Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aidan Stark was born on October 3rd, 2001, to Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. His arrival was the result of an unexpected pregnancy after one of Tony’s drunken one-night stands with Pepper—who, at the time, was still just his personal assistant, not yet the woman he would fall in love with. But from the moment Tony laid eyes on Aidan, his life changed. He vowed to put an end to his playboy days and become someone his son and girlfriend could be proud of. He quit drinking, stopped attending extravagant parties, and began taking work seriously. His bond with Pepper deepened naturally, evolving from partnership into love. By the time Aidan turned two, they were married. 

Aidan was a cheerful, bubbly baby—always smiling, always babbling, and quick to show affection to everyone around him, even strangers, which worried his parents. He was empathetic and kind, far more considerate than most children his age. He rarely cried or threw tantrums, preferring instead to hide in a quiet corner and wipe his tears away silently whenever he felt upset or hurt.

Then, everything changed. 

On November 15th, 2005, when Aidan was just four, he was kidnapped from a neighborhood park. His nanny, exhausted after a long shift, failed to notice when Mary Parker approached. Mary, a woman haunted by years of infertility, found herself making a terrible, impulsive decision the moment her eyes landed on the tearful, doe-eyed boy—scraped knee, crumpled on the ground, and no one nearby to stop her. She scooped him up and vanished.

Mary hadn’t realized at first who she had taken. Only later, when news reports flooded the media, did she understand the gravity of what she had done. Terrified, she and her husband Richard fled the country, crossing into Canada and disappearing into the countryside. There, they forged new documents and new lives. They renamed the boy Peter Parker and told him stories—stories that erased the life he had once known. Over time, the boy who once cried for his mommy and daddy came to believe those stories. According to the forged documents, “Peter Parker” was born on August 10th, 2001.

Tony and Pepper's search for Aidan was relentless and public. For three years, they poured every resource into finding their son. But tragedy struck again when Tony himself was kidnapped by the Ten Rings. By the time he returned home, battered and changed, Pepper had grown hollow with grief. Together, they made the agonizing decision to pause the search—not because they had given up, but because they were drowning.

Mary homeschooled Peter until she and Richard died in a plane crash when Peter had just turned seven. (This occurred just days after Tony was kidnapped, and the media, fixated on Tony’s disappearance, barely covered the accident.)

Peter was placed in the care of Richard’s estranged brother, Ben Parker, and his wife, May. Kind and unsuspecting, Ben and May assumed Peter was simply their nephew. Peter’s brown hair and eyes resembled the Parkers’, and since Ben had been out of contact with Richard for over a decade, they never questioned his identity. In their modest apartment in Queens, Peter found something he hadn’t had in years: warmth, routine, and unconditional love. Though they didn’t have much, Ben and May ensured he had food on the table, a warm bed, and plenty of affection. To Peter, they became home.

Peter met Ned in the second grade, and the two bonded instantly over Star Wars, robots, and superheroes—especially Iron Man. In middle school, they became a trio with the addition of MJ. Though she pretended she was only hanging around because she “unfortunately had no other friends,” she found the boys’ dorky energy secretly endearing. MJ often acted as their sarcastic but loyal protector.

At thirteen, Peter’s life changed again. 

During a field trip to Oscorp, Peter was bitten by a genetically-engineered spider. Overnight, his body transformed. His eyesight sharpened. His asthma disappeared. He could climb walls and had incredible strength. Terrified and unsure, Peter hid his abilities from May and Ben, hoping he could figure them out on his own first.

The following months were rough. He broke pencils by accident, ripped through his clothes, even tore the doorknob off his bedroom door. But his life stayed mostly intact. He earned a scholarship to Midtown High and celebrated with May and Ben over Thai food. Saturdays were reserved for Lego-building with Ned, and Sundays were for family movie nights— Empire Strikes Back was a favorite, watched five times and counting.

But two weeks before his middle school graduation, tragedy struck again.

Uncle Ben, while working undercover on a case involving a dangerous new drug called Eureka, was shot and killed. The killer was never found.

