Irondad & Spiderson Oneshots

Tony Mirror Kidnapping–Pt. 2

Flashes of pain and bright lights and cold hands and cold beams of metal holding him down flash through Peter’s mind.  He jolts upwards with a start, looking around himself wildly as his chest throbs dully in pain.  His heart pounds against his ribs as he takes in the blackened room.  He can see only vague shapes but it seems that his usual sharpened vision isn’t working, and now that he thinks about it, he feels weak.  Weaker than he’s felt in the past year.

Peter slumps back against the wall, wincing as his chest flares in pain.  Looking down, he can see that he’s no longer wearing his shirt and there are bandages wrapped around his torso.  Looking at his arms, he can see that there are bandages there, too.  He’s beginning to peel them off when a voice cuts him off.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you."  Peter jumps and looks up.  How he hadn’t seen the person when he first woke up, he has no idea.  Now that he thinks about it, the person is only a teenager that looks about his age.  "It took them a while to bandage you up, their meds didn’t work on you so you were half-conscious through them removing the metal shards from your chest and arms.”

Peter continues to stare at the boy.  “Wh-Who are you?” he croaks out, scrunching his face up a bit at the scratchiness of his throat.  The other teenager hands Peter a glass of water and he takes it without a second thought.  The other teenager looks to be in the same boat as him if the bruised knuckles and the cuts on the boy’s face say anything.

“He didn’t tell you about me?” the guy asks sarcastically, lifting an eyebrow.  “I’m Harley Keener."  It takes a second for it to click and suddenly Peter’s choking on the water that he had been sipping.

"Y-You’re Harley?  The Harley?  The one who helped Mr. Stark four years ago when everyone thought he died from that terrorist attack?” Peter spits out, leaning forward as he looks at the guy.  The kid, Harley, leans back a little at Peter’s sudden spout of words.

“Tony’s told you about me?” Harley asks, bewildered.  Peter nods his head wildly.

“Dude, you’re like a legend!” Peter says excitedly.  “Mr. Stark’s told me all about how you helped him with his suit after it got busted.  Dude, you got to work on his suit!  Like, he barely even lets me touch it when it’s busted.  And you got to work on it!  And, I mean I’ll take apart some of his old ones–"  Peter’s cut off when the cell door is thrown open, colliding with the wall with a clang.

Three men stand there, one in front of two others.  The one in front is wearing a sickeningly familiar symbol and it makes Peter’s heart stutter in his chest.  Both boys immediately scramble onto their feet at the sight of the men, both tensing and their hands curling into fists.  The man in front smiles at them.

"Hello, boys,” he says.  The back of Peter’s neck prickles at the man’s voice.  It seems that he still has his spidey senses even though it seems that he’s lost the majority of his other senses.  “It’s nice to meet the two kids who Tony Stark has taken a shine to."  Peter shifts uneasily and sees Harley do the same.  "Now, boys, nobody has to get hurt.  All you have to do is build us an iron man suit.”

Peter narrows his eyes at the man while Harley speaks up.  “Why the hell would we do that?” He asks snarkily.  “So you can kill a lot of people with it?"  The man nods to the two boys and the two guards behind him rush forward.  Peter does his best to fight the man off, but he’s bigger than him and he’s still weak and he doesn’t have any of his enhanced strength.  The guard manages to pull Peter’s arms behind him and Peter sees that the other guard has Harley in the same hold.

"You’re going to build it or we’re going to force you to build it,” the man says.  With nods towards the door, Peter and Harley are dragged out of their cell and pulled down the brightly lit hall.  They’re dragged through a few rooms before they’re both kneeling before tubs of water.  They’re sat across from each other, and as Peter stares into Harley’s dark blue eyes, he sees fear there.  Real, cold fear.

Before either of them can say anything, Peter’s head his wrenched forward and held under the water.  Almost immediately, he begins thrashing, remembering the time the Vulture dropped him into a lake where his parachute wrapped around him and stopped him from being able to escape.  When his head is finally pulled away from the water, he can hear Harley shouting from behind his gasping.  After a few breaths, his head is thrown back under.  This happens a few more times before it’s Harley’s turn.

Peter can’t tell what’s worse; his head being held underwater or Harley’s.  Peter nearly screams himself raw by the time both of the soaking boys are dragged to their cell, both shivering and huddling together as soon as they’re released.  Through the pounding in his head and the ringing in his ears, Peter can hear the Head Honcho speaking.  Through blurry eyes, Peter can see a red light and what resembles a camera.

After a few mumbled noises that Peter can vaguely recognize as words, the Head Honcho leaves with who Peter’s deemed as Tweedledee and Tweedledum.  Peter’s shivering so hard that his teeth are constantly clicking together, but from what he can tell, Harley’s doing better because he can actually thermoregulate like a normal human being instead of like a DNA-mutated-spider-human.

When Peter Parker was two months shy of his fourteenth birthday, he was bitten by a radioactive spider.

Peter cringes as the door to his cell is thrown open, curling into the corner next to his cot.  The very familiar Albert Malik walks in, all high and mighty, and he grins at him.  The two guards, the same ones from four years ago, grab him.  He pulls against their arms but he doesn't have enough energy to move.  His food and water are limited and he can't sleep at night, nightmares about a time he can't remember and a time he does remember.

The men drag him down the hall and into the room that he is very familiar with.  It's the only other room that he actually goes to other than the bathroom and his cell.  The men pull him into the chair and use the fabric straps to hold him down.  He couldn't break them if he wanted to.

Albert walks around the room, gathering the materials to gather Peter's vitals and to set a control factor for when the next spider bites him.  Small scars litter Peter's arms and chest and small cuts in various stages of healing.  He had shed his shirt long ago when it became a little too tight on him.  It sits under his cot in the cell.  It's one of the only things from his life before.  It's one of the only things that he can remember.

Peter barely flinches as the scalpel slices a cut on his ribs.  This is all too familiar for him.  He can't help the way his chest jumps in a sharp breath as Albert brings the newest spider over to him.  He'll have a spider bite Peter every two weeks.  There are many small dots littering Peter's body from where the spider bit him.

Peter's heart picks up pace as the spider crawls out of the tube and onto his arm.  This one looks different from the others.  It makes Peter wary.  The spider crawls over his arm before digging it's fangs into Peter's arm, making him jump against his restraints with a grunt.  He grimaces at the hot flash in his arm as Albert gathers the now dead spider off of his arm.

None of the spider bites have reacted this way and it makes Peter scared.  He thinks that it might work this time.

Albert takes his temperature, heart rate, and blood pressure.  He nods for the guards to take Peter back to his cell and the boy doesn't struggle against their arms.  They end up dropping him in the middle of the cell where he promptly curls into a little ball, exhaustion and aching limbs making him hate the thought of moving.  Slowly, Peter crawls over to his cot and pulls the ratty blanket down to him, too weak to pull himself onto the cot.

Shivering on the floor, Peter feels his eyes pull close.

He groans as the door to his cells slams open, his hears pounding at the sharp clang.  It sounds louder than normal.  The thunks of the two guards are his only warning before they wrench him up and drag him into the lab room.  He's strapped to the table and his head lolls to the side as Albert walks towards him.

The man checks on his ribs where the cut was and Peter sees the man's expression harden in disappointment.  Albert checks Peter's temperature and frowns at the results.  "You're burning up..." he murmurs before checking Peter's heart rate, "and your heart's beating faster than normal."

Peter just lays there, his eyes still closed from the bright light.  He swallows down his nausea as the man continues to run tests.  He barely even feels it when the man begins to take his blood.  "Interesting..." Albert mutters, no doubt checking Peter's blood through a microscope.  What's interesting? Peter vaguely wonders.

"Take him back to his cell," Albert instructs.  Peter whines as the men remove the straps and wrench him off the table, his head pounding as he lays slack in their arms.  The men dump him on the ground but this time Peter doesn't have the energy to move.  He does, however, heave up the nutrients that were pumped into him that morning.  He lazily wipes his mouth and rolls to the side, curling into a ball and shivering.

He falls asleep with his body burning and body shivering.

Peter doesn't recall being dragged out of his cell when he awakes.  And now that he thinks about it, how many times has he been dragged into this room?  His eyes are still burning and his head and ears are hurting but he's no longer shivering or feeling like he's burning alive.

"Ah, Peter," Albert says, coming into view.  The head of the table is propped up and Peter can now see the man without having to lift his head.  "Are you with us?"  Peter frowns in confusion.  What does he mean...?  "Well, you see, you've been in and out of unconsciousness for the past week but it appears that the worst of your sickness has gone," the man says as if he heard Peter's question.  I said that aloud, didn't I?

"What's wrong with me?" Peter murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut as the bright lights become to much.  To his surprise, Albert flicks half of the lights off.

"You've mutated," Albert states simply.  "Apparently the muscle aches and the sensitivity and the sickness that's happened in the past week was your body dealing with the mutation.  You've formed muscles, you no longer need glasses, and it seems that you have exceptional hearing, Peter."  Peter frowns at the man but realizes that he is right.  He can hear the dripping of water from the bathroom down the hall and he can see the man perfectly even though he's standing a few feet away.

"Congratulation, Pete," Albert says.  "The spider worked."

Tony Mirror Kidnapping–Pt. 1

“Hey, Happy, do you think Mr. Stark is feeling alright?” Peter asks suddenly, looking up at Happy.  The two are currently on their way to the Compound when the thought to ask Happy about Mr. Stark struck him.  Mr. Stark’s been acting a little weird the past few days and he’s even canceled a few of their lab days.

“Why do you say that, kid?” Happy asks, looking back at him through the mirror.  Peter just shrugs and looks out the window.  They’re on a long road that leads to the Compound.  It has no cars on it other than the one that Peter sits in currently.

“It’s just he’s canceled a few of our lab days, that’s all,” Peter says, looking back at the man.  “He usually doesn’t do that without telling me or shooting me a message, you know?  I think something’s goi–"  Peter’s voice cuts off when the back of his neck tingles and flares in warning, making him immediately tense and look around him.

"Kid, what’s–?"  Happy’s voice is cut off by the car suddenly flying through the air and rolling.  Peter grunts as he’s thrown into the door and grabs the handle on the roof of the car as it rocks back and forth dangerously before stopping upright.  Immediately Peter pulls off the seatbelt, absentmindedly noticing that he just broke it instead of unbuckling it.  He’s about to get out of the car when Happy’s voice stops him.

"Kid, stay in the car–I mean it!"  Without another word, Happy jumps out of the car, gun at the ready.  Peter flinches as an explosion goes off nearby, it making his ears ring even more.  Peter shakes his head and rips his seatbelt off.  He’s Spider-Man.  He should be able to protect himself.  Another explosion goes off but it’s much closer to him and throws Peter off his feet.

He rolls around onto his stomach before pushing himself up, looking over sharply as Happy groans.  The man’s on the ground, half conscious with metal shards piercing his body.  Now that he thinks about it, Peter can feel blood pouring out of his body.  He looks down at his arms and hands.  Small pieces of shrapnel are covering his chest, arms, and hands with blood pouring out of him at an unhealthy rate.

Through the ringing in his ears, Peter can hear footsteps approach him, but before he can do anything, something strikes his head.

When he awakens, Peter can hear the mutterings of people talking and he knows that he should be able to understand them but he can’t.  He can barely hear them as it is.  It sounds like they’re whispering.  When he opens his eyes, he sees a black cloth before the bag is wrenched over his head, making him flinch at the bright lights.

He’s kneeling on the ground and men are holding weapons all around him.  All he can think is, This is bad.  This is very very bad.

Midtown Tech, 36 Hours Earlier

"You losers better not screw this up,” MJ says, glaring at the team.  The team, as in Midtown’s Academic Decathlon Team.  “We’re on our own turf so we better not lose.  We need this one to get into regionals, so answer as quickly as possible with the correct answer."  Everyone’s eyes flit over to Flash, who balks at all of the attention on him.

"What?” he asks, looking at everyone.  Ned snickers from beside a smirking Peter.  Everyone knows who Eugene ‘Flash’ Thompson loves to answer questions as quickly as possible and almost always ends up getting the questions wrong.  And since Betty Brant is at home with the flu, Flash, their normal alternate, has to participate.

MJ continues without acknowledging Flash.  “We have three teams going up there that will rotate.  Peter, Ned, Cindy, you three are on the Test of Knowledge round for science, math, and economics.  Sally, Abe, and I will do literature, art, music, and social sciences.  Flash, me, and Charles are doing the speech category while Cindy, Abe, and Sally are on the multiple choice questions.  Me, Peter, Sally, and Ned are on sudden death.  Everyone know where they’re going?"  Everyone nods their heads and Mr. Harrington walks up to them from the side of the stage.

"Okay, everyone!” he says loudly, gathering everyone’s attention.  “Who’s ready to win?"  They all cheer before the first teams are called out onto the stage.

