Archive of Our Own ^beta

Somewhere during evolution, soulmarks were born. Symbols, meaningful to the souls they paired, marking their body in either red or blue. 

Red stood for a romantic bond and blue for a platonic one. Most people were born with a single mark, some were born with two, the unlucky ones had three, but the monsters, they had more. Peter fell into the last category.

It was thought the more marks you had, the more breaks there were in your soul, and a broken soul was never destined for good things. The worst people in history tended to be multiples. Historians had found records of men like Vlad the Impaler and Ivan the Terrible having more than three, and more recently, Adolf Hitler, Johann Schmidt, and even Dr. Mengele were all reported to have more than four. 

Science said that being a multiple didn't make you evil, but people still feared those that were. When it came down to it, it was nature versus nurture. Did these people turn evil because of the way they were treated, or was it all just a coincidence they carried so many marks?

Peter feared what this meant about him. May tried to reassure him, but he still needed to hide. If people found out how many he had, they wouldn't just come after him--they'd come after May. 

Because Peter had a lot to hide. 

He didn't have four or five. 

He had seven. 

More than the worst history had to offer.

One red and six blue.

The first of them to be matched was the mark on his wrist, easy to see. A chain of lilies, representing humility and devotion. It belonged to his Aunt May. 

He’d been a baby when his parents had brought him to meet his uncle and aunt for the first time. He was so young he was still in diapers, but it wasn’t until his parents left him there to spend the night that they first saw the blue mark on his back. It was his Uncle Ben’s mark, neatly placed on his shoulder blade. It was of an ash tree, representing connection, wisdom, and surrender. 

No one knew then why his aunt and uncle would be so important to him, but it all made sense in time.

Things began to become apparent when his parents died, and he moved in with his aunt and uncle. They became his family when he'd lost his. 

Death didn't leave him alone for long, though. Soon, it came for his uncle, and as one of his soulmates, Peter felt the pain as he faded. It was like someone was tearing out his heart, breaking their connection. His mark burned cold, and then it all stopped.

May's warm arms held him together when he broke apart, guilt and regret settling inside him. His uncle's death was a lesson he'd never forget. He'd always carry the blackened and scarred mark to remind him. 

On bad days, Peter and May would sit in silence and trace their matching blue marks, knowing that at least they had each other. It helped them forget.

The next platonic mark he found was Ned's. It was a cartoonish picture of R2 D2, linking them together through Star Wars, something Ben had always teased him about, saying he was destined to be a nerd. The mark was stamped low on the back of Peter's neck, but high enough he couldn't hide it easily. 

It had been in seventh grade that Peter had taken a seat in front of a young, bubbly boy who was smiling lopsidedly. Peter had been sitting in front of him for all of a minute before an excited hand started tapping his shoulder. When Peter turned in his seat, he saw a grinning Ned, pulling the collar of his shirt to the side, showing a matching mark. And so began the most epic friendship.

He still wasn’t sure about the red book on his hip, but he wasn’t too worried about that. He got the feeling that he’d come across them sooner or later. May had always told him that you met soulmates when the time was right, even if you didn't know it right away. She'd met Ben two years before they ever knew they shared a mark. In some ways she said it was nicer, knowing they fell in love with each other on their own terms, not just because of their marks.

On his right bicep was a simple blue shield, symbolizing protection, but weaving around it were delicate vines of ivy, the mark of friendship. He didn't know who this belonged to either, but he knew whoever they were, they'd have each other’s backs. 

Resting delicately on the inside of his left ankle was a blue lotus flower with one missing petal, the simple blossom telling him that whoever this bond belonged to would bring compassion, courage, and wisdom into his life.

The last of the marks he bore was the most interesting, and the most detailed. He'd spent hours tracing his fingers over the blue mark resting over his heart. It was of an intricate owl, its eyes sharp with dangerous-looking talons wrapped around a birch branch. Somehow it seemed both curious and threatening at the same time. 

Peter had looked up the meanings of both, like he had with the others. The owl was the symbol of Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war, and the birch tree represented new beginnings and cleansing the past. It was an unusual combination, one he didn't fully understand. 

With so many marks, Peter learned to always hide behind layers of clothes, letting them act as a shield, protecting him from the judgment he'd inevitably face if people knew how many soulmarks his skin carried. 

He didn't bother covering May's lilies on his wrist, and if someone asked, he'd admit Ned was another of his marks. If they assumed he'd found all his soulmates because he had Ned and May, it was on them. He never outright lied, just carefully avoided the truth. 

It was a few months after Ned found out about Spider-Man that Peter finally opened up to his best friend about his other marks.

They'd just finished watching an episode of Doctor Who when Ned gave him a curious look, mouth still moving as he chomped a handful of popcorn. 

Peter's brows pinched together, and he shifted on the pile of pillows he was sitting on. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Ned swallowed, head tilting slightly. "It's like eighty degrees, and you're wearing socks, sweatpants, and a long sleeve shirt." His lips pursed. "Actually, you always dress like that." 

Peter shrugged. "I don't know, man. Didn't know it was a crime."

