that. Here, I didn’t have to hide my identity. I was the only white kid in the country who could swing on webs; everyone knew exactly who I was. And like the king promised, I was safe.

Wakanda was safe.

I just hoped that wouldn’t change after the king’s new decision.

Because yeah, there was a new decision. T’Challa opened Wakanda to the world—not all at once, but he started the process. He held a press conference, told the truth about the country’s wealth, the vibranium reserves. Wakanda was ready to work with the U.N., to share knowledge and resources.

I knew the internet was losing its mind over it.

But I didn’t want to dwell on that. I trusted T’Challa. I believed it was the right call. Instead, I was thinking about how to keep being a hero while still staying here. I needed the rush, the sense of purpose. But for now, my “heroics” mostly meant entertaining kids.

Because now every Wakandan kid followed me around. After they saw me fighting alongside T’Challa against Killmonger, they decided my suit, my powers, my webs—everything—was the coolest thing ever.

When I walked through the streets, kids would beg me for “web rides” across the rooftops. So I’d swing between towers with two or three on my back, laughing their heads off. And who was I to say no? Every smile, every squeal of joy reminded me that I mattered here—not just for what I could do, but for who I was.

Even if I wasn’t saving lives every day, at least I was doing something good. And for now, I hoped that would be enough.

●●●

Turns out I was more like my dad than I ever thought.

After exactly two months and four days in Wakanda, I felt like… I wasn’t satisfied.

Of course, I loved Wakanda. Staying here had helped me a lot. I needed it.

But the second I started feeling better—mentally, I mean—it was like… something was missing. Like all my potential was going to waste.

I was back to square one. Living under the roof of a rich host, with a full plate of food and a roof over my head… but doing nothing that really mattered.

Playing with kids, talking to villagers—it was beautiful, but it wasn’t enough. Every day I felt more and more like Wakanda was paradise… just not for me. Not anymore.

This country was vibrant, colorful, safe.

And yet for me, it was becoming too quiet.

I was still that hyperactive kid from New York, used to car horns, to chaos, to the city that never sleeps. Here, everything was too perfect, too neat.

And even though I loved Wakanda with all my heart, I was slowly starting to feel like I was locking myself up in a golden cage.

Paradoxically, I felt most alive when I was fighting. When my heart was hammering like crazy and my body reacted faster than my brain. The day Wakanda almost fell to T’Challa’s cousin… the irony of it, but that was the best day of my stay here.

The day I remembered who I was.

And now I just felt… empty.

“With great power comes great responsibility.” That’s what my grandpa said.

And me? I wasn’t responsible. I had power. I could help. And instead… I stood still. And that was killing me.

I was sinking deeper into it.

So when one day Shuri walked into my room, I couldn’t believe my luck.

“It’s Sergeant Barnes,” she said seriously. “He’s recovered.”

I shot up to my feet, feeling emotions I hadn’t felt in so long. Excitement. Stress. I bombarded her with questions.

I found out they’d woken him up from cryosleep a week ago. But they hadn’t told anyone until they were sure their cure would work.

All this time, he’d been training with Ayo, fighting to tear those cursed trigger words out of his mind. And it worked.

He was free. Really free.

For the first time in decades… he was himself.

“Can I talk to him?” I asked nervously.

The truth was, I’d made peace with Steve. We’d had an honest, serious talk. I forgave him. But I still didn’t accept what had happened. That’s why I hadn’t read my dad’s messages. That’s why I hadn’t called MJ. That’s why I’d only texted my family a single word and then disappeared.

I didn’t want to face the truth.

I didn’t want to look change straight in the eye. I was scared that if I accepted it… everything that mattered would just stop existing. That nothing would ever be the same again.

Maybe talking to Bucky could be the first step to fixing that.

“Follow me,” Shuri said with a smile, and I followed her all the way to the edge of the city. To where people still held onto tradition, far from the skyscrapers and tech.

And that’s where I saw him. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

Wakandan clothes, hair tied in a bun, surrounded by a group of kids laughing and tugging on his sleeves.

He was feeding goats, answering the kids’ questions, and in his eyes… for the first time, I saw peace.

“Peter! Peter! Spider-boy!” the kids yelled, running toward me the second they spotted me.

Bucky turned too. Our eyes met. I saw surprise, but also relief. He must’ve already heard I was here.

I high-fived the kids and walked toward him. Shuri stayed back, giving us space.

“Hey, kid,” Bucky said with a small smile, though his voice held a note of uncertainty.

Only then did I notice the missing arm. Just a stump. My heart clenched. I remembered the moment my dad ripped that arm off with his bare hands. Which reminded me of how that same metal arm had once crushed my grandpa’s skull.

“You look like Jesus,” I blurted out, just to chase those brutal thoughts away.

“What?” Bucky snorted a laugh.

“No, seriously. The hair, the clothes, the whole vibe… come on, you see it too.”

“Honestly, I feel like I usually understand about fifty percent of what you say,” he sighed, giving me a look.

“That’s still forty-nine point nine percent more than Steve usually gets,” I shot back.

That got the corner of his mouth to twitch into a short, almost shy smile.

He chuckled. “Is he really that much of an old man?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it,” I muttered, and we both laughed.

Then came a beat of awkward silence, neither of us knowing what to say.

