Archive of Our Own ^beta

Peter hadn’t planned on going out that night. He had been studying when his phone had gone off. It was a message from MJ, informing Peter of a party that night and signing off with a “see you there, loser”. Rather than rolling his eyes and making up an excuse, he decided it might be nice to go see his friends tonight. It was a Friday, and it was just a party. He could make an appearance and leave after a few hours, no big deal.

 

So Peter had gone to tell May, who had offered to drive him. He’d agreed and been quick to get dressed into something a little nicer than his sweatpants.

 

And that’s where they were now, in the car at ten o’clock at night, sitting at a red light in the middle of Queens.

 

Peter was humming along to a song on the radio, some catchy pop title. He grinned when May started to sing, she reached forward to turn the volume knob up. Peter sang too, laughing as May danced in her seat. She was tapping the steering wheel to the beat, her red, manicured nails bouncing in time. The two of them were giggling as May pressed on the accelerator, carrying them forward into the intersection as the light turned green.

 

Peter was laughing, May was totally off key. She turned to look at Peter, only for a second, her eyes shone. She was happy, and then the hair on Peters arms stood on end.

 

In an instant, there was the sound of screeching tires. Peter cried out as something hit their car, sending them spinning across the road. Peter looked up in just enough time to watch an oncoming semi truck collide with their small car. There was a loud crash, and Peter heard May screaming. Then everything seemed to go blurry, and Peter could no longer grab hold of what was happening. There was an airbag in his face, and he felt pain shoot up his left arm. He couldn’t quite feel his legs. The commotion stopped and all Peter could hear was people shouting and horns blaring. His vision was starting to edge out, but he turned his head to see if May was alright.

 

His aunt was draped over the airbag, there was a lot of blood. Her window was wrecked and she didn’t seem to be moving.

 

“May.” Peter called weakly, his eyes wouldn’t stay open.

 

Peters ears seemed to tune everything out, and he noticed that catchy pop song still blaring on the radio. He wanted it to stop. He couldn’t find it in himself to open his eyes, but he tried to speak.

 

“May... ‘s gonna be okay.” And then he lost consciousness.

 

+

 

Peter woke up to a handful of paramedics kneeling over him. He was still outside, the sky was dark and he could see police lights somewhere in his peripheral vision. Somebody loudly announced that he was awake, and Peter sat up slowly.

 

“Careful, you’ve got a bad concussion.” One of the EMTS warned.

 

There was a light snowfall. Small, cold flakes floated down around Peter, it felt almost dreamlike.

 

“Where’s May?” He asked, his voice was hoarse like he’d been screaming. He didn’t remember screaming.

 

The EMT who spoke a moment before was knelt in front of him, her face kind.

 

“Hun, I need you to relax.”

 

Peter ignored her, looking past her to where a crowd of uniformed officers were standing around a stretcher. Alarm bells went off in Peters head, and he rushed to stand up.

 

The paramedic in front of him stood too, grabbing onto his arm. He stepped around her, yanking his arm away and disregarding her words of protest. Peter approached the officers, dodging past them to the side of the stretcher. There was a sheet pulled overtop, a body concealed beneath.

 

“Kid, you need to get back.”

 

Peters head was fuzzy. “Who’s under there? Where’s my aunt? Please, let me see.”

 

The officer raised his voice slightly, making Peter flinch.

 

“Stand back.” The policeman stuck his hand on Peters chest, stopping him from getting any closer.

 

Two of the paramedics began to wheel the stretcher away, and Peter watched as a lifeless hand slid from the side of the sheet. He recognized the red manicured nails and the charm bracelet that accompanied it.

 

Peter felt the world go down around him, or rather, his knees hit the pavement. He felt hands on his shoulders and he recognized people speaking in his face, but he didn’t hear them. He didn’t hear any of it. There was no pain in his body that could outlive the pain he felt in his heart. At some point he had gone into hysterics. He heard somebody crying, and as he started to tune in to his surroundings, he realized the crying was coming from him.

 

He felt like he couldn’t breath, there were three people speaking to him at once.

 

“Son, is there somebody we can call?”

 

Peter was shaking and he sat back on his heels. He weakly pushed at the hands on his shoulders, hoping to be left alone, but they persisted.

 

He wiped at his eyes, fighting with them to stop releasing tears. He wasn’t a child. Except his vision stayed blurry, and he kept gasping for air like he was drowning.

 

Whoever spoke to him before, spoke again.

 

“Who can we call for you?”

 

Peter had no family left, nobody to reach out to, so he said the first person who came to mind.

 

“Call Tony Stark.” His voice was weak, muddled by tears and it cracked when he spoke.

 

The next few moments were numbing. There was murmuring between the people around him. They spoke in hushed voices, saying how the kid was delirious and they had no reason to call Tony Stark.

 

Peter stopped his crying, “I-I’m his intern. Please.” And then he tuned it all out once again.

 

He was lifted off the pavement, dragged to an ambulance. He was taken to the nearest hospital, changed into a hospital gown, and got all kinds of machines hooked up to him. Peter knew he didn’t need it, he would heal in a few days. May however, would not. All kinds of officers and doctors checked in on Peter, they gathered his personal information, and he was then given the official news.

 

“We’re sorry Peter, but your aunt passed.”

 

The words meant nothing to him. He was asked again and again who they could call, and he told them to call Tony Stark countless times. Except they wouldn’t, because they thought he was just some kid. Until finally, a nurse brought him his cell phone.

 

When he looked at it he was shocked to see it was nearly two in the morning. Had he been in the hospital that long?

 

Peter stared at his phone in his hands, they were still shaking. He didn’t want to call Tony, he wanted somebody else to do it for him. He didn’t want to tell Mr. Stark what had happened, how could he?

 

His nurse returned, “Peter, honey, please call somebody. You can’t stay here forever.”

 

No, he couldn’t, he couldn’t afford to stay at the hospital. He was a teenager with no legal guardian, there were hospital bills stacking up that he couldn’t handle.

 

He looked up at her, she had sympathy written all over her face.

 

“I-I can’t. I can’t put that burden on Mr. Stark an-and it’s two in the morning.” His voice cracked, and he felt the urge to cry again swallow him, but he fought it.

 

She sighed, “I know it’s hard, but you need somebody. If Mr....Stark, cares about you, he won’t mind a call this late.” She paused momentarily, a tinge of disbelief showing through as she spoke Tony’s name. Peter hated her for it, he hated all of them for it. He wasn’t a liar, he’d never be that.

 

Peter stared at the small black letters on his phone, his thumb hovering over Tony’s contact. He sucked in a deep breath and pressed it, lifting the phone to his ear.

 

It rang a few times until it was answered, shuffling noises came through to Peters ear, and a tired voice. “Hey kid, whats up?” He answered, sounding like he was at his end of a very long day. Peter remembered that Tony’s day had been filled with press meetings, and he felt guilt shadow him.

 

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He tried again, yet his voice wouldn’t come.

 

“Peter? You alright?”

 

Peter couldn’t say it. He couldn’t tell Tony what happened, there was no way.

 

“Pete, talk to me.”

 

Peter’s voice finally kicked in, it was barely above a whisper. “Mr. Stark? Can you come get me?”

 

Tony’s voice grew a little bit stronger. “Yeah, kid, what’s going on?”

 

Peter felt his bottom lip tremble, “Please just come get me.” His voice broke.

 

He heard Tony get up, concern bleeding through the phone. “Where are you?”

 

“NewYork-Presbyterian Queens Hospital.”

 

If Peter could see Tony, he would see his face morph into a mask of worry.

 

“I’ll be there soon, Peter.”

 

His phone beeped to signal that the call had ended, and Peter sat quietly in his hospital bed. It felt like the world was dragging on around him.

 

It was a few hours before Tony arrived at the hospital, as he was coming from the compound upstate. Peter heard him before he saw him. His voice leaked in from the hallway.

 

“Are you Peter Parker’s nurse?” Tony was asking, his voice loud compared to the sounds of the hospital.

 

Peter recognized his nurses voice in response, she sounded shocked. Momentarily, Peter felt pride shoot through him. It showed her that he really had meant Tony Stark.

 

Tony spoke again, “Can you tell me what happened?”

 

The murmurs that came in response were sure to be news of the crash, Peters injury and Mays passing. Peter never wanted to think about those things again. He swung his legs over the side of his bed so that he could stand up once Tony came in. The footsteps that came before Tony’s entrance were slow, Peter could’ve sworn they were hesitant.

 

But then Tony was in the room, his tinted sunglasses held in one hand, his eyes sad.

 

“Peter I-“

 

Peter burst into tears before he could finish his sentence, he felt like his heart was physically aching.

 

“Oh Peter.” Tony said, and Peter stood up, crossing the room in three strides and clinging onto Tony.

 

Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, letting the kid cry into his chest.

 

“Mr. Stark.” Peter spat out weakly, his whole body shook as he was taken over by quiet sobs. His face was hot and his tears wet Tony’s suit jacket. Tony rubbed his hand across Peters back, trying to sooth him.

 

Eventually, Peter quieted down. His sobs turned into quick, shallow breaths and his tears subdued.

 

Tony convinced him to get dressed, he told him Happy was waiting out front to take them home. Peter felt bitter at the word home, he knew Tony meant the compound upstate, he wasn’t going to take Peter to his home. The Avengers Compound wasn’t his home, he wanted to go home to May burning something on the stove. He wanted to watch movies with her, he wanted to wake up to her blow-drying her hair upside down in the bathroom. But that wasn’t an option anymore, and Peter felt it weighing him down like a ton of bricks.

 

Once he was dressed, Peter’s hands didn’t seem to work properly as he tried to zip up his hoodie. Every time he tried to fit the zipper together he would miss. He figured that his hands would never stop trembling. He got frustrated and the urge to cry, or maybe yell, came to him again, so he ripped his sweater off his arms and threw it onto the ground like a child.

 

Tony watched him with a sad expression, he leaned forward and grabbed Peters hoodie off the floor. He walked over so he was behind Peter, and he pulled the sweater over Peters left arm first. Peters arm was bandaged at the shoulder, there had been a gash from broken glass and Peter knew he would have an awful scar to remember it by. Tony stayed quiet as silent tears tracked their way down Peters cheeks again, and moved onto his right arm. Once Tony had gotten the sweater pulled over Peters shoulders he zipped it up right to the top, and put his hand on Peters shoulder.

 

“Let’s get to the car, kid.”

 

Peter nodded numbly, his legs brought him through the halls of the hospital to the front doors with Tony. Tony placed a gentle hand between Peters shoulder blades, guiding him to where Happy sat parked out front, his face solemn. Peter figured Tony had already let him know one way or another what had happened.

 

Tony opened the door for Peter, and Peter slid into the backseat. As Tony fastened his seatbelt it dawned on him that other than the ambulance, the last time Peter had been in a car his aunt was killed.

 

Tony shut the door and made his way around the car. He took his seat beside Peter, and Happy started the car. The radio came on, that same pop song that was playing when May died.

 

Peter felt something like fear, but worse, rise up in his chest as he looked out the window as they started to move.

 

He turned to look at Tony. “Mr. Stark.” He said, unsure of what to do. He could feel panic rising up as if it were bile in his throat.

 

Tony looked at Peter, taking in his stricken features.

 

“Peter? You okay?”

 

“I don’t-I can’t-We need to stop.”

 

Tony drew his eyebrows together, “Pete, hey, it’s alright.”

 

Peter felt like his throat was closing. “No, Mr. Stark, I need to get out. Now.”

 

Tony could spot the familiar signs of a panic attack in seconds, and Peter was breaking.

 

“Happy, stop the car.” Tony said loudly, and they pulled over, barely having made it out of the parking lot. Peters head was spinning, his chest heaved and he gasped for air, trying to catch his breath. He was trying to undo the seatbelt, but his fingers wouldn’t work again. Tony reached over and pressed the button, releasing Peter from the seatbelts hold.