His heart was beating faster, and he was getting anxious. He knew Ned was cool and wouldn't judge him, but it still made him nervous. In the stories of people like him who had so many marks, they were always made out to be the villain, to be evil. It was said that to carry so many marks meant that your soul must have been shredded to pieces. Sometimes even he worried what all his marks said about him. 

"You have more marks, don't you? More than just me and May?"

Peter opened his mouth, then closed it, eyes shifting as he tried to find the right thing to say. 

Ned noticed his hesitation and shrugged. "Hey, it's not a big deal. It's cool to have more. I've always thought so, anyway. My gran had three. Could you imagine growing up back then with that many? People weren't as cool as they are today."

"I don't think people are much better now," Peter grumbled.

Ned shook his head. "Those old wives tales have been debunked. Just because you have an extra mark or two doesn’t mean you're going dark side."

Peter chewed his lip. "Yeah, but what if it's not just one or two extra. What if it's more?"

Ned was reaching for more popcorn but paused. "Like how many more?"

Shrugging, Peter looked down at his hands that he had clasped in his lap. When he spoke, it was barely above a whisper. "Seven."

Peter looked up to see Ned's eyes go wide, his brows reaching up to his hairline. "Oh my god, did you just say seven?"

"Yeah, one red, six blue."

"Holy shit, Peter! That's so freaking awesome! Like who else on the planet has that many marks? We could get you in the Guinness Book!"

"No!" Peter shouted, pushing himself up from the nest of pillows and blankets on the floor. Shaking his head, he raked his fingers through his hair. "It isn't cool! So far from cool! People can't find out!"

Ned put up his hands. "Hey, chill. You don't have to tell anyone." He lifted his eyebrows. "Can I see them? I mean, it's not like I'm just anyone. I'm your best friend and one of your platonics."

He paced the few steps between the window and his door for a moment before stopping in front of Ned and sighing, his shoulders dropping in resignation. Ned was watching him, eyebrows still lifted and eyes wide. He looked genuinely curious. If he couldn't trust Ned, he couldn't trust anyone. 

Pulling on the sleeve of his shirt, he tugged his arm free and then pulled the shirt off over his head, throwing it to the floor. He tensed as Ned's mouth fell open and he gaped.

Ned pushed himself out of the chair and approached him. Feeling a bit like a model, Peter found himself turning in a circle so his friend could get a better view. 

"They're all platonics? I only count five."

Peter turned back to have him, adjusting the waistband of his sweats enough that the edge of the red book showed on his hip. "The other platonic is on my ankle. It's a lotus."

"Huh. I still think we should call Guinness but whatever." He shrugged. "Wanna watch another episode of Doctor Who before bed?"

And that was that. Peter's little circle had grown by one. Ned never made fun of him or treated him like a leper. All in all, it went pretty well. 

Life carried on, and things went back to normal, until a literal wrench was thrown in the works.

It was a Friday and Peter was staying over at the compound for the weekend. Tony wanted to make some adjustments to the suit, and Peter needed to make more web fluid, so lab time it was. 

The hitch in the plan came when Peter made the mistake of telling Tony that the bathroom sink in the lab was dripping. It never occurred to Peter that something so small could change his life, but in true Parker fashion, it did. 

Tony swiped away a hologram in front of him, brows pinching together, his head tilting to the side. "What do you mean it's dripping? Those valves are designed not to leak."

"Uh, I don't know. It's just dripping. I know you don't need to worry about your water bill, but I figured you’d still want to know. Also, it’s annoying to hear it even from this far away."

Tony stooped, digging around under the workbench until he found a large, red toolkit. There was a big Metallica sticker on the side, and it was covered in scuffs and stains. He grabbed the handle and grinned. "Ever taken apart a sink?"

"Um … no?"

Tony motioned to the bathroom with his chin. "No time like the present."

Peter found himself standing beside the sink, passing Tony tools, as the man dismantled the handle. All seemed to be going to plan from what Peter could tell until things weren't. 

Water began to seep from around where the handle had been, steadily increasing in flow. 

"Is it supposed to be doing that?" Peter asked.

Tony made a frustrated noise. "Hand me the three-quarter inch." He held a hand out without looking up, waiting for the requested tool.

Peter poked through the box, turning them and looking at the sizes. He found the one he needed and passed it to Tony, who quickly ducked under the sink and began clanking around. 

"Shit!" was all Peter heard before water erupted from the pipe under the sink, soaking his sneakers and jeans. 

Tony swore a few more times as he worked quickly to stop the flow of water. With a few final turns of the wrench, the water stopped, but it didn't matter. He was soaked. 

Shaking his head, Tony huffed a laugh and then pushed himself up from the floor, using the sink for support. He was just as soaked as Peter, if not more. 

"Is it fixed?"

Tony scrunched his face a little and tilted his head back and forth. "Depending on your perspective, but maybe a plumber should take it from here."

Peter glanced at the disassembled sink, and the water still dripping down the walls. "Is this one of those things we don't tell Pepper about?"