Finally, Bucky cleared his throat. “Come on. Let’s walk.”

I sighed with relief that I didn’t have to start, and nodded. We headed out through the fields, toward the forest, goats running around us. The warm sun wrapped us in calm, Wakanda’s silence working like a balm.

“So you’re free,” I said eventually.

Bucky smiled. “Yeah. Finally all the crap Hydra shoved in my head is gone.”

“And now what?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

“I don’t know,” Bucky admitted honestly, staring into the distance.

“You staying here?”

“Everywhere else, I’m a wanted criminal.” He shrugged.

“And why isn’t Steve staying?”

“He’ll visit. But the world still needs him. Even if he has to stay on the run from the government.” He fell quiet for a moment. “What about you?”

“Me?…” I hesitated. “I don’t know. I love it here, I really do. I feel safe here.”

Bucky glanced at me but let me go on.

“I’ve spent two months here, it’s amazing. You’ll like it too, seriously… But sometimes I feel like…” I sighed. “Like something’s missing.”

“I get that,” he said in a thoughtful voice.

I looked at him and raised a brow.

“I mean, I miss the rush, the action, actually doing good things. That’s obvious… But what about you? What are you missing?” I smirked when I saw him hesitate.

“Uh…”

“Maybe the company of a certain blond guy in a way-too-tight shirt?” I teased.

“Peter…” he muttered, flustered, and I raised my hands defensively.

“Kidding, kidding! …Okay, maybe not entirely kidding.”

“I told you, I don’t even know if Steve could feel the same way and I—”

“HA! So you admit it,” I pointed at him. “You like him!”

Bucky rolled his eyes but smiled faintly. “They say these times are a lot more tolerant.”

“Aha!” I grinned. “And not that I’m a relationship expert, but… He almost definitely, probably, like, one hundred percent feels the same way.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Dude literally turned his back on the entire government for you. A hundred and seventeen countries, right?”

“We’ve been friends since we were kids. He’s my best friend. That’s it.”

I groaned in frustration. “Yeah, sure, that’s why he keeps your sketches in his pocket. Because you’re ‘just friends.’ Listen, I’ve got my best friend Ned. I love him, okay? He’s awesome, he’s one of the most important people in my life. Sure, I’d die for him, betray the government if I had to… But there’s a difference.”

“Enlighten me,” Bucky said dryly, rolling his eyes.

“Even though I haven’t seen him in forever, I don’t stare longingly at his photos, I don’t blush every time someone mentions him, and I definitely don’t draw him from his best angles and then carry those drawings around like some war widow clutching a picture of her dead husband—” I grimaced. “Okay, bad metaphor, but you get what I mean?”

“Steve drew me?” Bucky asked instead.

“Uh, yeah… I kinda found his sketchbook once and, well, I peeked. Not that I’m nosy, I was just… curious. So I flipped through, and it was basically you on almost every page. And if it helps, he drew you really damn well.”

Bucky just sat there, staring off into the distance.

“I didn’t know he still drew… especially me,” he whispered, almost to himself, smiling faintly. Then the smile faded.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, just…” He hesitated. “Okay. Let’s say you’re right, and Steve actually is… well…”

“Gay. Or bi… Or pansexual, or demisexual, or—” I frowned, trying to remember. “There’s more, right?”

“Oh my God,” Bucky shook his head quietly, and I grinned.

“So then what?” I asked.

“Exactly. So then what? I’m still me. I’m still here.”

“I think then he shows up, kisses you, and eventually… actually, I don’t wanna know what you two do at night. And in the end…” I trailed off. Because what then? Even if they got together, then what? Could they even have a chance at a happy life?

“Oh… the Accords,” I whispered.

“That… and my whole fucked-up history,” Bucky said in a hopeless tone. Silence fell between us, heavy and awkward.

“You know… Steve told me recently that maybe the law won’t last forever,” Bucky finally said.

I glanced at him, curious. “You mean the Sokovia Accords?”

“Yeah. Heard someone’s been negotiating with Ross. They haven’t announced who, but apparently this person’s been fighting tooth and nail. Trying to convince countries to reconsider. Apparently the whole UN is talking about, like, changing terms or something… Steve doesn’t know much, it’s just what he picked up from the news.” He looked up. “Actually, T’Challa probably knows more. As king of the most powerful nation on Earth, he’ll have a lot to say… who knows, maybe they’ll pull it off.”

I smiled faintly. “So there’s hope.”

Bucky nodded, but his face darkened

“For Steve and the rest, yeah.”

“But?” I asked, catching the shadow in his voice.

“Even if they clear the Avengers… I’ll probably still have to stay here. My situation’s different.”

“Don’t say that—” I started, but he cut me off.

“I’m the most dangerous criminal on Earth. A murderer. I was wanted in most countries even before all this Accords crap went down.”

“But you were a victim, if they could just prove—”

“Peter, I literally shot the President of the United States,” Bucky snapped sharply. “I’m a traitor. There’s no hope for me.”

My eyes bulged. “YOU KILLED JFK?!”

Bucky nodded stiffly.

“Oh my God, Yahoo Answers lied to me! This is insane, I can totally brag about this in history class now. That teacher hates me, I’d kill to see her face when she finds out I actually know who really shot JFK. And that I knew him personally. Take that, Mrs. Stanford!”