 

Peter pushed the door open, he tumbled out of the car, unable to stand. Tony was out and around to Peters side of the car in seconds.

 

This was the second time that night that Peter had an adult kneeling in front of him on the pavement. This time, though, Peter noticed that his knees hit a soft layer of snow.

 

Peter was still holding the door handle as he searched for some type of rhythm in his breath.

 

Tony was speaking quietly, a string of comforting words and phrases, trying to calm Peter once again.

 

The world in front of Peter kept spinning, almost like it was going in and out of focus, until finally Peter found a pattern in his breathing again. It took a few minutes, but Peter finally gained control of his senses. He looked up at Tony’s worried face.

 

“Mr. Stark, I don’t want to go back in that car.”

 

Tony nodded, “It’s alright. We’ll put the partition up, and you can lay down so it won’t even seem like we’re driving. Is that okay?”

 

Peter so badly wanted to say no, but there was no other way for them to get to the compound, so he nodded weakly.

 

They got back in the car, Tony did as he promised, and Peter lay with his head in Tony’s lap. Tony ran his fingers through Peters hair, soothing the boy. Peter briefly thought that on any normal day, it would be weird to him that he was cuddling with Tony Stark, but he didn’t have it in himself to care. Peter could see that the sky was brightening, he hadn’t checked the time in hours, but he determined it was probably relatively close to six in the morning by then.

 

Peter lay quietly for the first hour of the trip, staring at the back of the seats in front of him. He couldn’t feel much, mentally or physically. The hurt was there, it was like a beacon in his head, but it had turned into background noise. Tony let him lay quietly, until, finally, he spoke.

 

“You want to talk about what happened?”

 

Peter turned to look up at Tony, “Not really.” He mumbled. He fiddled with his hands, they had finally stopped shaking.

 

Tony’s hand stilled in Peters hair, “You don’t have to tell me what happened. Just, talk to me kid. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

 

As soon as Peter thought about the moment the crash had occurred, his chest felt tight again.

 

“No,” Peter muttered, he could feel tears pricking at his eyes again. He wanted to stop crying, he was acting like a child.

 

Tony sighed, “I at least hope you know none of this is your fault.”

 

Peter felt a tear slip out, it slid down the side of his face, settling on Tony’s thigh. Tony looked down at him, his eyes growing sympathetic once again.

 

“But it was my fault.” Peter cried, turning and pressing his face into Tony’s leg. Tony swept his thumb across Peters cheek, comforting.

 

“Pete, you can’t do that to yourself.”

 

Peter let another round of tears take him, he felt helpless.

 

“If I hadn’t- I wasn’t even planning to go out last night.” He said, his voice weak.

 

Tony frowned. He reached over to Peters chin, attempting to turn his head toward him, but Peter pushed him away. His shoulders shook gently, and Peter reached behind him to pull his hood over his head. He felt like hiding. Tony placed his hand on Peters shoulder, once again rubbing his thumb to help calm the kid.

 

Peter spoke up again, his voice sad. “May wasn’t suppose to drive me...but she offered to. It’s not my fault, but I feel like it is. It‘s awful, Mr. Stark.”

 

Tony hummed his understanding, “It’s not your fault Pete, I promise.”

 

Peter nodded, but he continued to cry quietly. His tears dropped across his nose and down onto Tony’s pants. Tony leaned forward, he removed his suit jacket and placed it over Peter like a blanket. Peter curled his knees up into it, shrinking in on himself. Tony didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, but he reached forward and nudged Peters hand. Peter grabbed onto his fingers, the warmth of Tony’s grip gave him some comfort.

 

Tony let Peter cry again, and after a while, he stopped. His breathing deepened and Tony realized Peter had cried himself to sleep. Tony looked at the back of Peters hooded head, he wanted to help the kid, make sure he knew he would be okay.

 

Peter slept through the remainder of the trip, only waking when Tony gently shook his shoulders.

 

Peter blinked up at him, his eyes bleary.

 

“We’re here.” Tony offered, and Peter sat up, momentarily at peace. The sun was shining down around them, and Peter stepped out of the car and back into a world where his aunt no longer lived. He felt the world fall back down around him and onto his shoulders. Tony followed him out of the car.

 

“We’ve got living quarters for you already set up, the team will be happy to have you.” Tony said, his voice too bright for the darkness that Peter felt.

 

Peter nodded solemnly and allowed himself to be pushed toward the doors. This was his home now, it felt wrong, but Peter knew he would get used to it.

 

Tony gripped Peters shoulder, reassuring. “It’s gonna be alright, kid.”

 

Peter wanted to disagree, he didn’t believe a word coming out of Tony’s mouth.

 

His voice was quiet, “I don’t know Mr. Stark.”

 

Tony offered him a smile, “Don’t worry, kid. You’re gonna be just fine.”

 

They were eating their respective breakfasts, Peter was content with a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice. There were a few conversations going on, and Peter sat quietly, listening to them. Tony, Bruce, and Rhodey were bickering because Bruce allegedly kept losing the TV remote, though he blamed it on Vision each time.

 

“Vision doesn’t even watch TV, Banner. I know it’s you.” Tony accused, his eyes shone with false annoyance.

 

Natasha was reading some article to Steve, and Wanda, Sam, and Bucky were listening in. The only person not involved in a conversation was Clint, who decided to speak across the table to Peter.

 

“Peter, are you going to go back to school relatively soon?”

 

He wasn’t going in that day, that was for sure. His school had already been in session over an hour.

 

Peter shook his head, “I’d rather not.”

 

Clint hummed his understanding, and Rhodey chimed in.

 

“You should go back, kid. Education is good for you.”

 

Peter raised an eyebrow. “I think I’ll be fine for the rest of this week.”

 

The conversation extended. Bruce decided to add his opinion in as well.

 

“It’s good to work your brain Peter. And I’m sure your school has some sort of rules against skipping classes.”

 

Peter frowned, feeling annoyed. “I’m sure they’ll understand, given the circumstances.”

 

It felt like the entire table left their conversations to join Peters, as Steve spoke up.

 

“School is important, Peter. You shouldn’t need to miss that much.”

 

Peter rolled his eyes, huffing. “I think I can decide for myself what it is I need.”

 

“Whoa, kid.” said Rhodey, “We’re just trying to help you out.”

 

Peter dropped his spoon in his bowl, the clang of metal against ceramic rang out in an effort to show that Peter was angry.

 

“I don’t need to be helped.” He deadpanned, not looking anywhere but at his half empty bowl.

 

Natasha cleared her throat, gaining their attention. “Of course, Peter. We know you’re perfectly able to manage on your own but-“

 

Peter raised his voice, “I’m not, though! That’s the thing! You all keep acting like I’m perfectly fine when clearly, I’m having a shitty time adjusting to an entirely new lifestyle! What’s even the point of going to school when it’s like three entire hours away?!”

 

The table went silent, all eyes on Peter. He pushed his chair away from the table, storming off toward his bedroom. He wiped away angry tears that fled down his face.

 

He heard footsteps catching up behind him, and a hand landed on his shoulder.

 

Peter turned to find that Steve was the one who came after him.

 

“Hey, Peter, it’s okay.”

 

Peters shoulders shuddered, and he sniffled miserably.

 

“No, it’s not.”

 

“You’re right, it’s not, but it will be.”

 

Peter looked up at him with disbelieving eyes. “How is that suppose to help?”

 

Steve furrowed his eyebrows, “It’s not, but it’s true. I, of all people, can promise you that this feeling of pain and loss, it’ll fade.”

 

Peter shrugged. He leaned back against the wall and slid down it so that he was sitting in the hallway. Steve sat down, too.

 

“I’ve dealt with loss before...obviously, it’s just that everybody in this place keeps acting like I’m a kid who has no idea what I’m talking about, or like I’m some untouchable guy who has no emotions. There’s literally no in between and it sucks.”

 

Steve nodded, trying his best to understand. “What do you feel like?”

 

“I feel like somebody who’s just caused the loss of their last standing family member.” Peter said quietly, looking at his knees.

 

Steve sympathetically clicked his tongue, “Peter, it’s not your fault.”

 

“I know that!” Peter cried, unable to stop another few tears from escaping. “It still is, though. I didn’t even know her favourite type of flowers!”

 

“Peter, that doesn’t make any of this your fault. You shouldn’t blame yourself the way that you are.”

 

“It still feels like I could have prevented all of this.”

 

“Yeah, and it always will. Life doesn’t work out the way you want it to.”

 

Peter wanted to roll his eyes, he wanted to scoff. Instead, he took that energy and used it to stand up.

 

“Well...thanks.” He said blandly, wanting to be finished with the conversation. Steve smiled.

 

“Anytime, Peter.”

 

Peter continued on to his bedroom.

 

His suitcase sat on the floor, open, but not unpacked. Peter decided he might as well do just that.

 

There was a dresser across from his bed, atop it sat a TV that had a few game consoles lined up beside it. It was obvious that Tony had taken into account Peters age and interests when setting the room up.

 

The walls of the room were a boring grey, giving the room a less than comfortable vibe that Peter wasn’t used to.

 

He started on his distraction, folding all his shirts and sweaters to fit in the top two drawers, then he made a drawer just for his pants. He continued with the rest of his clothing, until he pulled out his suit.

 

Peter ran the material through his fingers, the soft fabric soothed him.

 

He decided to put it on, feeling the protection of his alter ego envelope him. He left his mask off, and threw his pants overtop as he would if he were going somewhere. He threw a hoodie overtop and zipped it up, concealing the suit beneath. He stuck his mask in his pocket.

 

Peter wanted to go out, he wanted to patrol, distract himself. He wanted to learn a little bit more info about the driver from that night. Peter headed out of his room, toward the entrance to the compound, where he found Tony.

 

“Hey Pete.” Tony said, looking him up and down.

 

“Hi Mr. Stark.” Peter returned.

 

“What are you up to?”

 

Peter didn’t particularly feel like sharing. “Nothing, I was just gonna go for a walk.”

 

Tony raised an eyebrow, “In your Spider-Man suit?”

 

Peter was confused, he looked down at himself, realizing that he hadn’t fully concealed his suit after all.

 

“Uh...”

 

Tony scoffed, “There is no way you were planning to go patrolling.”

 

Peter sighed. “Yeah, I kinda was.”

 

“Seriously?” Tony ridiculed, and Peter felt a bit self conscious.

 

Peter shrugged.

 

“Yeah, sorry, but no.” Tony said firmly, there was no wiggle room in his words.

 

“Mr. Stark, it’s fine,” Peter started, but Tony cut him off.

 

“If you aren’t okay enough to go to school, there is absolutely no chance you’re in good enough shape to go out and be Spider-Man.”

 

Peter awkwardly pulled the zipper of his hoodie up, officially hiding the suit beneath, as if he needed to do that anymore.

 

“Mr. Stark I don’t need you babying me. I can handle it, it’s just patrolling. I’ll be back within a few hours and I won’t do anything you would or wouldn’t do,”

It was a mouthful of lies, Peter was sure to get in too deep with something or other and lose track of time, but he was trying to convince Tony to let him go, not swear an oath.

 

Tony shook his head, “Nope. Sorry kid. Not happening.”

 

Peter huffed, disbelieving that he was being told to stay inside.

 

“You can’t just keep me here.” He argued.

 

“FRIDAY, you’ll notify me immediately if Peter leaves the compound, correct?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

 

Peter gaped at him, crossing his arms over his chest and turning on his heels. He stormed off toward the living room area.

 

When he got there, Wanda and Bucky were playing some card game across the coffee table. Peter stomped in, childlike.

 

“I cannot believe him.” He said, grabbing the two Avengers attention. Wanda tilted her head in question.