Peter follows behind Ned and Cindy, his eyes shifting over the sea of people.  He smiles as he sees his Aunt and grins when he sees Mr. Stark.  He hasn’t seen the man in a few days since he canceled a few of their lab days but he’s glad he’s there.  He’s wearing an MIT sweatshirt, jeans, and of course, sunglasses.  Peter refocuses his attention and takes his seat.

"Welcome Midtown Tech and Staten Island Tech!” the announcer of the competition says, gaining a lot of cheers and applause from the sea of parents and scouts.  “This is competition will determine which of the two schools go onto regionals, so without further ado, begin!”

Questions fly out of the judge's mouth at rapid speeds, the ringing of bells filling the air.  The two teams seem matched and Peter pushes himself to ring the bell as quickly as possible.  “Vibranium!"  "Polychlorinated diphenyl!"  "Deoxyribonucleic acid!”

The room gets tenser and tenser as kids get the questions right and wrong and soon enough it’s down to sudden death.

“This question will determine which school goes onto regionals,” the judge says, making the room deadly silent and has the kids on the edge of their seats.  “What is the iron man suit made out of?” the judge asks the group.  Peter grins and rings the bell with lightning fast reflexes.  Peter had been the one to help Mr. Stark write the magazine article on the man’s suits, so of course he knows the answer to this question.

“Nitinol!"  The whole room is silent for a second before the judge confirms the answer as correct.  Midtown’s side erupts in cheers as Ned shakes Peter, yelling in his ear.  Peter’s eyes are on Mr. Stark and May who have the largest grins on their faces.  They’re waving at Peter and cheering and Peter waves back as the rest of the team run out on stage, all of them crowding around Peter, except Flash of course.

"I guess your Stark Internship is worth something, isn’t it?” Ned says, elbowing Peter and making Flash glare at them.  The guy still refuses to believe that Peter has an internship with Mr. Stark.  Peter just rolls his eyes and shoves Ned back as their trophy is handed to Peter.  The whole group crowds together around Peter who grins at the camera.  There are a few flashes until the parents of the kids come up to get their own pictures.

Peter ends up with the trophy again as his Aunt May and Mr. Stark come up to him.  “I’ll get a picture of you two!” May says, nudging Tony forward.  “Say cheese!"  The two roll their eyes as Tony throws an arm over Peter’s shoulders, throwing a thumb up as they grin.

"Good job, kiddo,” Mr. Stark says with a proud smile, making Peter look over him with an awed grin.  The flashing of Tony’s phone, which May grabbed, breaks them out of their little circle.  The woman has the decency to grin at their deadpanned expression.  Mr. Stark just rolls his eyes and pulls May over to Peter, grabbing her phone off her and taking a picture of the two.  The two adults switch phones as Mr. Harrington drops by to grab the trophy.

“Good job out there, Peter,” the man says, taking the trophy from him.  “I hope we’ll be seeing you at regionals."  Peter ducks his head down sheepishly.  He’s had to skip out on a few meets in the past year because he was either in the medbay at the Compound or because Mr. Stark needed him for a mission.

"I’ll be there,” Peter says, grinning at the teacher.  The man walks away, leaving Peter with May and Mr. Stark.

“C'mon, kid,” Mr. Stark says, throwing an arm over Peter’s shoulder, “let’s go get some ice cream."  Peter cheers as May follows after them with the shake of her head.

Peter wakes up to the sound of his alarm ringing beside his head.  Slapping the button, he takes a few minutes to get out of bed and throws on a random pair of jeans and a t-shirt.  Yawning, he makes his way into the bathroom.  He had to wake up early yesterday since the decathlon match started at seven in the morning.  The match had lasted more or less five hours and had taken up most of the day.  And since the match was yesterday, Peter didn’t have to go to school.  Though, he has to go today.  The only relief is that it’s Friday which means that he’s going over to the Compound.

Peter grabs his backpack and heads out into the living room, looking at the note that May left for him:  'I got called into work early.  I left a few protein bars on the counter for you to eat.  See you on Monday.  -May’

Peter grabs the protein bars and tears the first one open as he heads out of the apartment, locking the door behind him.  He sends a text to May, telling her that he’s on his way to school as he munches on the protein bars.  The walk to the subway seems to take a little longer than normal, but Peter makes it onto the train on time.

"Hey, Ned!” Peter calls out as he approaches his locker.

“Peter!” Ned yells out.  “Guess what I got yesterday?"  Peter raises an eyebrow at him as he grabs his chemistry book out of his locker.  "The new Droid Gunship lego set!  My parents got it for me since we won the match yesterday.  You wanna come over and build it?”

“That’s so cool!" Peter says, ignoring the mutterings of the people calling him and Ned a loser.  "I can’t go, though, sorry.  It’s Friday.  I–”

“'Go over to the Compound on Fridays.'  Yeah, I know, I know,” Ned says, sounding disappointed.  “What about on Monday, then?"  Peter nods his head.

"I’m not doing anything on Monday.  Wanna come over after school?” Peter asks as the two of them make their way to chemistry.  Ned nods his head and confirms the date.  “So, what did you do yesterday after the match?  May and Mr. Stark took me out for ice cream and we watched a movie and got some Thai to congratulate the win.”

“My parents and I went out to dinner,” Ned says as they take their seats next to each other.  “Other than that I kinda just spent the day building one of the lego sets I got and watching Star Wars again.  Did Mr. Stark–?"  Ned’s cut off by the first bell and Peter gives him a glance before paying attention to the teacher.  They’ve been given a lot of warnings and the teacher told them that if she caught them speaking in class again, that they’d both get detention.

The day flies by quickly and Peter meets the rest of the decathlon team in the auxiliary gym when the final bell rings.  "Okay, guys,” Mr. Harrington says.  “This meet shouldn’t take long.  I would like to congratulate all of you for winning yesterday’s match.  Staten Island is a hard school to go against, especially since their another tech school."  Mr. Harrington looks over at MJ.  "Michelle, would you like to take over?"  MJ stands up from where she was sitting.

"Okay, dweebs, congratulations, we won.  But now we’re going to regionals,” MJ starts, glaring at everyone.  “That means more meeting and longer meetings if we want to win.  We barely won yesterday, so we have got to study harder.  That means no skipping out on meetings,” Peter shrinks down as everyone turns to him, “and pay attention during the meetings,” everyone turns to Flash who also shrinks down.  “Regionals are our key to winning state.  So, I’ve compiled a list of topics that we’re going to study in the next few months.”

MJ grabs a stack of papers, takes one for herself, and passes it to Mr. Harrington.  He grabs one and the stack circles around the room until everyone has a list.  The list is double sided and has three columns.

“Wait, you expect us to know all of this?” Flash asks, disbelief coloring his voice.  MJ just glares at him.

“Of course, I do,” she says.  “Regionals are no joke.  You saw how hard they were last year.  And the list isn’t just for regionals, either.  These are some of the topics that we’ll need to know for state."  Flash shrinks away from MJ’s glare and she goes over the list.

"Okay, losers,” MJ says, looking up from the list.  “That just about covers it for today."  Everyone lets out sighs of relief and Peter sends a text to Happy.  The man responds saying that he’ll be at the school in ten minutes.  Peter shoulders his backpack as everyone heads outside.  Some of their parents are already waiting for them, but most people are either walking home, driving, or calling their parents to come pick them up.

"Peter!"  Peter stops walking as MJ grabs his arm.  "You’re not going to miss any meetings, right?  We can’t afford to let your internship get in the way of us winning regionals."  MJ had let Peter know not too long ago that she knew all along that he is Spider-Man.  Like she said last year, she’s observant.

"Don’t worry, MJ,” Peter assures her as he catches sight of Happy’s black SUV.  “I don’t plan on skipping out on meetings if I can help it."  MJ stares into his eyes for a few moments before letting go of his arm and nodding her head.

"Okay, loser, see you on Monday."  Peter nods his head, flashes a peace sign, before jumping into the back of the SUV.

"Hey, Happy!” Peter says, tossing his backpack to the side and buckling in.  Happy just grunts as he pulls away from the curb.  “Thanks for coming to pick me up."  Peter goes on to describe his day to the man before eventually letting the conversation–if you could call it that–drop.

When Peter Parker was two months shy of his tenth birthday, he thought he was never going to see his Aunt and Uncle again.

It had been two years after the events of Skip Westcott and it had been a few months after Peter had gone to the Stark Expo where he actually saw the Iron Man.  Tony Stark himself.  He remembers being so excited when he got the tickets on his ninth birthday.  But it was even more exciting when he stood up to that Hammer drone like Iron Man himself and Iron Man had shown up.  He can still hear the “Nice work, kid” ringing in his ears.

“Pete, get up.  You need to get ready for school!” his Aunt yells through the bedroom door.  “You don’t want to miss your last day of school, do you?"  Peter groans as he throws his covers off him, muttering under his breath as he pulls out a random pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.  He vaguely recognizes it as the Stark Expo shirt he got a few months ago and it makes a smile grow on his face even if he’s tired.

Peter shoves his door open after throwing on his clothes, still grumbling as he makes his way into the bathroom.  "I don’t want to hear any grumbling, Peter!” he could hear his Aunt’s voice shout down the hall.  “It’s your fault that you’re tired.  And your Uncle’s.  You two shouldn’t have stayed up all night watching Star Wars.”

“But it's Star Wars!” Peter whines as he walks into the bathroom, doing his business before washing his hands.  He makes his way out to the kitchen, sitting down at the small rickety table as his Uncle places pancakes down.  He smiles as his Uncle gives him a wink, digging into his pancakes.

Aunt May just raises an eyebrow at him, sipping at her cup of tea.  Peter tosses his plate in the sink when he’s done, running to his room to grab his backpack before remembering that he doesn’t need it since it’s the last day of school.  “You’re doing the dishes when you get home,” Uncle Ben says, nodding to the sink where Peter’s plate sits.  “Come on, let’s go, buddy.”

Peter runs to the door as his Uncle grabs his jacket and they both make their way into Ben’s car.  “School ends at twelve,” Peter reminds Ben as they pull up outside of the school.  “See you at home!"  Peter jumps out of the passenger seat, stopping when Ben calls out for him.

"Remember that you’re gonna have to walk home today, bud,” Ben reminds him.  “You’re Aunt and I’ll be at work until one.  Head straight home, okay?"  Peter nods his head.  He’s walked home before since the school is only a few blocks away from his apartment building.  "Okay, see you when we get home, buddy.”

“Bye!  Love you, Ben!” Peter shouts, running away and waving at his uncle.  He sees his Uncle say ‘I love you’ back before he joins the rush of kids and enters the elementary school.

Throughout the day, Peter can’t help but feel like something is off.  It’s not just that he’ll never see Forest Hills Elementary again, and it’s not that they’re doing nothing for the next six hours, it’s just something feels off.  And the feeling becomes more intense the closer the end to school.

Peter flinches as the shrill bell proclaiming the last day of school rings.  Peter had spent all day more or less reading, playing a few of the games the teachers set up and mingling with a few of the students who don’t really mind him.  Peter doesn’t have any friends, not since he went to live with his Aunt and Uncle and especially not since Skip, so he spends most of the day more or less alone.

Peter takes his time leaving the school, however, since that foreboding feeling is still there.  Slowly, Peter follows after the few kids that live near his apartment, but they all end up living a few blocks before him and then he’s alone.  Peter can’t help but fidget and look around him as the heavy feeling creeps up on him, but he pushes it away, thinking that it’s his anxiety working up again.

It’s only when he passes by an alley that Peter realizes that it wasn’t his anxiety.  He’s grabbed by rough arms and can’t even shout as a hand covers his mouth, knocking his glasses off his face and bruising the bridge of his nose.  Peter immediately squirms in the man’s hold, chest heaving and heart racing in fear.

“Let me go!” he screams into the glove-covered hand, flashbacks of Skip haunting him.  There had been times where Peter would fight against Skip as the teenager tried to coax the boy into his bedroom.  Skip had ended up holding Peter a similar way that this man is holding him to make him go into his room without making too much noise.

“Shut the brat up, already!” a foreign voice enters his ears as he’s thrown into the back of a van.  A man holds him down as another shoves another needle into his neck, causing Peter to wince and slump in the man’s hold not long after.  The only thought Peter has in his mind is I’m not going to be able to do the dishes…

When Peter awakes, he realizes that he is not at home and his vision is blurry due to the loss of his glasses.  He flinches as the door to what he realizes is his cell is thrown open.  “Peter Parker!” the man says, making Peter still because how do these people know my name?  “It is great to see you.”

Peter looks up at the man in confusion.  He can’t see him that clearly, but since the man is far enough away he can make out some features instead of blurs.  The man is tall and kind of lanky with dark brown hair and light eyes that remind him of Skip’s.  The thought makes him want to puke.  Instead, he asks, “What am I doing here?  Who are you?”