Peter and May were shattered. May coped by burying herself in double shifts at the hospital. Peter, alone in the apartment most days, was consumed by guilt. If he had been there—if he had known—maybe his powers could have saved Uncle Ben. That guilt gave birth to a promise: he would use his abilities to protect others. He would find Ben’s killer. He would make it right.

That was the beginning of Spider-Man.

But just as he began to find purpose again, fate struck once more. One night, May—exhausted from another late shift—fell asleep at the wheel. She didn’t survive the crash.

By age fourteen, Peter had lost everything. Again.

Uncle Ben’s best friend Marcus, a fellow cop, made sure Peter was placed in a good foster home nearby so he wouldn’t have to change schools. That’s how Peter met Dana.

Dana did her best to welcome him. She offered kindness and structure, but Peter, too grief-stricken to open up, barely spoke. He ate little. He barely slept. August was a blur of silence and aching loneliness.

By September, as school started again, Peter’s sorrow calcified into quiet fury. Not at anyone in particular—just the world. At himself. At the helplessness. He began patrolling nearly every night as Spider-Man, chasing leads, looking for answers. He came home late, bruised, exhausted. He told Dana he’d joined after-school clubs and stayed at the library to study. It wasn’t entirely false—he did go to the library… to dig through old news stories and police reports.

But one night, Peter came home with a bad bruise across his jaw. His hoodie couldn’t hide it. Dana noticed immediately.

She didn’t yell. She simply asked, “What happened?”

Peter froze. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, trying to head upstairs.

But before he could escape, Dana wrapped her arms around him from behind.

“Peter,” she whispered, voice shaking, “You don’t have to tell me everything. But please… don’t push everyone away. You’re not alone.”

That moment cracked something open in him. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed someone to care. Tears fell before he could stop them. He collapsed into Dana’s embrace and cried—messy, silent sobs until there was nothing left.

Afterward, Dana gently asked again what had happened. Peter wanted to tell her the truth. But fear held him back. What if she found out he was a mutant? What if she sent him away to Xavier’s School like so many other kids with powers?

So he lied. He said he got mugged. Wrong place, wrong time.

Dana didn’t believe him. Not entirely. But she let it go.

That week, she called his school and learned he wasn’t in any clubs. His grades were slipping. She grounded him. From then on, she made it her mission to keep him steady—checking homework, calling teachers, keeping dinner at 7 p.m. sharp every night.

Peter began to settle into a new routine. He joined the Academic Decathlon team with Ned and MJ. He limited patrols to three times a week after school and avoided close combat when he could. He always ate dinner at 7 P.M. with Dana and Peter's foster brother, Jake. After dinner, he would complete his homework at the kitchen table, while Jake watched cartoons in the living room. The noise was comforting. Quiet still felt like danger.

By October, the weight of his secret was too heavy to carry alone. One evening, Peter told Ned the truth — that he was Spiderman. Ned’s reaction was instant and predictable. He squealed, nearly fell off his chair, and immediately declared himself Peter’s “Guy in the Chair.”

From then on, their Saturdays changed. Instead of building Lego sets, Ned rigged Peter’s suit with a hidden earpiece and a tiny camera. He hacked into local police scanners and directed Peter during patrols, cheering him on from his bedroom and offering live feedback like an overenthusiastic sports commentator. When Peter returned, scraped but triumphant, Ned was always waiting with high-fives and celebratory snacks.

For the first time in a long time, things started to feel okay.

Well… until something very unexpected happened in November.

Chapter Text

Peter is sitting crossed-legged on the beach, digging his fingers into the warm, grainy sand and letting it sift lazily through his palms. His curls ruffle in the breeze, and he squints up at the bright sky, the sunlight catching the tips of his lashes. 

A few feet away, a man is sweating under the hot sun, struggling with a set of buckets as he tries to build sandcastles of various sizes. It’s obvious that sandcastle building isn’t his specialty—the towers collapse as soon as he lifts the buckets. The man groans in frustration, but Peter giggles and claps his hands a couple of times, offering his own encouragement.

