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Chapter Text

‘Please tell Mr. Stark I’m sorry’.

Happy almost drops his phone from his hands when the simple message appears on his screen. Heart pounding in his chest, he scrambles to dial Peter’s number, waiting with bated breath as it dials.

Peter picks up, sounding a little anxious. “Hey Happy!”

“What are you doing?” Happy barks out.

“Homework,” Peter replies, sounding confused. “Why? Was I supposed to be somewhere?”

“What the hell is that message you just sent me?” Happy growls.

“Ummmm… Have you talked to Mr. Stark yet? Because I just came back home and I saw the new suit that he left on my bed and I was like oh my god that’s amazing and then I just had to try it on, you know what I mean? And I was walking around in it and – I guess – I mean – My aunt usually has super late shifts on Wednesdays and it never even occurred to me that she would be home from the hospital already. But she was and she saw me in the suit and was all like WHAT THE F-… Wait I shouldn’t swear. But you know which word I was gonna say. And then she called Mr. Stark and yelled at him even though I told her not to. So… I kinda messed up. Sorry.”

“Okay,” Happy says with a long exhale, pressing a hand to his chest. “Next time you ‘kinda mess up’, please don’t send me a cryptic message that sounds like a freaking suicide note!”

“Oh,” Peter says stupidly. “Um – I didn’t... Awww, were you worried about me? That’s nice.”

“Was there anything else?” Happy asks brusquely.

“No – just pass my message on to Mr. Stark, please. I’ll talk to my aunt, see how mad exactly she is.”

-

“Pretty mad,” Tony admits with a sigh. “That was one uncomfortable phone call.”

Happy hums. “Is she going to make him quit the whole Spider-Man thing?”

Tony picks his screwdriver back up, poking at his Iron Man helmet that is lying on the table in front of them. “We didn’t even discuss that. I think she and Peter are going to hash that out between them. She just ranted at me for ‘enabling’ him, as she put it.”

“She’s not wrong,” Happy comments, lifting up his hands when Tony throws a dark look his way. “I know, I know… Being Spider-Man was his choice and you just gave him the suit to be safe… But as his aunt she might see that differently. It can’t be news to you that your morality is somewhat questionable at times.”

“Well, she certainly thought I was downright evil,” Tony mutters. “God, I was willing to overlook her horrible walnut and date loaf, but this nagging is really annoying. I’m started to dislike her”

“She’s worried.”

“And that is my problem why exactly?”

Happy runs a hand across his face. “As per usual, it’s most likely just going to be my problem.”

Tony’s face lights up at that. “Why didn’t I think of that sooner! If she calls me again, I’ll just have the call automatically transferred to you. How’s that?”

“Swell. Just swell.”

-

“If this is you trying to get me in a good mood after everything this week, it’s… well, it’s working,” May says as she pulls up a chair, and Peter chuckles.

It has taken a few days of heated arguments, yelling, door-slamming and tears from both of them, before they have finally reached a place where they could talk to each other rationally. May’s long hours at the hospital haven’t been very helpful. She has barely been home this week, which hasn’t given them a lot of time to talk things over. It also doesn’t help much with Peter’s guilt. Every evening when May stumbles in after a twelve-hour shift, she looks more tired than the day before.

Which is all sorts of wrong, because when Peter became Spider-Man, he had promised himself to be responsible. No stupid teenager stuff. He was going to be mature, damn it. And rule number two, after ‘being mature’ was ‘make things easier for aunt May’. Which is why tonight he has taken it upon himself to cook for the third night in a row. Tonight is his first casserole, and it hasn’t turned out half-bad. “It’s cheaper than take-out,” he says. “We’ll save some money this way. I’ll cook for you every evening from now on!”

“Oh – don’t be silly!’ May says, waving her hand. “How could you have time for that, with school and… all the other stuff.” Her eyes darken ever so slightly.

“No, no, I like cooking,” Peter lies as he pours them both a glass of water and sits down next to her.

May leans over and squeezes his hand. “Your father was a great cook, too,” she murmurs. “Your mother on the other hand, couldn’t fry an egg without setting off the fire alarm.”

Peter smiles back, feeling guilt gnawing at his insides again. May has already lost so many people… The last thing she needs is a nephew who risks his life on a daily basis.

He feels a hand brush against his cheek. “I’m sorry,” May says. “I didn’t mean to bring the mood down. If you like to cook, I certainly won’t say no to one of these darned good casseroles every single day of the week. But don’t feel obliged.”

“I don’t,” Peter assures her, feeling a little better at the prospect of doing something to help May every day. “How was work?”

“Fine,” May says slowly. “But I’d rather talk about you right now.”

Peter drops his eyes down to his plate. “Uhh… Well, I got a B for that biology project which I know is a little lower than usual but I’ve just been busy, Mr. Harrington was sick today so we had a free period, someone puked in the cafeteria which was kinda gross, and also I really want to go on patrol again,” he finishes breathlessly.

“Hmmm,” May merely says.

“Have you thought about it?” Peter presses. “I didn’t put on the suit for a whole week, because I didn’t want to make you more upset before we had talked everything out. But I… I have to go out and help people. And yesterday you said you’d think about it.”

May nods at that, her lips pursed.

Peter fiddles with his glass, surreptitiously casting glances at his aunt. “You know… the whole reason I wanted to be Spider-Man is because uncle Ben told me… before he died, he told me that if you have the power to help people, then you have a responsibility to do so.”

May drops her fork. “Are you telling me he knew about-?”

“No, oh, no no no,” Peter interrupts quickly. “He didn’t know. It was just generic advice. But it was his advice and it meant a lot to me.”