“Ah, that is the question, isn’t it?” the man muses, rubbing his hands together and fiddling with the collar of his white lab coat.  “I’m Albert Malik.  You see, I knew you’re father,” Peter freezes, “but he refused to give the information I asked for so I took it from him and your mother.  They were exceptional scientists who were working on a way to recreate the effects of the super soldier serum.  They were trying to find a way to mutate animal and insect DNA, well arachnid, technically, and tried to mutate it with human DNA.  Spiders have exceptional strength, did you know that?  They can hold onto something that is 170 times their body weight and can jump 50 times their body length.  And lets’ not forget their amazing senses.”

“Okay…” Peter said, eyeing the man warily.  “What does this have to do with me?”

“Ah, and there’s the million dollar question,” Albert says, smiling.  “You see, when Richard was testing human DNA with a spider’s DNA, he used his own DNA.  And we can’t use the spiders he had since they can only mutate to him.  And since you carry half of your father’s DNA, the spiders should be able to mutate you.”

Peter blinks as the man acquires a small capsule with a spider crawling away from it.  Albert begins walking towards him, making Peter scramble away from him before the two guards who were standing behind the scientist grab him.  Albert tsks at him as he removes the cap to the small tube, placing the front of it on Peter’s arm.

The small red and blue spider crawls over Peter’s arms, making him shiver as it stops.  Peter yelps as the spider bites him, causing him to jerk and throw the spider off him.  Albert scowls at Peter, slapping him and causing Peter to whimper as he picks up the spider.  Its legs are curled in, showing its death.

The two men drop Peter and they take their leave.  Albert gives Peter a chilling smile, “I’ll be back in a few hours to monitor your vitals and see if you’re acquiring any abilities.  Until then, goodbye."  The cell door slams shut, leaving Peter alone in the dark.  His chest begins to heave as gasps escape him.  He’s not going home.  He’s not going home.  He’s not going home.  And, he killed my parents.

Albert comes in two times a day for the next week, but nothing is happening to Peter.  His senses are as weak as ever and he doesn’t possess any type of super strength at all.

"Dammit!” Albert shouts, throwing a tray of tools across the room.  Peter’s strapped down to a medical table and blood pours down his arm from where the man took some of his blood.  “That stupid spider did nothing.  Nothing."  Peter warily eyes up the man as he paces back and forth, his heart rate spiking at the man continues to yell.  "I guess I’m going to have to make the spiders myself,” the man mutters.

Peter’s heart sinks.  He’s not going home.

When Peter Parker was two months shy of his ninth birthday, he was kidnapped by Hydra.

*Warning triggers for rape, any type of sexual assault, and rape of a minor.

When Peter Parker was two months shy of his eighth birthday, he decided that he didn’t want to play a game.

“Skip!” seven-year-old Peter cheers gleefully, running up to his friend.

“Einstein!” the teenager shouts back equally as cheerful, setting a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder.  Peter wraps his arms around Skip’s waist excitedly, grinning a broad smile at the teenager.  “What’s got you so excited, Einstein?"  Peter, who is practically bursting in excitement, quickly fills his friend on the news.

"Aunt May and Uncle Ben are going out tonight and said that you can come over until they get home!” Peter squeals as the two made their way into Peter’s apartment building.  Skip lives a few blocks away but would usually walk Peter home after school ended since he walks past his school on the way home.  “Can you come over?  Can you!?”

Skip flashes Peter a big smile.  “Of course, Einstein!  We’re friends.  Why wouldn’t I come over?"  Peter grins at that.  Steven ‘Skip’ Westcott is his only friend.  None of the other kids at school wants to be friends with the over-talkative asthmatic kid.  None of them wants to hear him rave about the latest technology that Tony Stark made.

Peter excitedly talks to Skip about what they could do while his Aunt and Uncle are out.  "Maybe we can watch a movie?  Or play Monopoly?  Oh!  I know!  We can build something with my legos!” Peter suggests, his eyes lighting up as they walk through the front door of his apartment.

Peter runs up to his Uncle and throws his arms around him, grinning up at the man.  “Guess what, Uncle Ben!  Guess what!"  Ben grins down at his nephew, ruffling up his hair as he chuckles at his nephew’s excitement.

"What?” Ben asks.  “What?”

“Skip said that he can come over tonight!” Peter squeals excitedly, turning back to look at Skip who was currently leaning against the apartment door frame.

“That’s great, buddy!” Ben says with a smile, looking up at the teenager.

“I’m going to go,” Skip tells the man, pointing a thumb behind him.  “I’ve got a new game for Einstein and me to play.  You can call me when you need me to come over.  See you in a bit, Einstein!"  Peter pouts as Skip closes the door behind him before grinning in excitement.  He wonders what new game Skip had for them to play.

Would it be a board game?  A card game?  Some sort of memory or logic game?  Whatever the game may be, Peter hopes it will be fun.  But, Skip’s games are always fun.  So he doesn’t worry too much.

Peter jumps up and down excitedly when someone knocks on the door.  It had been a few hours since Skip walked Peter home and Aunt May and Uncle Ben were all ready to go out on their date.  As usual when Skip comes over to babysit, Aunt May and Uncle Ben go over what to should anything bad happen.  They’ve never had to use the emergency information or anything before, but they always do, just in case.

"Thanks again, Skip,” Peter could hear Aunt May say.

“It’s no worry, Mrs. Parker,” Skip tells the woman.  “I don’t mind hanging out with Einstein.”

“Well then,” Ben says, drawing the conversation to a close.  “I guess we better head out or we’ll be late for dinner.  Have a fun night, boys!  We’ll be back by ten at the latest.  Please have Peter in bed by then.”

“Of course, Mr. Parker,” Skip assures, flashing a smile at the duo.  “You and Mrs. Parker don’t have to worry about anything.  Go have some fun.  Everyone knows you deserve it."  With a final goodbye to the two boys, the couple left, leaving Peter alone with Skip.

Unable to hold down his excitement, Peter bounds up to Skip.  "What kind of game do you have?” Peter asks Skip eagerly, eyes shining behind his thick-framed glasses.  Skip just chuckles at the overexcited kid, putting his backpack down and heading into the living room.

“It’s a fun game, Einstein, but we’ll play it later,” Skip says with a broad grin.  “How about we watch a movie or two before we play it?  We’ll play it in your room before you go to bed.  It shouldn’t take long."  If Peter found anything wrong with Skip’s wording, he says nothing.  Because Skip is his friend and they are going to play a new fun game!  He just has to be patient, that’s all.

And so, Skip and Peter settles into the living room with the lights off and the movie Skip brought over playing on the screen.  Throughout the movie, Peter couldn’t remove his thoughts from the game that Skip wants to play.  What is so special about it that it had to be played in his room and right before his bedtime?

Eventually, the credits to the first movie began to roll but it is only seven o'clock.  Peter’s Aunt and Uncle aren’t due home for another two or three hours, but Peter’s bedtime is coming up soon.  His bedtime is at nine since it is date night.  "Hey, Einstein,” Skip starts, checking the time, “I think we have time for another movie before we can play that game and get you to bed.”

Peter grins at his friend and another movie was loaded into the DVD player and begins to play.  It isn’t uncommon for the two to spend his Aunt and Uncle’s date nights watching a few movies, but usually, they would play a few games before Peter had to go to bed.  Peter hopes that they’ll have enough time to play the game.

As the second movie progresses, Peter can’t help but notice how fidgety that Skip becomes the closer his bedtime comes.  Perhaps the teenager is as excited for the new game that Peter is?  If Skip seems this excited then the game must be really fun!  And so when the credits began to roll, Peter gets really confused when Skip tells him to get dressed in his pajamas.

“But what about the game?” Peter asks in confusion.  Skip only smiles that broad smile at him.

“Don’t worry about that, Einstein.  I just need to set it up while you get dressed,” Skip informs him, walking over to his backpack.  “Go ahead and get changed in the bathroom.  I’ll be in your room when you’re finished."  Peter nods, albeit in confusion, and dashes off in his room to gather his pajamas.

Peter quickly pulls on his pajamas, excitement coursing through his veins at the prospect of a new game.  He bounds out of the bathroom and into his bedroom where Skip sits with a few magazines and a bottle of what looks to be lotion.  There is also a towel sitting on his nightstand.  Peter frowns in confusion at the excited look on his friend’s face and closes the bedroom door when prompted by the older boy.

"I thought we were gonna play a game?” Peter says, crawling onto the bed and beside Skip.

“Oh, don’t worry, Einstein.  We are,” Skip says.  Peter’s excitement lessens a bit at Skip’s eager expression and somewhat creepy grin.  Something is beginning to feel… off.  “This new game is only played with the bestest of friends.  So you may not have heard of it before.  But I’m going to show you some pictures in these magazines and we’re going to replicate them, okay?”

Nodding in confusion, Peter looks down at the magazines.  He freezes in place.  On the front cover of the magazine are two men.  Two naked men.  Peter’s face flushes in embarrassment as Skip flips the page, showing one of the men with their mouth on the other’s private.

Peter’s excitement for this game has immediately been extinguished by this point.  “Now, you’re gonna touch me here, Einstein,” Skip tells the boy, pointing to his privates.  At Peter’s wide-eyed incredulous and confused expression, the teenager explains.  “Oh, Einstein.  I know that you’ve never really had friends before me so you must not have heard of this game.  Like I said before, only best friends play this type of game.  And we’re best friends, right?  And good friends do this for each other.  It makes them feel good.”

Skip sighs after a few moments of Peter’s silence.  “I guess I’ll have to lead, then,” he murmurs, promptly beginning to unbutton his jeans.  When Skip reaches for Peter’s hand, the boy pulls it away.  His stomach felt heavy and it was churning.

“I don’t think I want to play this game…” Peter says slowly, trying to inch away from his friend.  Skip just shakes his head like Peter was being unreasonable.

“Don’t worry, Einstein.  I promise you’ll feel good,” Skip promises warmly, wrapping his large hand around Peter’s smaller one.  Before the kid can pull away, Peter’s hand is already in the teenager’s pants and touching his privates.  Peter tries to pull away, whimpering about how he doesn’t want to play the game while Skip continues to make the boy touch him.  Skip’s sighs of pleasure make Peter feel confused.

On one hand he knows he shouldn’t be touching Skip’s privates, but on the other hand, Skip said that the bestest of friends did it and he is making him feel good.

After a few more minutes, Skip’s hand slowly crawls over Peter’s thighs, making the boy jerk back.  Peter’s thoughts immediately turn to how this was so wrong but then Skip is touching him and pulling his pants down.  Skip pulls Peter’s hand away from his private, instead choosing to reach for the bottle of lotion.

Peter tries to keep his pants and underwear on but Skip easily manages to pull them off and flings them across the room.  “I don’t want to play this game anymore!” Peter cries out as Skip begins to touch him.  Peter flings his arms out in an attempt to get the teenager away from him but Skip just flips him over to his stomach instead, kneeling behind him.

“Don’t worry, Einstein.  It’ll feel good,” Skip assures, his voice sounding sickeningly sweet and syrupy.  The teenager pries the boy’s legs apart easily and Peter clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head as sobs began to pour out of his mouth, a steady stream of 'I don’t want to do play anymore’ coming out of him.  They are coming out in whispered pleas as Peter’s breathing becomes shallow.  He is beginning to have a panic attack.

Peter cries out sharply when his bottom erupts in pain before the sound’s muffled when a rough hand forces his head into his pillows.  Peter can feel Skip’s heavy breathing on the back of his neck and then the feel of his teeth biting at his shoulder.  All the while Peter continues to cry that he doesn’t want to play the game anymore while trying to breathe.

Peter tries to drown out the sound of Skip whispering in his ear.  “You’re doing so good, Einstein."  "You feel so good, Pete."  "You’re an angel, sweetheart."  "So tight."  ”So perfect, just for me.“

Peter shakes his head and sobs into his pillow as Skip pulls away after a long moment that ends with a satisfying groan and a warm feeling in his bottom.  The towel he saw earlier is wiping at his bottom and between his legs.  Peter doesn’t stop shaking when Skip works his underwear and pajama pants over his legs.  He doesn’t stop crying when Skip pulls the covers over him, telling him, "You can’t tell May or Ben, Einstein.  This is only a game that best friends can play.  It’s a secret.  They can’t know.  You don’t want to be a bad friend, do you?"  He doesn’t but he can’t stop feeling or hearing him on him even when the lights turn off and the door shuts close and he hears his Aunt and Uncle come home.

He doesn’t tell them until two months later and he doesn’t see Skip anymore after the police officers come.  And Peter thinks that now it’s okay.  It’s not a secret anymore.

When Peter Parker was two months shy of his eighth birthday, his only friend and babysitter raped him.

When Peter Parker was two months shy of his fifth birthday, he went to his Aunt and Uncle’s house for the week.