 

“Can’t believe who?” She asked.

 

“Mr. Stark won’t let me go out as Spider-Man.” Peter grumbled as he walked forward, taking a seat on the couch beside them.

 

Bucky looked at him funny, “Don’t you think it’s a little early to want to hop back on the hero train?”

 

Peter shook his head, “I’m ready to go back out as Spider-Man. I’m not a little kid. I can handle myself.”

 

“Yeah...but you said yourself that you can’t even handle school yet.”

 

Peter groaned. “School is different. School is facing a bunch of people who by now, have heard about what happened. School is explaining a hundred times why I missed two days and why I’m so sad. If I go back to school I’ll have my entire class trying not to set me off.”

 

Wanda looked at him thoughtfully. “I understand. School is facing the issue head on, hero work is putting on a mask.”

 

“Exactly.” said Peter, feeling a small amount of relief.

 

“You do seem a lot better.” Bucky said, smiling at Peter. Peter smiled back.

 

“I’m doing fine. All my wounds have pretty much healed.”

 

“Oh that’s good.” Wanda expressed, her tone light.

 

Peter nodded his agreement.

 

“Well,” Bucky started, slightly hesitant. “If you’re really wanting to work your powers you could always train with me.”

 

Wanda shot him a weary glance, but Peters face lit up.

 

“That would be awesome!”

 

Bucky grew more confident in his words. “Alright, later today I was planning to do some training. Wear your suit, lets see what you got.”

 

+

 

Peter met up with Bucky in the gym that evening. The gym of the compound was huge, and it had areas for pretty much everybody on their team to train. It was just Peter and Bucky there, this time.

 

“Hey Peter.” Bucky greeted, he was standing in the middle of the gym, where there were a bunch of mats covering the floor.

 

Peter carried his mask in his hands as he walked up, returning Bucky’s greeting.

 

Bucky walked Peter through a warm up, the two of them ran in place and did a number of burpees. Then, Bucky told Peter to stretch out his arms and legs. Peter did as he was told.

 

“So, kid, how do you want to do this?”

 

Peter took a breath, raising his head confidently.

 

“Hand to hand combat.”

 

Bucky gave him a calculated look, but nodded nonetheless.

 

Peter pulled his mask on.

 

“Hello, Peter.” Karen said, and Peter felt right at home.

 

“Hi Karen.”

 

“Okay,” Bucky began, “If you want me to stop, just say stop, alright?”

 

Peter nodded once to show he understood, then they began.

 

Bucky started him off easy, he threw a punch toward Peters head which Peter blocked. Peter retaliated, he lashed out to hit Buckys midsection, but Bucky grabbed his hand, twisting it away from himself.

 

Slowly, it started to pick up. Bucky would throw a punch, Peter would block it, then he’d throw in something new, maybe a kick or another punch, throwing Peter off. Peter was having a hard time getting many of his own hits in, and if he did, Bucky would block them.

 

Peter finally got a real hit in, right to the side of Bucky’s stomach, and he felt pride shoot through him.

 

“Ha!” He cheered, Bucky laughed.

 

Bucky stepped it up, taking Peters victory as a signal that he could take more. They were fighting for real now, a constant back and forth, hitting each other every now and then. Peter would groan, and Bucky would wait a moment longer to make sure he was okay. Peter would bounce back quickly, giving off various signs of mental and physical strength.

 

“Is that all you got?” Peter said, egging Bucky on.

 

So, Bucky took it a step further. His fist slammed into Peters side, causing the boy to take a few steps backward. Peter retaliated, kicking his leg out toward Bucky, but Bucky grabbed it with his metal arm, pulling Peter so he fell down. Peter bounced back up, reaching out to smack Bucky.

 

“Looks like someone’s a little rusty.” Peter said, dodging another hit.

 

Bucky scoffed, and his punches came one after the other, catching Peter off guard. Peter was sent tumbling backward, and he tripped over the edge of one of the matts, falling backward onto the ground.

 

Bucky smirked, “If you train your reflexes and strength more, maybe you’ll be able to stop the next semi.”

 

Peter felt his stomach drop, but Buckys face still wore what he thought was a joke. He had overestimated what Peter could take, but he didn’t know.

 

Peter stood up, feeling a flush of anger jolt through his bones.

 

“Karen, activate enhanced combat mode.”

 

Peter threw himself at Bucky, letting his anger fuel him. It was overwhelming, and he wanted to scream.

 

Peter heard Bucky say “whoa,” but he didn’t care, he put his entire body into the fight, swinging hard. He felt his knuckles hit Bucky’s stomach, then he watched as his fist just missed Bucky’s face. Bucky was stunned, and Peter took the extra time to attack him. He shot two webs at Bucky, gluing his hands to his sides.

 

“Kid-“ Bucky said, but Peter didn’t listen.

 

Peter kicked at Bucky’s stomach, sending him backward and into the ground. Peter jumped atop of him, slamming his fist into his nose. He tried again, but he kept missing. His eyes started to blur, and he only got more frustrated.

 

“Stop!” Bucky called, his eyes wide. Peter didn’t stop. Peter started to yell.

 

“You think that was fucking funny?!”

 

Peter rarely ever swore like that, so Bucky was rightfully shocked. But Peter didn’t care, he had a rage bubbling through him like hot lava.

 

Peter couldn’t breathe, and he reached up and tore his mask off, throwing it on the ground.

 

He started to go into hysterics, shouting foul words at Bucky as he tried to hit the helpless soldier on the ground, but still, he missed. Bucky’s nose was bleeding, and Peters punches grew weaker.

 

Peter felt hot tears run down his face, he watched them fall onto Bucky’s chest as he hit him. His punches were aimless and his vision was blurry. Peter was sobbing then, weakly grabbing at Bucky’s shirt, and then he was being pulled away.

 

Two strong arms looped under Peters armpits, and Peter kicked at the ground as he was dragged away from his fight. Peters breathing was erratic, and he couldn’t control the tears that came as he was placed onto the ground. Peter couldn’t catch a regular breath, his chest heaved convulsively. The arms that had dragged him away found themselves wrapped around Peter on the gym floor. He was pulled forward, and he vaguely realized it was Tony who had retrieved him.

 

Peter couldn’t stop. His nose was running, and he couldn’t breathe. He kept making involuntary cries of despair, and he clung to the front of Tony’s shirt. It was more than crying, it was the type of desperate sobbing that came only when one felt they had no hope left. Peter had no strength to quiet himself, his body shuddered with the weight of his sobs. His breath was ragged, and he kept gasping, trying to catch it.

 

There was a soothing hand on his back, but Peter continued to make awful sounds full of pain.

 

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” Tony whispered, his lips pressed to the top of Peters head. He repeated it over and over, holding Peter against his chest as Peter lost control.

 

Peter‘s grip on Tony’s shirt front loosened, and he managed to pack it down to only a few sobs a minute, rather than the constant river he had started with. Peters muscles still shook, his breathing was still inconsistent. He would have Tony convinced that it had returned to normal, and then his shoulders would shake again and he’d be fighting for his breath again, gasping like he was choking.

 

It was well over ten minutes later when he was finally able to calm down. His chest heaved, but he looked up at Tony.

 

His face was blotchy and red. His eyes were puffy from crying, and still filled with tears.

 

“M-Mr. Stark.” He said weakly.

 

Tony shushed him, pulling him impossibly closer to his chest.

 

“I’m so- I’m so sorry.” Peter cried, letting more tears fall.

 

“It’s okay Peter, it’s okay.” Tony said softly, rubbing his hand across Peters back. He tucked his other arm under the bend in Peters knees, and made an effort to stand up. Peter looked like a child being lifted in Tony’s arms. He pressed his face into Tony’s chest.

 

“It’s okay.” Tony said again, bringing Peter up so that he could fully stand. Tony grunted, but he pushed through the strain.

 

Bucky was still there, his hands were still stuck to his body, and he had a very bloody nose.

 

Tony looked him up and down as they passed, “You deserve that, Mr. Tin Man.” And they ducked out of the room.

 

Peter said nothing as Tony carried him across the compound. He just kept snivelling as he was brought toward Tony’s quarters. They passed a very concerned looking Steve in the hall, and Tony shook his head.

 

Tony brought Peter into his bedroom, which was huge, and Peter would have liked to swoon over it had it not been his first time in there.

 

Tony placed Peter on his and Peppers bed.

 

“FRIDAY, no one comes in or out of this room.” He called.

 

Tony then retrieved a number of blankets from a closet across the room, and he picked up a tissue box off the dresser.

 

Peter sat in a ball against the headboard, and Tony draped the blankets over him, tucking him up to his shoulders.

 

Tony sat himself down beside Peter, and Peter automatically attached himself to Tony’s side. He placed his head back on Tony’s chest, and Tony put his arm around Peters shoulders.

 

He pressed a soft kiss to Peters head, trying his best to spread nothing but comfort.

 

Peter loosely grabbed hold of Tony’s hand, he sniffled a few times.

 

“‘M sorry Mr. Stark.” He said quietly, his voice quivering.

 

Tony shushed him again. “It’s okay Peter, I promise.”

 

Peter yawned, nodding slowly against Tony’s side.

 

Tony squeezed Peters hand reassuringly, and sat quietly as the teenager drifted off to sleep. It was quickly, but Peter had exhausted himself mentally and physically more than he probably ever had, and Tony was happy to see him rest.

 

Tony tilted his head down so that his cheek landed on Peters head, and he closed his eyes. Not sleeping, but not daring to move a muscle and wake the poor kid who lay sleeping against him.

 

He stayed that way for hours, moving only when Peter shifted in his sleep. Tony watched him with fond eyes, hoping that Peter would sleep soundly through the night.

His face was pressed against Tony’s shoulder, so he slowly pulled away in an effort not to wake the sleeping adult.

 

He gazed at his surroundings, finally finding the time to actually look at the room he was in. It was at least three times the size of Peters, with a little sitting area to the far right of the bed area. There was a doorway that Peter assumed lead to a bathroom to his left. The room was coloured in shades of grey, just like his own. It brought a modern, business-like vibe to each room rather than a homey one.

 

He sat up, pushing multiple blankets off himself to reveal his Spider-Man suit. He thought about how he must’ve forgotten about it the night before.

 

That’s what crossed Peters mind next, the night before. He instantly felt guilt override any other emotions swirling inside his head.

 

He kicked his blankets the rest of the way off, turning so that he could swing his feet over the side of the large bed. This awoke Tony.

 

“Morning kid.”

 

Peter turned to look Tony’s way, his eyes were sleep heavy and he smiled gently in Peters direction.

 

“Morning Mr. Stark.”

 

Tony propped himself up on his elbows, taking a look at his bedside clock. He sighed and laid back down.

 

“It’s early.” Said Tony. The clock read 7:25.

 

Peter shrugged, “I probably need a shower, and definitely some food.”

 

Tony didn’t argue, watching as Peter stood from the bed. He found his way to the door, turning back to look over his shoulder.

 

“Hey, Mr. Stark?”

 

Tony looked up again, “What’s up?”

 

“Thank you.” Said Peter, turning away and slipping out the door. He pushed it shut behind him and began a slow walk toward his bedroom.

 

As Peter trekked across the compound to his room, he admired the light that shone in from the early morning sun. He thought about how May always loved the sunrise, how she would open all the blinds in the house at the earliest sign of sunlight. He felt his heart grow heavy and he sighed, his shoulders drooping slightly.

 

Peter began to explore his thoughts of the accident, and the news segment that had covered it. If the news had info, there had to be some things he could find out for himself. He thought about that night, and it dawned on him how most intersections in Queens had security cameras.

 

Peter would have to get some help, but maybe he could access the security feeds. He thought about contacting the police, but if they had any info there was no chance they would give it to Peter if they hadn’t already.