Bucky stared at me, frowning in total confusion, then shook his head like he was fighting off a laugh.

“You’re unbelievable. It's amazing”

“That’s kinda my thing,” I said. “The Amazing Spider-Man or whatever.”

Bucky smiled faintly, but then his face fell, like something hit him.

“You know I don’t blame you, right?” I said quietly, sitting down next to him. “For my grandpa’s death. Back then… I was mad. But mostly at Steve, for not telling me. You wanted to. You just didn’t get the chance.”

“You should blame me. I blame me.”

“But it wasn’t your fault.”

Bucky shook his head. “With him it’s even worse than the rest. I knew Howard, we were friends. And still I…”

“You didn’t want to. You had no control. That wasn’t you.”

“But it was me. My body.” He clenched his hands into fists.

“Not your mind.” I looked him straight in the eyes. “If you had the choice and I asked you right now… would you kill my grandparents?”

“NO!” he burst out immediately, startling a couple birds nearby.

“See?” I smiled sadly. “That’s why I don’t blame you.”

Bucky shook his head in disbelief. “You’re too good for this world, Peter.”

Oh, if only that were true…

●●●

Talking to Bucky had actually lifted my spirits. It also made me start wondering—was there still hope for the Avengers? I had to know more.

Would that mean going home?

I wasn’t sure what to think. I missed my dad like crazy, but I was terrified of what would happen when I finally faced him. And honestly, I didn’t want to go back unless I knew I could still be Spider-Man. But looking at the whole situation? Yeah, that wasn’t happening. Dad would never allow it. And even if I went behind his back, thanks to the Accords, Spider-Man was just as much a “war criminal” as Black Widow, Wanda, Falcon, and Cap. Nobody knew who I was under the mask, but swinging around New York while Ross and his army were hunting me? That’d be suicide.

So I didn’t think about it.

Ignoring the pain, pretending the problem didn’t exist—it made it easier not to care. And when I didn’t care, I wasn’t sad.

Psych 101.

Ned kept asking if I was coming back for the new school year. Summer break had already started in the States, but the real question was… would I be back at Midtown when classes started again?

I was still so angry at my dad—for trying to kill Bucky, for siding with the Accords, for just… letting me down over and over.

But God, I missed him. I wanted to go home.

I just needed to know more first. And there was only one person I trusted enough to get me the answers.

I called Ned.

He picked up almost instantly, like he’d been glued to his phone waiting.

“Dude!” he blurted out right away. “Did you see the news?”

“Not yet. Was kinda hoping you’d fill me in,” I admitted.

“Well, you’re in luck, because I’m on top of this,” he said proudly. “They’re saying on TV that talks about the Avengers are back on the table, because apparently one American citizen filed so many official appeals and complaints that the whole case had to be reopened.”

I blinked. “Wait—what American?”

“They’re not saying,” Ned lowered his voice like someone could be listening in. “They’re keeping it neutral—no names, no faces—so it doesn’t turn political. But… sounds like a few countries are actually reconsidering the Accords. Like, maybe branding Captain America a war criminal isn’t the smartest move if, I don’t know, another alien invasion shows up. Rumor is, some nations are working on changes to the documents.”

My heart kicked into overdrive. This could be… something. The kind of hope I hadn’t let myself feel in weeks.

“That’s… that’s incredible, Ned,” I whispered. But he wasn’t done.

“There’s more,” he added quickly, and I could hear the excitement—and a little guilt—in his voice. “I might’ve dug a little deeper. You know, not exactly legally…”

“Oh my God, Ned.” I rubbed my face. “Don’t tell me you—”

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have!” he rushed to defend himself. “But you know me. A little poking here, a little bypassing firewalls there…”

“You’re amazing!” I cut him off. “Straight-up genius! What’d you find?”

He cleared his throat, trying to sound serious, but I could hear the pride hiding underneath.

“According to some files… there’s a separate investigation. On Sergeant Barnes.”

I froze.

“What?” I breathed, not trusting my own ears.

“Yeah,” Ned went on. “They’ve already proven he didn’t blow up the UN building. Now they’re digging into Hydra’s records—every mission they forced him to do. Trying to figure out if he ever had a real choice, or if he’s basically just a prisoner of war.”

Something inside me lit up. A tiny spark, growing into a flame.

“Oh my God, Ned… that’s incredible,” I whispered.

And for a moment, I forgot everything else—the fear, the guilt, the crushing weight on my shoulders. All I could feel was hope. Real hope. That maybe… things could change.

●●●

For the next few days, I felt like I was living on two fronts. On one side, there were the quiet talks with Bucky. He was slowly starting to trust his own thoughts again, and sometimes—even letting himself laugh, really laugh—when I told him about my spider antics back in the city. On the other side, there was swinging between Wakandan towers and… my calls with Ned. He was the one keeping me updated on the political chaos outside.

The world had completely flipped upside down. Parliaments were arguing, the UN was locked in endless shouting matches. Votes—some ending in angry screaming, others in silences so heavy they spread wider than the results themselves. Some people swore they felt safer without the Avengers. Others said that losing the Avengers was basically leaving the door wide open for disaster.

On TV, online, on the streets—everywhere—it was the same question: who’s right, and who’s to blame?