Tony chuckled. "You're catching on." He patted Peter on the shoulder, his gaze raking over him. "You look like a drowned rat, kiddo. I doubt you're gonna catch a cold with that freaky immune system of yours, but you're not traipsing around my million dollar compound soaking wet either, so lose the shoes and socks, and then you can head up to your room to change."

Peter pressed his lips in a tight line. Taking off his shoes and socks meant someone might see the mark on his ankle. Tony was under the impression, like most, that he had only two and had found both of them. He wasn't sure he wanted Tony to know that he had more. 

He'd never really talked about soulmarks with Tony before, and he didn't know where he stood on the idea of people having multiples. 

"Peter?"

"Huh?" He looked up to meet Tony's gaze, realizing he was probably supposed to say something. "Yeah, sorry. That's fine."

They returned to the lab, both of them plonking down in their respective chairs. 

Water dripped off them as they took off their shoes and socks. He'd hoped his pants would be enough to conceal the mark, but he could see the very edge of the blue flower peeking from beneath his wet jeans. His day just got a little worse.

Tony must have caught him looking at his ankle because when Peter glanced up, he noticed that his mentor's gaze was locked on his leg. He had the same look on his face that he did when he was trying to solve a particularly challenging puzzle, and it unsettled him.

"What's that?" Tony hopped from his chair, stepping closer, but not taking his eyes from Peter's leg. "I never thought of you as the rebellious type, getting tattoos, which makes me wonder what that is on your ankle."

Peter stiffened. "Uh, it's nothing. I drew on myself, got bored in class."

Tony paused, raising a brow. "It's actually kinda comforting you're such a terrible liar. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say you've got another mark you haven't told me about—which if you're worried about me thinking is weird, I don't. Science proves there's nothing wrong with multiples."

Peter's shoulders relaxed at that. "Yeah, I have a few."

Tony nodded. "Two, three, four?"

Shaking his head, he replied, "I'd rather not say, but I have more than most."

The man's eyes swept over him, his lips pursed. He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. "Huh, well, I guess it's not my business, but if you ever want help finding them, just ask. Friday's a hell of a lot better than any of those matching sites."

"Thanks," Peter said, noticing that Tony was still looking at the bit of blue on his ankle. Knowing the mystery was killing him, Peter decided to throw him a bone. "Do you want to see it?"

Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Yeah, but it's personal, and I have no right to ask. Don't worry about it."

Peter rolled his eyes and grabbed his pant leg, pulling it up, letting him see the lotus that held such comfort for him. 

When he looked up, he saw Tony staring at the mark, frozen, not even blinking. He looked pale, like something had shaken him to the core. 

"Mr. Stark? Are you okay?"

Tony stepped forward and knelt in front of him, turning his head to examine the mark better. "I know this mark. I know it as well as I know my own."

"What?"

Tony glanced up. "Friday, where's Pepper?"

A few minutes later, Peter found himself standing in wet clothes in the common room as Tony paced back and forth. Occasionally, he'd pause and shake his head like something was just too incredible for him to believe. 

Peter couldn't help but wonder where Tony had seen his mark. There were many people with similar marks, there were probably thousands with a lotus flower similar to his, but not exactly like it. Each mark was unique, intricacies woven into the design that none other had. Tony seemed sure that he'd seen it before, but Peter didn't want to get his hopes up. It could be a false alarm.

Pepper stepping out of the elevator made Tony pause and Peter turn. Her hair was down, and she was wearing a pencil skirt and light-colored blouse. 

She walked straight toward Tony, eyes narrowed. Stopping a few feet away, she put her hands on her hips, arching a brow. "You better have a good explanation for this. Despite what you believe, this company doesn't run itself." She looked to Peter, her expression softening. "Hi, Peter. I hope you know I won't blame you for whatever he's gotten into."

"That's unfair," Tony said. "I didn't do anything for once."

Pepper turned back to Tony. "I'd love to hear why both of you are soaking wet and barefoot then."

"You're focusing on the wrong thing. Pep, you wonderful, amazing woman you, you're never gonna believe who I found."

"Please don't tell me it's an illegitimate child. There's only so much I can handle today after dealing with the board."

"Your lotus flower."

"What?" Her eyes went wide. "Who? How?"

Tony grinned, motioning to Peter. "Kid, show her."

"You mean Pepper's my platonic?" Peter blurted, staring wide-eyed at his mentor. 

Pepper blinked, and her stance relaxed slightly as she turned her attention to Peter. Looking him over, she started to smile. “Twenty petals?” 

“Uh… yes?” Peter asked.

"Can I see?" she moved towards him, her hands held in front of her. 

"Yeah, it's on my ankle." He lifted his foot and pulled up the leg of his pants. 

Pepper stepped closer, bending so she could see it better. She sucked in a breath. "That's really it, right down to the missing petal. I'd show you mine, but it's not in the best spot. It's right below my belly button. Friday has a picture on file, though."

Tony pulled his phone out and tapped the screen before handing it to Peter. 

He took the phone. On the screen was an exact copy of his own mark, right down to every detail. Pepper was one of his platonics. Never in a million years had he seen that coming.