“I understand,” May says, picking up her fork again. “And I suppose I could get on board with that. I just don’t like how that Tony Stark has his tentacles wrapped around you.”

“Ew,” Peter says, pulling a face. “Thanks for that particular mental image. But he doesn’t make things more dangerous for me. If anything, he keeps me in check.”

“So he was keeping you in check when he brought you to Germany?” May asks, her eyes flashing dangerously.

“No,” Peter admits. “That was stupid. That was… way out of my league. I’m not going to do that anymore, I promise! It’s just Queens for me.”

May sighs and takes another bite, slowly chewing and swallowing while Peter waits with bated breath.

“Here’s something you don’t know,” May shares after a few moments of silence. “I’ve been on the phone with Stark at length this week. Not with the big bastard himself, because that coward son of a bitch decided to transfer my calls to someone else.” She narrows her eyes, stabbing at her food with a vicious look on her face. “Thankfully, his employee Mr. Hogan seems to understand the situation from my perspective, and he promised to make sure my demands were met. So you can tell Tony Stark to thank his employee for talking me into this.”

“Oh, thank you thankyouthankyou!” Peter exclaims, jumping up and throwing both arms around his aunt’s neck. “I love you!”

“I love you too, Pete,” she murmurs. “Please just be safe out there.”

-

“Your aunt seems to have no end of bad things to say about me,” Mr. Stark complains when Peter is back at the Stark compound a few days later.

“Please stop putting me in the middle of your fights, Mr. Stark,” Peter sighs, feeling anxiety bubble up in his chest again. “I’m starting to feel like a child of divorced parents.”

Mr. Stark shrugs his consent and goes back to studying the improved formula for web fluid Peter has handed him.

Peter looks around for a clock. If he hurries this project along, he will have enough time to go grocery shopping and make dinner. “What time is it?”

It is FRIDAY who responds. “Eleven minutes past five.”

“That’s fine..” Peter mutters to himself. His aunt gets off work at seven PM if she is lucky. If she isn’t lucky, she won’t be home until near midnight.

Mr. Stark looks up at him with a lopsided grin. “Got somewhere more awesome to be? I somehow doubt it.”

Peter gives an apologetic smile. “Just promised I’d take care of dinner.”

Mr. Stark waves his hand. “Have Happy drive you past a Pizza place or something… I’ll pay.”

Peter almost wants to accept, because every dollar they save on meals means less stress for aunt May. But accepting money from Mr. Stark doesn’t seem like the mature thing, so he simply smiles again. “No, thank you, sir. I like cooking.” He is actually starting to believe that lie by now.

When he had first met Mr. Stark, the man had spoken of some fake scholarship that supposedly had ‘money involved’. But that had been a way to keep up pretenses to May. Money had never come up since – and it shouldn’t, because Peter isn’t even working for Mr. Stark. Peter turned Mr. Stark down when the man offered him a home in the Avengers compound. It had made sense at the time, but now Peter is starting to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t have turned the offer down. It would have been easier for May. She would have one less mouth to feed. And Peter isn’t easy to feed with his increased metabolism.

“This is brilliant, Pete,” Mr. Stark compliments, shaking Peter from his thoughts. He looks up at Mr. Stark who slides the pile of notes back across the table, his eyes proud. Peter feels his cheeks flush and takes the notes back. “Thank you, sir. So, um, if I come by again this weekend, can we try to make this?”

His mentor nods, frowning a little as he no doubt tries to remember what his schedule for the weekend looks like. “Of course. We could also do it right now, if you want to.”

“No, I should go,” Peter mumbles. “What time is it again?”

“Fourteen minutes past five.” FRIDAY informs him.

“Wait here,” Mr. Stark suddenly says, and without another word, he leaves the room, leaving Peter blinking at nothing.

He returns a few minutes later with a small black box in his hand, which he holds out to Peter. “Here. You seem to be needing it.”

Taken by surprise, Peter stammers out a thanks as he takes the box. It is slightly damaged at the edges, and has the name ‘stark’ engraved on the top. He opens it. Inside the box sits a watch.

“It’s a little old, but still works perfectly,” Mr. Stark tells him. He waves a hand when Peter starts falling over himself to thank him. “No worries, underoos. It’s not as if I haven’t got plenty of ‘em.”

-

It’s just two rules. Two rules should be easy to follow, right? Be mature. And make things easy for May. So Peter doesn’t just go grocery shopping, but he also cleans the living room and the kitchen before preparing dinner.

“Oh, honey,” May says when she returns home. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You look tired,” Peter says. “Just have a seat, dinner is almost ready. I made soup.”

“No, you have a seat, sweetie,” May protests, pushing him towards the couch. “You worked hard, too. I’m sure I can manage to turn off the stove in time. Did you go patrolling today?”

‘I didn’t have time’, Peter almost says, but he doesn’t want May to feel bad, so he says: “Not really in the mood today.”

-

May thinks he is asleep, but he is not. His bedroom door is half-open, and he can see May sitting at the table, going through the piles of letters that Peter knows are overdue bills.

It’s times like these when it makes him just a tiny bit angry to think about how rich Mr. Stark is.

He takes a deep breath, and then takes out his phone to look for the nearest pawn shop.

 -

“That’s a very nice watch,” the man comments, before glancing down at Peter’s baggy sweater and tattered jeans.

“It was a gift,” Peter feels obliged to point out.

The man gives him a superior sort of smirk. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ve been in this business a long time. I know better than to ask where people get their shit from.”

Peter feels his neck hairs stand up. “I didn’t steal it,” he snaps.