"Never thought I'd ever see THE Happy building a sand castle for anyone," a warm voice says behind him.

A familiar figure approaches and scoops Peter up in her arm. It's his mother. Peter smiles up at her, and then melts into her arms, his tiny fingers curling into her soft blouse.

"Well, baby Addie isn't anyone," the man grumbles, still trying to scoop the fallen sand back into a bucket with his hands.

 "I knew my baby would have you wrapped around his little fingers sooner or later," the woman teased while gently patting Peter's back. "But if I were you, I’d try using wet sand next time."

 Peter starts playing with his mother's golden locks, mesmerized by how they gleam in the sun. 

The man groans again, dumping the sand away from the bucket and getting up. Peter laughs like it's the funniest sound he's ever heard.

"Yeah, I admit it's hard to say no to those big doe eyes he got going on," the man mutters, cracking the ghost of a smile. 

"Addie's really lucky to have you as his uncle, Happy. I appreciate you joining us on his first trip to the beach."

 "Well, I can’t pass up the chance to become his favorite uncle. Gotta get a head start."

They fall into a peaceful silence, just listening to the gentle rhythm of the ocean waves. Peter soon drifts off to sleep in his mother’s arms, lulled by her soft, rhythmic patting and the soothing sound of the sea.

"Peter! Time to get up! You'll be late to school!"

His eyes fluttered open, and he groaned, rolling onto his side. His blanket tangled around his legs as he tried to hold on to the fading dream. The beach, the laughter, the woman’s warmth—all of it slipping away like sand through his fingers.

For the first time in weeks, he hadn't had a nightmare. No twisted dreams about May or Ben. No echoing gunshots or hospital monitors flatlining. Just warmth and peace. 

‘Weird… why’d Mom have blonde hair?’ he thought, frowning. His memory of Mary Parker was fuzzy, like a picture he could never quite see clearly, but he knew she had brown hair, curly and a little wild, kind of like his. This version of her—blonde and soft-spoken—felt strange, but oddly familiar.

Then there was the other thing. ‘Why was she calling me “Addie”?’ That didn’t even make sense. His parents had always called him Peter. Still, “Addie” echoed in his mind, like a memory he couldn’t place.

"Peter, are you up? Your pancakes are getting cold!" Dana called from downstairs. 

“Sorry, Mrs. Dawn! I’m up! I’ll be down soon!” Peter replied, snapping out of his thoughts as he hurried out of bed. After quickly dressing in a red sweater and jeans, he splashed cold water on his face and jogged downstairs. The smell of chocolate chip pancakes drifted up from the kitchen, a comforting aroma that reminded him how lucky he was to have a place like this, even if it was temporary.

Sliding into his chair at the breakfast table, Peter smiled at his eight-year-old foster brother, Jake, who was already chowing down on his pancakes like he was in a competitive eating contest.

“Morning, Jakey. How’d you sleep?” Peter asked, grabbing a fork and digging in.

“Great! How about you, Peter?” Jake replied with a grin, syrup dribbling down his chin.

“I actually slept really well. No nightmares this time,” Peter smiled softly. It was a small thing, but it felt like a win.

“That’s good to hear,” Dana said with a warm smile, zipping up two lunchboxes. “But you two better finish up if you don’t want to be late for school.”

"Will do, Mrs. Dawn! Thanks for the pancakes. These are like, illegal levels of good," Peter replied while shoving the last piece of pancake in his mouth and washing it down with some orange juice.

“Oh, and Peter—” Dana shrugged on her coat. “I’ll be working late tonight. Make sure you and Jake eat some vegetables with dinner, okay? There’s frozen broccoli and asparagus in the fridge.”

“But veggies are gross,” Jake whined, scrunching up his face.

Dana raised an eyebrow. “Jake, pizza three days in a row is not a food group. Peter, make sure Jake eats at least three pieces of broccoli tonight. That's non-negotiable.”

Peter grinned, giving her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am!”

Dana chuckled, ruffling Jake’s hair before wrapping Peter in a quick side hug. “You boys have a good day.” Then she paused, eyeing Peter. “Oh, and Peter—I know you’ve got that Spanish test today. I expect better than last time.”