He knew they should probably talk, but his clothes were cold and damp, and he needed to change. Passing the phone back to Tony, he rubbed his neck nervously, looking between Pepper and Tony. "If it's alright, I'm gonna go change and then maybe we can talk. If you want to, that is."

Pepper smiled warmly. "Of course, I'll be here when you're ready."

It didn't take him long to make it to his room and change into some comfy clothes, and even though they'd seen the mark on his ankle, he still pulled on socks to cover it. 

When he returned to the common room, Tony was gone, but Pepper was on the couch, tapping away on her tablet. She looked up when he entered, patting the cushion beside her.

“I made some tea, do you take anything with it?” she asked as he came over. 

“Um, yeah. Two sugars.”

She nodded and placed the tablet beside her, grabbing the ceramic sugar jar that was part of the tea set she had on the coffee table. Peter settled beside her, tucking one leg under himself. 

Pepper stirred his tea, then tapped the spoon on the side of the mug before handing it to him. He took it with a quiet thanks.

Peter tapped his fingers on the cup for a moment, biting his lip. He’d met Pepper before, but he was still basically a stranger to her. “So …” he started nervously. “How much has Tony told you about me?”

Pepper surprised him by laughing. “What has he not told me about you?” she giggled. “That man never shuts up about you. I feel like I already know you, but I'm not sure you can say the same.”

Peter smiled sheepishly. “No, not really. Sure, Tony talks about you, but we usually get lost in what we’re working on.”

Pepper smiled and sipped her tea. “Don’t worry, I understand. I admit, I'm a little confused why we’re tied, but personally, I'm not complaining.”

Peter took a sip of his tea and settled back into the cushions. 

They ended up chatting for hours, laughing at the stories they shared, mainly about Tony, but also about Peter's schooling. She was attentive and pleasant, and he felt himself relaxing. 

She didn't ask him about his other marks, and he appreciated it. Though from the vibe he'd picked up from her, he was pretty sure she'd be okay with his seven soulmarks. Maybe another time they'd talk about it.

It was really kind of strange when he thought about it. He never thought he'd find so many of his soulmates, especially so quickly. It seemed fate knew what they were doing. He only had three marks left that needed a match—the shield, the owl, and his romantic, the book. 

He wondered if they would be people he'd already met, people already in his inner circle, or people he would meet later in life. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little anxious to meet them.

A few months passed since he matched with Pepper and things were going well. He'd been going to the compound more and more to work with Tony and see Pepper. She came around to visit them in the lab and talk to Peter, even taking him out a few times to lunch. They'd grown closer, and it was nice. She became something of a mother figure to him, and it felt good. Of course, he had his Aunt May, and nothing would come close to the bond they shared, but what he had with Pepper was special in its own way, too.

School got out for the year, and Peter was spending most of his time patrolling while his aunt worked. He split the rest of his time between the compound and Ned's while still trying to fit in a movie night with May. Things were going good. 

It was a Wednesday afternoon and Peter was out patrolling near Brooklyn when he got himself into a bit of trouble, trouble that led him to an unexpected find—another one of his soulmates. 

He was perched on the roof of a warehouse, watching a group of sketchy looking guys below. They were talking about selling guns and that wasn't something Peter had any intention of letting happen. He waited until he saw them open the trunk of one of the cars, displaying the goods. One of the guys looked over the weapons and then handed some cash to the seller. 

Knowing it was time to intervene, Peter flipped down, sticking the landing perfectly. Putting his hands on his hips, he glanced between the now startled thugs. 

"Hey, guys. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man here with your daily reminder that guns are bad and crime doesn't pay, so I'm gonna have to ask you to step away from the weapons."

Thug Number One who seemed to be the seller sneered. "The only one going anywhere is you. You got one chance to shut your mouth and disappear before things start getting real."

Peter tilted his head. "Okay, then sorry, not sorry for this."

He flipped out his wrist and shot a web at Thug Number One, sticking his hand to his side. He struggled and went to reach for a gun with his other hand, but Peter was faster, webbing him up nicely. 

While he did it though, Thug Number Two pulled a gun of his own and managed to get off three quick shots before Peter could turn his attention to him. With practiced ease, Peter had him webbed up in seconds, too. 

The rest of the crew that was with them took off running, scattering between the old warehouses and equipment. 

It wasn't until Karen spoke that he realized things hadn't gone as well as he thought.

"Peter, you've got a laceration to your right bicep. I don't expect you'll need stitches, but I need to notify one of your contacts about the incident. Who would you prefer?"

He could feel the sting from the wound and gently brushed his fingers over it. "Don't call May. She's working a double and we need the money. Don't call Mr. Stark or Pepper either. They're probably busy. Can you just call Ned? It's not like it's that bad."

"I'm sorry, Peter, but I need to contact an adult. Can I suggest Mr. Hogan?"

Glancing at the sluggishly bleeding wound, he sighed. "Yeah, just don't make it sound worse than it is. Tell him I'm heading home and if he needs to see me, to find me there."

"Of course, Peter."

His arm stung as he swung back to his apartment, slowing him down, but he was still there before Happy. He hoped that whatever Karen told him, didn't worry the man too much. The man might try to keep a cool exterior, but Peter could see how much he really cared and worried underneath. 