“Course you didn’t,” the man says, airily, holding the watch up to his face again. “Hmmm.. Stark tech. Limited edition. Pretty old, though. A tech fanatic might want it, but other than that…”

“Just give me a number,” Peter bites out. He doesn’t even know what this sort of thing is worth, so there is no point trying to figure out if the man is trying to swindle him. Plus, he wants to get this over with before he changes his mind again.

“All right, all right…” The man mutters. “Well, I’m in a good mood today. Just finally sold a goddamn antique flamingo statue that’s been sitting here for about ten years. So I’ll give you a hundred bucks for it.”

“Deal,” Peter says immediately. A hundred bucks! That’s almost two weeks’ worth of groceries.

One less thing to worry about. At least for a little while.

-

 "Hey Happy. Just the usual today. A little girl crashed her bike. I stayed with her until the ambulance came. Found someone’s lost dog. That was really nice, you should have seen how happy the dog was. Can you tell Mr. Stark I’m coming by on Saturday afternoon to work on the new web fluid? Like, three O’clockish? Thank you.”

-

“The kid is gonna be here this Saturday around three,” Happy announces when he comes over to pick Tony up and drive him to his next meeting.

Tony is haphazardly gathering important documents together, stuffing them into his briefcase. “Oh – right. I’ll give him my phone number next time he comes over,” he says, distracted. “I feel like he should be able to talk to me directly.”

Happy suddenly feels strangely possessive. “That’s okay… I’m fine with taking care of it. It’s just one voicemail a day. Lately, it hasn’t even been every day.” The kid appears to be more busy than usual.

Tony is still rummaging around, opening drawers and pushing papers to the floor. “Whatever, if that’s what you prefer. I’ll give him my number either way for emergencies and stuff. Where the hell is that report on project Bumbersnatch?”

“You mean the top-secret project only three people in this whole building know about?’ Happy asks. “You mean the report, about which you said to me that if I read it, you would have to kill me? Is that the report you are currently unable to find?”

“I’m sure it’s fine….” Tony mutters. “What were we talking about? Right – Peter. When did you say he was coming?”

“I’ll make a note in your calendar.”

-

The words are pretty much dancing on the page by the time Peter finishes his essay. He’s pretty sure it’s not his best work, but at least it won’t be an F. Rubbing his eyes, he closes his laptop.

He stumbles to the bathroom to wash his face, and then spots May’s watch sitting on the shelf above the sink. It makes his stomach clench and he turns his back to it as he brushes his teeth.

May hasn’t seemed to notice that his last few trips to the supermarket didn’t come out of her bank account. Peter is pretty sure she wouldn’t want him to use his own money to pay for food, so it seems prudent to keep that particular information hidden from her. He realizes that lying about it might not be the mature thing to do, but it does make things easier for May. It’s a little annoying how often his two rules seem to contradict each other.

Either way, May will have some extra money left this month to pay the overdue bills. And so he doesn’t regret pawning the watch. He doesn’t regret it.

But he can’t sleep that night, either.

Chapter Text

On Saturday morning, Peter wakes up to the sweet smell of pancakes.

“I was going to make you breakfast!” He complains as he shuffles out of his bedroom.

May waves the spatula at him. “Beat you to it!”

“Don’t you want to sleep in? It’s your day off!”

“No,” May says, as if that’s the most ridiculous suggestion she has ever heard. “I want to make breakfast for my nephew and then watch ‘Back to the Future’ with him.” She leans against the stove, planting one hand on her hip. “Unless he has to go out and be a super-hero, that is.”

“I can make time for ‘Back to the Future’,” Peter assures with a grin.

-

If Peter could only go back in time to fix one thing, would he save his parents or uncle Ben? It’s these kinds of unwanted, impossible dilemmas that always seem to pop into his head every time he watches Marty McFly drive his DeLorean into the past.

“May?”

“Hmmm?”

“What happens when we can’t make rent?”

It stays quiet for a moment. “Well, I have a co-worker who drives for Uber on the weekends,” May then says, in that teasing voice she uses whenever Peter tries to strike up a mature conversation. “I might pick that up.”

Peter pokes her in the shoulder. “It’s a serious question!”

“Peter… We can make rent. We’ve been late a few times, but we can manage, okay? And if we can’t, I’ll deal with it. Pick up extra shifts, take out a loan. The foodbank if necessary. There’s always options.”

“Okay,” Peter mutters, somewhat mollified, although a tiny voice in the back of his head whispers ‘why’d you pawn that watch, again?’.

-

Peter follows Mr. Stark through the compound, half-jogging to keep up with the man who seems to be in a permanent hurry as he rambles on about everything he wants to do today. “ – Also, Happy was saying something about your aunt  giving you a curfew – Didn’t I give you a watch? Also, remind me to give you my phone number.”

“Okay,” Peter says. His heartbeat had sped up at the mention of the watch, but Mr. Stark’s fleeting mind seems to have already moved on to a different subject.

“You can still give your mission reports to Happy, I guess. He was pretty adamant about that. It appears you’ve grown on him. Which is funny considering he’s known me a hell of a lot longer and he’s still on the fence about me. But anyways, you can call me if you ever need me, all right? Even if it’s the middle of the night.”

Peter looks up at Mr. Stark and finds the man looking back at him with fond eyes. He quickly looks away again, feeling self-conscious. “Uh – thank you, sir.”

They have reached Tony’s office, and when they enter, Peter catches sight of Happy Hogan leaning back in a chair, his feet on the desk. Happy almost falls over in his hurry to get up when they enter.

Mr. Stark just raises an eyebrow at him. “Waiting for me?”

Happy clears his throat, smoothening out his shirt. “Did you find the report yet?”

“Which one?”

Happy gives him an ‘are you kidding me’-look, then glances at Peter. “The top-secret one,” he says, and then in a lower voice “Bumbersnatch…?”