 

Peter made it to his room, he gathered his clothes and headed for a shower. Once he was finished, he went to the kitchen to get himself something to eat. He stepped in through the doorway, and was met with a tired looking Bucky buttering some toast.

 

Bucky looked up at the sound of footsteps, distress flashed across his face.

 

“Hi.” Said Peter. His mind did somersaults, he didn’t know what to say.

 

Bucky offered him a tight lipped smile, and Peter spoke again.

 

“Hey, listen, about last night-“

 

A new voice entered the room, “Good morning Peter, Buck.” It was Steve.

 

Peter saw relief cloud Bucky’s expression, and as Peter turned to greet Steve, he escaped the room with his toast.

Peter sighed, but ended up smiling as Steve was standing in his pyjamas, and that was definitely not something Peter was used to.

 

“How was your sleep, Peter?”

 

Steve’s eyes were soft, and Peter remembered being carried past Steve in the hallway the night before. He momentarily felt embarrassed, but he disregarded it.

 

“It was okay.” Peter said. He watched Steve calculate his next words, and thankfully for Peter, he chose not to address the night before.

 

Peter turned back to the kitchen and went to the fridge. He opened it to rummage through for something to eat as Steve poured himself a cup of coffee.

 

“Peter, could you pass me the milk?”

 

Peter grabbed the carton out of the door of the fridge and held it out so Steve could grab it. Peter settled on grabbing a yogurt and he made his way across the kitchen for a spoon. Once he had his utensil, he sat himself down at the dining table.

 

Steve joined shortly with his cup of coffee. He sat across from Peter.

 

“How are you doing?” Steve asked, his eyes held concern but in an almost fatherly manner.

 

Peter shrugged. “Better, now that I’ve seen you in your pyjamas.”

 

Steve smiled at Peter, and for the first time it wasn’t gentle, it was genuine. Peter smiled back, chuckling slightly.

 

“Are you finally settling in?”

 

“I think so,” Said Peter. He glanced out the window, it was sunny, and it seemed like any snow they had gotten over the weekend hadn’t stuck.

 

Peter finished his yogurt in silence, and once he was done he made his way toward the lounge of the compound.

 

In the lounge, he found the coffee table pushed off to the side. Bruce and Natasha were standing on two yoga mats, and Natasha was explaining a pose.

 

Rightfully, this took Peter by surprise. Two of the worlds mightiest heroes were doing yoga together at eight o’clock in the morning on a Wednesday.

 

“What...” Peters voice trailed off, and Natasha turned to look at him.

 

“Oh, hey Peter.” She greeted, sending him a smile. Bruce nodded his hello.

 

“What are you guys doing?”

 

“Yoga, Peter.” Bruce looked at him as if he should already know the answer to his question.

 

Peter stared at them, confused. “Yeah but..why?”

 

“It’s good for us, and it’s good stress relief.” Bruce explained, and Peter said “ah.” He held himself back from making any hulk-related comments.

 

He was still kind of weirded out, first Steve in his pyjamas with a cup of coffee, now this? Peter knew moving into the compound that he should have expected some normal-people-behaviour from the Avengers, but for whatever reason the domesticity of it all still thoroughly shocked him. He had to admit, though, it was kind of comforting knowing that they acted as a family rather than just a team of superheroes. It made him miss home a little less, knowing that he could potentially grow to one day call this place home.

 

Peter was about to say something when Bucky and Sam entered the room. Peter wanted to talk to Bucky, but he was in the middle of a conversation with Sam.

 

Bucky spotted Peter, and the two of them made eye contact. Bucky turned away and Sam lead them back out of the room, leaving Peter with a mouthful of unsaid words.

 

Peter sighed, wondering when he would get a chance to apologize, if ever. Bucky didn’t seem too eager to exchange any words with Peter anytime soon.

 

“Hey, Natasha,” Peter started. She turned again to meet his eyes. “I was just wondering...”

 

“What is it Peter?” She asked, her eyes curious.

 

“You have a lot of experience tracking people down, right?”

 

Natasha raised one eyebrow. “Yeah?”

 

Peter fiddled with his hands, “I was hoping you’d help me hunt down the guy who killed my aunt?”

 

Natasha’s eyes went wide, and Bruce was suddenly responding to Peter rather than Natasha.

 

“Whoa, Peter, what?”

 

Peter shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “I just wanna talk to him.”

 

Natasha scoffed, “Peter...hunting somebody down is not the same as talking to them.”

 

Peter rolled his eyes, “You know what I meant.”

 

Her face grew concerned, and she stood up, taking a few steps toward Peter. “I’m not sure I do.”

 

He met her eyes, feeling a small amount of annoyance bloom at the pity that shone in her gaze.

 

“We’re suppose to stop bad guys, aren’t we? This guy’s a bad guy he’s-“

 

“Peter.” Natasha said, stopping him. She put her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

 

“We’re the Avengers, we’re suppose to avenge people!”

 

“We don’t go around killing people, Peter.”

 

Peter huffed. “I never said anything about killing him.”

 

Natasha thought about this for a moment, “You’re right, you didn’t. I just don’t want you to do anything you might regret.”

 

“I know. I just...never mind.“ Peter said, giving up. “Thank you anyway.”

 

Natasha nodded comfortingly at him. She offered him a smile that he didn’t return, and he turned away.

 

Peter headed down the hallway, stopping short as Bucky and Sam were blocking the hall.

 

“Hey, Bucky,” Peter started, jogging down the hallway toward them.

 

Bucky looked away, “Hey, um, I actually was just about to-“

 

Peter cut him off, “Can I just talk to you for a minute?”

 

Bucky shook his head, “Later, okay?” He turned away, walking quickly out of Peters line of vision. Peter sighed dramatically.

 

Sam was still standing in the hall, watching Peter with curious eyes.

 

“I literally just want to apologize to him.” Peter complained, not to anybody in particular. He slouched his shoulders over dramatically and stomped his way back to his room.

 

Peter made it half way across the compound when he ran into Tony.

 

“What’s up kiddo?”

 

Peter launched into speech, explaining to Tony how Bucky was obviously avoiding him and how he only wanted to apologize for the night before.

 

“I don’t think he’s avoiding you because he doesn’t want to talk to you, Pete.”

 

“Well why else would he avoid me?”

 

Peter saw Tony smirk, and he grew curious.

 

“After we left the gym, Cap gave him a pretty long talking to.”

 

“What?” Peter felt the edges of his mouth perk up.

 

“He told Bucky he’s not allowed to bother you, and that he’s disappointed in him.”

 

“Seriously?” Peter let out a small laugh, the first genuine one he’d had in days.

 

Tony nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. Peter smiled too. He felt his smile grow wider, and he started to laugh. The thought of Steve telling Bucky he’s ‘not mad, just disappointed’ brought amusement to Peters heart.

 

Tony grinned, feeling relief that Peter was actually smiling. He seemed happy, and Tony was content, even if Peter was only happy for the time being.

 

+

 

Peter was going out.

He knew that the Avengers thought it was better that he stayed at the compound, but he had made the decision that he would be going back to Queens, alone.

 

Peter was standing on the steps outside of the compound, not having left the property yet. Tony wouldn’t be notified of his departure until he stepped off the property.

 

He was wearing his suit, his mask in hand and he turned his head to make sure there was nobody behind him. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he slipped his mask over his head and bid Karen a hello. He stepped off the property and went on his way.

 

About three minutes after he had left the compound, he had an incoming call from Tony.

 

“Mr. Stark is calling.” Said Karen, and Peter instinctively rolled his eyes.

 

“Block any incoming calls.” Peter instructed. He shot a web at a nearby tree and catapulted himself into the sky.

 

It took Peter just over an hour to get back into New York, as his personal transport was much faster than a car would have been.

 

He headed toward Midtown Tech, planning to find Ned. He’d much rather avoid his high school, but Ned wouldn’t be at home at this time in the middle of the week, so he continued on his way to the school.

 

Peter stopped across the street, planting himself on the rooftop of the building parallel to Midtown. He pulled out his phone, checking the time.

 

It was nearly noon, so Peter sent a text to Ned, instructing him to meet Peter out front once he was let out for lunch. Peter waited about twenty minutes before he spotted Ned looking confused on the steps of the high school.

 

Peter jumped up and set on his way. He landed on two feet in front of Ned, who immediately looked beyond shocked.

 

“Spider-Man!” Somebody yelled, and Peter groaned.

 

Peter grabbed Ned’s arm and pulled him down the front steps of the school and into the street.

 

“Peter?” Ned said in a hushed voice, and Peter nodded.

 

“I need your help.”

 

Ned was nodding before Peter had finished, and Peter filled him in. “I’m gonna take you to Mays apartment, I need you to hack into the street security footage from Friday.”

 

“Okay, yeah. Sure.” Ned was a bit flustered.

 

Peter walked Ned to the apartment, where he told Ned to go up and wait for him. Peter didn’t have any keys on him, so he climbed himself up to his former bedroom window, and entered that way. Once he stepped in, he felt himself grow sad, and as he entered into the living room of the apartment he noticed there were a few boxes laying around. The bookshelves were half empty. Clear signs that people were emptying the apartment unbeknownst to Peter. As Peter went to the front door to unlock it, he wondered who Tony had sent to pack up the apartment. Probably Happy or Pepper.

 

Once Ned was inside Peter locked the front door and pulled his mask off. Ned was talking a mile a minute.

 

“Everybody at school is gonna know that I know Spider-Man! That is so cool! But what if they ask who you are? Oh, whatever. It’s still cool.”

 

Peter smiled halfheartedly.

 

“You can use Mays old laptop, I just need to scan the footage from that night.” He told Ned the street corner they had been on, and he went to retrieve Mays laptop from her bedroom.

 

When Peter entered the room he felt his heart sink. The bed was stripped of its covers, and most of the floor space was taken up by closed boxes. Her laptop still sat on her dresser, where the pictures of Peter and his family had been removed. He felt hurt swell up in his chest, and he registered the now familiar prick of tears behind his eyes.

 

He blinked it away and snagged her laptop, shutting the door behind him.

 

Once Ned was set up and began to work, Peter walked around the apartment quietly, noting everything that had been touched.

 

The fridge was empty, and Mays favourite coffee mug was no longer in the cupboard. The sink was free of dishes, and all but one of their fridge magnets had been taken down. The one magnet left was one Peter had gotten made for May two years prior for her birthday. It was a photograph of the two of them from when Peter was young. He was sitting in her lap, a big grin on his face as he was laughing at something he no longer remembered. He had to be close to age six then, and she was looking down at him with a smile on her face.

 

Peter felt his heart clench, he didn’t know why this magnet had been left. He pulled it off the fridge and held it in his hand, he would keep it.

 

It took Ned hours to access any type of security footage, and he kept complaining that he was missing school.

 

“I’ve missed the last three days, you’ll be fine.” Peter offered. He sat next to Ned on the couch, watching as Ned’s fingers flew across the keyboard.

 

Ned turned to look at him, “You have a reason. I’m skipping. My moms gonna kill me.”

 

“Just tell her I needed you to help me, okay?”

 

Ned rolled his eyes, but he continued on with his typing.

 

The sky was starting to grow dark by the time Ned got the footage Peter needed. Peter had started to fall asleep on the couch. Ned reached over and smacked his shoulder, Peter jolted awake.

 

“I’ve got it.”

 

Peter sat up, wide awake now.

 

Ned looked concerned, “Are you sure you want to watch this?”

 

Peter nodded, taking the computer from Ned. He placed it in his lap and clicked on the screen, watching as it came to life.

 

Peter instantly spotted Mays car, and he watched numbly as it moved into the center of the intersection. There was a glare on their windshield, and Peter was thankful that he didn’t have to see May or himself on the screen. A smaller, black car came toward Peters side of the car, slamming into the back half of the car and sending them spinning off the screen. Peter watched as the black car reversed, turned away, and sped off.