Climbing through his window, he deflated the suit and peeled it off, careful of his arm. He scrunched his face at the sight of the blood, but the gash wasn't too bad. He'd definitely had worse. The only problem he saw was that the gash was right below one of his unknown marks--the shield.

He didn't really want anyone seeing it, and if Happy came by, it was pretty unavoidable. 

Grabbing some clothes, he headed to the bathroom to change and clean the wound the best he could. 

He was in a t-shirt and jeans, dabbing at the wound with gauze when he heard the lock on the front door turning. Tossing the bloodied gauze in the trash, he stepped out of the bathroom to see a frazzled looking Happy pushing his way through the door, a large duffel bag over his shoulder and another in his hand. He was in his usual suit but his appearance was disheveled. 

Peter blinked, watching as the man kicked the door shut and shuffled over to the couch.

Setting the bags down, Happy raised his brows, motioning to the couch. "You gonna get over here and show me where you're shot?"

"Uh … okay, but it's not really that bad. What did Karen say exactly?"

"Gun, bullet, blood, you, now! Don't think I won't call Tony. We both know how you downplay injuries."

Sighing, Peter walked over and took a seat on the edge of the cushion. He lifted his arm a little to show him. Blood had already begun seeping through his shirt since he hadn't had a chance to bandage it. 

Happy lifted the sleeve edge a little and grunted, shaking his head, before turning to unzip one of the bags, pulling out some gauze.

"Pull your sleeve up. I need room to work."

He didn’t. Instead, Peter frowned at him. "I didn't think this was something you did."

Happy huffed, tearing open the gauze. "Shows what you know. I've known Tony for years. Who do you think cleans him up after the shit he gets into?"

"Medical?"

Happy snorted. "Are we talking about the same Tony, kid?" 

"I guess you've got a point."

"Sleeve, kid. I need to see."

Biting his lip, he reached over and tugged his sleeve up to his shoulder, out of the way. He felt pretty comfortable with Happy, so when the man straightened up and sucked in a breath, Peter was surprised. 

"What the hell is that?"

Peter moved to cover it again, but Happy was quicker than he thought, grabbing his wrist to stop him. 

The man looked stricken and Peter realized that he must know he's a multiple. This was the reaction he'd hoped to avoid. It's why he hid them. 

Panic bubbling in his chest, Peter instinctively dug his nails into the soft flesh between Happy’s thumb and index finger. The man yelped and let him go. 

Scrambling off the couch, Peter jumped up onto the ceiling, crab crawling away from him. He’d just gotten to his bedroom’s door when Happy called after him. “Kid, wait!”

“I’m not bad!” Peter babbled, inching further back, his hands knocking against the wall. “I’m sorry, I'm sorry—I know that it’s freaky, but I’m not evil—I promise.”

“What are you talking about?” Happy demanded.

Peter didn’t register what he said. “I know it’s wrong to have more then f-five. I know. I’m sorry. But I swear I'm not evil. I’ll never use my powers for bad. I’m good. I’ll be good. Please don’t hate me.” He ended in a whimper.

Happy slowly moved so that he was in front of him, his head tilted up to look Peter in the eye. “Kid, get down here. I know you’re good. No amount of soulmarks will change that.”

Peter froze at the man’s soft tone and stared at him. "What?"

Happy sighed, throwing a hand in the air. "Would you please come down so we can talk? I swear that it's nothing bad. I promise you, kid. I'd never judge you like that."

Peter considered his words for a moment and then gave a small nod, letting himself fall with one hand to the floor. He landed gracefully in front of Happy.

The older man nodded toward the living room. "Come on, I still need to look at that arm, and there's something I need to show you, too."

He followed Happy to the couch, taking a seat. The man grabbed some gauze and asked Peter to hold it to his arm that was bleeding again from his earlier escape across the ceiling.

"I think you should see this first," Happy said, taking a seat on the coffee table across from him and beginning to take off his shoe. 

Peter raised a brow, watching curiously. 

Happy saw his reaction and just smirked. "It'll make sense in a second."

He watched in silence as Happy set his shoe to the side and slipped off his sock. The moment the fabric was out of the way, Happy's earlier reaction all clicked into place and made perfect sense. There on the top of his foot was a blue shield wrapped in ivy. It was a match to Peter's. 

“Oh.” Peter’s reaction was quiet.

Happy snorted and pulled his sock back on. “Yeah—oh. Have you had people tell you that? That you’re evil for having more then a couple marks?”

Peter bit his lip and looked away. 

Happy sighed. “Oh, kid …”

“It was a long time ago. I broke my collarbone when I was little. I had to take off my shirt for them to treat it. The nurse wasn’t … She didn’t like it.”

Happy made a disgusted noise and held out his hand, urging him closer. “Well, then she’s a piece of shit. Come on—we still need to treat your injury.”

Peter nodded, smiling a little at his comment. This time, Peter didn’t hesitate to roll up his sleeve. As Happy worked, he asked mildly, “More than five?”

Peter froze, tensing. 