“Have fun with your Aunt May and Uncle Ben!” his mother shouted as she jumped into the car where his father sat behind the wheel.  “I love you, sweetie!"  Peter fiddled with the sleeves of his sweatshirt.  He was pretty small for an almost five-year-old and due to this his clothes were a little bigger on him than other kids his age.

"I love you, Mama,” Peter said, standing in front of his Aunt and Uncle.  “Love you, Daddy!"  His father sent him a grin.

"See you soon, buddy,” the man told him, sounding as if he’d said it hundreds of times beforehand.  “Remember, it’ll only be for a week.  We’ll be back by Saturday."  Peter nodded his head solemnly, watching as his parents prepared to drive to the airport where their plane sat waiting.  Peter didn’t know much about his mom and dad’s work, he just knew that they did a lot of complicated science stuff and that they had to leave a lot.

This wasn’t the first time that he'd had to stay with his Aunt and Uncle.  It was always just a little harder to say goodbye to them, that’s all.  But this time, it felt different.  Peter’s stomach felt heavy.

His mother looked at the car dash before looking at him.  "I’m sorry, baby, but we gotta go now or we’ll miss our flight.  Be good for your Aunt and Uncle, Peter,” she told him, making the boy run toward the car that sat a few feet away.  Peter latched onto the side of the car where the window had been rolled down, staring at his mom and dad with anxious and teary eyes.

“I don’t want you to go,” the four-year-old said, obviously upset.

Richard ruffled his son’s hair, looking down at him warmly.  “Don’t worry, bud, we’ll be back before you know it!"  Peter pouted, still holding onto the door.

"C'mon, Pete,” Uncle Ben said from behind him.  He crouched down beside Peter.  “Your parents are gonna miss their flight.  They’ll be back in a week, kiddo."  Peter turned his worried pout from his mother's and father’s eyes to his only and favorite Uncle.

"I don’t want them to go!” he whined.  The four adults shared a look.  Peter had mild separation anxiety but he had never whined this much about his parents leaving.

“Oh, sweetheart,” his mom said softly, making him look at her.  “It’s okay.  We’ll be home soon and then you’ll get all the ice cream you want!  How does that sound?"  Peter frowned for a few moments as if thinking it over before he nodded his head.

"Okay, Mama,” Peter said, removing his hands from the door.  “I love you."  The heavy feeling in his stomach lessened a little but it was still there.

"Love you, too, buddy,” she told, smiling over at her son.  “Bye, baby.  We’ll be back soon.”

“See you soon, buddy,” his dad said.  “We love you.”

Peter frowned at them for a few moments.  They had never said ‘I love you’ this much before and that heavy feeling came back heavier than before.  Despite that, Peter told them one last I love you.  He watched on the sidewalk as his parents started up the car and drove off, not removing his eyes until he could no longer see it.

That heavy feeling didn’t go away for the next three days.

It was three days later when they got the call.  “There was an accident,” his Aunt May had said, tears in her eyes and voice shaky.  “The plane crashed."  Peter didn’t want to understand.  He didn’t want to listen to his Aunt and Uncle, his now official guardians, tell him that his parents weren’t coming home.

"Where’s mommy and daddy?” Peter had asked them, his hands clenched around the fabric of his sweater.  His glasses had been slipping down his nose but he didn’t seem to care due to the current circumstances.  “Where are they, Aunt May?"  He had turned to his uncle.  "Uncle Ben?”

A man in a suit had shown up a day later with a packet.  Peter had been hiding behind the kitchen counter.  He heard words like 'sole guardians’ and 'will’ thrown around but he didn’t understand.  He didn’t understand any of it.  He just wanted his mommy and daddy back.  They had said that they would come home!

“Mom and Dad got hurt,” Uncle Ben had explained to him after they all sat down in the living room.  Aunt May’s and Uncle Ben’s eyes had been red and their cheeks were shiny.  “Peter…  They’re not coming back.”

On Sunday, when they were supposed to be back, Peter went to the cemetery.  He watched as his mom and dad, his parents, the people he loved most, were buried in the ground.  He didn’t remember crying, but he did remember holding his Aunt’s and Uncle’s hand.

“What do you mean?” Peter had asked, his heart thudding and tears welling in his eyes.  He knew what they mean.  He knew.  That heavy feeling from when his parents were leaving had come back to him.  “What do you mean they’re not coming back?”

When Peter was supposed to be getting ice cream with his mom and dad, he fully understood what had happened.

“Peter, sweetheart,” May had told him, pulling him into a hug.  “Mom and Dad are gone.  They’re never coming back.  I’m so sorry, sweetie.”

Peter had burst into tears on the way to his Aunt and Uncle’s apartment, his new home.  His face was buried in his knees and his body was shaking in sobs.  He finally understood what Aunt May and Uncle Ben said when his parents weren’t coming back.  They’re dead.  They’re gone.  They’re not coming back.

When Peter Parker was two months shy of his fifth birthday, his parents died.

Dad?

“Hey, kid, how was your day?” Tony asks, driving off when Peter jumps into the car.

“It was great!  Had a Spanish test that I actually studied for, so that’s good.  We had an assembly today so classes were shorter than normal, which was even better.  And–hey!  Where are we going?” Peter asks, looking over at Tony as they don’t head in the direction of the Compound.

“We,” Tony says, flashing him a smile, "are going to this cute little Italian restaurant.  And before you say anything, no, I am not going to let you pay, Peter, and don’t you even think of choosing the cheapest item on the menu because this restaurant is not the most expensive place in the universe and I am literally a billionaire.“

Peter’s jaw clicks close from where he was going to bring up that exact thing.  "What’s it called?” he asks instead.

“La Regina,” Tony says, looking over at Peter with a raised eyebrow.  “You know what it means?"  The kid scoffs, sounding offended that the man thinks that he doesn’t know what the restaurant title means.

"The Queen,” Peter tells him smugly.  Peter had once let it slip that he knew Italian when he was little but he and his aunt hadn’t gotten into the habit of speaking it when he started middle school.  Tony, also needing to practice his Italian, offered to start speaking in Italian to the kid.  Tony’s teased Peter endlessly because it turns out that the kid is rustier than Tony was even though the last time the man spoke the language was over a decade ago.

“You sure about that?” Tony teases the kid, making Peter roll his eyes.  “Guess where the restaurant is."  Peter blinks at the sudden change.

"Um… Queens?"  Peter asks, making Tony smirk at him.

"Nope, Brooklyn."  Peter stares at him blankly for a few moments before Tony breaks his composure, laughing as Peter stares at him.  "What?  It is in Queens.  And that was a good joke!”

“No, no it wasn’t, Mr. Stark,” Peter says before shaking his head.  “That was such a dad joke.”

“Well I’m not a dad, am I?"  Tony snarks back at him.  "How can it be a dad joke if I’m not a dad?"  He rolls his eyes at Peter’s burst of laughter, shoving his shoulder as he parks the car.  "C'mon, let’s go.”

Peter jumps out of the car, excited, staring up at the restaurant.  It’s near a lot of the other fancy restaurants in Queens, restaurants that he and his aunt can’t afford.  Tony whistles to catch Peter’s attention, throwing an arm over the kid’s shoulders and pulling him into the restaurant door.

Tony talks with one of the staff as Peter looks at the interior.  It’s not long before the man’s pulling him up the stairs nearby and into a more private room where there are fewer people to recognize Tony Stark.  “This is a great little place, isn’t it?” Tony says, picking up the menu and looking it over, Peter doing the same.

“It’s really cool, Mr. Stark!  Thanks for bringing me!” Peter says, grinning at his mentor and looking at the menu as well.  “What are you thinking of getting?  I’m thinking of… lasagna.  What about you?"  Tony raises an eyebrow at Peter’s choice of food.

"What?  No pizza?” Tony asks sarcastically.  “I think I’ll get the lasagna, too, then.  And maybe a small pizza on the side."  Peter hums at the choice, his eyes lighting up.

"Margherita of Naples?” Peter asks, making Tony nod his head.

“Great!” Tony says, clapping and rubbing his hands together, nodding to the waiter who had been standing off to the side waiting for them to make their choices.  “Two lasagnas, a small Margherita of Naples pizza, and two waters, please."  The waiter nods and immediately runs off, leaving Peter and Tony to themselves.

"So, what’s the reason you brought me here?” Peter asks, leaning on his hand.  Tony raises an eyebrow and him and Peter rolls his eyes.  “Every time you’ve taken me to a restaurant you’ve either told me that you have a mission that I can’t go on, a mission that I can go on, or something important has happened.”

Tony shakes his head, mentally cursing the kid for being so smart.  “Okay, nothing bad has happened, kid,” Tony starts, ignoring Peter’s sarcastic look.  “Really, I’m not joking.  It’s just that I wanted to ask you something.  Something important."  Peter looks at Tony in slight worry, sitting up in his seat and looking at his mentor in concern.

"Is something wrong?” Peter asks immediately, eyes widening slightly.

“No!  No, no, no, no, no.  Nothing’s wrong, Pete,” Tony says, waving his hands back and forth slightly.  “It’s just that the Rogues have been pardoned and they’ll be coming over to the Compound a few weeks after school ends for you."  Tony hesitates for a few moments at Peter’s furrowed eyebrows.  "And I wanted to know if you wanted to spend the summer at the Compound with me.  And before you say anything about your aunt, she’s going on vacation with Happy.”

Peter makes a slightly disgusted look.  The two had been seeing each on the days that Peter stayed at the Compound.  Tony had been asking the man to take May to work and back home and it seems like they’ve gotten to know each other over that time.  Chuckling at Peter’s look, Tony perks an eyebrow.  “So what d'you say, kid?  Wanna spend the summer over at the Compound?  And don’t worry about your aunt.  She’s already told me that you can spend the summer with us.  So, what do you think?”

Peter’s eyes light up as a grin grows on his face.  “Of course!  Oh my God, it’s going to be so much fun!  We can spend more time in the labs and I can go on more missions, and it’s going to be so much fun!"  Tony grins as the kid keeps chatting on about all of the things that they can do now that he’ll be staying there full time, only stopping when the waiter, a different one this time, brings their food.

Tony nods to them and they both dig in, conversing about what they can do over the summer.  Apparently, there’s this MIT competition where kids in high school can join a science fair for a chance to win a scholarship to the school.  And if Tony makes a mental note of that?  Nobody needs to know.

Throughout eating their meal, everything is normal.  It’s only when Peter begins to eat the pizza that he worries.  Peter frowns after finishing the first slice of the food, blinking in confusion.  Tony puts down his fork, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach.  "Pete, what’s wrong?”

Peter shakes his head.  “Dizzy,” he murmurs, his chest beginning to heave.  “C-Can’t breathe.  Some-somethin’s wrong."  When Peter begins to slump in his chair, Tony takes action.

"Hey, you!” Tony shouts at the nearby waiter, startling the kid.  “Pack up our food for us, quickly!"  Tony grabs Peter’s wrist, feeling for a pulse, swearing under his breath as the waiter finishes packing up their food in take-out containers.  "Here, keep the change,” Tony says, activating his nanotech armor prototype and throwing a couple hundreds at the poor waiter.  Grabbing his kid and the food, Tony flies off as quickly as he can, telling Friday to get someone to pick up his car for him.

It takes ten minutes to reach the Compound, a startling feat considering how far away it is from Queens.  “What’s wrong with him?” Helen asks as Tony flies into the medical wing, putting the kid on a bed.  Tony shakes his head.

“I don’t know, but I think he’s been poisoned,” Tony says, his voice coming out in a panic.

“Tell me the symptoms,” the woman orders Tony, grabbing a q-tip to gather the kid’s DNA.  “Friday, run every possible test on this, will you?  Do you have what he was eating, that would be helpful."  Tony all but throws the take-out containers at the woman, who puts them in a machine that Tony recognizes as a mass spectrometer. 

"He-He told me that he was dizzy,” Tony stutters out, disengaging his suit and beginning to pace, keeping a careful eye on his half-conscious kid.  “And that he couldn’t breathe, but he was breathing fine.  And he didn’t say it though I know that he had a headache."  Helen nods her head as she checks Peter’s pupil dilation.

"Friday, what d'you got for us?” Helen asks the AI, looking over at the machine that can run every test possible on Peter’s DNA.

“It appears that Mr. Parker has been poisoned with cyanide,” she informs them, making Tony’s face pale.  “The best course of action would be to use the CYANOKIT.”  A cabinet door pops open, revealing the kit.  Tony runs over to it, grabbing it as Helen gives the kid an IV line.

“Give it to me,” Helen says, grabbing the small bottle.  “Usually you’ll administer the antidote over a fifteen minute period, though with Peter’s abilities we can use it as an injection."  (This is complete bullshit and false.)  As she says this, she grabs a syringe, and puts it into the IV, pushing down the plunger.