 

He played the footage again. He watched with tired eyes. He paused it when he could clearly see the front of the car.

 

“Look,” Said Ned, pointing at the screen. “You can kinda see his face.”

 

Peters mask was sitting on the coffee table, and he leaned forward to put it on.

 

“Karen, identify this guy for me.” He leaned toward the screen and watched as his suit scanned the man in the drivers seat. A few faces popped up, as the photo Peter had was extremely pixilated. The photo changed a number of times until it landed on one of a very average looking, middle aged guy.

 

“His name is Wesley Stubbs, he has a criminal record as well as an address in Brooklyn.”

 

A description flashed on the screen, and Peter read that he already had two DUI’s, the jerk.

 

“I found him.” Peter said, looking at Ned.

 

Ned still looked concerned. “What are you gonna do, Peter?”

 

“Hunt him down.” Peter shrugged.

 

“What? You’re not thinking of killing someone, are you?”

 

Peter rolled his eyes “Not exactly planning on it. But this guy killed my aunt, Ned. I deserve some revenge.”

 

Ned stood up. “Peter, I think you should think about this a little bit more first.”

 

Peter shut the laptop and placed it beside him on the couch. He stood up, too.

 

“Why?”

 

Ned looked away. “I just don’t want you to do something you might regret.”

 

Peter scoffed. He’d heard that phrase one too many times that day, and he felt it light a small fire inside his chest.

 

“Whatever, Ned. I can handle myself just fine. This asshole deserves to die.”

 

“Whoa, Peter.” Ned reached forward, grabbing Peters arm. “No, he doesn’t.”

 

Peter laughed disbelievingly, “Are you kidding? Yes he does!”

 

“Peter. You save people, you don’t kill them. I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt-“

 

Peter cut Ned off, his voice raised. He yanked his arm from Ned’s grip. “Yes Ned! He did mean to! He chose to get behind the wheel in a drunken state, and you know who had to pay for it?! I did! I had to pay the price because my entire fucking family is dead! I had one person left Ned, one, and now she’s gone because of this son of a bitch named Wesley who chose to go out and murder an innocent person!”

 

Peter had lost his breath, and his chest heaved to catch it. Ned looked at him with wide, shocked eyes. He spoke quietly.

 

“I understand that you’re hurting, Peter, but there are other ways to deal with this-“

 

“No.” Peter said stubbornly. “I don’t need you to be just another person getting in my god damn way.”

 

Peter spun around, he headed across the room to the window and pushed it open, slipping out and leaving Ned alone in his old apartment.

 

Peter felt angry as he headed toward the compound. This time, his return trip was slower. He felt guilt weighing his shoulders down, and he stopped outside of the city in a park.

 

Karen spoke, “Mr. Stark has overridden my call block procedures.” Tony’s face was suddenly appearing in front of Peters eyes.

 

“Where the absolute hell are you Peter?”

 

Peter didn’t respond, he felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion overcome him.

 

“I have been trying to contact you all afternoon. I called your goddamn high school. For christ sake, Peter.”

 

“I’m on my way back to the compound.” Peter said glumly.

 

“Well where are y-“

 

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark.”

 

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking to you.” Tony said, his voice harsh.

 

Peter groaned.

 

“And don’t groan at me.”

 

“I’ll be back soon.” Peter offered. “End call.”

 

Tony’s face disappeared just as he was about to say something, and Peter continued on his feet through the park. Once he reached the road he swung himself up onto the top of an oncoming truck, and he continued on his way.

 

He reached the compound not too long after, and he pulled off his mask once he reached the front doors.

 

Peter dragged his feet like a little kid as he walked in. He slumped through the foyer and toward the stairs. Peter stopped as he spotted Natasha ascending the stairs toward him.

 

“Hey, Peter. You don’t look so good, everything alright?”

 

Peter sighed, “Just leave me alone.”

 

”Okay, no need to-“

 

“Ugh, seriously. Can’t you all just leave me alone for once?!”

 

Natasha looked at him, a hardness in her eyes.

 

“You know what, Peter? It may not be my place to tell you this but you need to quit acting like a child. We’re here to help. We’ve all had our fair share of loss and we know better than anyone what it feels like to go through this type of grief. But you, acting like a whiny little kid, is never going to help you feel better.”

 

Peters mouth went dry, and he watched as Natasha set off in the opposite direction, her head held high.

 

He felt hurt bloom in his chest, and he frowned. He continued walking, but he went toward Tony’s workshop, rather than his bedroom.

 

Peter tapped weakly on the door, and pushed it open.

 

“You have a lot of explaining to-“

 

Peter felt tears wet his eyes, and he looked up at Tony.

 

Tony’s voice died off at the sight of Peters teary eyes, and Tony walked toward Peter. He enveloped him in a hug.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Everything, I guess.”

 

Peter snivelled, he shrugged his shoulders weakly.

 

“Please don’t run off on me again, and if you do, at least let me know where. You really worried me, Pete.”

 

“I’m sorry Mr. Stark.”

 

“It’s okay.” Tony slid his hand over Peters back, rubbing calming circles into his suit material.

 

“It’s gonna get better with time, kid. I promise.”

 

So Peter was in the car early Monday morning, watching the scenery of upstate fall away as they entered New York City. Peter had his headphones in his ears, and he kept nodding off in the backseat of the car, catching himself every time his head dipped.

 

He pulled out one headphone, “Why does Midtown have to be so far away. Most people leave for school like, ten minutes before it starts. I should still be in bed.” He whined, watching as Happy glanced at him in the mirror.

 

“Trust me kid, driving you across the state everyday isn’t exactly my idea of fun.”

 

“Well it sucks.”

 

Happy nodded. “Tony’s been talking about you swapping schools though, so it’ll get easier.” He turned on his blinker, and Peter watched out the window as they headed for an exit with signage for Queens.

 

“What? No way.” Said Peter, feeling a small amount of hurt at the idea of leaving all his friends.

 

“It’d be nice to have you closer.”

 

“I’m not leaving my school.” Peter said, his mood turning into something a little more bitter.

 

Happy shrugged, “It would make things a lot easier.”

 

Peter frowned, “Not happening.” He said, and he stubbornly stuck his headphone back in his ear. He was a little disbelieving that Tony thought it was best for Peter to switch schools, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

 

Peter sat grumpily staring at the buildings outside his window for the rest of the trip. He was anything but understanding that Tony wanted him to switch schools. There was no point, Peter’s life didn’t need to change so much that quickly.

 

Once they arrived, he said his thanks to Happy and started up the front steps of the school. Peter hiked his backpack up on his shoulder, he felt nervous to resume his studies. His first class of the day was English, so he headed on his way.

 

As he made his way down the hall he noticed the pitying glances of some of his classmates. He resented them for it, he didn’t need pity. He wouldn’t be surprised if everybody he was aquatinted with knew. May had been friends with a number of his classmates parents. Once he reached his class, he took his regular seat in the, and was welcomed back by his teacher. Shortly he was joined by MJ, who took her seat next to him.

 

“Hey, Peter, welcome back.”

 

Peter offered her a smile, but she had sympathy in her eyes.

 

“How are you doing?” She asked, and Peter kind of wanted to roll his eyes.

 

“I’m alright.” He would rather MJ call him a nerd or a loser in that sarcastic, loving way she normally did instead of offering him her sympathy.

 

Peters class began, and he had a hard time following along. He was called on three times for not paying attention, but he couldn’t help it. He kept thinking about how Tony wanted him to move schools. It was the middle of the semester, there was no way he could transfer to a new school and pick up exactly where he’d left off. Plus, as long as Peter was at school in Queens, he could still be Spider-Man for his usual neighbourhood. The thought of abandoning Queens for some other area upstate made him sick. Upstate already had the rest of the Avengers to watch their backs, Peter couldn’t just leave.

 

Peter felt a nudge against his arm, and he turned to see MJ nodding her head toward the front of the class. His teacher was staring at him impatiently.

 

“Are you still following, Peter?” She asked, and Peter nodded frantically.

 

Peters second class was chemistry, which he once again didn’t do so well in. He just couldn’t find it in himself to concentrate, nothing really mattered to him right then. School wasn’t the first thing on his mind.

 

When lunch finally rolled around, Peter found himself seated with Ned and MJ, staring blankly at the table in front of him.

 

“Peter, are you at least going to eat something?” MJ asked, obviously concerned.

 

Peter shrugged lamely, not bothering to move his eyes from the spot below him.

 

“I left my lunch in my locker.”

 

MJ stood up, grabbing Peters arm.

 

“I’m taking you to get it, whether you like it or not. You need to eat.”

 

Peter finally looked up, but he didn’t argue. He stood up, letting his friend drag him through the busy cafeteria.

 

Peter wasn’t watching where he was going, as he had MJ to guide him. But when Peter felt his shoulder bump against someone else, he looked up to see who it was.

 

Peter’s first instinct was to apologize, but then he saw Flash Thompson glaring at him like he’d just murdered somebody.

 

“Watch where you’re going, idiot.”

 

Peter sighed, “I’m not an idiot.”

 

Flash shrugged, a smirk appearing on his face. “Yeah, you kind of are.”

 

Peter scoffed, pulling his arm out of MJ’s grip. “No, I’m not.”

 

“Look, Peter, all I’m saying is I’m not the one whose managed to kill all my last standing family members. Say hi to your aunt for me, will ya?”

 

Before Peter could consider the consequences of his actions, he was throwing a balled up fist into Flash’s face.

 

“Peter!” He heard MJ call, her voice taken aback. Peter didn’t really care.

 

Flash made a pathetic, high-pitched whine, and suddenly there were teachers moving in on Peter.

 

Somebody grabbed onto his wrist and he let himself be dragged across the school to the principals office.

 

Peter was left outside, next to the secretary’s desk for nearly twenty minutes before he was called in.

 

“Take a seat, Peter.” Principal Morita instructed, motioning to the chair that was set in front of his large desk.

 

Peter wasn’t particularly worried about his punishment. None of this really mattered to him, anyway.

 

“Peter, can you tell me what happened?”

 

Peter shrugged, his eyes on the nameplate sitting in front of him on the desk.

 

“Flash was being an ass, so I punched him.”

 

Principal Morita looked at him sternly. “I know you’ve been going through a rough patch-“ Peter scoffed, briefly interrupting him. “-but violence is totally unacceptable at this school.”

 

Peter shrugged again, choosing not to respond.

 

“Do you understand that this behaviour is not okay, Peter?”

 

Peter nodded halfheartedly.

 

“Normally I would let you off with a warning, but I’ve spoken with your teachers and I think giving you the rest of the afternoon off would do you well.”

 

Peter looked up, “What? Why?”

 

Principal Morita held that pitying look that Peter had started to hate.

 

“We can tell you’re struggling, Peter.” He said Peters name in a way that made him feel small. He didn’t like it.

 

His principal continued, “I‘ve called Tony Stark to come and get you. If you aren’t feeling well tomorrow you can take an extra day. I will be the one to excuse you.”

 

“What? No, you shouldn’t have called Mr. Stark. He’s busy, he doesn’t need to deal with this.” Peter protested, feeling worry sneak up on him.

 

Principal Morita frowned. “You live upstate now, don’t you Peter? There is no way I can excuse you this early and expect you to get home on your own.”

 

“You didn’t need to excuse me, it won’t happen-“

 

“Peter. He’s already been called. Please go wait outside my office.”

 

Peter hung his head, feeling defeated. He stood up from his chair and left the room to do as he was told.

 

Tony arrived close to a half hour later, and Peter stood up.

 

“Peter,” Tony said.

 

“Mr. Stark.”

 

Tony beckoned Peter over, and Peter took a few steps forward. Tony placed his hand on Peters shoulder, looking down at him from behind his sunglasses. Peter looked away, starting to feel guilt creep up on him.