I asked T’Challa once, but his answer was always calm: “Nothing is decided yet. I don’t want to give you false hope, Peter.”

He also asked me not to tell Bucky too much. At least not about the separate investigation being carried out on him.

“It’s too soon. False expectations can break a man faster than the truth. Let’s not give him hope we can’t keep. He’s been through enough already,” he said. And I listened.

That was also when I started talking more with Steve. Since we had forgiven each other—and since Bucky opened his eyes again—it felt like there was an invisible thread tying us together. They spent all their time with each other, but for me, just ten minutes with Steve each day was enough to remind me I wasn’t alone.

He was still my mentor. He listened without judgment, he spoke simply, but somehow every word carried weight. We talked about hope. About how the world always finds a way to stand back up. He believed in people more than I believed in myself. And every single conversation circled back to my dad.

“Peter,” Steve said once, in that calm voice of his that could quiet a storm, “if you were able to forgive me, you need to give your father that same chance. Tony isn’t blameless, but he hasn’t hurt you the way you’re hurting yourself by cutting him off. He didn’t betray you any worse than I did.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, my throat tightening.

“I know…” I whispered. “But I’m scared, Steve. You know he already knows about me. Who I am. The world will never be the same after that. And me… I don’t know. It’s too many changes all at once. You know how he is about security. And if he knows, then when I go back, others will figure it out too. Rhodey already did—he guessed I was Spider-Man. He even wrote it to me, and I… God, I haven’t had the guts to answer. I ran away. I acted like a coward. And I’m scared, because if Dad… if I go back, he might… I don’t know, change. Lock me down. Ban me from this life, or—or…”

I couldn’t finish. My voice cracked.

“Peter,” Steve said gently, “fear is natural. But you can’t let it decide who you are. Your father loves you, even if his choices have been flawed. You don’t have to solve it all today. But don’t lose sight of what matters. You know Tony. He acts on impulse sometimes, but—”

“That’s exactly the problem, Steve!” I cut him off. “I know he loves me, I know he cares… but he’s reckless. He does things first and regrets them later. That’s who he is, that’s who he’s always been! Ultron, the accords, the Mandarin… hell, my birth happened because of one of his impulsive choices! And now? He tried to kill Bucky before he even heard the whole story. So what if I go back and one day he gets mad enough to—what? Out my identity to the world? Or cook up some crazy serum to strip away my powers because in his head it’ll ‘keep me safe’? And besides… I lied to him too, Steve. For months. I fought on the other side. I betrayed him. I betrayed family. He… he might not want me back. He could be angry, he could hate me, he could—”

“Kid,” Steve interrupted, steady but firm, “I know Tony. Nothing you could ever do would make him hate you.”

I stayed quiet.

“But he could still change,” I said at last. “He could still find a way to stop me from being Spider-Man.”

“Pete,” Steve said softly, “Tony would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Not on purpose,” I muttered, tears in my eyes.

“I know…” Steve sighed. “But I think you’re being too hard on him. Try to see it from his side. And maybe… believe.”

“Believe in what?” I asked bitterly.

“That your dad can change. He’s changing all the time—I see it myself. Tony’s not perfect, but every single day, he tries to be a better version of himself. For you. Try to understand that.”

I smiled through the tears, just a little.

We sat there in silence for a while, me listening to his steady breathing on the other side. When I realized he wasn’t going to add anything else, I thanked him for the talk and was about to hang up when he said:

“Talk to T’Challa if you really want to understand the politics. He knows more than you think. Wakanda is already in talks with other nations about changing the accords. You might hear something that gives you a new perspective. And Peter—don’t ignore problems and hope they disappear. Call your family. Call your friends. They miss you.”

Then he hung up, and I just sat there, staring into the distance, replaying every word in my head.

●●●

That night, I couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. Steve’s words echoed in my head like a drumbeat. Finally, I gave in and made my way to the throne room. I knew T’Challa often handled matters there, even late in the evening. The king always knew more than the news Ned somehow managed to dig up for me.

As I got closer, I saw a hologram glowing in pale blue light. T’Challa stood focused, speaking to someone through some kind of hyper-advanced communication system. I was about to slip away when I heard the voice on the other end.

A voice that made my heart slam against my ribs so hard it hurt.

My father.

My blood ran cold.

Why was he talking to T’Challa? Did he know I was here? Or had T’Challa finally had enough of me and was handing me over? I froze in place and just listened.

“Listen, Cat-Man” Dad’s voice was casual, but I could practically see his smirk.

“My name is King T’Challa,” the Wakandan ruler answered calmly.

I didn’t need to see Dad’s face to picture him rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Relax, it’s just a nickname. I mean the whole kitty suit thing.”

“The Black Panther has protected Wakanda for generations. That is no laughing matter.”

“Can we go back to politics?” Dad cut him off. He sounded light, but I knew that tone. Underneath was a taut string ready to snap.

“That’s why you called,” T’Challa replied evenly.

“How much longer is this going to take?” Dad pressed. “I’ve been stuck dealing with Ross for months. I was hoping Wakanda’s support would move things forward. But ever since you joined the process, things still look just as crappy as before. How long until we turn the UN to our side?”

I pressed myself harder against the wall, breath trembling.

They were talking about the Accords. About changing them.