Tony doesn’t remove his eyes from Peter as the woman administers the antidote.  "Okay, that’s all?” Tony asks the woman as she begins cleaning everything up.

“Yep, that’s all,” the woman says, throwing the items away.  “He’ll be fine, though I’d advise you have the police investigate who gave you that pizza.  That’s what was poisoned."  Tony nods his head.  He already had the police notified when he flew over to the compound.

"Thanks, Helen,” Tony calls out as she walks out of the room.  She nods her head, closing the door and leaving the unconscious kid alone with him.

“Sir?  If I may?” Friday says tentatively into the room.

“What’s up, Fri?”

“Something came up when I analyzed Mr. Parker’s DNA,” the AI says, causing Tony to sit up in worry.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, worry easily leaking into his voice.

“Nothing is wrong sir, though it appears that yours and Mr. Parker’s DNA shares multiple similarities,” she says, making Tony tense up and look up at the ceiling in confusion.

“What are you saying, Friday?”

“When Doctor Cho told me to run every test possible, I did,” Friday informs the man.  “That included a paternity test.  And it appears that you and Mr. Parker share the same DNA.  You and Mr. Parker appear to be father and son, Boss.”

Tony freezes for a few minutes.  “W-What?  How is that possible?  Peter’s father died with his mother.  I am not his father.  That’s impossible,” Tony splutters.

“It is entirely possible, sir.”

“You’re telling me that I have a kid?” Tony asks. "That this kid,“ he gestures to Peter, "is mine.”

“It appears so, Boss.”

Tony’s next statement is cut off by a very groggy sounded murmur.  “Dad?” Peter says, his head lolling to the side to look at Tony.  Tony freezes at the question.  Peter’s begun to call the man his dad, but now it has a different meaning.  Because it is truer than either of them thought.

“Yes, Pete?” Tony asks.

“Are you my dad?”  And shit the kid heard everything.

Prompt:  In the middle of an Avengers’ meeting, Tony gets a call from Peter’s phone. He thinks nothing’s wrong until another man answers, demanding he pay for the family he lost. There’s a gunshot and Tony is immediately suited up and in the air towards Peter’s last location. When he returns to the others, he’s holding a bleeding Peter in his arms. Severity of the shot and Avengers’ reactions vary.

Peter blinks blearily as the rough fabric of the sack is pulled off of his face, scrunching his eyes up at the pain the bright lights bring him.  He can feel the presence of a lot of people around him but his vision is so blocked with black spots that he can't see them.  What he can see, though, is the red blinking light of what appears to be a camera when his vision adjusts to the bright lights.

He looks around him dazedly and in confusion, eyebrows scrunching up as he looks around him.  Peter tenses when he feels hands grab at his arms and a hand in his hair, wrenching his head upwards.  Suddenly, everything isn't so confusing anymore.  He doesn't know where he is, yes, but what he does know is that he wasn't brought here willingly.

"Le' go o' me," he slurs, pulling at the arms holding onto him.  The hand in his hair tightens and he takes that as his cue to stop moving.

"Hello, Tony Stark," one of the men from behind him say loudly towards the camera.  Mr. Stark?  Peter's eyes lock onto the camera lens, a big sense of oh no filling him.  "We have something of yours, as you can see," the man tugs on his hair a little more, practically baring his throat at the camera, "and I'm pretty sure you'd like him back.  So here's the deal, we'll send you a location and in turn, you'll drop off three million dollars.  Cash."

Peter mentally scoffs.  No way in hell will Mr. Stark do that.  "And if you don't?" the man continues.  "We'll give you a little motivation."  The man jerks at Peter's hair again, knocking him down on his butt before wrenching him up to stand.  Peter stumbles and wavers from side to side before forcing him to stand up.  Still, he doesn't remove his eyes from the camera lens.  And he hopes Mr. Stark can see what he's telling him.  Don't you dare do it Mr. Stark.

Peter's wrenched away from the camera after a few more moments of the man spouting nonsense Peter hears the man mention something about Mr. Stark but his hearing is all fogged up.  He's dragged down a long musky hallway with one lonely light swinging back and forth.  He can swear that it's creaking, mocking him, reminding him of all of those horror movies that he watches...  Peter's cut out of his thoughts when one of the men pull open a very creepy looking metal door and he's thrown into it.

Peter winces as his elbows bruise against the rough dirty concrete floor, his mind still a little foggy but clearing up as the man blocks the light from coming into the small room.  Peter looks up at him with a small glare.  "'e won' do it," he murmurs out, looking the man in the eyes.  "He won't.  He'll find you."

The man does nothing but look at him with a malicious grin.  "He'll do it, kid.  Eventually."

The door's slammed in his face.

Tony gets the video two days later, but there's another one attached to it.  The team were in the middle of a conference meeting when Friday informed Tony of a video from an unknown source.  "Boss, it appears that two videos from an unknown source has been sent to you."

All of the speaking in the room halts as Tony looks upwards in confusion.  "You can't trace where they're from?" Tony questions, frowning and sharing a look with Rhodey.

"No, sir," Friday says, and then, "They appear to hold sensitive information pertaining to Mr. Parker's whereabouts."  Tony sits up straight at that.  He hadn't known the kid was missing.  May hadn't messaged him about Peter though she could have thought that Peter was with him.  They were known to spend a few days together white forgetting to inform the other of where the kid was.

"What do you mean that it holds 'sensitive information pertaining to Mr. Parker's whereabouts'?" Tony asks, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach.  His eyes flicker over to Rhodey's and it appears that he holds the same thought as him.  "Friday, play the videos."

The hologram screen lights up and the video starts off dark but then there's a flash of light, déjà vu hitting Tony in the chest.  Five men are surrounding a strangely familiar figure who sits in a kneeling position, a dark colored sack covering his face from view.  It's not long until the sack is ripped off of the figure's head, revealing that it is in fact Peter.

Tony's face pales as the men begin to talk.  His eyes don't leave Peter's as they stare unblinking at the screen.  "Hello, Tony Stark," the man says with a suspiciously familiar accent.  "We have something of yours, as you can see," the man pulls at Peter's hair, making Tony narrow his eyes in anger, "and I'm pretty sure you'd like him back.  So here's the deal, we'll send you a location, and in turn, you'll drop off three million dollars.  Cash."  Tony can see something flash in the kid's eyes at that.  "And if you don't?  We'll give you a little motivation."

Tony's knuckles are white when the man pulls his kid up by his hair roughly, making him stumble in the arms of the other two men.  "Now, Tony Stark, this seems a little familiar, does it not?" the mystery man says, making Tony clench his teeth because of course he finds it familiar.  "The sack, the disorientation, the video?"  The man lets out a wry grin and suddenly Tony recognizes the man.  He was in the Ten Rings.  And now Tony's face pales even more and he can see Rhodey's face on him because Rhodey saw the video, too.  "I'm sure you know what comes next, don't you Stark?"

Tony's fists are suddenly shaking as the video clip ends.  Friday immediately starts the second video and Tony's breaths are labored.  The kid is kneeling before a tub of what he's sure is water and he looks almost as disoriented as last time, though his eyes are holding something akin to fear.

Tony's breaths are coming in pants and his chest is heaving and he's shaking and oh god he's there again, he's shaking in the cold before the water, and god doesn't Tony remember that.  There were a few different sessions of Tony being waterboarded, not just the one before the video.  They did it after the video, too, just to get their point across.

Tony can hear muffled voices in the background but all he can see is Peter's head dunked under the water, his body writhing under the grasp of the men and he should be able to get out of their holds.  The voices of his teammates flood through his ears, but he can barely make them out, and he flinches when someone places a hand on his shoulder because he thinks that they're going to dunk him in the water again.

"-ony," he can barely make out.  "-ony it's okay...  your okay."  He's gasping and he can hear Peter gasping and god why is he so cold?  "Tony, it's okay.  It's all okay."  The words are beginning to make sense again.  And that voice is familiar.  "Tony, listen to me.  You're at the Avengers Compound in Upstate New York.  You're safe, you're not in Afghanistan, do you hear me?  You're not in a cave, you're not getting waterboarded.  You're in a conference room in Upstate New York.  Tony--"

Tony cuts him off.  "Rhodey?" he chokes out, his chest still heaving as his heartbeat begins to slow.  "Rhodes..."  He shakes his head back and forth, eyebrows furrowing as he looks around him.  He's no longer sitting in his chair, instead he's on the floor, Rhodey in front of him and the concerned expressions of his team surrounding him.  "God, Peter..."

Rhodey's face softens.  "It's okay, Tony, we're going to get him back.  We're going to get him back."  And Tony nods because of course they are.  They have to.  But first, he needs to call May.  She needs to know what's up with her kid.

Peter awakes shivering on the cold concrete floor, his clothes still damp from this morning's waterboarding.  It's been going on for the past five days and all Peter can think of is how cold and hungry he is.  These men don't know that he has a heightened metabolism, they don't know that he can't thermoregulate properly.  If Peter were able to look at his fingers he's pretty sure that they would be blue at this point.

He flinches as the door leading to the cellar slams open.  He pulls himself onto his feet, falling into the wall with a groan, before pushing himself to his feet.  He can feel himself becoming weaker and it's no help that the men are keeping him drugged.  He can feel the places where the drugged needles must have stuck him even though his accelerated healing--despite the exhaustion and the lack of proper nutrients--has healed them.

The door barges open open and Peter fights against the hands grabbing at him despite knowing that it's no use.  The three men drag him down the hallway as he yells at them.  Instead of going to the room with the freezing water bucket, however, they drag him into a different room.  They push him into a chair, struggling as chains are locked around his arms and ankle.  Peter pulls against them but he's too weak to break the chains.  Must be reinforced, he thinks dully.

"Now," the man in charge says, sitting across from him.  "Stark has yet to drop off the money and you're going to give me some information about him."  Peter narrows his eyes at him, scoffing.

"Like hell I am," he snarls out, tugging against the chains.  "I'm not tellin' you anything."  The man narrows his eyes at him before smirking.

"Like I said, you will," the man says, pressing a button.  Peter's eyes widen and his hands pull upwards in an attempt to cover his ears.  He curls his head downwards in an attempt to block them from the ear-splitting sound.  He scrunches his eyes shut, whimpering as the noise gets louder and louder.  After about thirty seconds, the noise stops and Peter slumps in his chair.  "Now, what do you know about Tony Stark?"

"He's Iron Man," Peter mutters weakly, head rolling on his shoulders.  "He likes coffee and--"  The high pitched ringing starts again and Peter curls in on himself in pain.  God that hurts.

"Tell me how to get into his AI," the leader says after a few seconds.  Peter chuckles weakly at that, lifting his head just enough to give the man a raised eyebrow and a sarcastic look.

"D'you think I know how to hack Friday?" he asks sarcastically.  "Tony Stark made her.  There's not way that I can hack into her."  The man presses the button again and Peter whines, unable to hold it in.  Waterboarding him?  Fine.  Beating him?  Okay, yeah.  But using his senses against him?  Yeah, that's a hard no.

The man opens his mouth, no doubt about to say something else before a thunking sound from above can be heard.  The man looks over at his two cronies and nods towards the door.  The two leave silently and the man turns back to Peter.  "What did you do?" he snarls at him and Peter gives him this look that says What d'you mean?  I've been here the whole time.  "Tell me, kid!" the man yells, leaning over the table and grabbing the collar to Peter's shirt.  "What did you do?"

"It wasn't me who did it!" Peter says, his heightened hearing--despite how battered it now is--picking up the familiar sounds of fighting.  "You're the one who sent the videos to Mr. Stark."  The familiar whirring of Mr. Stark's suit repulsers making him slump against the chair because he's here.  He's finally here.

Peter grins at the man and the man snarls at him.  "What are you smirking at?" he asks, jerking Peter.  Peter drops the smile but doesn't stop making eye contact.

Right on time, the door blasts open, startling the man so hard that he falls backwards, scrambling from his gun.  A perfectly aimed repulser blast knocks the gun away and Tony knocks the man out before rushing over to Peter who suddenly feels a little more tired.  Tony rips the bonds off him and Peter can hear him say in a relieved voice, "I got him.  I'm taking him to the jet."  Despite his protests, Tony pulls Peter into his arms, sprinting through the corridors before taking to the air.

Peter curls up in a ball as Tony flies into the jet, setting him down on a cot.  Bruce immediately rushes to him, eyes widening as he sees the kid.  He looks up at Tony worriedly as the man steps out of the suit, gesturing for his suit to go help out with the cleanup.  He touches Peter's arm and swears at how cold it is, immediately setting himself beside the kid and wrapping his as Bruce brings him a few thermal blankets.

It's not long until the rest of the group jump into the jet, Natasha informing them that her and Clint are going to stay behind to talk to authorities.  Tony just nods, keeping an eye on the kid as he shivers in his grasp, teeth chattering and eyes drooping.  "Hey, hey," Tony says softly.  "Don't go to sleep, okay, bud?"