 

“So you wanna give me a reason why you punched that kid?”

 

Peter looked toward the ground. “He deserved it.” He muttered, kicking his foot guiltily.

 

“Peter...you can’t just go around punching people.”

 

Peter kept his eyes downward, “He said some hurtful stuff, Mr. Stark.”

 

Tony sighed. “I understand that, but Peter, you can’t lash out like that. Imagine if you had lost control, you could have really hurt the kid.”

 

Peter shrugged, and Tony continued. “I’m serious Peter. This whole situation is not okay. It’s your first day back to school, I get it, you’re having a hard time, but-“

 

Peter looked up, meeting Tony’s eyes. “Yeah, okay, I’m sorry.” He said blandly, wishing the conversation was over.

 

“Please don’t cut me off when I’m talking to you.”

 

Peter shut his mouth, taking in Tonys stern eyes and disapproving tone.

 

”Losing someone...it’s one of the hardest things you’re ever gonna go through, Pete. But it’s not an excuse for this kind of behaviour. I know what it’s like to be in your position, it feels like the entire world is against you. The hurt and the rage that you feel, they’re allowed to be there, but they shouldn’t make you project them onto other people. Whether or not those people are complete assholes, you have to be the one to control yourself. I won’t sit here and watch you lose yourself inside the loss that your feeling. I know Peter, and I know he’s still in there.” Tony stopped for a moment to point a finger at Peters chest. “But this? This isn’t Peter Parker. Peter Parker’s been consumed by this anger and fear and hidden away. I need you to help yourself out, kid, show me Peter.”

 

Peter felt unwelcome tears well up in his eyes, and he looked up at Tony.

 

“I’m sorry Mr. Stark.”

 

“It’s okay, just don’t let it happen again. Next time I won’t be so soft on you.”

 

Peter nodded hastily, wiping at his eyes.

 

“Just remember your grey area, kid. Don’t do anything-“

 

“You wouldn’t do, and definitely don’t do anything you would do. Yup. Got it.”

 

Tony chuckled, nodding his agreement.

 

“What did he say to you, anyway?”

 

“He told me I killed all my family members, and that I’m an idiot.”

 

Tony’s eyebrows drew together. “Alright, I would have punched him too.”

 

Peter smiled, and Tony used his hand on Peters shoulder to guide them out into the hallway. Peter was shocked to see the hallway filled with students, all staring in awe at Tony walking beside him.

 

Peter momentarily felt pride bloom inside himself. They walked down the hallway, Tony still guiding Peter with his hand pressed across his shoulder and behind his neck. Peter considered that it was also a way to make sure Peter was unable to escape from Tony.

 

The hallway was split, students standing on the sides and speaking in hushed voices. Peter heard his name a few times, but he chose not to acknowledge it.

 

As Peter and Tony reached the last stretch of hallway before the school front doors they passed Flash, who held a bag of ice to his face. His mouth was open, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Tony pushed the front door open, and from behind them Peter heard Flash yell.

 

“Mr. Stark! Does Peter really know Spider-Man?!”

 

Tony turned over his shoulder to look at him, he gave him a disdainful glance up and down.

 

“You have no idea kid.”

 

Peter smirked, and Tony turned back to look at him, mirroring Peters smirk.

 

As they stepped out of the school, Peter distantly heard Flash say “What does that mean?” And it only served to make Peters smirk turn into a grin.

 

+

 

When Peter and Tony arrived back at the compound, there was some type of commotion going on.

 

Peter wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but Tony walked swiftly toward the sound of voices and Peter followed close behind. They stepped into the lounge, and Peter spotted a new body in the room. He was facing away from Tony and Peter, speaking to the other Avengers in a booming, godlike voice.

 

“Speak of the devil.” Bruce said, motioning across the room.

 

As the man turned, Peter realized with awe that it was Thor, the Thor. King of Asgard, God of Thunder. Suddenly Peter felt like an ant on the sidewalk about to be squashed by a giant.

 

“Thor.” Tony greeted.

 

“Ah, Stark, nice of you to join us.”

 

Peter stepped out from behind Tony, feeling small.

 

Thor’s expression changed to something along the lines of curiosity.

 

“Stark, since when do you have a middle aged child?”

 

“Oh, he’s not-“

 

Thor stepped forward, sticking out his hand for Peter to shake. “Nice to meet you, tiny Stark.”

 

Peter chuckled, raising his hand to shake Thor’s. “It’s Peter...nice to meet you, sir.”

 

“Very formal, what a well behaved child you have, Stark!” Thor exclaimed, he then looked Peter up and down with a curious expression.

“Do human children really age that fast? I’ve only been away for a few years. You look big for what should be a small child.”

 

“Peters not my son,” Tony said, looking from Thor to Peter.

 

“That is confusing, you look at him like he’s your son. I quite like Tiny Stark.”

 

“Tiny Stark it is!” Tony said, his voice filled with joy, Peter rolled his eyes.

 

Thor chatted with the Avengers for a while, catching up with them on what had been going on lately.

Eventually, some of the room emptied out, and Peter was being spoken too again.

 

“Child, if you aren’t the son of Stark then what brings you to the Avengers compound?”

 

“My, um, my aunt passed away. I don’t have anybody to live with anymore.”

 

“I see, my condolences. At least it wasn’t your father, or mother, or brother. I lost all three! As well as my sister, but she had it coming.” Thor let out a hearty laugh, and Peter frowned.

 

“I lost my eye, too, but a rabbit gave me a new one.” He shrugged like this wasn’t at all a strange occurrence.

 

“Oh.” Peter said quietly, not feeling the humour in it. He didn’t understand why Thor was telling him this, what good would it do?

 

“You have nothing to worry about small Stark. You didn’t lose anyone of true importance.”

 

Peter adopted a sour expression, but he nodded nonetheless, and turned away. Peter left the room, heading for the kitchen. He took a seat on one of the barstools and placed his arms atop the counter. He put his head in his arms, his nose pressing against the cold counter.

 

“Hey, you alright?” A voice came from behind Peter, and he lifted his head, momentarily putting a halt to his sulking.

 

It was Wanda who spoke, and she took a seat next to him.

 

“I don’t know.” Peter said honestly, looking at Wanda with sad eyes.

 

“I heard what Thor said to you. Don’t take it too personally, he doesn’t quite understand us.”

 

Peter let out a weak chuckle, taking comfort in her kind words.

 

“You know,” Wanda began, grabbing Peters attention. “I lost my brother a few years ago.”

 

Peter nodded, “It was to Ultron, right?”

 

Wanda smiled sadly. “Yes. It’s hard to get over losing somebody. Especially when you don’t have anybody left. I know exactly how that feels.”

 

“It sucks.” Peter offered, and Wanda let out a short, hollow laugh.

 

“Yeah. You’re right. When I lost my brother, I was broken. I ripped Ultron’s heart right out of his chest.” She said matter-of-factly. Peter’s eyes grew wide.

 

“Killing Ultron, it saved a lot of people, and it helped me cope, knowing that nobody else could be hurt.”

 

Peter’s expression was calculating, he was thinking her words over.

 

“Ultimately, I wouldn’t have managed without the Avengers. It was hard to get through, but at some point I had to grow up and this, the Avengers, they’re the ones who helped me.”

 

Peter hummed nonchalantly, urging Wanda on.

 

“What I’m saying is that you can choose to live your life angry and lamenting, or you can find things to make it better. We’re all here to help you, Peter. I made myself a new life here, helping people helped me find peace with the way things went. The Avengers gave me a home and a family, and helping them helped me.” She said seriously.

 

“Destroying Ultron helped too, of course.” Wanda joked offhandedly, laughing slightly. “Anyway, you’ll get there Peter. It won’t always feel this way.”

 

Peter smiled at her, “Thank you Wanda.”

 

He moved to stand up, and she said “Of course, Peter.” And returned his smile.

 

Peter left the kitchen, thinking about what Wanda had said. How she had told him her story of Ultron, and how her revenge helped her cope. Peter thought about Wesley Stubbs, about his reckless behaviour that lead to the death of his beloved aunt. He also thought back to the week before, about how Peter had his address.

 

Peter picked up the pace, going to his room to grab his suit. He didn’t have a plan, all he knew was that he needed to get to Brooklyn as fast as he could.

Once he reached his room, he changed into his suit and left out his window, not caring enough to head through the proper front doors.

 

As Peter left the compound, Wanda still sat in the kitchen. She was quiet until her train of thought was interrupted by Tony, who had a little bit of a lost look on his face.

 

“Hey, where’s Peter?”

 

Wanda shrugged nonchalantly, “I was just talking with him a few minutes ago.“

 

Just as Wanda finished her sentence, FRIDAY’s voice filled the room.

 

“Mr. Stark, Mr. Parker has left the property.”

 

Tony’s face lit up with shock. “What? FRIDAY, find out where he’s headed.”

 

“It looks like he is on his way to Brooklyn.”

 

Tony looked at Wanda for an explanation, and she felt equally as confused. She thought about their earlier conversation, and how Peter could have interpreted it. She had practically just told a teenager that killing the man who killed his aunt was guaranteed to make him feel better.

 

Her mouth went dry as she realized what she had just put in his head.

 

“Oh, shit.”

 

Peter hadn’t really thought about what he was doing. It was an impulsive decision to leave the compound, something he normally wouldn’t do. He had an image in his head of this guy with evil intentions, accelerating through a red light into the side of some poor woman and her nephews car. It made his stomach turn and he felt anger pulse through him, all the way to the tips of his fingers.

 

Peter couldn’t help but think again about what Wanda had told him, and he thought about the anger she must have felt. He figured that he was feeling something similar.

 

Peter stopped on top of a building, giving himself a view of the city and the sunset. He was surprised that nobody had called him yet, he had expected to have the avengers on his back the minute he stepped foot off the compound property, but it had been close to two hours and nobody had contacted him.

 

Peter took a seat at the edge of the building, swinging his feet over. He watched the busy street below, the bustle of people heading home from work, and thought about how at one time, that had been May heading home to him. The thought made Peters chest hurt, and his eyes stung. He looked up from the scenery below, tilting his head back to look at the clear, darkening sky.

 

He spotted a little figure in the sky, seemingly coming toward him. Peter furrowed his eyebrows, staring at it as it got closer.

 

“Hey Karen, what is that?”

 

A small screen popped up in Peters suit, enhancing his view.

 

“That seems to be Mr. Stark in his Iron Man suit.”

 

“Oh shit.”

 

Peter quickly got to his feet, brushing himself off as Tony got closer. He felt the fleeting urge to run away, but he knew that Tony could easily track his suit and would be able to catch him regardless.

 

The second Tony landed across the rooftop his suit opened up, and he stepped out. He crossed the space quickly, approaching Peter with obvious exasperation.

 

“Peter, what are you doing?” Tony shook his head, disappointment was coming off of Tony in waves, and Peter could feel it.

 

Peter reached up, pulling his mask off. “What do you mean? I’m just being Spider-Man.” He said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as if there was nothing out of the ordinary. He of course knew exactly what Tony was hinting at, but Peter chose to play the stupid card.

 

Tony sighed, looking at Peter with sympathetic eyes. It made Peter want to throw a fit. He was sick of getting everybody’s sympathy, he no longer wanted any of it.

 

“You know what I’m talking about.”

 

Peter scoffed, briefly looking away. “I don’t think you know what you’re talking about Mr. Stark.”

 

“Peter, I know you’re going through a rough patch but-“

 

Peter groaned, cutting Tony off. He looked at Tony with the most unimpressed expression he could muster, and he spoke. “No, I don’t want to hear it. I get it, you think I’m struggling and you want to offer your sympathy. Don’t, please, just stop with the sympathy. I’m doing fine on my own.”