Oh my God, Dad was the mysterious millionaire Ned had mentioned, the one fighting to bring the Avengers back.

I kept listening.

T’Challa’s voice was steady but heavy:

“In three days, there will be a summit in Vienna. Representatives from many nations, including Sokovia, will present their views. We expect that, since Wakanda has revealed its strength to the world, it will serve as an example. And when the public sees Wakanda support softening the Accords and restoring the Avengers, they may follow.”

“I hope you’re right,” Dad answered, suddenly serious. My stomach twisted—what had made him change his mind so fast? Then his next words froze me entirely: “And Barnes?”

“I have no idea where he is,” T’Challa replied.

Dad scoffed. “Come on. You’re not fooling anyone. It’s obvious you’re keeping him there. Not hard to guess.”

“If you attempt to kill him, you will fail. He is under Wakanda’s protection,” T’Challa cut in sharply, his voice protective. I shivered at the thought that my father might want Bucky dead.

“Whoa, easy! Violence? Seriously?” Dad shot back defensively, and I frowned in concentration. “Didn’t I already—? …Maybe not… but I was going to apologize. That counts. You know how humiliating it was to admit I was wrong in the first place?” He sighed, and then his voice softened, just a little. “Listen, Your Highness, I’ve done my homework. I know Barnes wasn’t in control. Who do you think handed the FBI evidence against Hydra? I’m not here to hurt him. I’m trying to clear him.”

Silence fell. When T’Challa finally spoke, each word cut like a blade:

“You expect me to believe you want to help the man who murdered your parents?”

Dad’s voice hitched. I could almost feel him seeing that recording again in his head. His voice trembled, but he went on:

“I’m not saying we’ll ever be friends. Honestly? I’d rather never see his face again. And sure, he’ll need years of therapy, maybe for the rest of his life. But… not prison. Not death. The Winter Soldier—the one who did all that—he wasn’t Barnes. That was Hydra. They pulled the strings. They’re gone now. Good riddance. Barnes was just a weapon. He lost control the same way my parents lost their lives. He’s a victim too. And I owe it—to them, to him—to at least try to help.”

I didn’t know whether to cry or smile. My dad. Saying those words. Admitting he was wrong. I never thought I’d hear that. I found myself smiling through tears as I listened to the rest, though I didn’t fully understand every detail.

What mattered most was that Steve had been right.

Tony was trying.

“You are truly remarkable,” T’Challa finally said once they wrapped up the political strategies—too dull for me to follow.

“Yeah, well, don’t spread that around,” Dad muttered. But then he hesitated. His breathing shifted, like he was weighing his words.

“What troubles you?” asked T’Challa.

Silence. Then...“How’s Pete?”

I froze. The blood drained from my face. Did he know? Had he known all along?

T’Challa didn’t answer right away. He paused, as if searching for the right words.

“I’m not sure what you mean…” he began carefully.

Dad sighed, sarcasm dripping:

“Please. I’m a genius, don’t insult my intelligence. The only reason I haven’t turned the world upside down looking for my son is because I know he’s safe. Here. In your country.”

Heat rushed to my face, my heart pounding like a hammer.

“I could have sued you for kidnapping, could’ve started an international scandal,” Dad went on, calmer but sharp. “But I didn’t, because in the end… I’d lose that fight. Against a king. So instead of playing theater, show me some honesty and just tell me… how’s my kid?”

T’Challa was silent for a moment longer. Then he sighed, and his voice softened:

“Your son… is doing better than you think. He studies. He trains. He laughs. Sometimes he misses home, but he’s not alone. I know I cannot replace his family, but… Wakanda has embraced him as one of our own.”

I heard Dad exhale, a heavy, bone-deep sound, like dropping a weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying.

“That’s good,” he muttered. “That’s really good. Please tell him… that… make sure he knows I love him and…” He hesitated. “…And if you guys ever have pizza in Wakanda, give him Hawaiian. He won’t admit it, but that’s his favorite.” Then the line cut.

I clenched the doorway, fighting not to burst into tears.

I stared at the spot where my father’s hologram had been moments before. My heart hammered so loud, for a second I was sure everyone could hear it.

“Done eavesdropping?” T’Challa’s voice came suddenly. Calm, gentle—but it struck like a gong. I jumped as if caught red-handed.

“I… I’m sorry,” I stammered, avoiding his eyes. “I just wanted to talk and—”

“It’s all right, Pete,” he interrupted, stepping closer. His warm smile dissolved the tension like it always did. “So… what do you think?”

“What?” I asked, swiping at my cheeks, not sure what he meant.

“For weeks now, I’ve been negotiating with other nations,” he explained, leaning lightly against the railing. “I want to change the terms of the Sokovia Accords. With your father’s support and public opinion, there’s a real chance Rogers and the others could return to normal life by the end of this year.”

“Oh…” was all I managed, my throat tightening again.

“Peter,” his voice grew even gentler, though I could feel the weight of what was coming. “Don’t take this the wrong way. I’m glad you’re here. Truly. Wakanda adores you, and I’ll always be grateful for what you’ve done. You’ll always be welcome here…”

My stomach clenched, I knew where this was going.

“But… I’m not sure this place is right for you. Not anymore.”