Peter scratched the back of his neck and mumbled, “…sí, señora.”

Dana had Peter's teachers constantly e-mail her updates regarding Peter's assignments and test scores after she found out Peter was almost failing his Spanish and English classes in the beginning of the semester, back when he convinced himself that searching for Ben's murderer was much more important than finishing his stupid homework or studying. Dana made it abundantly clear that she disagreed.  

A part of Peter felt really embarrassed that Dana was still in constant contact with his teachers. He's always been a straight A student before this semester, and his grades have never been an issue to his aunt and uncle. However, another part of him feels grateful that she made sure Peter brought his grades up after September. Aunt May and Uncle Ben would be so disappointed if he lost the scholarship. And there's no way that he could come up with the money to pay Midtown's hefty tuition in order to keep going to school with his friends without it. Ned and MJ were all he had left of his old life now, so he had to keep the scholarship no matter what.

"Peter, I'll race you out the door!" Jake squealed while stuffing his lunchbox into his backpack.

Peter grinned. “You’re on, Jakey!” He chased after him, pretending to lose on purpose.

"Peter!" Ned called out, a huge grin on his face as he launched into their signature handshake—the one they’d spent all of fifth grade perfecting.

“Hey, Ned! What’s up?” Peter asked, nailing the rhythm with muscle memory alone.

"I brought Lola’s famous Oreo cookies today! She said we should share ’em at lunch!"

Peter’s face lit up, his eyes going wide. “Dude, no way! You know I’m obsessed with those!”

“Morning, losers,” MJ greeted, arriving with her usual dry tone, eyes glued to her phone.

“Morning, MJ!” Ned greeted cheerfully. “What are you watching?”

“Buzzfeed Unsolved,” she replied, not looking up. “Been on a binge since last night.”

“Oh, totally! Which episode?” Peter asked, leaning in with interest.

“It’s the new one on Aidan Stark. You know, today’s the tenth anniversary.”

“Tenth anniversary of what?” Peter asked, casually leaning against his locker but listening more closely now.

“His kidnapping. Duh,” MJ replied, her tone deadpan as she glanced at him like he should have known.

Peter scratched his head. “Oh, right. I kind of forgot Tony Stark had a son who was kidnapped. Ten years already?”

“Yeah, crazy, right? I mean, who’d be bold enough to snatch Tony freaking Stark’s kid?” Ned chimed in, his eyes wide with disbelief.

MJ nodded, still scrolling on her phone. “People think it might have been HYDRA or maybe even Obadiah Stane—Tony’s old mentor. Plenty of theories out there.”

Ned leaned in, eyes alight with excitement. “Whoa, I bet Aidan’s being brainwashed to become the next Winter Soldier. HYDRA’s probably training him to take down the Avengers! He’ll show up out of nowhere one day and fight Iron Man, and they’ll have this huge, epic showdown! Like, ‘I am your father,’ but real-life dark side stuff!”

Peter grinned, caught up in the idea. “That’d be so awesome!”

MJ rolled her eyes, sighing dramatically. “Can’t believe I’m stuck with the two biggest nerds in a school full of geeks. It’s been a decade, guys. He’s probably long gone.”

Peter’s smile faded a little, the weight of it sinking in. “Yeah, maybe. But losing your kid like that? Poor Mr. Stark… must be brutal.”

Ned nodded, his face more serious now, while MJ shrugged. “I mean, I don’t feel that bad for Tony Stark. Dude’s kind of a pompous jerk. But Pepper Potts? She’s a total badass. I’d feel bad for her more than him.”

Peter laughed softly at MJ’s bluntness, but there was a tinge of sadness in his eyes. The thought of someone losing their kid like that, the pain it must leave behind—it hit close, even if it was just another story to everyone else.

Honestly? Things were definitely looking up today, at least for Peter. He aced his Spanish test, and Lola’s cookies were as delicious as ever—he devoured four of them at lunch. The decathlon practice also went smoothly, and Peter answered most of the questions right, much to Flash Thompson’s dismay. Before he knew it, it was 6 p.m., and time for Peter to head home.