"But I'm tired," Peter whines.  Tony looks over at Bruce sharply.

"He should be fine," Bruce says.  "He has a mild case of hypothermia but it's lessening quickly.  So long as we wake him up every fifteen or so minutes, he should be fine.  He's got some bruises and a few bones that are in various stages of healing, but overall, he's fine."

Tony sighs in relief and cards his fingers through his kid's hair.  "Go to sleep, Pete," he whispers.  Go to sleep."

Prompt:  In the middle of an Avengers’ meeting, Tony gets a call from Peter’s phone. He thinks nothing’s wrong until another man answers, demanding he pay for the family he lost. There’s a gunshot and Tony is immediately suited up and in the air towards Peter’s last location. When he returns to the others, he’s holding a bleeding Peter in his arms. Severity of the shot and Avengers’ reactions vary.

Peter squints against bright lights, turning his head away as it becomes too much on his senses.  He’s estimated that he’s been at this place for about two or three days.  He hasn’t been given anything to eat and has only had a few sips of water to drink and he hadn’t eaten anything all day before he was taken.  And now with the blood loss and the abuse to his senses?  He’s not sure if he can survive any longer without any food.  Peter just hopes that Mr. Stark finds him before he gets seriously injured.

The bullet had gone straight through his leg, and a quick examination shows that it’s mostly healed.  The wound should have completely healed after about a day and a half, but there’s still a scab.  At this point, a faded pink scar would be visible and would last for about a week or two.

“Ah, you’re awake,” the now familiar sound of the unfamiliar raspy voice says, his footsteps clattering loudly against the concrete stairs.  Each loud step stabs at Peter’s head but he doesn’t let it show.  “Now, are you ready to talk about Tony Stark?”

“I won’t tell you anythin’,” Peter says, narrowing his eyes at the man.  The man, a tall man with an unruly beard and a bald head, just shakes his head like he not only expected the answer but he is disappointed by it.

“Then we’ll go back to seeing what makes you tick, little spider,” the man says, picking up a needle.  Peter stiffens minutely and the man notices.  Peter’s always been a little weary around hospitals and needles, and so far he’s been stuck about five different times by this man.

“So, why’re you doing this?” Peter asks, not only genuinely curious about the reason the man kidnapped him and is experimenting on him, but also trying to buy himself some more time from more pain.  “Like, don’t all of you super villains have a motive to do all of the things you do.  You know, I once saw this really old movie where this guy–”

“Shut up!” the man shouts, causing Peter’s jaw to click shut.  “Just, shut up, kid!  I don’t understand why Stark keeps you around.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Peter hums, overcoming his shock from the shout.  “Let’s see…  I’m smart, I help him in the lab, I get him coffee–”

“Kid!"  Peter, once again, stops talking.  "You want to know why I’m doing this, yeah?  Well, you’re little hero killed my family.  That’s simple enough, really.  And as for experimenting on you?  I plan on selling my notes and findings to Hydra to do whatever I can to take the Avengers down.”

“They’ll find me,” Peter says, closing his eyes as another needle pierces his skin.  The lights are bright enough that closing his eyes is no help.  “Mr. Stark will find me.  And he’ll put you in jail."  The man just chuckles, purposely jiggling the needle around.

"We’re off the grid, spider,” the man says.  “The only way that they will find me is if I tell them where you are.”

“You don’t know Mr. Stark like I do,” Peter says.  “And I think you’re forgetting one fact."  The man hums.

"And what’s that?”

“You’re not only hiding from Mr. Stark, but you’re also hiding from the rest of the Avengers.”

End of Part II

Prompt:  In the middle of an Avengers’ meeting, Tony gets a call from Peter’s phone. He thinks nothing’s wrong until another man answers, demanding he pay for the family he lost. There’s a gunshot and Tony is immediately suited up and in the air towards Peter’s last location. When he returns to the others, he’s holding a bleeding Peter in his arms. Severity of the shot and Avengers’ reactions vary.

“We need to do this quickly,” Steve says, leaning over a hologram map of the Hydra base.  “Get in and get out.  My sources say that this base is small and that they have a lot of intel about the experiments going on in other bases.”

There’s been a string of bodies showing up all over the US, not long from where the missing person was taken from.  Each body shows up from between one and three months, all showing various evidence of the person being experimented on.  The Sokovia Accords came to the Avengers for help, who had already been building up sources to search for the Hydra bases who were experimenting on people.

The Accords have given the Avengers the freedom that they needed to still run as a group, though there is still some limitations and guidelines.  They have to abide by the rules and send in reports of each mission they go on, and they must go on the missions that the Accords require them to.  There are many other different rules that they must abide by, but those are a little more than flexible.

“I think we should do two teams,” Rhodey says from beside Tony.  “One to distract the guards and one to actually gather the information that we need.”

Sam shakes his head.  “We can’t risk letting them know that we know where they are,” Sam points out, and much to Tony’s disgust, he actually agrees.  “They’ll be updating their information weekly and we can leave them running while leeching off the information that they have.”

“Sam’s right,” Natasha joins in.  “We need to–"  She’s cut off by the sound of Tony’s phone spouting out Spider-Man, Spider-Man, does whatever a spider can from when a Spider-Man fan made Spider-Man his very own theme song.

Shamelessly, Tony pulls his phone out of his pocket and answers the call.  “Hey, kid what’s–?“  His question is cut off by a voice that is very much not his.

"Hello, Tony Stark,” Tony’s smile turns into a hard line as his face pales.  The sudden change gathers the attention of the exasperated Avengers who were looking at him in annoyance.

“Who is this?” Tony asks, priding himself for managing to keep his voice calm.

“Who I am doesn’t matter, Tony Stark, but who I have does,” the man says.

“And who do you have?” Tony asks as he puts the phone on speaker and slowly places it on the table, trying to sound like his normal confident self even though his heart sinks.  From the corner of his eye, he can spot Natasha messing around with his hologram screens and he has an idea that she’s trying to trace the call.

“Your little intern, Peter is it?” the man hums into the phone.  Tony’s face pales as his suspicions are confirmed and Tony can see Wanda cover her mouth with her hands in shock.  “I have him here.  He’s a scrawny kid, isn’t he?  Doesn’t really seem worth your time, if you ask me.”

“Good thing no one’s asking you, then,” Tony snarks back, trying to buy Natasha some time to finish tracing the call and to also defend his kid’s honor.

“Big words coming from a helpless man,” the man on the other side of the phone says.  “I have your kid, Stark, because you took my family from me.  And I’m not just going to kill him.  This kid seems a little… special.  I’m going to see what makes this kid tick.  And then I’m going to use it against you.  And then I’m going to kill him.  Right in front of your eyes.  While you stand there.  Helpless.  How does that sound, Stark?”

“I say it sounds a little sadistic,” Tony says, inwardly cursing himself as his voice shakes a little.  The man on the other side chuckles.  And it’s a chuckle that makes Tony’s skin crawl.

“How would you like to talk to him?" the man asks, and then, "Go on kid, say ‘hi’ to ‘Mr. Stark’.”Tony’s jaw clenches at the mocking tone.

“Mr-Mr. Stark?”  Tony’s breath hitches at the kid’s voice.  It’s weak and groggy and so unlike Peter’s usually exuberant voice.  And the thing that hurts more?  The kid actually sounds like he’s trying to sound like normal.  And he’s failing.

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony says in a whisper.  “Are you alright?”

“I’m-I’m g-good, Mr. Stark," Peter says weakly.  "Are you-are you ok–?”  Peter’s voice is cut off and Tony has a feeling that the man ripped the phone away from the kid.

“That’s enough,” the man says sharply to Peter before he returns his voice to Tony.  “And our first experiment:  How fast can a bullet to the leg heal?”  Before Tony can say another thing, a gunshot rings out, followed by a weak groan that Tony recognizes to Peter.  “Huh.  He’s stronger than I thought.”  The line goes dead.  Tony’s grip on the table tightens so much that his knuckles turn white.  He looks up at Natasha, hoping that she got something.

“I got a region.  Southwestern America,” Natasha says, plopping down in her chair.  “I’m sorry, Tony.  I’m so sorry.”

“Dammit!” Tony shouts, slamming his clenched hand on the table.  The glass splinters.

“Tony, you don’t think…?” Rhodey trails off, gesturing towards the hologram map of the Hydra base that holds the intel on where experiments on people take place.

“That the fucker that has Peter is Hydra?” Tony snaps.  “Yeah, I fucking do.”

Interrogating his son won’t help

“Mr. Stark, I’m fine!” Peter says, reaching towards his backpack that Tony is currently holding.   Tony pulls it out of his reach and Peter winces as his side stings in pain.  Tony raises an eyebrow at the wince.

“I’m not letting you carry the bag, Pete,” Tony says, walking into the elevator, Peter stepping in beside him.  “You just got out of the medbay because you decided to go and get yourself shot.  You’re so lucky that I didn’t call May about this.“  Peter visibly deflates at that, hissing as his ribs throb in pain.

"It only skimmed me,” he utters, crossing his arms over his chest.  “And besides!  It’s not I haven’t been shot before!”  Tony sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, because how could I not remember when Karen–not you–called me because you decided not to inform me that you were digging a bullet out of your leg with your eyebrow tweezers," Tony says sarcastically as the elevator stops.

"They weren’t mine!” Peter stresses as he follows Tony out of the elevator and into the common room of the Avengers Facility.  “They were Aunt May’s!”

“That doesn’t make it better, kid,” Tony mutters, tossing Peter’s bookbag onto the couch.  “Go ahead and get started on your homework,” Tony looks up at the ceiling, “Friday, can you put Star Wars Episode IV on?”

“Of course, sir,” Friday says, the TV flicking on not even a second later.  Tony bustles around the room, brewing a new pot of coffee and tossing a few bags of popcorn in the microwave.  He grabs +some blankets out of the cupboard by the TV–a new addition after learning that Peter gets cold easily since he can’t thermoregulate anymore–and grabs the popcorn from the two microwaves and a cup of coffee.

Tony joins Peter on the couch where he’s in the middle of some complicated looking chemistry homework.  “Need any help, kid?” Tony asks, watching as Peter fills out his worksheet.  Not to his surprise, Peter shakes his head.

“I’m good, Dad,” Peter says, not even realizing that he’s said dad as he tends to do every once and a while.  “I’ve got it covered."  Tony just hums and covers the two of them in blankets before focusing on the movie.

It’s not even halfway into the movie until Peter’s finished with his homework.  There wasn’t too much assigned this weekend and he got most of it done on the four-hour drive up here, despite the fact that he got shot a little before Happy came to pick him up.  Peter had managed to hide his bleeding side from the man easily and it had actually scabbed over by the time that he arrived at the Facility, but apparently, he can’t hide anything from Tony, who met him at the Facility door.

Peter tosses his things to the side and scoots a little closer to Tony, not close enough to touch him, but close enough to feel his body heat.  Tony just sighs as he feels the spiderling sidle up beside him and wraps his arm around the kid, pulling Peter into his side.

"Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter sighs, his head resting on the man’s shoulder.  Tony just brings a hand up and cards his fingers through Peter’s curls and hums contentedly.  The kid’s started to leave his curls alone after Tony mentioned that it calms him when they’re watching a movie together and end up cuddling.

It’s not long until Peter’s yawning and fighting off sleep.  The movie’s got about half an hour left but the methodical way that Tony runs his hand through Peter’s curls and the arc reactor’s soft buzzing begins to lull him to sleep.

“Go to sleep, kiddo,” Tony mutters catching sight of the time.  It’s been a long day for the both of them–it’s nearly nine at night–and that wound has to be zapping Peter’s energy.

Peter nods off with Tony’s reassurance and Tony just sits there, enjoying the moment with his kid.  That is until Friday interrupts him with less than favorable news.

“Sir, it appears that the ‘rogue’ Avengers are on their way up,” she says, causing Tony to curse under his breath.  He stills as Peter shuffles a little.  There isn’t enough time to even wake the kid, let alone get him a floor up where his and Tony’s bedrooms are, not that far away from the rest of the groups’.  And honestly, Tony doesn’t want to wake Peter up.

He’s noticed that the kid has been going out at random hours for patrol that is pass curfew–which they will be talking about–but he’s also noticed how the kid’s been a little more quiet and tired lately.  That only leads to one conclusion and that means that he’s been having nightmares, and Tony doesn’t want to ruin the little bit of uninterrupted sleep his kid seems to be getting.

Tony grimaces and decides to just let the group up and not disrupt Peter.  He knew that they’d be returning, the Accords had been revised for a few months and they’ve been pardoned for just as long.  He just hates that they’ve decided to come now when his kid is hurt.