 

Tony’s face grew concerned, and he took another step forward. He was close enough to reach out and grab Peter if he needed to, so Peter took a step back.

 

“Pete, I don’t think you are.”

 

Peter wanted to stomp his feet and cry like a little kid. He felt anger and sadness and hurt bubbling up inside him and he had no idea where to project it all, so he did the only thing he knew how to do in that moment, he argued.

 

“Mr. Stark, just let me figure it out on my own.” Peters voice had an edge to it, threatening to spill all of his inner emotions out.

 

“You can’t be this reckless without thinking about the repercussions.”

 

“Yes! I can! You didn’t just lose the last person who ever loved you, alright? I did! I’m allowed to feel a little remorse!”

 

“Yes, Peter, you are but..I know how you feel, and it’s not the end of the world. It gets better, I promise you.” Tony’s voice was sad, his eyes still filled with concern. He stepped forward again, this time lifting his hand to place it on Peters shoulder.

 

Peter smacked it away, taking two steps back and feeling nothing but triumph at Tony’s shocked expression.

 

“I don’t care, Mr. Stark. I know it gets better, I lost my parents and I lost my uncle, I’ve been through it before. The difference is that during those times I didn’t think I could do anything. This time I know I can, and I’m going to, whether or not you like it.”

 

Tony sighed, contemplating his next words.

 

“Peter just come back to the compound, please, let me talk to you. What you’re feeling, the hurt and the anger, the betrayal? The Avengers have all been through it. I’ve been through it. I know what you’re going through and I know how it feels to want revenge. Pete, I was ready to kill Bucky over what he did to my parents, but I didn’t, and I learned something from it. I know what its like to want to hurt the person responsible. I know, Peter, I-“

 

Peter cut him off, his blood boiling. “Would you stop comparing me to you?! For one second could you stop acting like the entire world revolves around you? Cause it doesn’t. Just because you think you know how I’m feeling right now, you think you can fix it. You comparing my loss to yours doesn’t make mine any fucking easier.” Peters chest rose and fell, his breath heavy. He felt as though the anger that had been growing in him all along was finally bursting out of him like steam from a boiling kettle.

 

Tony’s expression had gone cold, his eyes flashed dangerously.

 

“We don’t trade lives Peter.”

 

“No, you don’t, but maybe I will.”

 

“Come back to the compound with me.” Tony instructed. He felt like he was starting to lose control of the situation.

 

Peter shook his head, taking a few more steps backward.

 

“If you go after that guy, if you hurt him..the minute you lay a finger on him you won’t be welcome in the compound.”

 

Peter shrugged heartlessly, opting to say nothing.

 

“If you kill him...” Tony trailed off, and Peter thought he might have momentarily seen tears brimming in Tony’s eyes. It almost made him crumple, but he stood tall.

 

“If you kill him you will no longer have a family to come home to.”

 

Peter shrugged, “I didn’t have one to begin with.”

 

Peter turned away, extending his arm to shoot a web across to the next building. He jumped off, swinging himself into the air and leaving Tony alone on the roof behind him.

 

Peter kept going until he knew he was a safe distance away, and once he knew that he was, he stopped on another building top. The sky was finally dark, and Peter sat down, feeling the overwhelming urge to cry.

 

He didn’t want to leave things that way between himself and Tony, but he felt he had no choice. If he left the situation untouched then he would feel that May had died in vain, which he couldn’t bare the thought of. The man who caused it, he needed to pay for what he’d done, and Peter wouldn’t rest until he felt he had completed his task.

 

Peter sat quietly on the roof for longer than he cared to keep track of, wiping away unnecessary tears. Eventually, he found the strength to stand up, and he pulled his mask over his head once again, ignoring Karen’s usual “Hello, Peter.” and he continued on his way.

 

Instead of going to Brooklyn, Peter went to his former apartment in Queens. He snuck in through the living room window, into an apartment that he had once called his own. To Peters dismay, nearly the entire house was packed away in boxes. They were piled all around the main area, and Peter slunk down the hallway toward his old room.

 

He pushed the door open, revealing an empty room, his bunk beds were gone, and all his things had been packed away. Boxes covered the majority of the room, and Peter swore he felt his heart drop. Peter left the room, moving toward his aunts old room. When he stepped inside he saw the bed still there, though it sat with only one pillow and a blanket folded atop the sheet-less mattress, and Peter was relieved that a few things of theirs still remained. As Peter did his rounds in the apartment, he felt sorrow gripping at his heart. It was difficult for him to see the house so empty. All of their photographs were gone, his childhood works of art that had been stuck on the fridge. The apartment was pretty much void of any reminder that his aunt had lived there, and Peter attempted to fight the sense of despair he felt. He sulked back down the hallway and into Mays old room. He switched the light off as he entered, throwing the room into darkness other than the city lights that shone through the window. Peter grabbed the blanket on the bed, unfolding it halfheartedly and crawling onto the bed. He pulled the blanket over himself, laying with half his face pressed into the last remaining pillow. Peter vaguely recognized the smell of Mays perfume absorbed in the pillow, and he felt tears push their way out of his eyes.

 

Peter sniffled weakly, pulling the blanket up to his chin. He thought about the last few weeks, and about what he had said to Tony. Peter started to cry harder, unable to control himself.

 

“I miss you May.” Peter said weakly, his words dying off into the sobs that fought their way out of Peters body. Peter fought to keep his breath soft, but he could feel himself losing the rhythm as his eyes lost focus somewhere in his tears.

 

Peter desperately wanted somebody to hold onto, and he thought about how Tony would have told him over and over that it would be okay. Peter let himself go, crying out into the darkness around him for nobody in particular. Every now and then he found himself whispering “I’m sorry.” And he wasn’t quite sure why.

 

Peter cried for what felt like ages, until he couldn’t breathe anymore and he was drowning in his own hurt. Eventually, though, he stopped.

 

+

 

Tony didn’t sleep that night. He spent hours tossing and turning, and found himself accidentally waking Pepper constantly. His eyes flicked to and from the clock until finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He decided it was time to get up, whether or not his body desperately yearned for sleep. His mind had chosen to stay awake.

 

He carried himself through the compound, his clocks read something close to three in the morning. Tony kept playing the events of that evening on loop in his head. He would never forget the look on Peters face as he turned away, it was as if any past emotion had never lived in Peters eyes. He had held this careless, almost lifeless expression. Tony had determined it would haunt him forever, and he didn’t want to live with that.

 

Tony stepped into the dark kitchen, the room was vacant due to the hour.

 

“FRIDAY, locate Peter Parker for me.” Tony requested, he puttered around, placing dirty dishes that had been left on the counter into the dishwasher.

 

“It looks like he’s at May Parker’s apartment.” FRIDAY reported, and Tony sighed. He had assumed Peter would go there, he didn’t have any other options. His friends parents would only ask questions, and Tony had made it very clear that Peter wasn’t welcome at the compound.

 

He felt guilt cloud his head and he leaned against the counter, bracing himself for what felt like a small panic attack creeping up on him. Tony closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. He was worried about Peter, he was only a kid and Tony had practically kicked him out of his only real home.

 

Tony heard shuffling and he opened his eyes as the kitchen light flicked on, revealing Pepper in the door way. She was wrapped in her robe and she had her arms crossed, her eyes were worried.

 

“Hey,” She greeted softly, taking a few steps toward Tony. She reached out, placing her hand on top of his, instantly calming him.

 

“Talk to me, Tony. Let me help.”

 

Tony felt the smallest amount of tears in his eyes, which surprised Pepper, as she rarely saw Tony cry.

 

“I lost the kid.” He said helplessly, looking up to meet Peppers eyes.

 

She shook her head, denying Tony’s statement. “No, you didn’t lose him. He’s still out there Tony.”

 

Tony sighed sadly, “I lost him Pep, I told him he’s not welcome back at the compound. I kicked a fifteen year old boy out on his ass after his aunt died. I really screwed it up.”

 

“You’re giving up too easily. You had a fight, so what? Kids are stubborn, they argue and they say things they don’t mean. Do you honestly think Peter’s never going to speak to you again?”

 

Tony frowned. He didn’t think that, not really, but he knew Peter wouldn’t stop until something was done. Tony knew if he got involved again it would only make matters worse. Peter had his mind made up, and Tony knew he wouldn’t budge until he was forced to.

 

“I think that he won’t speak to me unless he has to.” Tony explained honestly, feeling less than in control.

 

“Tony, you’re Iron Man for gods sake, and this is just a fifteen year old boy. You can’t just give up like that, I won’t let you.”

 

Pepper grabbed Tony’s hand, holding it in hers.

 

“He’ll come around. He won’t do anything you wouldn’t do.”

 

Tony shrugged, “He also won’t do anything I would do.”

 

Pepper chuckled, smiling at Tony. “That’s probably for the best.”

 

Tony smiled back, feeling a small amount of weight lifted off his shoulders momentarily.

 

“You’d make a great mother Ms. Potts.”

 

Pepper scoffed, her smile growing wider. “Shut up.”

 

Tony let go of the counter, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in for a chaste kiss. She smiled still, and he spoke.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Will that be all, Mr. Stark?” She joked, laughing when Tony rolled his eyes.

 

“That will be all.”

 

Pepper pulled away, leaving her hand in Tony’s. “Just be patient, alright? He’ll come around.”

 

“Yeah.” Tony hummed, nodding his head thoughtfully. “He will.”

That morning Peter had gotten out of bed and jumped straight into planning. Karen helped him find all the information on Wesley Stubbs that he needed, and now he had the name and address of a law firm—It was ironic to Peter that this man worked as a lawyer of all occupations—written on his cell phone screen in hand.

 

Peter was walking blindly down the street, his eyes glued to the map on his phone. He followed it until he was standing in front of a large office building, the name of the law firm written in large letters across the front doors.

 

Peter stayed outside of the building, his hood pulled over his head and his hands in his pockets. He looked at the doors, wondering how easily he could get in. He hadn’t worn his suit because if he had been spotted as Spider-Man it could make the news. Besides, Peter didn’t exactly want Tony to be able to track him at every moment of every day. He was trying to hide in plain sight. It was a smarter ruse than Peter chose to acknowledge, as he still felt pretty obvious standing outside of a law firm in his regular clothes.

 

It was still early in the day, and Peter stood leaning against the wall outside, watching all the people in suits enter and leave the building. He had Wesley Stubbs’s face memorized, and what frustrated Peter most was that he was a relatively normal looking guy. Peter stood, waiting, constantly checking the time on his phone. It read close to nine in the morning, and Peter assumed that the work day would be beginning at any moment.

 

When Peter first spotted him walking down the street, he immediately wanted to web the guys hands to his sides and knock him out. The man was going about his life like he hadn’t recently killed a young woman, as if he hadn’t ruined a teenage boys life. Though he chose to leave the situation be, he felt more like observing rather than acting today, anyway. Peter watched Wesley walk up the side walk, and Peter caught his eye. He stared him down until Wesley was forced to look away, giving Peter the confidence that he’d left him with an uneasy feeling.

 

Peter ultimately decided he wouldn’t follow Wesley into the law firm. He knew he would be denied access to the building the minute he stepped foot inside without any type of ID. So instead, he headed toward the Brooklyn address Karen had given to him.

 

Peter took his time as he was not in his suit and knew it would be a bad idea to swing through buildings without at least his mask. It didn’t take him long, and Peter soon concluded that Wesley Stubbs walked to and from work. It only took him about twenty minutes to get there, and suddenly he was standing in front of a suburban looking townhouse.