Quickly, the man continued, “If you don’t want to say anything, that’s fine.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m sorry for freaking out on you,” Peter assured him and took a deep breath. “Yeah, I have … I have seven.”

Happy’s hands paused and he blinked at him. “Holy shit.”

Peter snorted.

“Wow, seven. Are they all platonic?”

Peter shook his head. “One is romantic.”

Happy nodded. “Have you found all of them?”

“No,” he admitted, then grinned, “but Pepper’s one.” 

“No shit? Which one? She has two platonics. The flower or the bird?”

“The lotus. Mine is on my ankle. Remember when Tony tried to fix that sink? He noticed it and called Pepper.”

Happy finished with Peter’s bandage and sat back with an amused shake of the head. “So that’s what happened. Yeah, I remember. I had to call a plumber to fix it, and then drive him up.”

Peter looked up at him a little sheepishly, toying with the hem of his shirt. "So you really don't mind all this? Being attached to someone like me?"

Happy ducked his head so he was looking Peter in the eye. "I've been waiting a long time to meet you. I always thought the shield meant that my match would be someone I protected, but I think maybe it's the other way around. I'm glad it's you, kid."

Peter offered him a smile, his lips twitching into something more of a smirk. "You do a pretty good job keeping me safe. I think maybe that shield stands for both of us."

Happy smiled. "Yeah, maybe it does."

Peter shuffled out of his room at the compound, still in his fluffy pajama pants and a long sleeve shirt. He hadn't told anyone other than May about his match with Happy yet, so he kept to the long sleeves. 

He wandered to the kitchen and poked through the cupboards until he found a box of Lucky Charms. Grabbing a bowl and the milk, he climbed onto a stool at the counter and poured some cereal and milk into the bowl.

He was staying at the compound for the week while his aunt was out of state visiting a friend. Her friend's mother had passed away and May was going to help make arrangements. She didn't want Peter home alone so she insisted he stay with someone that would keep him out of trouble. He had no idea why she picked Tony then.

His eyes drifted closed as he chewed. He and Tony probably shouldn't have stayed up until four watching old episodes of Stargate. 

"Morning, kiddo," came Tony's voice from behind him. 

Peter opened his eyes and looked up to see Tony way too chipper and way too put together for eight in the morning. He stuffed another spoonful of cereal in his mouth, grumbling around it. 

Tony snorted, walking to the coffee maker and filling the large mug he already had in his hand. "Maybe you should go back to bed. It's still early."

Peter glanced up at him, swallowing the mouthful of cereal. "I'm fine. We gonna work in the lab today?"

Tony took a sip of his coffee and leaned against the counter. "You sure you're up to it?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

Tony nodded. "Good. I'll see ya down there then."

After breakfast, Peter went back to his room and got dressed. Feeling a little more awake, he headed down to the lab to meet Tony. 

When he got there, he cringed at how loud the music was. He was pretty sure Tony forgot about how heightened his senses were at times. 

With a grimace on his face, he walked into the lab. He didn't need to look far to find Tony hunched over a workbench, head bouncing in time with the music. 

Peter's hand went to his ear as a guitar solo started. "Could we maybe turn it down?"

Tony made no move like he'd heard him, continuing to work on whatever was in front of him. 

"Tony," he tried louder, "can you turn it down?"

His mentor's head snapped up, and he looked over his shoulder at Peter. When Peter cringed at the music again, it seemed to click for him, and he shouted for Friday to turn it off. 

"Sorry, I forgot."

Peter shrugged. "It's no problem. What are you working on?"

“Oh, I’m trying to change the wiring in the suits to make it more energy efficient. This is the casing around the reactor.” He pointed to the circular frame with the glowing chest piece in the center. “It’s pretty good already but you never know when you're gonna need more juice. I’m also playing with the idea of putting a backup energy source in the suit, hence this thing,” he added and pointed at the other dodad that was sitting in front of him.

Peter bobbed his head. “Where do you need me?”

They worked seamlessly for a few hours, side by side, the music playing at a lower volume. They didn’t have any trouble till around noon, when Peter froze. His senses were screaming at him to jump away, far away, because whatever was in front of him was very, very volatile. 

Without thinking, Peter spun and shoved Tony away, knocking him a few feet away and into the wall. Not even a second later, warm air shot out from the workstation, and he was thrown back into the wall, sharp pains erupting in his chest. 

Tony woke to the sound of alarms blaring and Friday's voice trying to rouse him. He blinked wearily for a moment, taking in his surroundings as his brain tried to piece together what had happened. 

Then it all clicked. He remembered Peter shoving him back and taking the brunt of the explosion. Panic filled him. 

"Peter!" he cried, trying to push himself to his knees, pain radiating from his chest. He didn't have time to think about it, though. He needed to get to Peter. 

His gaze fell on Peter's still form, limbs flopped out at his sides, his head turned away. What made Tony's heart jump in his chest though was the blood blossoming in spots across his chest and stomach, spreading outward and meeting each others’ edges. 

"Friday, get medical down here now!"