“You’re kicking me out?” I asked quietly, unable to meet his eyes.

“No,” he said quickly, sincerity clear in his tone. “I’m saying—call your family. Talk to them. You saw your father. You know what’s happening. Stop running, Peter.”

Those last words hung between us, heavy as stone.

●●●

When I finally made it back to my room, I sat down on the bed and drew in a shaky breath.

“You’re Spider-Man. You fought Killmonger’s army, you went toe-to-toe with the Avengers and the Winter Soldier. You save people. You’ve got this,” I whispered to myself, like I was trying to convince my own heart to beat steady again.

I pulled out my phone. The screen lit up, and the number of unread messages almost crushed me. My fingers trembled as I scrolled straight to Dad’s chat. For a long moment, I just stared at it. Then I opened it.

It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Apologies. Short messages saying he loved me, that he knew I was safe. But one broke me all over again, bringing tears before I could stop them.

I’m proud of you, Spidey. I love you.

Spidey. Spider-Man. He wrote that on purpose. He accepted me. Did that mean… when I came back, he wouldn’t try to take the mask away? That he’d let me keep being who I am?

I sucked in a breath like I was about to jump off a cliff. Typed a few words, hesitated, then hit send and tossed the phone onto the bed like it was burning my hands.

Do you maybe want to come to Wakanda sometime soon?

My heart pounded like a hammer, because I knew this moment was inevitable. I was about to see my dad again.

The phone buzzed almost instantly, the screen flashing. He’d answered, and probably already taken off to get here. I sat down on the floor, knees pulled up, my chest aching like my ribs couldn’t contain it. Memories of the last few months rushed in like a storm. What went wrong? Dad drifting away, breaking up with Pepper, Steve becoming my mentor, the Accords, Bucky… everything just fell apart. And Dad, he wasn’t the villain in this. None of them were.

I stayed there for hours, processing it all. Until finally—four hours, maybe less—there was a knock on my door. A guard telling me to head to the landing pad.

My legs felt like they were filled with lead. Every step heavier than the last, like I was walking into my own trial. And then I saw him. Standing there in the shadow of a massive ship, suit wrinkled from the flight, hair a mess. My dad. Tony Stark.

I don’t remember who moved first. All I remember is one second there were yards between us, and the next I was in his arms. He crushed me against him like if he let go, I’d vanish again.

And that’s when I realized—hearts don’t just break from pain. They break from happiness too.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the lies I’d told him for months. Not that he’d lost control and nearly killed Bucky. Not that we’d drifted apart or that he’d probably always resent Steve for dragging me into danger. None of it. What mattered was this. That I was here, in his arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I whispered through tears, while Dad kept repeating the same words back to me. “Please don’t hate me—”

“Oh, Bambi,” he said, resting his forehead against mine. “I could never hate you. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Dad…”

“Look—” he began, voice breaking. “My father wasn’t around. But I swear I'll be around for you..I'll do whatever it takes.”

“I love you,” I whispered, holding onto him tighter, catching Shuri smiling proudly at us from the corner of my eye.

“My son,” Dad said, voice rough. “Look at my son. My dear Peter.”

And I smiled through the tears, knowing that, even though the government was still against us, even though the Avengers had shattered, even though Dad and Steve would probably never forgive each other, this was a chance. A chance to fix what was broken.

We were going home.

Chapter Text

A gunshot whizzed past my head.

Quick dodge. Leap. Web.

“Hey! That wasn’t very nice!” I yelled from behind a wall, hanging upside down by a web strand. “Just a reminder, I don’t wear bulletproof armor!”

“Shut up, little spider!” some guy shouted back, his accent so thickly Russian I could practically smell vodka and cheap cigarettes in the air.

The dude, wearing armor shaped like, well, a rhino, was stomping down the street, crushing cars like soda cans and firing wildly. People screamed and ran, and I just sighed.

“Rhino… again?” I muttered. “Man really needs a new hobby. Maybe sudoku.”

I swung in, landed on his metal back, and crouched.

“Hey!” I called.

“Get off, bug!” he roared, spinning around like a fidget spinner on espresso.

“Actually, arachnid. Big difference. You should read more,” I said, leaning next to his helmet and tapping on the reinforced glass. “Knock, knock.”

“RAAARGH!”

“No, no, no!” I shot another web to tie down his arms. “That’s not how this works! When I say ‘knock, knock,’ you say ‘who’s there!’”

“Go to hell!”

“And then I say—your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!” I finished, firing a few webs that glued him to the asphalt like a giant metallic pancake.

He tried to launch a missile, but I sealed the launcher with web fluid before it could go boom.

“Nope, nope, nope,” I said, wagging my finger. “You know what happens to people who skip the safety manual? Kaboom.”

The cops rolled in just as I snapped a triumphant selfie with his head in the background.

“Smile, Rhino! This one’s for Instagram!” I grinned. “#NoMoreViolence #YesToLikes #YourFriendlyNeighborhoodSpiderMan.”

A few minutes later, I was already swinging high above the city.

The wind hit my face, the sunset painted everything gold, and for a brief moment, the world was quiet again. That was my favorite part, the calm after the chaos. Adrenaline fading, peace returning, and the feeling that maybe, just maybe, I did something good today.

I stopped on top of Stark Tower. Home.