“Oh. Haven’t looked for it yet.”

Peter can’t help but feel a little sorry for Happy, who groans and rubs his forehead. The man looks completely done with Mr. Stark’s antics, which Peter can sort of understand, in spite of how much he idolizes the man. “Maybe go look for it then?” Happy says. “Just a suggestion.”

Mr. Stark pats Peter on the shoulder, not seeming concerned in the least. “In a minute. I wanna show the kid something. Look, Pete!”

Peter throws an apologetic look at Happy before joining Mr. Stark behind the computer screen.

As he waits for Mr. Stark to load the program, he absentmindedly picks at the tiny hole on the sleeve of his sweater. Looks like the clothing moths got to this one as well. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a good sweater left by now. When he looks up, he notices that Mr. Stark has followed his movements.

“I guess it’s fashionable to walk around with holes in one’s clothes, these days,” Mr. Stark says, teasingly, and Peter feels his face heat up with humiliation. He quickly rolls up his sleeves a little to hide the holes.

“What did you want to show me?” He asks, trying to divert the attention away from his clothes.

Tony points at his screen. “I worked out a better algorithm to help Karen predict crime in Queens.”

“Oh,” Peter says, getting excited as he studies the screen. “Wait – you’re using the Epidemic Type Aftershock-Sequences model?”

“Sure, just applied it to social conflicts instead of earthquakes. I am still working on creating the model parameters using a simulated annealing algorithm – “

Peter can practically see Happy’s eyes glaze over with boredom at listening to the two of them discuss algorithms. “I’ll come back later,” Happy says, before moving to the door.

“Bring coffee!” Tony yells after him.

The door slams.

“You should go look for that report, sir,” Peter says, still feeling a little bad for Happy.

“Sure, sure. Don’t worry about it, kid,” Tony says dismissively. “Just some dumb idea from my dad that everyone is now wetting their pants about for some reason. Can’t believe it’s been this long and the man still outshines me. That watch I gave you? My dad made that too. One of the prototypes for a later model. He was so damn proud of it, loved that watch more than he loved me, that’s for sure.” And then he says something else, but Peter can’t focus on his words anymore. Because the watch belonged to goddamn Howard Stark. Mr. Stark’s dead father gave him a watch and then Mr. Stark gave it to him as a gift and then he fucking pawned it?

Okay, breathe, Peter. In and out. Just like the guy in the YouTube video.

-

“He doesn’t realize, you know,” Happy explains when he drives Peter home. “Tony… He doesn’t know how tight money is for you guys. He wasn’t trying to make you feel bad or anything – he probably actually thinks having holes in your sweater is fashionable. He doesn’t know your aunt is pretty much working herself to death trying to make rent.”

Peter clenches his jaw and throws Happy a distrustful look. He sure as hell doesn’t remember sharing the details of his homelife with this man.

“Your aunt and I talk on the phone a lot, in case she hasn’t mentioned,” Happy adds, clearly noticing the look on Peter’s face. “And I haven’t told Tony about any of it, but I just wanted to let you know that you can tell him. He’s hopelessly oblivious about many things, but he’s also a good guy and he’d be happy to help you out.”

“You know you’re way too smart to just be driving people around all the time, right?” Peter comments.

Happy frowns. “Way to change the subject, genius.”

“Just saying… If anyone should be asking Mr. Stark for more money it should be you.”

“I’m not comfortable discussing my financial situation with a teenager!”

“How do you think I feel discussing mine?”

Happy grumbles. “Walked right into that trap…”

Peter can’t help but smile a little. Reminding himself that Happy’s life is anything but easy, he decides not to be too snarky. Be mature, Peter. “You don’t have to worry, we’re fine,” he says, remembering what May told him that morning. “There’s always options.”

-

It feels good to patrol the streets again. It’s been a few days since he has really had time for this, and Peter resolves to devote a bit more time to helping Queens over the next few weeks.

He swings by an apartment building, wind rushing past him, and lands on a lower rooftop. Below, cars slowly creep through the streets. Rush hour.

He blows out a long breath as he sits, letting his legs dangle over the side. It’s been a pretty boring day, but that’s usually the case on Mondays. Apparently, even criminals hate Mondays.

It has been two days since Tony revealed to Peter that the watch once belonged to his father, and Peter has been going back and forth on the matter ever since. He can still get the watch back and May would probably never notice the hundred dollars appearing and disappearing from their household money. At the same time… damn, it’s a lot of money. What is the mature choice? Peter doesn’t even know anymore.

After his parents died, most of the stuff from their house was just sold or given away, but May and Ben had made sure to pack a box with some random stuff – books, some coffee cups, and a tiny painting of a squirrel eating an acorn – just so Peter would feel like he still had some stuff that belonged to his parents. The picture of the squirrel now hangs in the hallway, next to the mirror. And it means a lot to him.

Peter sighs. If anyone understands how important it is to remember your loved ones through memorabilia, it should be him.

He checks his watch. The pawn shop might still be open if he hurries.

-

It’s the same, chubby man manning the shop when Peter returns. To his relief, Peter immediately spots the watch sitting in a glass cabinet on the counter.

“Afternoon, what can I do ya for?” The man asks, seemingly not recognizing Peter.

Peter points. “I sold that watch to you a few days ago. I’d like to get it back.”

The man lifts an eyebrow. “Listen kid, we have playground rules here, which include ‘no take backsies’.”

“I have the hundred dollars,” Peter says, pulling out the dollar bills.

“You see the watch over there? You see that price tag? That’s eight hundred, and that’s the going-rate. Not giving it to you for a penny less.”

“Eight hundred!”