 

Peter took his plan to the back of the house, because breaking and entering in broad daylight through the front door had him bound to get caught. He went up to the back door of the house, which was locked, but to Peters delight his super strength made it easy to pull open the door and snap the lock in half. He was confident nobody was home, given that all the lights were out and there were no cars left out front. He listened closely once he stepped inside, and no noise came to his ears. Peter pulled the door shut behind him, of course it didn’t close all the way due to the broken lock, but Peter wasn’t too worried. He would be out of there in no time. He chose to ignore that what he was doing was illegal, but he had no criminal intent. He was technically only trespassing.

 

Peter was brought immediately into the kitchen of the house. It was modern, each the appliances were silver and shiny, as if brand new. Peter took a few steps inside, placing himself in the middle of the kitchen. The counter tops were marble, they looked cold and uninviting. The colour scheme of the room was nearly all grey, it made Peter think about the compound. The difference was that the compound was modern, yet inviting. This room made Peter want to shiver, but maybe that was just because he was in the home of a man who murdered his aunt.

 

Peter took a closer look at the photos stuck on the fridge, he identified Wesley in a few of the photos, many with a woman Peter determined was his wife. Peter barely took note of the other photos, some with an older couple, some with two small children. He moved on, making his way to the next room of the house.

 

He found himself entering a living room with two couches, a television set, and a fire place. There were toys scattered around the floor and Peter realized with a sickening feeling that the children in the photos were Wesley’s children. He had a family with lives to raise, yet he was still reckless enough to throw someone else’s away. Peter continued down the hallway, passing a bathroom and what looked like a laundry room. He came to the foyer of the house, to his right was a staircase.

 

In the foyer sat a small rack with many small pairs of shoes in it. Next to which was another with adult-sized shoes. Peter vaguely noted the absence of keys and jackets on a pair of hooks hung next to the door.

 

Peter turned away and climbed the stairs to the second floor, landing himself in another hallway. The first door on his right was a little girls room, and Peter stepped foot inside the pink walls. There was a shelf filled with books and toys next to a child-sized bed, and Peter frowned. It was upsetting to Peter that this little girls father had killed his aunt. If her dad went to jail her life could be ruined, she would grow up knowing her dad as a criminal, rather than a father. Peter pushed those thoughts away, leaving the room and making his way back into the hallway.

 

Down the hall and to his left was another bedroom, Peter stepped in and took note of the grey walls. The bed was a little bigger, probably to fit a ten or eleven year old. Peter looked around the room, figuring it was probably the sons room. He had action figures set up against the window sill. Peter took a closer look, and he immediately recognized a small version of himself as Spider-Man, and a small Iron Man figurine. Peter sighed sadly, and all the anger and hatred he had felt melted away into something vulnerable. He almost felt like crying, but he mentally shook it off, leaving the action figures in their places.

 

As Peter stepped back into the hallway he considered leaving. There was a family that lived here, and Peter had genuinely toyed with the idea of killing these poor children’s father. He knew how it felt to lose his parents, and he wouldn’t wish it upon anybody. At Peters decision to back off, his following thought was about Tony and what he would do if Peter gave up. Would he welcome Peter back with open arms, or would he hold a grudge?

 

As Peter was thinking this over in the Stubbs’s empty hallway, he heard the unmistakable sound of the front door being unlocked.

 

“Shit.” Peter hissed, slipping into the first room he could. He cursed again when he realized it was the bathroom, and there wasn’t a single window in sight.

 

Peter heard heels clicking against the hardwood floors downstairs, making their way to the back of the house. He thought about the open back door. Shit. How could he get out of this situation?

 

“Wes?” A voice came from below, calling out into the empty house.

 

Peter didn’t move.

 

Peter heard the heels again, this time coming closer to the foyer of the house.

 

“Hello?”

 

Peter looked around wildly, figuring his only current option would be to stick himself to the ceiling, but if she found him like that he would have even more explaining to do than he did already.

 

The sound of heels disappeared, and Peter determined she had discovered his presence. He heard murmuring from the floor below him, and Peter tried to focus, picking out words.

 

“I think someone is in my home.”

 

“Shit.” Peter hissed again. He felt panic rise up in his chest, and he stood where he was, trying to even out his breaths. He didn’t know what to do other than pray he got a chance to escape. Peter heard a creaking sound come from what he assumed were the stairs. He was trapped. There was no way for him to get out now without being seen. Peter realized with annoyance that he should have warn his suit.

 

Peter was busy having an inner freak out when the bathroom door swung open, revealing a petite brunette woman who wouldn’t be so intimidating if it weren’t for the knife she was holding pointed at Peter. He immediately identified her as Wesley Stubbs’s wife from the photographs.

 

“What the hell are you doing in my house?” She snarled, staring him down with hard eyes.

 

“I- um, Mrs. Stubbs, I can explain.”

 

She raised her voice then, yelling at Peter. “Explain then, dammit! Who the hell are you!”

 

Peter flinched, launching into explanation.

 

“I’m-I’m sorry. My names Peter. My aunt was killed in an accident a few weeks ago and I know it was your husband driving the other car.”

 

“What the fuck? You don’t know a damn thing about my husband!”

 

Peter raised his hands in defense, attempting to explain more. But before he could, Mrs. Stubbs continued.

 

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are kid, but I’ve got a weapon, and you don’t. I won’t hesitate to use this damn thing!”

 

“Whoa, whoa, I’m not here to hurt you, or steal or anything. A few weeks ago I was in the car with my aunt and a drunk driver hit us, sending us into oncoming traffic. We were hit by a semi truck and my aunt was killed. Your husband was the drunk driver of that vehicle, he killed my aunt. I just wanted to get some justice.”

 

She stepped forward, the knife still pointed at Peters chest. “Justice? Are you serious? What right do you have to come into my home and accuse my husband of murder? Are you kidding me right now? I’ve already called the police on you.”

 

Peter could feel his breaths getting shallow and erratic, and he suddenly wished he had never left his home that morning.

 

“I-I’m not accusing you Ma’am. I could call the police too, you know, but I haven’t..yet.”

 

Mrs. Stubbs raised her voice again, her face was red from anger and Peter could see that the knife in her hands was shaking.

 

“Who the hell are you to accuse my husband of such a thing?! Huh?! You’re just some stupid kid! My husband would never drink and drive! He has a family for Christ sake, you’re the one breaking the god damn law!” Her chest heaved for breath, her eyes glared daggers at Peter.

 

Peter raised his voice a notch, attempting to make himself sound less afraid than he actually was.

 

“I’m not accusing him I know for a fact-“

 

“You don’t know shit!” She took three steps forward, pressing the tip of the knife into the center of Peters chest, and he froze.

 

Peter felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore, the only choice he had was to use force on the woman, otherwise he could be injured, or even killed. He didn’t know how strong she was.

 

Peter stepped quickly to the side, he attempted to push past Mrs. Stubbs, but she whipped around, grazing his arm with the knife. Peter hissed and he watched as blood accumulated on the surface of his skin. It wasn’t very deep and he knew it would heal quickly, but Peter still looked up at her with shocked eyes. Her face still read anger, and Peter lifted his hands to push her backward. Peter wasn’t expecting to use much force, but he sent her backward into the door frame. Mrs. Stubbs screamed out as if Peter had really hurt her, and she landed on the floor with a thud. He didn’t hesitate when he leaped last her, running down the hall and toward the stairs of the house.

 

Peter heard her get up behind him, but he still fled down the stairs, finding the foyer of the house and yanking the front door open.

 

Peter was met with two police officers, one with his hand raised to knock on the door.

 

“Hello, we were given a call regarding a home intruder at this address. Do you have any-“

 

“That’s him!” A voice behind Peter screeched, and Peter was too shocked at the sight of the two officers in front of him to do anything.

 

The policeman in front of him adopted a serious expression, and he glanced from Mrs. Stubbs to Peter a few times, looking for come clarification.

 

“Ma’am can you please explain the situation at hand?”

 

She stepped forward so she was standing just behind Peter in the doorway, sandwiching him in.

 

“I came home after dropping my children off at school, and I found the back door open and the lock busted. My husband is at work so after calling for him I realized there was somebody in the house. I called the police immediately since I didn’t know the level of threat on my life. I went upstairs and he started threatening me!“ She cried, obviously trying to gain the officers sympathy. “I tried to get him to stop but he shoved me into the door and ran down here.”

 

Peter briefly wanted to roll his eyes, but quickly considered the consequences. The police officers nodded their understanding toward Mrs. Stubbs, and then switched their attention to Peter.

 

“Son, how old are you?”

 

“Um, 15, sir.”

 

The policeman reached forward, grabbing Peters arm.

 

“We’re going to have to detain you until a parent or guardian can get you. Please come with us, and don’t fight it otherwise we’ll just have to cuff you and make things more difficult.”

 

Peter felt defeated, he didn’t bother to argue. He knew he had no chance and he didn’t think making a run for it was the smartest idea, even if he knew he could get away.

 

The officers escorted him off the property, and Peter stared at Mrs. Stubbs’s car as they passed it in the driveway. It was a black, 1997 Mazda Protege. The bumper was barely hanging onto the front of the car and there was a clear dent below the right headlight, which was cracked as well. He knew where that car had gotten that damage, he’d felt it ram into the back of Mays old car.

 

Peter bitterly let the officers push him into the backseat of their police car, the letters NYPD  plastered across the side. He felt tears fill his eyes, and he wasn’t sure whether it was due to embarrassment, defeat, or just overall hurt.

 

To Peters surprise the officers didn’t say much during the drive to the Brooklyn police station. They only asked him standard questions, like his name, where his parents were, and whether or not he was suppose to be in school.

 

Once Peter was brought to the station, they explained that no matter what the end result was, they would have to detain him.

“At least until a guardian can come and retrieve you.” An officer had told him, her eyes had been filled with disapproval and it had ultimately only served to make Peter feel worse about the situation.

 

So he sat alone in a cell, with no phone, no keys, no nothing. He didn’t have any cell mates either, and he spent hours sitting on the cold bench, staring at the ground below his feet.

 

Peter lost track of the time, he answered questions as he was prompted, giving honest answers. He was never questioned about his intent of breaking and entering in the Stubbs property, however, and he had no idea why not.

 

There was no clock in sight, and Peter stared at the bars in front of him, feeling as if he had finally reached an all time low. It must have been hours later when an officer finally approached his cell again, making it sometime in the late afternoon.

 

The officer that addressed him was a young woman, she had kind eyes and she looked as if she pitied Peters situation.

 

“It’s Peter, right?” She asked, offering him a polite smile. He nodded solemnly, opting to stand up from his spot on the bench.

 

“We’ve reached out to your guardian...Mr. Tony Stark? At his request you will be held overnight. He will be here in the morning to retrieve you and take you home.”

 

Peter’s eyes widened. “No Tony’s not- he’s not my guardian.”

 

She took a look at the file in her hands, reading over it for confirmation. “I have it listed that he filed for legal guardianship a few weeks ago.”

 

“What? Is that even allowed?”

 

She nodded, offering to explain. “If your parent or guardian who passed recently put his name in his or her will, then he is legally allowed to file for guardianship over you, as you are a minor and would be put through an orphanage system without a guardian. It’s a good thing, Peter. You’re lucky to have someone to look out for you.”

 

Peter shrugged, not really feeling the luck she was talking about. In fact, Peter felt quite the opposite. He felt like he had just tripped and fallen into a well of bad luck.

 

“He specifically requested for me to be held overnight?”

 

“Yes. It’s not uncommon for parents to request such a thing. It’s typically meant to teach the child a lesson.” She shrugged, showing Peter that she didn’t quite agree with the method.

 

This time Peter did roll his eyes, and the officer in front of him chuckled.

 

“Don’t worry Peter, it’ll go by quickly. I’ll come by again to see how you’re doing later and check if you need anything.”

 

“Thank you, officer...”

 

“Nicholson.”

 

She turned away, leaving Peter to himself in his cell. He took a seat again, thinking about what the hell he was suppose to do for twelve or more hours, and what the hell Tony was going to say about this.