The November evening was perfect—just crisp enough to make his cheeks feel cool, but not so chilly that he’d need his jacket zipped up. The sunset was incredible, a splash of reds and oranges stretching across the sky. Peter decided to walk home, taking his time to admire it instead of squeezing onto the subway like usual.

As he walked, he reminded himself to heat up some frozen pizza when he got home—and not to forget the veggies. Mrs. Dawn would want him to make sure Jake ate at least a couple of broccoli florets, and he didn’t want to let her down.

Suddenly, he felt the familiar tingle of his Spidey-Sense. Peter glanced around, instantly on alert, though he was without his suit or web shooters. He’d just come from decathlon practice and hadn’t thought he’d need them. But if someone needed help, he’d figure something out.

He followed the faint buzzing sensation down an alley, creeping quietly until he could hear a gruff voice.

"I told you that you better have the money ready by today, you little punk," a tall, menacing guy in a black jacket growled at a younger man, probably in his twenties.

“Please, I only have three hundred… I’m so close. I just need a little more time,” the young man pleaded. “I’m… I’m having withdrawals. Just a small dose, that’s all I need. I swear I’ll have the rest by next week!”

Peter’s eyes went wide. He peeked around the corner, hiding behind a dumpster, trying to get a look without being seen.

"Do you think this is a charity? Eureka ain't free, buddy," the dealer snapped. "It takes months to make this stuff, and it’s sold out instantly. Either pay the whole five hundred, or you’re out of luck."

Eureka? Peter’s stomach dropped. He recognized that name—that was the same drug that had led to his uncle’s murder. This was the kind of person he’d been searching for, the one who might finally give him answers about Uncle Ben.

He felt around in his pocket, remembering the money in his wallet—two crisp hundred-dollar bills that Aunt May had given him for a new phone. But since Uncle Ben’s death, he hadn’t wanted to spend it. His old phone was barely hanging on, but it didn’t feel right to buy something new. Maybe, though, he could use it now, just enough to get some information from this dealer.

He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, and walked up to the two men, his hands raised like he’d seen people do in the movies. “Um, excuse me, sir,” he said as politely as he could. “Sorry, but I couldn’t help but overhear… and I, um, I was wondering if I could buy some Eureka too?”

The dealer’s eyes narrowed, and in a flash, he pointed his gun right at Peter. “You better mind your own business, kid, if you don’t want to end up in a world of hurt.”

Peter gulped, feeling his heart thudding, but he pushed on. “Wait! I, um, I have two hundred, and I thought… if me and this guy went in together, we’d have enough to pay. You’d get five hundred, right?” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

The dealer seemed to consider it, gun still pointed at Peter.

But then, out of nowhere, the young man whipped out a taser and jabbed it into the dealer’s side. The dealer let out a grunt before collapsing to the ground, and the young man quickly kicked the gun away. He straightened up, pulling a badge from his jacket.

Peter’s jaw dropped. This guy was a cop.

“You’re under arrest for the distribution of illegal drugs,” the officer said, cuffing the dazed dealer. “You have the right to remain silent…”

Peter stood frozen, realizing he’d just accidentally walked into the middle of a sting operation.

The officer turned and raised an eyebrow at him, clearly unimpressed. “And you, kid—are you crazy? Trying to buy drugs from a guy with a gun? And what are you, twelve?”

Peter’s eyes widened as he shook his head, flustered. “No, sir! I’m fourteen! But I wasn’t actually trying to buy drugs, sir! I was just, um, trying to help! I thought maybe I could, you know… trick him into giving me some information?”

“Right,” the officer replied, arms crossed. “You can explain that after we call your parents. They’re going to be thrilled to hear this.”

Peter felt a cold wave of dread wash over him as he trailed behind the officer, the weight of his mistake settling heavily in his chest. He was in so much trouble.

Chapter Text

The night Tony returned from his abduction seven years ago, Pepper made him promise one thing: going forward, he could only drink three times a year. The rest of the time, he was limited to a single glass—his choice of poison for the day, but just one.

