Chapter Text
Peter has been waiting alone in an interrogation room for two hours now. He's totally fine with the wait, though. Honestly, he could probably sit in this chilly, soul-sucking room for the rest of his life and be fine with it—so long as it meant he didn’t have to face Dana anytime soon.
'Stupid, stupid Parker luck,’ he thought. ‘Of course the guy I tried to save turns out to be an undercover cop. What next? The janitor’s secretly Nick Fury?’
He stood up abruptly and began pacing like a squirrel on espresso. The soles of his sneakers squeaked every third step.
When he’d first arrived at the station, they took mugshots—which definitely made him feel like a criminal—then ushered him into another room for questions: name, age, school, guardians. Standard stuff. Next, a different officer scanned his fingerprints into a computer. Peter noticed the guy’s eyes suddenly go wide.
“Don’t move,” the officer barked, before disappearing out the door like something had exploded.
Peter had been too busy panic-planning his apology to Dana to time how long the guy was gone. When the officer finally returned, he escorted Peter into a new room—the interrogation room—and told him to wait.
So here he was. Still waiting. And now, with his adrenaline finally wearing off, his stomach had started to grumble. Right. He never got dinner.
But hunger wasn’t the real problem. The interrogation room was just the appetizer. The real punishment was still coming. And its name was Dana Dawn.
Dana, with eyes sharper than a Stark Industries security system. Dana, who’d already had him under surveillance since The Chin Bruise Incident. Dana, who would not be thrilled to hear her foster kid had been arrested for “attempted drug purchase.”
Sure, it wasn’t real, but try explaining that to a woman who regularly highlighted phrases in parenting books like “follow through on consequences or lose all credibility.”
Dana was going to flip. And she’d definitely ground him. Possibly until college. Possibly until his children had children.
And then what? What about patrolling?
Peter collapsed back into the stiff metal chair and let his head thunk gently against the table.
Thunk.
Maybe he could patrol at 2 a.m. going forward. Sleep in bursts. Catnap in algebra. It could work. He’d find a way. With great power comes great overcompensation , right?
Thunk.
Except Dana would notice. She always did. His grades would slip again, and she’d get suspicious. Maybe even catch him sneaking back in after patrol.
Thunk thunk thunk.
“God, I’m doomed,” Peter muttered, face still smushed against the table.
Maybe he should run away. Pull a full superhero vanishing act. Find an abandoned fire station in Jersey, live off the grid, grow a beard… okay, try to grow a beard. Get a fake ID. Maybe something badass, like “Blade Shadow.” Or “Dusty Edge.” He’d get a job at a diner and make enough to eat grilled cheese sandwiches and save up for web fluid.
Except…
Peter sat back with a long groan, slumping down in the chair until he was almost sliding off it. Who was he kidding? No one would believe he was sixteen. Not with his middle-school baby face and his grand height of 5’5” (on a good day, and only if he stood real straight).
Suddenly, a knock at the door broke through his spiral of thoughts.
The heavy metal door swung open with a creak, and Marcus stepped into the room, a look of concern etched across his face. “Peter! Are you alright? How long were you in here?”
“Uncle Marcus?” Peter blinked, surprised. What was Marcus doing here? He worked in Park Row—that was at least a 30-minute drive away.
“I got a call from one of my buddies here that they had arrested you. Peter, what were you thinking?” The disappointment in Marcus's voice was palpable.
Peter’s heart raced as he hurried to explain. “I swear, Uncle Marcus! I wasn’t looking for Ben’s murderer this time! I just happened to run into a drug dealer selling Eureka to someone on my way back from school, and... and it was just the perfect opportunity to get more information!”
Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration boiling over. “Approaching an armed drug dealer and trying to buy drugs from them to get information is completely reckless and dangerous, Peter. I told you that you need to let the professionals handle these things!”
"Well, they aren't doing a good job, so someone has to step in," Peter muttered.
Marcus sighed and sat down across from him. “We’re not done with this conversation, Peter. But... something more urgent has come up. Have you eaten? I brought you some chicken nuggets from McDonald’s.”
Peter blinked, surprised, and took the nuggets sheepishly. “Thanks…”
"Peter, don't panic, but an FBI agent and a nurse will come in here to see you any second now."
Peter's stomach dropped, and he almost choked on a chicken nugget. What did that even mean?
"What? Why?!" Did the FBI somehow find out that he was Spider-Man? Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Your fingerprints were flagged,” Marcus said carefully. “They matched a missing child in the FBI database.”
“That makes no sense,” Peter said, frowning. “I can’t be missing. There’s no one left to look for me.”