“Damn right. That thing is a collectable! And you’re lucky I’m willing to give it back to you for that price. I’ve put it on my website and the bidding is actually up to almost nine hundred by now, you know. But, because it’s you, I’ll just give it to you if you fork over the eight hundred in cash right now. Saves me some hassle.”

-

When Peter returns home, without a watch and with a heavy heart, he can hear May talking in the living room.

On the phone, as it turns out. “Oh – he’s here,” May says as he enters. “I’ll… I’ll talk to you later, okay? … Okay.”

“Who was that?” Peter asks after she hangs up.

“Just someone from Stark Industries,” she says, a bit evasively.

Peter chucks his backpack to the side. “Someone named Happy Hogan?”

May looks a little embarrassed. “Well, he’s a nice man, you know.”

“He is,” Peter agrees, approaching her and sitting sideways on the couch next to her, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Did he say anything about – uh – when he drove me home?”

“No, why?”

“No reason,” Peter says, carefully picking at the tiny holes in his sweater.

He looks back towards May and finds her studying him with her head cocked to one side. “Back to the future 2?” She asks.

-

“Listen, Peter,” May says when they are about half an hour into the movie, and something in her voice tell Peter that something is off. “I’m… going to pick up an extra shift this weekend. You remember my co-worker Mia? Her father passed away and she could use a few days off.”

Peter frowns. “But you already work double shifts all week! Can’t someone else do it?”

“Someone else can,” May agrees. “But we could use the money.”

“You said we could make rent!”

“I didn’t want you to worry… I don’t want you to worry. If I take a few extra shifts, we’re fine.”

Peter can’t focus on the rest of the movie anymore. A million thoughts are running through his head. As soon as the movie ends, he goes back to his bedroom and lies on his bed, on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling.

The last thing he wants is for May to pick up extra shifts. Ever since Ben died she has done nothing but work around the clock to keep things running, and Peter is starting to feel more and more afraid that she is nearing her breaking point.

He knows what he has to do. So he takes out his phone and sends a message – straight to Mr. Stark this time.

Mr. Stark, can I come over tomorrow? I want to discuss something.

In spite of it being four o’clock in the morning, the response comes swiftly, reminding Peter how Mr. Stark told him he could call in the middle of the night if he needed to.

Sure, kiddo. Happy will pick you up after school.

Chapter Text

 “Move in?” Tony asks, feeling confused. “What’s with the one-eighty? What happened to friendly neighborhood Spider-Man? Is that concept off the table? Are we aiming for – I don’t know –unpleasant nationwide Spider-Man now?”

“The offer does still stand, anyways,” he quickly adds when he notices Peter’s downtrodden face. “Of course it does. I’m just surprised, is all.”

“Right,” Peter says shortly, and Tony gets a feeling he shouldn’t expect an explanation any time soon. “That’s settled, then. The room next to Vision, right? I’ll go talk to my aunt about it and let you know when exactly I’m coming.”

“Hang on – you haven’t even discussed this with your aunt yet? What’s going on, did you get into a fight with her or something? Because I’m not comfortable getting in the middle of your domestic disputes. That’s between you and-”

“We’re not fighting,” Peter interrupts, looking tired and frustrated. “I don’t fight with her, I’m not…. I’m not that childish. This is just… for practical reasons, all right?”

“All right,” Tony says with a shrug. “No problem, you’re welcome here.”

Peter’s face finally clears up a little. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“Hey,” Tony puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder and waits until the kid makes eye contact with him. “If you’re going to live here, you should start calling me Tony, kiddo,” he says. “You’re way too polite for a teenager, it’s making me uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” Peter responds, seemingly unsure of how to react. “Um – sorry?”

Tony shakes his head, feeling slightly exasperated. “Apology accepted. Now, just call me Tony.”

“Tony…” Peter slowly repeats.

Tony smirks. “That’s the one.”

-

Happy approaches the bedroom and finds the door open. Peter is unpacking his bag, laying his clothes out on his bed. Happy raps his knuckles against the open door and Peter turns. “Oh. You.”

“Heard you’re moving in,” Happy says.

“Uhuh.”

“Why?”

Peter turns his back to him again, digging through his duffel bag. “What do you mean, ‘why’?”

“I mean ‘why’? It’s a three-letter word, a question, means ‘for what reason’.”

No response, but Peter’s movements are stiff and angry.

“Your aunt called me,” Happy continues.

“What a surprise,” Peter snidely remarks.

“She thinks you’re moving here because she can’t afford to feed you. She was crying.”

At that, Peter whirls around and throws a pair of balled up socks at him. “Well tell me what I’m supposed to do then, huh? I’m trying to fix it!” He yells, his chest heaving, his fists clenched. “The last thing I need is people getting on my case about this!”

“Okay….” Happy says in his most soothing voice, bending over to pick up the socks. He takes a step closer. “Has it maybe occurred to you that it’s not up to you to fix this?”

“I can fix it, I’m not a child,” Peter argues with a deep frown.

“I know,” Happy says, because he can feel in his gut that saying ‘yes, actually you are’ isn’t going to fly right now.

“What’s going on here?” A voice from the doorway asks.

Happy turns and looks at Tony, who steps inside, looking between Peter and Happy with his eyebrows slightly raised. Happy can tell that Peter is doing his absolute best to school his expression into something neutral, but failing miserably.

“May Parker was on the phone just now,” Happy explains. “She would like for you to call her back. I think it would be good if you talk to her, she wants to discuss a few things.”

“Discuss what?” Peter cuts in, his eyes widening. He looks panicked, and so Happy does his best to speak as calmly as possible.

“The fact that she doesn’t actually want you to live here. She wants to see if there’s other options.”