Dropped down to the balcony and slipped through the half-open window—not sneaking into my bedroom like before, but right into the kitchen.

It smelled like garlic, basil, and… something that could only be described as a desperate attempt at spaghetti.

Dad stood by the stove—yeah, in an apron—stirring sauce with the same focus he usually reserved for solving quantum mechanics.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, pulling off my mask and dropping into a chair by the counter. “Rhino tried to rob another bank. Didn’t blow anything up this time, so… progress?”

Tony glanced over his shoulder, raised an eyebrow, and sighed. “You in one piece?”

“Always. He didn’t stand a chance. Triple kick, web wrap, done.”

“Capsicle taught you that?” he asked, serving the pasta.

“Nah,” I shrugged. “Some guy on YouTube. Indian dude. Great channel. Oh, check my Instagram, got a pic from right after the fight.”

He shook his head. “Still don’t get why you need a separate account for Spider-Man.”

“It’s for the people, Dad. For the people,” I said with a grin. “And, you know... to boost engagement… but mostly so they can trust me. Or ask for help. Yeah...definitely that part.”

Tony chuckled. “You know, sometimes I feel like this whole saving-the-world thing is just an excuse for you to come home late.”

“And sometimes I feel like your whole cooking thing is an excuse to hide the fact you ordered takeout from the place next door,” I shot back.

“Shut up and eat. But let's save some for Pepper” he muttered, twirling spaghetti on his fork.

“Yes, sir,” I said, smiling. And for a little while, between one bite and the next, I forgot about everything else.

●●●

Yeah. I know. A lot has changed.

It’s been a few months since the whole Accords mess, since everything fell apart and somehow came back together again. Since I came home.

And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… it’s actually good to be back.

Home doesn’t feel like a museum anymore,  cold, quiet, full of ghosts.

Now it smells like coffee, motor oil, and somehow… pancakes. Don’t ask me how. Dad’s been trying. Really trying.

When I got back, we both started therapy. Yeah, both of us. Tony Stark and his kid, sitting in family therapy.

Sounds like the start of a bad sitcom, right? But weirdly enough… it works.

We apologized — me for lying, him for shutting everyone out. It’s not always easy. We still argue, sometimes the room goes painfully quiet, but… we talk. And for the first time in forever, we actually listen to each other.

And Pepper?

Dad asked her out again. Asked for a second chance. And...she said yes.

I won’t lie, it was kinda weird at first. But when I saw her smile, really smile… I realized maybe the world can fix itself. Slowly, with cracks still showing, but fix itself nonetheless.

After a ton of hearings and negotiations, the government finally revised the Sokovia Accords.

The Avengers aren’t under anyone’s control anymore. Now they work with countries, not for them. They share intel, plan missions, cross borders legally.

Sounds boring and bureaucratic, but hey, at least no one’s throwing airplanes at each other anymore.

Cap’s team got full pardons.

Dad officially retired. For real this time. Said he wanted to focus on “family.”

We even went on vacation together. Sri Lanka. It was… amazing. Peaceful. Exactly what we needed after all that chaos.

The Avengers’ trials went smoother than anyone expected, thanks to Dad’s help—and, you know, being the most powerful man on the planet tends to help. Support from the Wakanda also made it much quicker. 

Bucky’s case on the other hand, was harder. A lot of people still saw him as a murderer, a terrorist.

But, again,  with Dad’s help (I know, shocker), justice finally caught up with the truth. Once the Wakandans removed all the brainwashing, Bucky was officially free.

A civilian again. A citizen again.

They even recognized him as the longest-held prisoner of war in history, which, turns out, means the U.S. government owed him a ton of money. Back pay, reparations, compensation… If I wasn’t the son of a billionaire, I’d say the guy hit the jackpot.

So yeah. Things are good.

He’s still required to go to therapy once a week, but honestly? I think it’s helping.

And I’m pretty sure it also helped, uh… resolve that tiny bit of sexual tension between him and Steve. They don’t talk about it...to us...but come on, anyone with eyes can tell.

They don’t need words. Dad pretends not to notice. I pretend too. It works for everyone.

Steve and Dad, though… that’s still complicated.

They’re not enemies anymore, but they’re not exactly friends either. I’ve always thought their relationship was weird and kinda impossible to define. Now, when they meet, it’s careful.

Like every sentence might be another crack in the glass. But… maybe, with time, they’ll figure it out. Or at least find a new kind of peace.

And me?

Well… I’m Spider-Man again.

After a lot of long talks, Dad finally agreed, if I do it responsibly. So, we made rules:

Curfew at ten.

Karen’s linked with FRIDAY, so I don’t “try to play hero alone.”

No Avengers-level fights.

And I have to report any villain above “bad guy of a week” level. (Yeah, we made a ranking system. Don’t judge.)

And, surprisingly… I’m training with Steve again.

It’s surreal, honestly. Didn’t think Dad would go for it, but he actually said Steve’s a good mentor for me, if I really want to keep doing this hero thing. And he’s right.

We’re back in the gym together, his calm strength balancing out my hyperactive spider-energy.

“You’ve got potential, kid,” he said, like nothing ever happened.

And for the first time in a long time, I actually believed him.

Sometimes Natasha joins us. Trust me, no one kicks harder. Don’t ever make her mad.

