Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ohhhh, Mr. Stark was going to kill him.

Patrol started off really normal…even though, well, people being endangered by various nefarious situations around the city should not be considered normal, per say (because imagine telling that to their therapists)- but he’s managed to save each and every victim, and no crime was particularly crazy.

Like, you know, CRAZY crazy. 

Like, as in frickin’ aliens coming down to abduct all of Queens’ cows crazy.

Soooo, Peter thinks he deserves a pass on diluting his day saving a bunch of people to just normal. Although, dilut-ing is the key word here, you see, because after nightfall it wasn’t. Normal. 

No no no, out of all the things to ever happen to him this was definitely the most un-normalest, most egregiously crazy, most ridiculously INSANE thing ever, like, to have ever evered…ever??? And yes Peter’s counting the spider-bite: it’s because at least there was only one person down the long chain of that particular spider’s existence to experience its crazy- him. Peter’s not sure if this guy’s screws are on right, so he counts that down as two people to be affected by this instance of crazy, ergo, surpassing the spider-bite incident. So there.

The thing about this guy was that he kept on talking as if there’s some fourth wall to break- and also that he’s wearing some over-the-top, really goofy wizard’s outfit. Let Peter just say that he really does not have the beard, actually. 

He had approached calmly, dropping into the alleyway, and held his hands up, confident that Karen would adjust his mask’s lenses accordingly to be as friendly of a Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man as the name suggests. 

“Hello, sir!” Peter’d chirped, because, well, sue him for interacting when nothing was clearly wrong, but that guy’d looked inebriated in some manner.

Immediately when he’d noticed his arrival, the not graying, not wizened not old man groaned loudly, loud like the groan of a building collapsing right on top of someone. 

Well. Not really. 

Well.

Maybe. 

(...Don’t. Ask how Peter knows that.)

“Are you serious right now!?” 

Wow. What’s got his knickers in a twist?

“Why can’t you main character dummies ever leave me BE! I don’t want to be a pawn anymore- I thought I had finally gotten away!” The man’s face had curled into a hateful sneer, but since Peter also had eyes, he could see hurt as well.

The hero was confused, because he just wasn’t really sure what this guy’s deal was or why he was… sad. Peter blinked and tilted his head, brows furrowing, inadvertently encouraging elaboration.

That elaboration had first come with a hefty side of blaming. “Aurgh! You!!! This is all your fault, you know! YOU’RE the one who came into this damn alleyway. You… you….” His wizard hat fell with an ill-timed plop . Maybe that was the last straw. The guy must have been having this weigh down on him for a long, long time because he’d then just started choking up! 

“No…no it wasn’t your fault.” The sniffling man scoffed. Peter still hadn’t even said- hadn’t even done anything yet, mind you. 

Malice crept into the wizard’s(?) tone, “It’s the damn stupid plot’s.” He then finally seemed inclined to address Peter. “Spider-Man, get out. Or else…” he’d looked side to side and then had whispered conspiratorially, “something ridiculous will happen to you.” 

Peter, who had been trying to piece together what could be affecting that man behind the meanings of his obvious delusions, blinked. He then had looked to his right, leveling a deadpan stare at the wall, imagining it to be a camera, like in The Office.

(He was three inches off to the left.)

“Uh-huh…sooo, is that likeeee…a threat? Or, uh! Actually- I mean- you seem like a nice guy so like I’m not saying that to be, like, rude or anything haha, but…do you mind saying what you mean by that?” 

But the second the frazzled man had opened his mouth, Peter had then just thought of a much better idea, and very quickly rushed out, “ACTUALLY!!! Why don’t I just walk you home? Can you tell me where you live? Promise I won't use it to kidnap you or something haha. Wait, how would that work? You’re the one leading me.” That last part was muttered to himself.

He started walking towards the man, who then shrank back, shrieking, “No! NO! DON’T COME NEAR ME!!!” Seemingly halfway through a fit, he’d rummaged hurriedly through his pockets before taking out a gun. A water-gun-looking-gun, but it was filled with a sinister green liquid that reminded Peter of jello. 