“She doesn’t want you to live here?” Tony repeats, with nothing of the same calmness in his voice. Happy motions for him to lower his voice, but it seems to have the opposite effect. “Didn’t I say I wasn’t gonna get in the middle of your little family quarrels?”

“We NOT fighting!” Peter insists, his voice actually getting quieter and his face turning pale. “We’re not! I’m not… we’re just… we…”

Tony sees it before Happy does. He moves past Happy with long strides and grabs Peter by the forearms. “Pete – it’s okay… sit down.”

Happy now notices it, too: Peter’s labored breath and trembling hands. “What’s happening?”

Tony doesn’t respond, but probably partly because he is aware that Happy has seen Tony have panic attacks before, and must already know the answer to his own question.

“It’s okay, buddy… We’re just talking… No one is mad...” Tony murmurs as he directs Peter to the bed and sits next to him, rubbing his back. “Just breathe… in and out… take your time…”

Peter sucks in a long breath and then, with his eyes pinched shut, holds his breath for a few seconds before releasing it. He then repeats the process, this time counting to three under his breath before releasing it.

“Uhhh - that’s good, Peter” Tony encourages, seeming a little thrown by Peter’s obvious experience with panic attacks. Tony glances at Happy. “What the hell happened between him and his aunt?”

“Nothing happened. She’s just under a lot of pressure because she can’t pay her bills. And I guess Peter thought he should move here to save her some money.”

Tony draws his eyebrows together. “How bad exactly is it?”
“I don’t think I should say right now,” Happy murmurs, his eyes flittering around Peter’s ashen face as the boy sits almost doubled over on the bed. He’s pretty sure May hasn’t told his nephew that they’re two months behind on rent already. The last thing he wants is to send Peter over the edge.

Tony gives an understanding nod, turning back to Peter. “You’re doing good, soldier. In and out…”

“What can I do?” Happy asks quietly.

“Get a glass of water. And candy – something with sugar in it… Get those fancy chocolates Pepper brought home last night, they’re in the fridge.”

-

When the ringing in his ears finally drops down to a tolerable level and his head begins to clear up, Peter notices two things. The first is a box of incredibly expensive-looking chocolates sitting right next to him on the bed. The second is a set of arms wrapped around him, one hand carding through his hair. Even though he can’t see the face of the person he is pressed up against, he still instantly recognizes who is holding him.

“You’re hugging me,” Peter says stupidly.

Tony chuckles, making his chest rumble pleasantly against Peter’s cheek. “Nothing gets past those keen spider senses, huh?”

Peter gives a watery smile and slowly lifts his hand to wipe his face with his sleeve. He doesn’t want to move too fast, afraid that it might occur to Tony to end the hug. Because this is kind of wonderful and Peter doesn’t want it to end anytime soon.

 He feels a hand running up and down his back. “You’ve just had a panic attack. Have you had those before?”

“No”

“Okay.”

“Not for a while.”

“Okay, so yes.”

Peter closes his eyes as he concentrates on his breathing again. “I know how to deal with them.”

“Are you getting some help with them?”

“I have videos.”

“Videos,” Tony echoes.

“On YouTube.”

“So your aunt doesn’t know?” Tony clarifies.

“She’s got enough on her plate.”

“That has been made clear to me, yes.”

Happy’s face swims into view as he hands Peter a glass of water. Peter’s hands are still trembling, so Tony takes it for him and helps him take a sip. “Have some chocolate, too.”

Just the idea almost makes Peter gag, and he pushes the chocolates away.

“Okay,” he hears Tony say. “Maybe later.”

Peter takes another deep breath. “What... what now?”

“Why don’t we pack your bags and drive you home?”

-

Tony knows from experience how exhausting panic attacks can be. They usually leave you with an emotional jet lag that lasts at least several hours. It’s no surprise to him that Peter almost falls asleep as they drive back to Queens. Part of him wants to carry the kid upstairs, but he knows that he will probably throw his back out if he does, so instead he lets the kid lean on him heavily as they enter the apartment and take the elevator up to the floor where Peter lives.

Once inside, Peter makes a beeline for the couch and curls up on his side.

“What time will May be home?” Happy asks him.

“Anywhere between 7 PM and midnight...” Peter mumbles. “She usually texts me when she leaves so I can prepare dinner. But I guess she won’t now, because she thinks I’m sleeping at the compound.”

“I’ll make dinner,” Happy promises. “You get some sleep.”

“You know I can easily order anything we want, right?” Tony asks, as Peter drifts off.

Happy shrugs. “I did promise May I would make my lasagna for her at some point. She said there was no way it would live up to her father’s recipe, so I have something to prove.”

“Exactly how much time have you been spending on the phone with this woman?”

“Hey – you’re the one who decided to forward her calls to me.” Happy says, looking entirely unapologetic. “I’ll just go buy the ingredients. Won’t be long!”

“Bring back wine!”

-

Clearly, Happy takes his lasagna recipe very seriously, even making the pasta from scratch. Tony sips his wine and looks on as Happy kneads the dough.

Happy glances his way. “I feel like I spend half my career getting you coffee or wine.”

That reminds Tony of something he’d been meaning to discuss. “I found that Bumbersnatch report last week.”

Happy looks up from his dough and gives Tony an exasperated look. “You didn’t think to mention that to me a little sooner?”

Tony sniffs and glances down at his nails. “I just don’t understand why everyone thinks this project idea is the best thing since sliced bread. It’s mediocre. At best.”

“Is that maybe because the idea came from your father?”

“Maybe,” Tony slowly admits.

“Would you let a good idea go to waste for personal reasons?”

“No,” Tony sighs. “I did find it, didn’t I? I actually have been thinking that if anyone should be the project manager on this, it should be you.”