He grabbed a shop towel from the workbench and ran to Peter's side, dropping to his knees beside him. He looked over the wounds for a second, feeling helpless. He knew he should apply pressure, but where? There were so many punctures, and looking closer, he could see small pieces of the reactor casing sticking out in places.

He had shrapnel in his chest. 

A whole new wave of panic spread through Tony at the reminder of his time in Afghanistan. He tried to reassure himself that this wasn't the same, but his emotions weren't listening. His hands shook and he was afraid to move. Peter was dying and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"Friday, where the hell is the med team?"

"On their way, Sir. ETA approximately two minutes."

Peter's eyes fluttered open for a second, and his face contorted in pain, a whine escaped him. He tried to talk but it only came out as a choking cough. 

"Peter, Pete, it's okay," Tony soothed.

His eyes, so wide and childlike, flicked up to him. His face was scrunched in pain, but he asked, “You … 'kay?” 

Tony gaped at him. The kid was the one with holes in his chest and he was asking if he was okay?

"I'm fine, Pete," Tony said. "More worried about you right now. You're looking a little holy."

Peter coughed, but his lips twitched up a little for a moment. That's when Tony saw the blood on his lips. Peter's eyes began to slip closed and his breaths started faltering.

The pain in his own chest seemed to flare in sympathy.

Tony ran a hand over Peter's face, brushing back his hair from his sweaty forehead. "Don't fall asleep. Please, Peter. You have to stay awake. You can't leave me like this."

The pain in his chest continued to grow, making his breath catch. He did his best to ignore it. He didn't have time to deal with his own injuries. Peter was the one who mattered.

The sound of people rushing into the room made him look over his shoulder to see the med team arriving. Relief washed over him. He quickly moved out of the way and let them get to work. He did his best to answer their rapid fire questions as they stabilized him. One of the medics came over to him and asked him if he was okay, but he brushed them off. 

The last thing he saw before following them out of the lab was the puddle of blood on the floor. 

Tony followed the med team as far as he could, but they barred him from the OR. One of them ushered him into the waiting room. He paced the room, nearly pulling his hair out. It had been nearly fifteen minutes when Happy burst into the waiting room, shoes sliding on the tile floor. 

“Where is he? What happened?” Happy demanded, he looked more undone than Tony could ever remember seeing him.

“We were working in the lab. The conductors must have overloaded. They blew up—the kid pushed me out of the way. There’s shrapnel in his chest—they’re operating now.”

Happy nodded and dragged a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god, kid. You better not die. We can’t protect each other if you’re dead.”

Tony frowned at the odd statement, looking at him a little closer. “Who told you? This literally just happened.”

“I know and no one. He’s one of my platonics. I felt the pain in my chest and his mark burned.” Happy told him and walked up to peer through the frosted glass of the OR doors. He grimaced at them and turned away, pacing. 

“You’re one of his platonics? That’s you and Pepper then,” Tony said, more to the air then anything else. 

Happy raised a brow at him. “He didn’t tell you?”

Tony shook his head. “No, I only know that he has a lot.”

Happy stopped and turned fully towards him. “Did he tell you how many?”

Tony shook his head. 

Happy blew out a breath. “Okay, yeah—he probably wouldn't’ve. When I found out, he panicked, thought I would hate him.”

“I would never—”

“I know,” Happy interrupted, “and he knows that, I think, but he’s been hiding them for years. I don’t think he’d ever bring it up himself. I only talked with him about it when I found out.”

Tony mulled that over. The kid did hide all of his marks, except his aunt’s. But hers was kinda easy to accept so he didn’t blame the kid for not bothering with that one. 

“How many does he have?”

Happy hesitated for a moment, glancing towards the OR again before looking back to him. “Six platonic, one romantic.”

Tony whipped his head around to him. “Seven?” he stammered and Happy nodded. “But that’s … that’s more then Red Skull … and he had five.”

Happy sighed. “I know, the kid knows it, and he hates it.”

Tony nodded numbly. He himself had three, and he was sure that if he’d had any more, Howard would have tried cutting them off. It wasn't unheard of but pretty extreme. He considered himself lucky that he'd met two of them--Rhodey and Pepper. He had been so happy when his romantic one matched with Pepper’s.

They fell into silence after that, both of them shifting and anxiously moving around the waiting room. They only looked up when Tony heard a pair of heels clicking over the tiled floor. He was unsurprised when Pepper entered, her eyes wide.

“Where is he?” she snapped, one hand pressed to her stomach.

He jerked a thumb to the doors. “Still in surgery.”

“What happened?”

Tony quickly filled her in, his voice catching when he told her that Peter had pushed him out of the way. 

She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear, her hands still shaking a bit. "He'll be okay. He's strong. He's not allowed to leave me yet. We have plans."

His chest burned. He rubbed at it absently. The phone in his pocket rang, and he pulled it out, looking at the screen. Of course, if Pepper and Happy felt it, so did May. 

He answered it quickly, explaining the best he could, trying not to scare her. The last thing they needed was for her to get hurt driving back in a hurry. With a promise to call her the moment there was news, he said goodbye and turned back to Pepper and Happy. 

"How is she?" Happy asked. 