Yeah, he was gonna need to take that…

“Woah, woah, woah! I’m not gonna hurt you!” To prove a point, Peter raised his hands with caution. “Can I come near you?”

The wizard (and now apparently) gun-man didn’t respond, but when he had started slowly shuffling towards him, his spider-sense didn’t start acting up, and when he was close enough, the man still hadn’t really looked like he was gonna hurt him. Just confused…or conflicted.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” Peter glanced at the gun, close enough that he had to point it upwards just to not be forced back, “Can I take that? Or…just, can you put it away…?”

“Oh…uh, alright….” The man had really seemed like he was going to, but then two things happened at the same time:

One, a pigeon, cocky and proud after living on New York streets for so long, had dived into the alleyway, talons clutching onto Peter’s mask, managing to’ve pulled it all the way up to his mouth before Peter regained his bearings and made his face sticky- which he wouldn’t have to regain if his stupid spider sense hadn’t activated at the very last second!!

And two, the gun shot out its mysterious liquid right into Peter’s exposed mouth! Again, these two things happened at the same time, and his spider-sense was almost late to both! What the heck, spider-sense! With him at point blank to the gun, he couldn’t dodge, and with a pigeon stuck to his head, he couldn’t move out of the way- especially when he had to shriek: (honestly, Peter couldn’t believe his AI,) “NO KAREN, DON’T LASER-EYE THE PIGEON!!!” He’d even swallowed some of the gunk because of that. Yuck!

In the meanwhile that Spider-Man was struggling, Wizard Man (yes, that was his real name- he was made by the plot, after all) took a step backwards, maneuvering so that his backwards was the exit of the alleyway.

He genuinely hadn’t meant to do that! It was an accident! Most likely not even his fault!

Whyuuuughghhhhhh? Why then!? 

Because you see, Wizard Man had gotten a hand cramp.

Specifically on the finger holding the trigger. Because that’s definitely how cramps work! Ill-timed, and fated to look ill-intentious. A complete and utter accident.

Not that Peter knew that.

In his panic, (a few steps from him, Karen had just shocked the pigeon enough to make it let go,) Wizard Man tore through the alleyway and into the street. Until he accidentally fell into a very plot-convenient manhole. Not to imply that it was plot-convenient. But you could describe it that way.

Not that Peter knew any of that, though. 

At the bottom of the hole, now in the sewers, Wizard Man laid on the floor, unconscious, but otherwise fine and alive.

But not that Peter knew that.

In a pile of jumbled up spider-suit that had perplexingly dropped all the way to the floor, nothing moved. 

Towards the dumpster lined up with the curb’s opening corner trotted a tiny little kitten, mewling.

Chapter Text

Peter Parker was a bright boy. A bright boy with bright, kind eyes. Chocolate, he thinks, they’re both sweet enough. A bright boy with hair the warmest tone of brown imaginable.

Tony Stark was always hesitant to talk to him, as of then, staying away as much as possible while still being around the distance to hover. Maybe he’s done that well. More calls and more checkups and still the same length as ever- far, far away. Maybe. Maybe he’s done that.

Bright boys like Peter Parker should not be around broken men like Tony Stark. 

A fact, surely. He had reasonings and evidence after all. Because the Vulture-plane situation haunted the back of his mind like vile and sticky tar. Like all the rest of his mistakes.

Really, how could Tony Stark just…fuck up so badly? How could Tony Stark just- take the suit away? What? When the signs were right there? What the hell? What the hell was wrong with him!?

Why didn’t he see it coming?

He should have watched the eyes. Why didn’t he? Then he would have known.

Peter Parker’s eyes, full of spite and not-quite-anger, full of the itchings of teenage rebellion and hurt. They would have told Tony Stark, if only he hadn’t played the fool and listened.

(Tony just doesn’t know how this oversight could have even happened. 

But maybe…it starts with how he had thought that Peter would know better. 

Peter Parker, bright-

but a boy,)

Of course Peter would go out to endanger himself again with Tony’s back turned. Of course he would! Of course! How, why, was Tony Stark too blind to see? Why did Tony Stark take away the only thing he trusted the most to keep him safe? 