Normally, Tony would be the last person on Earth to agree to such a thing. But the look that Pepper gave him when she made him promise—the pain seeping through her eyes—told Tony that this was his last chance to make things right with Pepper again.

Tony had never been the same ever since Aidan was taken away from him. The vow he had made to quit drinking and partying was completely thrown out of the window because he just couldn't bear to face the fact that his baby was hurting, abused, or...dead...somewhere out there, and that no matter how hard Tony tried to search for him, he just couldn't find him. Being sober was too painful, so Tony chose to drink.

For a while, it was constant—at parties, in the workshop, in meetings, at home. He couldn't stand being alone with Pepper. She reminded him of what he’d lost. Of who he’d failed.

Afghanistan had been a wake-up call—a brutal reality check. During his captivity, Tony's alcohol was stripped away from him, and he was forced to face reality. He started to see how much hurt he was causing the people around him. The hurt he was causing the world with Stark Industry weapons. The hurt he was causing his friends by shutting them out of his life. The hurt he was causing to Pepper with, well, all the shit he had put her through the past couple of years by avoiding her and drinking away his problems. He couldn't keep running.

So now Tony tried to be better and only got completely drunk three times a year. Once a year he drinks after his periodical fuck-ups, like that time he accidently built a rouge AI that tried to destroy all of humanity earlier this year. The other two days, however, are reserved for October 3rd and November 15th. The day Aidan was born and the day Aidan was taken.

Tony’s usual drinking sanctuary on those days was his workshop. He’d decked it out specifically for the occasion—soundproof walls, a mini wine cellar in the corner, and a leather couch where he could settle in, his drink in hand, staring at pictures of his son projected on the screen. It was his own twisted version of therapy, drowning in a drink while ghosts of memories that could’ve been haunted him.

However, now that the other Avengers weren't living in his tower anymore—Clint has gone home to take care of his family, Thor has gone back to Asgard, Bruce has gone off to... well, he didn't really know, and the rest of the Avengers have finally moved into the newly built Avengers Compound last month—he decided to switch things up a bit and made himself comfortable on the couch in the living room.

10 years have passed now. His son would be fourteen years old, a teenager. He would have started high school, joined a sports team, or, if he shared Tony's love for mechanical engineering, the robotics club. He would have asked Tony if he could bring his friends home to hang out in the tower or for help on his math homework; maybe he even would have talked to him about his first crush on a classmate from school.

The more Tony thought about all the what could have beens, the more he found himself needing to drink. He poured himself a glass of whiskey.

Deep in thought, Tony barely heard the elevator chime open and was caught surprised to see Happy standing right in front of him.

"So I see today's choice of alcohol is whiskey," Happy said, his tone a mixture of concern and resignation.

Tony groaned. "Go home, Happy. Today's my cheat day. I only get three of these a year."

"Pepper sent me up here. Her meeting's running late, and she was worried you'll go overboard today seeing as..."

"It's been 10 fucking years now since I've failed my baby, you mean," Tony cut in, his bitterness evident by his tone. 

"Tony, you didn't fail him. You know it's not your fault," Happy urged. 

"Then whose fault is it? There has to be someone to blame," Tony snapped, chugging down his glass of whiskey. "I still dream of him, Happy. He always calls out for me to come get him, to come save him. And I try... I try real damn hard to chase after him, but he's just out of reach every. single. time. And the worst part is when his big doe eyes fill with disappointment when he realizes I can't save him. He just...gives me a sad smile, waves goodbye, and turns away."

"Tony, can't you see that Addie, even in your dreams, doesn't want you to suffer because of him? It was obvious to anyone how much he adored you and Pepper. He would feel devastated..."

"To see you like this," Tony mocked, echoing Happy's words with a sneer. “Jesus. Can you not recite that same Hallmark line every year? Maybe try a little originality with your pity next time.”

Happy sighed, sinking onto the couch next to Tony. "Well, you already know that giving comfort isn't really my forte."