The dreaded ding of the elevator announces the arrival of the group and what they’re met with is Tony’s glare.  They haven’t seen Peter yet, but as they shuffle in sheepishly, they notice the bookbag, the movie, and the kid tucked into Tony’s side.  Clint opens his mouth to make a remark but Tony beats him to it.

“If any of you wake the kid, I will kill you.”  Clint promptly closes his mouth and Tony continues in a whisper.  "Your rooms are where you remember them and they’re untouched, but they might be a little bit dusty.  Now, get lost.“  Steve looks like he wants to say something but the muttering of the mystery kid cuts him off.

"Dad?”  The word’s a soft mutter, but with how quiet it is in the room–the TV had been muted–everyone heard it.  Everyone’s faces color in disbelief and shock and Tony sends them a stern glare before softening his gaze as he looks down at the kid cuddled into his chest.

“Yeah, Pete?” Tony asks, his voice low enough that only Peter can catch it.  His kid moves around a little before sitting up, rubbing at his eyes with a yawn.  Peter reaches for something, possibly a blanket that fell on the ground, before pulling back with a sharp hiss.

“Ow,” Peter groans, not yet noticing the group of stock-still superheroes.  “I think I tore my stitches.”  He rubs at his eyes a little more before looking around the room, almost immediately locking eyes with the rogue Avengers.  "Uh, Mr. Stark?”

Tony sighs.  “They just got up here, bud, don’t worry.  Blows aren’t going to be thrown around tonight,” Tony says, leaning up and looking at Peter’s side.  “Now, let me see if you actually tore your stitches.”

The rogue Avengers watch in shock and disbelief as the mystery kid lifts up his shirt and peels back a slightly bloodied bandage while Tony pulls a first-aid kit seemingly out of nowhere.  Even more shock is bestowed upon the group as they all realize the wound for what it is, a gunshot wound.  Peter and Tony don’t pay them any mind as Tony changes the bloodied gauze and tapes the wound up.  They may have gotten the wound checked out not even two hours ago, but Peter already managed to get quite a bit of blood on the gauze pad he had since apparently, the stitches pulled a bit when he was laying against Tony.

“Go on up to bed, kiddo,” Tony says, packing up the first-aid kit and putting it away.  “You can meet everyone tomorrow.“  Peter seems to want to say something but one stern look from Tony leaves him reaching for his bag.  "You can leave the bag down here, Pete,” Tony says, worried about Peter’s wound.  “I’ll bring it up in a bit.”

“Okay,” Peter says softly, rubbing his eyes as he makes his way past the group of still shocked superheroes.  “Night, Dad.”

“Night, kiddo,” Tony says, sending a look to the group as they go to say something to Peter.  Tony waits until the elevator’s closed before sighing and beginning to clean up the mess that he and Peter made.  “Are you guys going to head up to your rooms or what?”

“You can’t just expect us to leave without asking you about the kid!” Clint sputters, gesturing wildly towards the elevator doors.  “I thought I was the only one with a secret family!”

Tony glares at Clint, clenching his jaw as he throws the blankets into the cupboard, not even bothering to fold them.  He tosses the popcorn away and grabs his cup of coffee.  “Tony, who is that kid?” Steve says cautiously, a frown marring his face.

“He’s none of your business, Rogers,” Tony grounds out, making his way to the elevator.  “Now if you need me, I’ll be in my lab.”  Another question makes him halt.

“He yours?” Natasha asks softly.  Tony grinds his teeth.

“Yeah,” he says finally.  “He’s mine.”  At that, he walks into the elevator, ignoring their questions as he makes his way to his lab for some well-deserved tinkering.

Peter rubs at his eyes as he sits up, blinking against the minimal light shining through the blinds.  He tenderly stretches to see if his side has healed and is delighted when there’s only a little ache.  Lifting up his shirt, which Peter recognizes to be an old Black Sabbath shirt that belongs to Mr. Stark, Peter looks down at his bandage.

There’s no blood on it, and when Peter slowly peels away the gauze pad, he’s faced with a nearly fully healed gunshot wound.  He estimates that the stitches can come out today and he’ll have to ask Mr. Stark if he can remove them for him.  Peter would remove them himself but he got a very long talk the last time he did so by both his nurse Aunt and Mr. Stark.

Letting the shirt fall back down, Peter jumps off his bed and heads into his bathroom.  After doing his business, and brushing his teeth because Mr. Stark commented on it the last time he didn’t, Peter heads down to the kitchen-slash-common room.

Friday takes him down without saying anything.  Peter’s stayed over enough that she knows the drill and only a few seconds later the elevator doors open, revealing the pardoned Avengers.  Peter freezes as half of them look over at him and Peter’s eyes shoot over to where Mr. Stark sits at the counter with a cup of coffee, and by how tired the man looks, Peter estimates that it’s only been his first or second cup.

Mr. Stark’s encouraging smile is all it takes for the teen to shuffle out of the elevator and into the organized chaos that is the Avengers’ morning routine.  Peter practically runs over to Tony, who lifts an eyebrow at his fast pace.  Or maybe it’s the Hello Kitty pajama pants that the man bought him as a gag present that makes the man lift his eyebrow.

Peter’s cheeks flush as he grabs himself a mug of coffee, using his Iron Man mug.  Peter studiously ignores the rest of the Avengers as he goes through his own morning routine.  Usually, he’d have cereal for breakfast, but during the weekends him and Mr. Stark have made a habit of cooking their own food.

As Peter begins to gather the ingredients and materials needed to make hash browns, Tony grabs the ingredients needed to make omelets.  Where it used to make him three hours to make one of them, Peter’s helped him turn that time into three minutes.  When Peter goes to shred the first potato, Tony stops him.

“No, gimme that,” Tony says, putting down his bowl of beaten eggs, “you lost your shredding privileges after you cut yourself last time."  Tony makes a grabbing motion and Peter pouts.

"But, Mr. Stark–!” Peter starts, only to be cut off by Tony.

“Uh, uh, nope.  No whining.  Gimme the shredder, you can make the omelets for a change,” Tony says, lifting an eyebrow when Peter continues holding onto it.  The Avengers look on as the two go into a staring match, and just like it started, it ends.  Peter hands over the cheese grater with a huff and a put and grabs the bowl of half-beaten egg and the fork.  With surprising expertise, Peter finishes whisking the egg up and makes his way over to one of the two skillets on the stove.

“I can still cook it, right?” Peter asks Tony with puppy dog eyes.  Tony just rolls his eyes, making Peter grin.  The teen pours the egg into the skillet, jumping back as it crackles loudly.  Adding things to skillets have never been his favorite part of cooking.

Tony ends up next to him in a few minutes with a plate stacked with shredded potatoes, adding another skillet to the stove.  The two cook side by side, Tony continuously checking the hash browns to make sure they don’t burn, and Peter adding cheese, pepper, and some other things to his omelet.  He’ll end up making about five or six more, four for him, two for Mr. Stark.  Mr. Stark will make a few large hash browns for Peter, and two small ones for him in turn.

Only a few minutes go by before the two begin plating their own portions, bickering along the way.  The group of Avengers share a few looks, their already prepared breakfast in their laps.  “We’re going to interrogate him, right?” Clint asks Natasha, flinching as the woman in question flicks him in the forehead.  “Ow,” he whines, rubbing his head.  “What was that for?”

Natasha, ever the peacekeeper, replies, “We just got back and you want to get Tony mad at us?  Leave the kid alone, Clint.”

“He’s not wrong,” Sam comments with a shrug.  “We’re all curious about the kid and there’s no joke that you are, too."  Steve sends him a stern look which he ignores.

"It doesn’t matter,” Steve cuts in, eating a slice of pancake.  “We’ve got to get back into Tony’s good graces if we want to continue staying here.  Interrogating his son won’t help."  Unbeknownst to them, Peter can hear every single thing that they can hear, and by the end he’s grinning.

"What’s the grin for, Pete?” Tony questions as he turns the burners off, moving the skillets onto the other ones to cool off.

“Hawkeye and Falcon want to interrogate us,” Peter says, his grin growing larger, “and Captain America thinks I’m your son."  That last comment gets an immediate reaction from the man as he begins hacking on a piece of his omelet.  Peter immediately slaps his back as Tony flounders around for a drink.  The man chokes back about half of his mug of coffee before looking at the kid with teary eyes, ignoring the concerned and confused looks of the people in the living room.

"What?” he croaks out at Peter’s grin.  It’s not long until a grin of his own is spreading across his face, making Peter narrow his eyes at him in suspicion.  “Hey, kid, how would you like to be my son?"  It’s Peter’s turn to choke on his food but he does so a little more gracefully as the man slaps his back a few times.

"What?  What’re you talkin’ about?” Peter asks after gulping down his own mug of coffee.

“I’m saying that we don’t tell them that you’re my intern,” Tony whispers with a grin so that the super soldier in the next room doesn’t hear him.  “They already believe you’re my son, and you gotta admit, you’re dressed in my clothes and some Hello Kitty pants that I bought you.”

Leave him alone

Peter cries out sharply as the knife hits him before he can move.  With having been so preoccupied getting the woman out of the alley and taking down her attacker, he had failed to notice the two men sneaking up on him until it was too late.  His senses warned him of the first man, who is now webbed to the alleyway wall, but not of the second man who was wielding a knife.  A knife that is now embedded in the side of his body.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Peter says, albeit a little weakly, as the man shoves him into the wall and therefore the knife further into his side.  He grunts and grabs onto the man’s hand which is on the handle of the knife.  Peter bites his lip and tightens his grip on the man’s hand so that he lets go of the knife before thrusting his hand out and throwing the man across the alley.  He webs the man up haphazardly as he keeps holding onto the knife in his abdomen.  Peter webs the knife until it can barely shift since the blade is partially out of his side and glares at the man.

He can vaguely hear Karen muttering some things into his ear about him being stabbed and losing some blood, but his narrowed eyes are on the three men.  After staring into their eyes for a few more seconds, Peter shakes his head and crawls up the side of the building, sitting heavily on the graveled rooftop and gasping in pain.

“Karen, please inform the police that three assailants are webbed up in this alley,” Peter says, trying to keep his painful gasps at a minimum.

“Peter, it has come to my attention that you are in dire need of medical assistance,” Karen informs him.  Peter groans because he knows that that mean.  It means that Karen’s going to call Mr. Stark.  “Would you like me to call Mr. Stark?”

“No, Karen,” Peter says anyway, pulling himself to his feet and looking around himself.  “The Tower’s right over there.  I’ll swing over to get help."  The admission is soft because he has to get help from his mentor again.

"Very well, Peter,” Karen says, sounding subdued and disappointed.  “However, I must inform you that the knife is prone to shift due to how you’ve been stabbed.  Swinging will only enlargen the wound, possibly cause you to bleed out, and make the knife go deeper.  As it is now, the knife is only piercing your side and has not hit anything vital.  With medical assistance, I calculate that your wound will be healed within three to four days.”

“Great,” Peter breathes out.  At least I don’t have to worry about going to school since it’s the summer.  Now I just have to convince Aunt May to let me stay over at the Tower for a week.  “Hey, Karen, do you think that I could just jump over rooftops and then climb the side of the Tower?” Peter asks, the thought hitting him.  If swinging causes more damage, will jumping do the same?

“I have calculated that if you confirm that the knife has no possible way of shifting, jumping and climbing will not cause you any damage,” Karen informs him.  Peter nods his head and uses more webs than probably necessary.  He also webs a few strands around his lower abdomen since some of the webbing is not being as adhesive due to the amount of blood seeping through the side of his suit.

“Mr. Stark’s going to kill me,” Peter mutters to himself as he finishes his makeshift bandage.  “Okay,” he says, trying to pump himself up for the no doubt painful journey.  “Let’s go.  You can do it."  After a few more moments of talking to himself, Peter sprints and jumps over the gap of the alley.  And he goes to the next building quickly because he can hear the sirens of the cop car coming to pick up the three guys.

The journey to the Tower isn’t as bad as Peter would thought it’d be.  The knife hasn’t shifted so far, though it’s still pretty painful, and he seems to be making some decent timing for just jumping and climbing.  But now Peter’s faced with one problem.  The Tower.  He has to climb over fifteen-hundred feet.

Remembering how long it took him to climb the Washington Monument, Peter reluctantly shoots a web to the Tower and flings himself to the side.  "Hey, Karen, can you tell me where Tony’s at?” Peter asks the AI as he makes his way up the building.

“Mr. Stark is currently located in the common room,” Karen informs him.  Peter nods his head and uses the same technique he used on the Washington Monument to climb up the side of the tower.  “I have calculated that if you continue climbing at this pace,” Karen informs him, “That you will reach the common room window in eight minutes.”

Peter grunts as he throws himself upward again.  “Okay,” he pants slightly.  Peter throws himself upward again and again until he’s pretty sure that he’s only a minute or so away from the common room window.  “Karen, can you tell Mr. Stark that he’s got incoming and to open the common room window closest to me?”