Happy freezes, his hands still covered in dough, as he stares at Tony. “Me?”

“I mean – yeah. You’ve been dropping hints left right and center that you would like to be promoted to a management position, did you think I hadn’t noticed?”

“That’s exactly what I thought, yeah,” Happy says.

“I noticed.”

Happy still looks confused and slightly suspicious. “I thought you said you’d have to kill me if I knew too much about this project.”

“Yeah, well…” Tony ruffles his hair, feeling a little abashed, “if there’s anyone I trust taking care of a secret project, it’s you.”

Happy smiles, returning to his work. “I appreciate that, Tony.”

Tony nods, before deciding to change to subject to something less awkward. “I can’t believe you told a lady of Italian descent that you could make lasagna better than her father. There’s just no way.”

Happy isn’t deterred in the slightest, squeezing and pressing the dough with a vigor. “I’ll accept your apology after you’ve eaten my lasagna along with a slice of humble pie.”

Tony looks back at Peter, who is still fast asleep on the couch. “So why don’t you catch me up with May’s situation? You know, a quick summary of those hour-long phone conversations you’ve been having with her.”

Happy ignores the sarcasm in his voice. It looks like he has slowly become immune to Tony’s snarky comments. “Well, she works as a nursing assistant, which pays jack squat for long-ass shifts. She was working on her pre-reqs for the RN adn program, but-”

“That last part was gibberish to me, Hap.”

Happy falters, then smiles a little. “Right. I meant, she wanted to become a registered nurse, which is a step up, but she was still putting herself through nursing school when Ben died, and then she couldn’t afford the time and money to finish it.”

“Damn… Do you think she’ll even accept help from me?”

Happy shrugs. “We’ll see.”

-

It’s around 8PM when May enters the room, stopping dead when she sees the occupants of the apartment. “What’s happening?”

“I’m making dinner,” Happy says. “I told you my lasagna is the best you’ll ever taste, didn’t I?”

May looks at him, at Tony, then at the sleeping Peter on the couch. “Give me a second,” she simply says, and she disappears into another room. She reappears moments later wearing a clean shirt, and with a blanket in her arms which she shakes out and drapes over Peter’s sleeping form, tucking in the corners and leaning in to brush a lock of curly hair away from Peter’s forehead.

She then turns back to them. “Anyone care to explain what’s going on?”

“He had a panic attack,” Tony says. Subconsciously sitting up a little straighter when May’s gaze wanders his way.

She frowns. “He’s never had a panic attack before.”

“Actually, I believe he has,” Tony carefully replies. “He just didn’t want to worry you.”

May sinks down in a chair, her eyes hooded. She looks exhausted. “He’s always been intent on hiding his problems from me,” she murmurs, before her gazes seeks out Tony again. “Thank you for bringing him back. I should have never let him leave this morning. I’ve… not really been on top of things lately. Although it is good to know that, should the worst come to pass, he has a place to sleep with you.”

“He’ll always have a place with us,” Tony promises instantly. “But family comes first. I know he proposed to move in with us because you are struggling financially and he wanted to help. And, well… I would like to help too, if you’ll let me.”

May chuckles without any real mirth. “Oh, really? The woman who yelled at you over the phone about how much of a bad influence you are?”

Tony simply smiles. “I suppose we just both care a lot about Peter.”

“Yes,” May murmurs, her gaze wandering to Peter’s still form again. “You do care about him, I realize that.”

“So how about I just take care of rent for a while?” Tony suggests, deciding to remain businesslike. He knows if their positions had been reversed, he would prefer that approach over someone just feeling sorry for him. “We’ll make it a loan if you prefer, but I don’t really care either way. Give you some breathing space to get that degree you wanted. It’s no big deal for me, but I do understand if you’re… too proud.”

 “Too proud?” May repeats, her voice a little hollow. “I’m an inch away from a burn-out, we’re a month away from getting evicted and my nephew is hiding his panic attacks from me. I’m not too proud for anything anymore. I just want my boy to be okay.”

-

Peter wakes as someone softly pokes him. “Pete? Hey sweetie.” May’s face swims into view. “Want some lasagna?”

Peter sits up and, instead of answering, wraps both his arms around his aunt, suddenly fully realizing how happy he is to be home instead of at the compound.

May doesn’t say anything. She seems to understand that Peter just needs to be held for a moment. After a while, Peter ends the hug and leans back, looking his aunt in the eye. “Are you OK?”

May gives him an exasperated look. “Should you be asking me that question?”

She doesn’t say anything else, though. And she doesn’t start asking him any difficult question about his panic attacks, for which Peter is grateful, although he has a suspicion May will bring it up once Tony and Happy have left.

Instead, May motions for Peter to get up and join the others at the table.

“So…” Peter starts, feeling a little nervous. “So, what’s next?”

“We’ve worked something out,” Tony says, and Peter gets a feeling that that’s all the information he’s going to get.

Dinner is surprisingly relaxed, with May even laughing at some of Tony’s corny jokes, and Peter pretending not to notice Happy’s awkward attempts to flirt with his aunt. May proclaims the lasagna to be the very best she has ever tasted, and Peter can’t help but roll his eyes. Tony catches him do it and smirks.

After dinner, May and Happy do the dishes together. As Peter is left sitting at the table with Tony, he figures this is as good a time as any to come clean. “There’s something I have to tell you, sir.”

“It’s Tony,” Tony corrects him. “Until the British Queen has me knighted, then I’ll have everyone call me ‘Lord Stark’, just a heads up.”

Peter blinks, then looks down at his hands. “Right...” He knows Tony is kidding, but it doesn’t exactly help him feel calmer.