Marcus hesitated. “I have no reason to believe May or Ben knew, Peter. But... there’s a possibility Mary and Richard Parker weren’t really your biological parents.”
"What... do you mean?" Peter frowned. Was he adopted or something?
Marcus took a deep breath, gently held onto Peter's forearm, and looked straight into Peter's eyes.
“Peter... there’s a possibility you were kidnapped exactly ten years ago today—when you were four years old. An FBI agent and a nurse are going to do a DNA test and ask you a few questions. If you are who they think you are... your real parents are alive. And they’ve never stopped looking for you.”
The color drained from Peter’s face, and he subconsciously held his breath as he tried to process what he had just heard. Kidnapped?
"Peter, breathe. It's all going to be okay." Marcus’s voice was calm, but it felt miles away as Peter's thoughts raced.
"I... I...," Peter started to say, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"I guess they are here," Marcus said gently. He got up to open the door, and two women swiftly entered the room with an air of authority.
"Hello, Peter. I'm Agent Meyers from the FBI, and this is Nurse June. I'm not sure how much Officer Lee here updated you on the situation, but we are just here to take a quick DNA test and ask a couple of questions."
Marcus stood behind Peter and put one hand on Peter's shoulder. "You just came in as I was delivering the news. Though Peter here might need a couple minutes to wrap his head around what I just told him."
"That's completely understandable. Peter, would it be alright if we could perform a DNA test first then?"
Peter barely managed to give a small nod, his throat dry and constricted. 'Maybe when they get the results back, they’ll realize this was all just a big misunderstanding,' he thought desperately. 'I can’t have been kidnapped. I just can’t have been.'
Memories flickered through his mind, hazy and indistinct. He didn’t have many recollections of Mary and Richard, but he knew they had never abused or threatened him. Sure, they were a bit on the overprotective side. They had homeschooled him in Canada before they passed away, but nothing about them ever seemed strange or weird. They just seemed so... normal.
Peter stared blankly into his reflection as the DNA test was performed, spiraling into a full-blown existential crisis. Who am I?
"All right, DNA test is done. We need a couple hours to get back the results," the nurse announced.
“Thank you, Nurse June.” Agent Meyers shifted her focus to Peter. “Now, while we wait for the results, I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”
No! Peter wanted to scream. He wasn’t ready to answer anything. Panic surged within him, a tidal wave crashing over his rational thoughts. He couldn’t bear to remain in the small interrogation room for another second.
“I need to use the restroom!” he nearly shouted, standing up abruptly.
“Are you okay, kid? Do you need a moment?” Marcus asked, concern etched across his face.
“Uh... I’m fine! I’m totally fine! I just really, really need to pee,” Peter replied, his gaze darting around the room, avoiding Marcus’s probing eyes.
Marcus didn’t seem convinced but relented. “Okay, Peter. The restroom is just down the hallway.”
Peter practically bolted from the room, the hallway spinning around him, each step feeling more disorienting than the last. Was his whole life a lie? Who was he if he weren’t Peter Parker? The questions swirled in his mind, dizzying him.
As he was making his way to the restroom, he heard the front doors suddenly bust open and a familiar voice shouting from the entrance.
"WHERE IS MY SON? WHERE IS HE?"
A police officer got out of his seat and tried to block the man from entering. "Sir, please calm down. Did somebody contact you? You shouldn't be here yet."
Curious, Peter approached the entrance, his heart pounding. And then he saw him— Holy shit, it was Tony Stark!
“Block my path one more time and just SEE what happens!” Tony growled, his voice low and fierce.
Peter approached Tony, completely in awe. "Oh my god, you're Tony Stark! Mr. Stark, what are you... what are you doing here? I'm sorry, you probably get this all the time, but my friend Ned and I, we are such big fans! We just watched your latest Ted Talk yesterday on your attempts to perfect the Arc Reactor as a renewable energy source and the impact it could have to lessen global warming. I think it's brilliant!"
Huh. Peter wondered why Tony Stark was staring at him so intensely and why he looked like he was about to cry.
“Addie…” Tony whispered, the name trembling on his lips.
Peter froze, every muscle in his body locking in place. Wait, that was what his mother called him in his dreams. The pieces of the puzzle began clicking into place, the stark realization washing over him like icy water.
Today was the tenth anniversary of Aidan Stark’s kidnapping. And he’d just been told he was kidnapped ten years ago, which meant—
“HOLY SHIT, YOU’RE MY DAD!” Peter squealed, the words bursting from him before he could stop them.