Why?

That, Tony Stark might never be able to answer.

(and maybe Peter Parker did know better, but Peter Parker is generous, caring, loyal-

and yet, he is still a boy.)

Karen had stayed silent throughout the entire conversation- and the silence edged into the encounter. It was only a given: Peter had not asked what was wrong with the man and the man did not directly show something that would hint to some sort of state she could warn Peter about. 

When the gun was pointed, Karen had immediately gotten into contact with FRIDAY, but with no bullets and unable to recognize the liquid within the gun- and thusly being able say something useful- she again remained silent, trusting her Peter. 

It was only when the pigeon came down to wreak havoc that Karen took action. 

The gun was spraying, and the Spider-Suit’s mask and cameras could not tell that something had even gotten into Peter’s mouth. For all of Karen’s intents and purposes, there was no danger. 

The pigeon registered as one, though!

And while danger more specifically came in the form of bald men with bird motifs, it was not limited enough as to exclude full on birds. Like pigeons. And also vultures. Because birds are evil.

(Note: This is Karen’s… opinion*.) 

(Note: Karen treats this as fact.)

(*Note: Karen has reasonings and evidence that has allowed a state-of-the-art AI to bypass being completely rational and somehow give itself the completely unnecessary burden of what is basically trauma.)

Karen had immediately activated Instant Kill Mode, because Instant Kill Mode was only activated when there was a serious threat- and that pigeon was a serious threat. She gave a heads up to Peter about how she was just going to cause the untrustworthy vessel of gray and feather’s impending doom…only for Peter to immediately command Karen to stop.

Okay. 

She could listen to him. While also providing an expansive list of all of the alternate ways to kill and skin a bird.

Needless to say, it took a long few seconds for them to compromise in simply sending out a small electric shock. Not one enough to kill or even paralyze. But to just give it a scare.

And then, just like that, Peter had disappeared. 

The fabric of the universe must have been bent in a sudden bout of mischief, because it definitely twisted some strings. The face of the mask had fallen onto the center of the suit- meaning that, completely coincidentally, both of the only cameras were obscured by each other. 

It was simple. One moment, Peter was in the suit. The next, he wasn’t. 

After the Christmas Tree Incident, Karen was no longer allowed to deploy Spider-Drone without someone pressing the button down first, meaning that one way to immediately find Peter was lost.

Of course, the moment he’d disappeared, Karen had, literally in the next nanosecond, contacted FRIDAY and Tony Stark. She was just in the middle of relaying the finer, less pertinent details when her mics caught nails scribbling on the concrete. It was not the other man, he’d left a while ago. A rat, Karen noted. 

Raising the volume of the speakers in Peter’s mask to obscene levels, Karen called out again, (as she already had exactly 15 seconds ago,) “PETER!”

Nothing happened.

But somewhere near what should have been the dumpster- approximately 4.65 seconds later- there was a small mewl. The sound from earlier. So a cat, then, Karen corrected.

Iron Man had already been dispatched, told of the situation and of how even one pair of eyes could avert this entire disaster. It was so, so important that Tony Stark arrived as soon as physically possible.

This was a disaster, caused only by an annoyingly improbable series of coincidences playing rough with one of the world’s best AI. 

How absurd, to be beaten this way.

Tony’s hands are numb. He holds the suit somewhere near its middle in one hand and the mask in the other. There were neither signs nor traces of where the kid ran off to anywhere. 

Tony’s mind raced.

He should perform a cursory search of the entire area. But then again- how would Peter even be able to get out of the alleyway without something of his touching the ground or the roofs or any of the walls? If he did at any point, Tony would have been able to trace it! And then what exactly does he consider the “entire area”?

After a moment’s deliberation, he goes with the entire city block. Tucking Peter’s suit into a sly compartment near his stomach, he sets off in the opposite direction.