Bucky drops by sometimes too, and whenever he does, Steve looks… lighter. Happier. Yeah, we all see it. They even moved in together ( and they were roommates)

Every single Avenger knows the true.  No one says a word. And as long as I never walk in on them doing anything sexual... I’m good.

●●●

It’s been a few months now. I’m sixteen.

New class, new teachers, same hallways, just lighter somehow.

Maybe it’s me who changed.

Ned’s still talking nonstop, obviously. Rhodey drops by for dinner sometimes, or takes me on what he calls a “mini patrol.”

Okay, fine, more like a quick flight around the city, but “patrol” sounds way cooler.

 “My nephew’s a superhero!” he laughed the other day. “Knew he’d outshine his old man one day.”

“Need me to remind you I’m literally Iron Man?” Dad shot back from across the table.

“Retired Iron Man. Doesn’t count,” Rhodey grinned. I couldn’t help but laugh.

Moments like that… they made the world feel right again.

I was...happy. Just plain happy. Life was finally good again.

And MJ? She forgave me. The secrets, the silence, the disappearing act. Not right away, not without a lot of talking… but she did.

I didn’t tell her everything. Not yet. I didn’t want to lie either, so I just promised her that someday, I’d tell her the truth.

She understood, because that’s who she is.

It was the three of us again: me, Ned, and MJ.

Flash was still being an idiot, but I stopped caring. I mean, I’m Tony Stark’s kid. An Avenger. (Okay, “almost an Avenger”. Dad says I need a degree first.) No point wasting time on people desperate for attention.

I missed school, weirdly enough. Missed being normal. Missed just being Peter Parker—not “Stark.”

And today, after weeks of psyching myself up like it was a final boss fight, I finally did it.

I stopped MJ after class.

My heart was pounding harder than when I fought that Russian guy in the rhino suit.

Honestly, I’d rather take another punch from the Winter Soldier. But hey, I had her attention now, no turning back.

MJ looked at me with that look. The one that sees straight through you.

“What’s up, Parker?” she asked with that half-smile that always means trouble.

I swallowed hard. My throat felt dry.

“MJ… I wanted to tell you something.” I took a small step closer.

“What is it, Parker?” she asked, raising a brow, like she already knew where this was going.

“I… I really like you and well...I was wandering if...you know...I...”

“...am Spider-Man,” she finished for me.

I froze.

“Whaaat?! Noo...How—”

“Or were you gonna say you’re Iron Man’s son?” she added, raising the other brow. “’Cause, yeah… that too. Honestly, it wasn’t that hard to figure out. No one’s ever met your parents, except Ned, who squeaks every time someone mentions them....You’re a genius, you’ve got that sketchy ‘internship’ at Stark Tower, and you look like a teenage version of Tony Stark. And Spider-Man? You suddenly got all fit, disappeared for months right when the Avengers were fighting each other, and Spider-Man stopped showing up around that time too. Add the mysterious absences, the bad excuses… come on, Parker, it wasn’t exactly subtle."

I glanced around, panicking, to see if anyone was listening.

“Relax, loser,” she murmured. “Nobody cares what you’re saying or doing. That’s why no one’s figured it out.”

“Ouch,” I muttered.

“But I care,” she added softly.

I smiled. “When did you figure it out?”

“A while ago,” she said, with that small, warm smile that could melt the ice off Siberia.

“So… when you say you care, it’s not because I’m Spider-Man? Or, you know… Tony Stark’s kid?”

“Do I look that shallow to you?” she shot back, narrowing her eyes.

I panicked instantly, tripping over my words. She laughed.

“Relax, loser. I’m messing with you. And no, it’s not because you play hero in spandex.”

“Phew. Good to know.”

“So?”

“So… what?” I blinked.

“You gonna ask me out, or are you just gonna stand there like a dork?”

"Emm...do you wanna go out" 

“Yep. I’ll text you after school, time and place.”

" REALLY?...I mean...cool" I smiled, feeling like my heart was melting. My first ever date. 

“Okay… just don’t be late." And she walked away, leaving me there, mouth open, heart doing backflips.

__

That night, we actually went on the date.

Simple. Easy. Just me, her, and the glow of New York City.

Dad gave me some advice how to act and gave me some privacy. 

Ned texted me ten times: HOW’S IT GOING?!?!?!

Rhodey sent one: Don’t forget protection, kid.

Steve… would’ve probably fainted. 

We sat in this tiny diner in Manhattan.

I was nervous as hell, about to say something dumb—like always—but it was going well. We were laughing. We kissed. It was so good and so romantic I wanted to kiss her again when it hit me.

That familiar tingle under my skin. 

MJ noticed me tense up.

“What is it?”

I looked toward the window. A blinding flash streaked across the sky.

And then I saw it.

A giant, round spaceship hanging over the city. Shaped like… a donut.

Yeah. A freaking donut.

“Oh, crap.”MJ sighed. “Peace was nice while it lasted.”

I nodded. "Way too nice.” I stood up, gave her one last look. “Rain check on the date?”

She smiled softly.

“Just come back in one piece, Spider-Man.”

I nodded, slipped the mask over my face, and shot a web toward the skyline. And in my head, one thought echoed louder than the wind rushing past my ears:

I am not throwing away my shot.