“Of course, Peter,” Karen says.  Up ahead, Peter sees the window open after a few more moments.  Peter can hear voices escape through the common room window but with the blood rushing through his ears, Peter can barely make out what they’re saying let alone who they are.  I really hope that I didn’t interrupt something important.

Peter shoots a web a few yards above the window and pulls on the string, flinging him through the air and right into the window.  Peter yelps as he hands, hand pressing to his side and making contact with the knife and bloody webs.  Through blurry eyes, Peter looks up and notices that Tony was in something important.  And by the expressions on those present, Peter can tell that they were fighting.

“Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, stumbling though his feet and gripping the chair of the kitchen table, effectively leaving a bloody handprint, “and sorry about all of the blood.  But, uh, I kinda need help."  All of the rogue Avengers are staring at him as Tony runs over to him, pulling his mask off and bearing his face to the crowd.

"Kid, what the hell happened?” Tony asks, hands gesturing to his side.

“I got stabbed,” Peter deadpans as Tony sits him in the chair that he was leaning against.  “Karen told me that it’s not major, though.”

“‘Not major’, ’not major’?” Tony asks flippantly as he pulls a first-aid kit out of nowhere.  “Kid, you’ve been stabbed.  Stabbed.  How is it not 'not major’!?"  Peter’s face flushes because his mentor is flitting over him while a group of shocked Avengers look at him.  "Kid, you gotta take the suit off,” Tony informs him as he pulls out different first-aid items.

Before Peter can say anything, a voice cuts him off.  “Tony, who’s the kid?"  A look over Mr. Stark’s shoulder provides that Captain freaking America–with a bear no less!–was the one to ask the question.

"Not now,” Tony says, his voice like steel.  “Kid, you gotta get the suit off,” Tony tells his, beginning to cut the webbing off of his suit.

“I can’t,” Peter murmurs, cheeks flushing red in embarrassment.  Tony lifts an eyebrow.  “I’m wearing only boxers underneath."  Tony rolls his eyes with a snort.

"Of course you are,” Tony mutters under his breath.  “Okay, just peel down the top part.  You don’t have to take your pants off or anything."  Peter just nods his head, pressing the spider emblem on his front and causing the suit to go slack.  He peels it down gently over the knife, biting his lip to hold in a whimper.  His side is sticky in blood, though he can already feel his side beginning to heal.

"Wait a second!” a voice suddenly says, causing Peter to flinch and look over at the Falcon.  “That’s the spider guy from the airport!"  Peter feels his face pale and he exchanges a glance with Tony, whose eyes have become hard with a little panic.

"Tony, you brought a kid to a war?” Steve says in his very disappointed tone of voice.  Tony just ignores him as he grabs the handle of the knife.

“You ready kid?” Tony asks, making eye contact with Peter.  Peter sucks in a deep breath, nodding.  With one quick movement, Tony pulls away the knife and places a gauze pad with antiseptic on his side.  “I know, I know,” he murmurs as Peter winces with a whimper.

“Tony,” Steve says firmly, making the man look over at him.  “You brought a kid to Germany?  Into a war?  Where he could have gotten hurt, or worse, killed?  Did you only care about having more numbers on your side?”

“Yes, Rogers,” Tony bites out, looking at the man.  “I brought a kid to Germany.  Happy now?"  Tony returns his attention back to Peter’s side.  He pulls the gauze away slightly and aighs.  "You’re going to need stitches, kid.  Not a lot, but you’re going to need them."  His expression is warm as he looks at Peter because Peter hates needles.

"Tony–” Steve goes to try again before he’s cut off.

“Leave him alone,” Peter bites out, his eyes steel as he stares into the Captain’s eyes.  “Yes, he brought me to Germany but here’s the thing, I wanted to go.  Before Germany, I was swinging around in a hoodie and sweatpants with homemade webshooters.  Mr. Stark gave me this suit as protection and it’s perfectly capable of keeping me safe.  It may not seem like it right now since I just had a knife in my side, but before I got this suit, I was getting stabbed or hurt twice as often.  And don’t you dare say that Mr. Stark only cares about himself.”

The whole rooms is silent before it’s broken by Tony.  “All done, kid,” he says, rolling everything up in some gauze.  Peter looks down, shocked, to find that during his little rant that the man sewed up his wound and but a bandage over it.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” he says, looking at the man with a smile.  “Can I stay over here for the week, but the way?  May will freak out if she sees me hurt."  Peter puts on his best smile, forgetting about the group of gobsmacked superheroes.

Leave him alone

Peter cries out sharply as the knife hits him before he can move.  With having been so preoccupied getting the woman out of the alley and taking down her attacker, he had failed to notice the two men sneaking up on him until it was too late.  His senses warned him of the first man, who is now webbed to the alleyway wall, but not of the second man who was wielding a knife.  A knife that is now embedded in the side of his body.

"That wasn't very nice," Peter says, albeit a little weakly, as the man shoves him into the wall and therefore the knife further into his side.  He grunts and grabs onto the man's hand which is on the handle of the knife.  Peter bites his lip and tightens his grip on the man's hand so that he lets go of the knife before thrusting his hand out and throwing the man across the alley.  He webs the man up haphazardly as he keeps holding onto the knife in his abdomen.  Peter webs the knife until it can barely shift since the blade is partially out of his side and glares at the man.

He can vaguely hear Karen muttering some things into his ear about him being stabbed and losing some blood, but his narrowed eyes are on the three men.  After staring into their eyes for a few more seconds, Peter shakes his head and crawls up the side of the building, sitting heavily on the graveled rooftop and gasping in pain.

"Karen, please inform the police that three assailants are webbed up in this alley," Peter says, trying to keep his painful gasps at a minimum.

"Peter, it has come to my attention that you are in dire need of medical assistance," Karen informs him.  Peter groans because he knows that that mean.  It means that Karen's going to call Mr. Stark.  "Would you like me to call Mr. Stark?"

"No, Karen," Peter says anyway, pulling himself to his feet and looking around himself.  "The Tower's right over there.  I'll swing over to get help."  The admission is soft because he has to get help from his mentor again.

"Very well, Peter," Karen says, sounding subdued and disappointed.  "However, I must inform you that the knife is prone to shift due to how you've been stabbed.  Swinging will only enlargen the wound, possibly cause you to bleed out, and make the knife go deeper.  As it is now, the knife is only piercing your side and has not hit anything vital.  With medical assistance, I calculate that your wound will be healed within three to four days."

"Great," Peter breathes out.  At least I don't have to worry about going to school since it's the summer.  Now I just have to convince Aunt May to let me stay over at the Tower for a week.  "Hey, Karen, do you think that I could just jump over rooftops and then climb the side of the Tower?" Peter asks, the thought hitting him.  If swinging causes more damage, will jumping do the same?

"I have calculated that if you confirm that the knife has no possible way of shifting, jumping and climbing will not cause you any damage," Karen informs him.  Peter nods his head and uses more webs than probably necessary.  He also webs a few strands around his lower abdomen since some of the webbing is not being as adhesive due to the amount of blood seeping through the side of his suit.

"Mr. Stark's going to kill me," Peter mutters to himself as he finishes his makeshift bandage.  "Okay," he says, trying to pump himself up for the no doubt painful journey.  "Let's go.  You can do it."  After a few more moments of talking to himself, Peter sprints and jumps over the gap of the alley.  And he goes to the next building quickly because he can hear the sirens of the cop car coming to pick up the three guys.

The journey to the Tower isn't as bad as Peter would thought it'd be.  The knife hasn't shifted so far, though it's still pretty painful, and he seems to be making some decent timing for just jumping and climbing.  But now Peter's faced with one problem.  The Tower.  He has to climb over fifteen-hundred feet.

Remembering how long it took him to climb the Washington Monument, Peter reluctantly shoots a web to the Tower and flings himself to the side.  "Hey, Karen, can you tell me where Tony's at?" Peter asks the AI as he makes his way up the building.

"Mr. Stark is currently located in the common room," Karen informs him.  Peter nods his head and uses the same technique he used on the Washington Monument to climb up the side of the tower.  "I have calculated that if you continue climbing at this pace," Karen informs him, "That you will reach the common room window in eight minutes."

Peter grunts as he throws himself upward again.  "Okay," he pants slightly.  Peter throws himself upward again and again until he's pretty sure that he's only a minute or so away from the common room window.  "Karen, can you tell Mr. Stark that he's got incoming and to open the common room window closest to me?"

"Of course, Peter," Karen says.  Up ahead, Peter sees the window open after a few more moments.  Peter can hear voices escape through the common room window but with the blood rushing through his ears, Peter can barely make out what they're saying let alone who they are.  I really hope that I didn't interrupt something important.

Peter shoots a web a few yards above the window and pulls on the string, flinging him through the air and right into the window.  Peter yelps as he hands, hand pressing to his side and making contact with the knife and bloody webs.  Through blurry eyes, Peter looks up and notices that Tony was in something important.  And by the expressions on those present, Peter can tell that they were fighting.

"Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Stark," Peter says, stumbling though his feet and gripping the chair of the kitchen table, effectively leaving a bloody handprint, "and sorry about all of the blood.  But, uh, I kinda need help."  All of the rogue Avengers are staring at him as Tony runs over to him, pulling his mask off and bearing his face to the crowd.

"Kid, what the hell happened?" Tony asks, hands gesturing to his side.

"I got stabbed," Peter deadpans as Tony sits him in the chair that he was leaning against.  "Karen told me that it's not major, though."

"'Not major', 'not major'?" Tony asks flippantly as he pulls a first-aid kit out of nowhere.  "Kid, you've been stabbed.  Stabbed.  How is it not 'not major'!?"  Peter's face flushes because his mentor is flitting over him while a group of shocked Avengers look at him.  "Kid, you gotta take the suit off," Tony informs him as he pulls out different first-aid items.

Before Peter can say anything, a voice cuts him off.  "Tony, who's the kid?"  A look over Mr. Stark's shoulder provides that Captain freaking America--with a bear no less!--was the one to ask the question.

"Not now," Tony says, his voice like steel.  "Kid, you gotta get the suit off," Tony tells his, beginning to cut the webbing off of his suit.

"I can't," Peter murmurs, cheeks flushing red in embarrassment.  Tony lifts an eyebrow.  "I'm wearing only boxers underneath."  Tony rolls his eyes with a snort.

"Of course you are," Tony mutters under his breath.  "Okay, just peel down the top part.  You don't have to take your pants off or anything."  Peter just nods his head, pressing the spider emblem on his front and causing the suit to go slack.  He peels it down gently over the knife, biting his lip to hold in a whimper.  His side is sticky in blood, though he can already feel his side beginning to heal.

"Wait a second!" a voice suddenly says, causing Peter to flinch and look over at the Falcon.  "That's the spider guy from the airport!"  Peter feels his face pale and he exchanges a glance with Tony, whose eyes have become hard with a little panic.

"Tony, you brought a kid to a war?" Steve says in his very disappointed tone of voice.  Tony just ignores him as he grabs the handle of the knife.

"You ready kid?" Tony asks, making eye contact with Peter.  Peter sucks in a deep breath, nodding.  With one quick movement, Tony pulls away the knife and places a gauze pad with antiseptic on his side.  "I know, I know," he murmurs as Peter winces with a whimper.

"Tony," Steve says firmly, making the man look over at him.  "You brought a kid to Germany?  Into a war?  Where he could have gotten hurt, or worse, killed?  Did you only care about having more numbers on your side?"

"Yes, Rogers," Tony bites out, looking at the man.  "I brought a kid to Germany.  Happy now?"  Tony returns his attention back to Peter's side.  He pulls the gauze away slightly and aighs.  "You're going to need stitches, kid.  Not a lot, but you're going to need them."  His expression is warm as he looks at Peter because Peter hates needles.

"Tony--" Steve goes to try again before he's cut off.

"Leave him alone," Peter bites out, his eyes steel as he stares into the Captain's eyes.  "Yes, he brought me to Germany but here's the thing, I wanted to go.  Before Germany, I was swinging around in a hoodie and sweatpants with homemade webshooters.  Mr. Stark gave me this suit as protection and it's perfectly capable of keeping me safe.  It may not seem like it right now since I just had a knife in my side, but before I got this suit, I was getting stabbed or hurt twice as often.  And don't you dare say that Mr. Stark only cares about himself."

The whole rooms is silent before it's broken by Tony.  "All done, kid," he says, rolling everything up in some gauze.  Peter looks down, shocked, to find that during his little rant that the man sewed up his wound and but a bandage over it.

"Thanks, Mr. Stark," he says, looking at the man with a smile.  "Can I stay over here for the week, by the way?  May will freak out if she sees me hurt."  Peter puts on his best smile, forgetting about the group of gobsmacked superheroes.