It turned nighttime. Quickly. The moon had come out so easily that, honestly, maybe Tony should have been a little worried about it. He has drones and suits and robots scouring all over the city at that point- hell, he was one G-fuel-and-coffee mix away from alerting the fucking Avengers! As if that was going to do anything other than air out all of his shitty faults…

He touches down onto the gritty blacktop of the accursed place where his newest nightmare had begun.

A shot of fear mixes unpleasantly with the squeezes of guilt currently racking his stomach.

No, no, I can't think like this right now! It just leads to rabbit holes upon rabbit holes and then some more rabbit holes because they don’t like your sanity in pipelines actually, and then look at that, you can’t get out. Haven’t you been in this situation before Tony? (So, so many times. When will it stop?) Cut it out!

And while he keeps telling himself that it was necessary to distance himself from his feelings, framing it like it was because it would cause him to lose his cool, deep down, very deep down- but a place still listened to enough- he already knew that saying that was lying. 

The lie was a very frail and flimsy and thin wall constructed to keep Tony safe from the blame. Because he was always to blame.

He should have-

No, no, literally what exactly did he just tell himself he was going to do?

Like the most selfish man alive (to be engraved on a trophy and placed beside the Most Objectively Net Loss Man To Be Born one he had also earned), he turns away from accountability.

 …And almost stepped on a tiny little cat.

It takes a second. And then another. And then the cat starts going crazy. 

“Uh-” he says intelligently, but is interrupted by its nasally crying.

It makes​ Tony have to look away from the face staring up at him, so…desperate looking- what with its wide eyes, upturned eyebrows and open mouth.

Tony didn’t know cats can do that. Why the fuck can cats do that? 

No, he can’t deal with this right now, so he turns on his heel, going to walk out of radius so that he can fly away safely with his repulsors. 

But then there was a loud yowl, and the small thunk of the kitten clinging on to the metal of his suit. 

It doesn’t make much sense, but there’s something in Tony that makes him turn his head to check on it. “What?” he says, and then like that was its cue, the cat won’t shut up. At a certain point, it even started to feel more like yelling- incessant yelling.

It was a little cowing, in the sense that you wouldn’t expect something so small to be so loud. With the way it scrambles frantically for purchase, you’d think that it was well on its way to drowning, and that Tony was rare dry land. His lips twitched downward at how the analogy paints him as some sort of savior. 

He plucks the kitty off of the ground, and just kind of looks at it for a second or two.

Tony certainly was no savior today, but he also barely counted as one yesterday, or the day before that, or the day before that. All the evil he’s introduced to this world will never be outweighed by any good that he can- with hardship- manage to scrounge up to bring it. 

Just seeing the thing makes him feel guilty for not wanting to take care of it and give it a home and Tony just- Tony just can’t. Can’t handle more guilt. Not right now. Not when the kid that- oh god- HE was responsible for was just up and missing. 

(What was he going to tell that aunt…)

So it was like FRIDAY was reading his mind when she spoke up, saying, “Perhaps an employee would like a kitten, Boss?”

Huh… he thought about it for a second. That is a really good idea.

Purely by courtesy of FRIDAY, the plates of his suit on the back snap outwards into a boxy-enough shape, with the top plate open like a hatch. 

He tches as he looks down at his hands again. The kitty mewls. Against his better judgment, he carts his arm backwards and places it into the box.  

How should he even go about this anyway? Which employee lab should he choose to go into? Actually no, scratch employees, then they might all start hoping Tony’ll waltz in there with even more presents from time to time. Can’t put that expectation in their heads. Might as well just hand it off to an intern. That would be a fun story for them to tell their friends, right? 

But then he finds himself thinking that Peter is the most obvious option, because he is THE “intern”, as well as probably would have wanted a kitten anyway; and in that case, Tony could make some comparison jokes that involved babies and juveniles, and it overall would have sounded interesting, if not for the fact that his stomach flips upside down and even spins around at the thought. No… ugh…Peter isn’t here, he already knows that, so the smart thing to do would be to retreat to a different place to look. 

Best just to stop thinking about it entirely, honestly.

Mind made up, he soars into the air towards both Stark Industries as well as the next phase of the plan, mindful of the extra cargo.  

(So why does it feel so much like he’s running away?)