Sighing, Tony rubbed at his neck. He shrugged a shoulder. "You heard. I didn't tell her everything, but she's still worried, heading back tomorrow. I guess she felt it the same as you two."

Pepper's brow pinched and she looked at Happy. "You're one of his?"

Happy shrugged. "Kid's got good taste."

Pepper shook her head and then walked over to the window, trying to see into the OR. 

Tony couldn't help but feel a little hurt that he wasn't one of Peter's given how close they were. It just seemed like it would make sense. He and Pepper both shared Rhodey as a platonic. Why couldn't they share Peter, too? It was just disappointing that everyone else had that connection to the kid but him. 

Friday's voice cut the silence in the room. "Mr. Parker is being moved to recovery."

Tony wanted to be the first to see him, but soulmates got priority. That was the law. 

"Tony," Pepper said. "It's alright. Go to him. We'll wait here. Won't we, Happy?" She raised an eyebrow at him. 

Happy frowned but nodded. "He needs you, Boss."

Tony didn't need anymore encouragement. He bolted from the room, heading for the recovery suites. 

When he reached the room, he slowed down, not wanting to wake him. Pushing the door open, he quietly slipped inside, pausing when he saw Peter's pale form laid out on the bed. 

He looked so young and vulnerable. His eyes were shut, and there were sensors and bandages on his chest. The remnants of the iodine they'd washed his chest down with still stained him. He looked so frail that it broke his heart. It shouldn't be him in that bed. Tony was the one who should have taken that blast, not Peter. 

Taking a steadying breath, he crossed the room to stand beside the bed. His hands hovered over Peter's arm, wanting to touch him, to reassure himself he was still alive. He watched Peter's face as it twitched in his sleep. He hoped the new drug they'd developed was going to be enough for this kind of pain. They hadn't had a chance to test it well. 

Letting his hands drop to rest on Peter's arm, he finally let his eyes trail over his chest. It was a mess of bandages, but it wasn't those that caught his eye. It was the blue design he could see peeking out from beneath a piece of gauze. A birch branch with talons wrapped around it. Following the lines of the mark, he was met with the partially covered face of an owl that he knew all too well. 

His breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed hard, trying to push back his emotions. Peter had his mark, and they carried it in the same place, both over their hearts. Sharing placement meant they had the closest type of bond, the strongest.

Suddenly, he realized that the pain in his chest he'd felt earlier wasn't an injury. It had been their bond. How had he not realized that? For a genius, he was feeling pretty stupid. 

Peter began to stir, snapping him out of his thoughts. He groaned, shifting slightly. Tony reached up, brushing the hair from his forehead. "Easy, kiddo. You're okay."

Peter's eyes flitted open but then quickly closed, his face scrunching up like the light was hurting his eyes. 

Crap. How did he always forget about Peter's senses? 

"Friday, lights down to twenty percent." 

Peter tried to lift his arm, but he was weak and Tony was able to keep him from reaching for his chest. 

"No touching the boo boos, kiddo. You need to let them heal." Peter's eyes opened a little and he looked around before his gaze found Tony. His eyes were still glossy, and he didn't look completely there, but it was the best sight he'd seen in a while. "Hey, there you are. You're okay. You're in medical. You had surgery but everything's fine."

Peter licked his lips and tried to speak, his voice harsh. "May?"

Squeezing his arm, Tony smiled. "She called. She'll be here tomorrow."

Peter's blinked slowly a few times. "Are you okay?"

Tony shook his head in disbelief. "I am, but that stunt of yours could have killed you, Peter. You can't do that again."

"I couldn't lose you. I couldn't stand by and do nothing. That's how I lost Ben."

Tony's gaze fell to the owl on Peter's chest--such a mixture of meanings. War, wisdom, cleansing, new beginnings. He could see all those things in each of them in one form or another. It all made sense now. 

He tapped the mark, careful not to touch the wound. "I was gonna name him as a kid, you know. I've been through a lot of shit and this guy got me through a bunch of it, knowing someone was out there somewhere. Plus, he looks pretty badass."

Peter sucked in a breath and Tony looked up. There was a touch of a smile on Peter's face. 

Tony smirked. "Yep. Seems fate's not so random. I've got your mark, same spot, right over my heart like you."

"I … you're the owl?"

Tony shrugged. "I think in a way we both are, depending on how you look at it." He drew a deep breath, letting it out in a rush. "There's something I think you should know, but before I say it, you need to understand that I'm not ever going to judge you, Peter. You understand?"

Peter swallowed, giving a small nod. 

"I talked to Happy. I know about your marks, how many you really have." Peter frowned and Tony raised a brow  "Don't make that face . I need you to know it's okay with me, and I know it'd be okay with Pep, too, if you wanted to tell her."

Peter kept his gaze on the railing of the bed. "What if isn't?"

"Peter, I have three and so does she. You're matched for a reason. I promise you, it'll be fine."

Peter turned his head, lifting his chin so he could meet Tony's gaze. "You really don't think I'm gonna go dark side and take over the world?"

Tony laughed, shaking his head. "You have some of the best people in the world as your soulmates. We would never let that happen."