He almost jumps when Tony suddenly leans forward and puts a hand on top of Peter’s. “I’m listening.”

Peter takes a deep breath, swallows. “The… the watch you gave me… I pawned it,” he admits quietly. “A guy gave me a hundred bucks for it and I just figured we really needed the money.”

“Oh shit...” Tony says, his face falling. He looks strangely sad, and Peter can’t bear to see it, burying his face in his hands. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry – I didn’t know it was your dad’s watch, and after you told me, I tried to get it back but the guy wouldn’t give it...”

He feels a hand on his back. “Hey… No – it’s fine. I’m not upset because of a stupid watch. I’m just upset that I didn’t know. I didn’t know things were this bad for you. Listen, kid, the watch was just a little gift. I know I made a whole cringy speech about daddy issues, but that watch didn’t really have sentimental value. When I said it belonged to my dad, I didn’t mean he gave it to me special. He never gave anything to me special, that was the point. And I have about ten of my dad’s old watches sitting in a box in the attic somewhere. So I don’t care, okay?”

Peter looks up at Tony’s sincere eyes. “C’mere,” the man says, as he pulls Peter into the second hug of that day. “It’s not up to you to solve this mess. Just be a teenager, okay, Pete? We’ve got you.”

Chapter Text

“Tony! Look!”

Tony looks up, squinting against the sun, to see that Peter has climbed to the top of the fountain that was built behind their Avengers’ compound. The water is not running, although Tony wouldn’t have been surprised if Peter had climbed the structure either way. The fountain is shaped as a large stone dragon, almost 15 feet tall, and Peter is currently perched on top of its head.

“Be careful,” he admonishes. “If you come home in wet clothes again your aunt is going to skin me alive.”

“Last time wasn’t your fault,” Peter says dismissively.

“And the time before that?”

“You did set of the sprinklers with that faulty heater core you were experimenting on, yeah,” Peter says, nodding. “But it could have been worse. I’m lucky Dum-E didn’t spray me with that hose.”

“That what I kept telling your aunt, but did she listen?”

Peter smiles, looks down at the basin of the fountain. There is maybe two feet of water standing in it. They are outside because they just finished testing his brand-new web fluid, which seems to works splendidly, and he still has his webshooters clasped around his wrists – but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t need them for this part.

He stands up straight, ignoring the apprehensive look on Tony’s face. He bends his legs a little and then jumps forward - making Tony gasp - and executes a perfect double flip, landing elegantly on the low, marble wall around the fountain.

He looks up to see Tony staring at him, mouth agape. The man recovers and points at him with a slight frown. “Okay, just because I’m way cooler than your aunt doesn’t mean you should go around pulling this sort of crap in front of me all the time. You’re gonna give me gray hairs.”

Peter nods, his eyes glinting. “I can see them, yeah.”

It’s nice to poke fun at Tony, realizing how comfortable he is around the man now. It’s hard to believe that, only a few months ago, he was walking on eggshells with a constant, overwhelming sense of anxiety. Now, he feels like he can breathe again. May doesn’t tell Peter what deal she worked out with Tony. “You’re a child. Money is not your concern,” she has told him firmly. But she doesn’t have to work double shifts anymore, and she is back in nursing school to get her degree.

Speaking of May… Peter glances down at his new watch. “I should go home now, I guess? I kinda was expecting Happy to be here already. Should I take the bus?”

“You didn’t know?” Tony asks. And, at Peter’s confused look, he adds: “Happy just happens to be on a date right now. With some fine Italian lady who is way out of his league if you ask me.”

“Ugh,” Peter says, pulling a face. “That’s why she was being so secretive this morning. I don’t get it. I told her I was fine with it.” It might be a little weird to think of the two of them in an actual relationship, but Happy is a nice man, and Peter is glad that May has time for a proper date now.

“Either way,” Tony adds, “Happy’s doing management now… I guess I should hire a new driver slash bodyguard. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if he still insists on picking you up every time, just like he still wants to take your mission reports. How did you get him to like you so much?”

“Beats me.”

“You wanna go home, then? Because I’ll drive you. But seeing as how your aunt won’t be home for a while, you’re welcome to hang out here a bit longer.”

Peter hesitates. “You think we need another test-round?”

“We can do that if you want to. But… if you just want to watch TV and eat pizza here, that’s perfectly fine, too.”

“Oh,” Peter says, feeling a little apprehensive, but pleasantly surprised at the same time. He has never just ‘hung out’ at the compound before. “Sure, sounds fun.”

Still somewhat lost in thought, he steps sideways. Too late, he remembers where he was standing, and he loses his footing. Tony reaches out to grab him but is too late. Peter topples backwards, splashing into the fountain basin.

Spluttering, he emerges, blinking the water out his eyes. He shakes his head, sending droplets of water everywhere.

Tony leans in, lips pressed together, clearly struggling not to laugh out loud. “Are you okay?”

Peter looks up at him sheepishly. “Well… May is definitely going to yell at me.”

Tony holds out a hand and pulls a dripping Peter to his feet. “Let’s just put those in the dryer.”

“I don’t have any other clothes,” Peter says meekly.

“Okay,” Tony says. “We’ll sort that out.” And at Peter’s questioning look, he adds: “After the last two times, I’ve taken some precautions and bought clothes your size. And by clothes, I mean... Essentially pajamas.”

Peter feels his chest warm up at the idea of Tony going out of his way to buy him clothes for emergencies. And nothing sounds better right now than sitting on Tony’s couch in pajamas, eating pizza.

“So, let’s go,” Tony says, and they start trudging back to the compound, Peter leaving a trail of water behind him.

“You wanna watch a movie?” Tony asks.

“Back to the future! … Part three.”