"You can say that again," Tony scoffed, pouring himself another glass.

"Boss," FRIDAY called out.

"Fri, not now. You know better than to bother me on my cheat day," Tony waved his hand in the air to dismiss his AI.

"Apologies, boss, but my Addie Monitor Protocol has been triggered."

Tony blinked. “What—another lunatic claiming they’ve found him?”

"There's just been a set of fingerprints logged into the NYPD's database that are a 99.9% match to those of Aidan Stark."

"What? Are...are you sure?" Happy asked, standing up abruptly, a mix of hope and disbelief flickering across his face.

"Yes, Mr. Hogan. The database states that the prints belong to Peter Parker, aged fourteen, arrested for unlawful attempt to purchase illegal drugs."

"FRIDAY, project the data," Tony barely whispered, his heart racing. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was Tony dreaming? It sure seemed like it.

"Yes, boss." A hologram appeared in the center of the room.

Tony stared intensely at a mugshot of a young boy in a red sweater. The boy had brown, curly hair that covered half of his forehead, and big, brown, innocent eyes that put even Bambi's eyes to shame. You could just sense how nervous and uncomfortable the boy felt from his expression and the way he was biting his lips.

Peter Parker. Parents deceased. Uncle deceased. Aunt deceased. Currently residing in a foster home in Queens, NY.

"Tony, I could recognize those big doe eyes from a mile away. I can't believe I'm saying this, but that boy just has to be Addie!" Happy exclaimed, his voice rising with excitement.

Tony felt lightheaded, the blood rushing in his ears. The boy in the photo looked exactly like how Tony imagined Aidan would look as a teenager. This was impossible. It couldn’t be.

"FRIDAY, tell me where the boy is."

"He's currently being held in an interrogation room in a police station in Queens Village."

Tony stumbled out of his chair, adrenaline coursing through him. "I... I need to get there right now. I need my suit."

"No wait, Tony! You just drank a whole bottle of whiskey. You can't fly in your condition! I'll drive you."

Tony reluctantly agreed. "Alright, but drive as fast as you can. FRIDAY, call Pepper for me and tell her to get to the station as fast as she can too."

Chapter Text

Peter has been waiting alone in an interrogation room for two hours now. He's totally fine with the wait, though. Honestly, he could probably sit in this chilly, soul-sucking room for the rest of his life and be fine with it—so long as it meant he didn’t have to face Dana anytime soon.

'Stupid, stupid Parker luck,’ he thought. ‘Of course the guy I tried to save turns out to be an undercover cop. What next? The janitor’s secretly Nick Fury?’

He stood up abruptly and began pacing like a squirrel on espresso. The soles of his sneakers squeaked every third step. 

When he’d first arrived at the station, they took mugshots—which definitely made him feel like a criminal—then ushered him into another room for questions: name, age, school, guardians. Standard stuff. Next, a different officer scanned his fingerprints into a computer. Peter noticed the guy’s eyes suddenly go wide.

“Don’t move,” the officer barked, before disappearing out the door like something had exploded.

Peter had been too busy panic-planning his apology to Dana to time how long the guy was gone. When the officer finally returned, he escorted Peter into a new room—the interrogation room—and told him to wait.

So here he was. Still waiting. And now, with his adrenaline finally wearing off, his stomach had started to grumble. Right. He never got dinner.

But hunger wasn’t the real problem. The interrogation room was just the appetizer. The real punishment was still coming. And its name was Dana Dawn.

Dana, with eyes sharper than a Stark Industries security system. Dana, who’d already had him under surveillance since The Chin Bruise Incident. Dana, who would not be thrilled to hear her foster kid had been arrested for “attempted drug purchase.”

Sure, it wasn’t real, but try explaining that to a woman who regularly highlighted phrases in parenting books like “follow through on consequences or lose all credibility.”

Dana was going to flip. And she’d definitely ground him. Possibly until college. Possibly until his children had children.

And then what? What about patrolling?

Peter collapsed back into the stiff metal chair and let his head thunk gently against the table.

Thunk.

Maybe he could patrol at 2 a.m. going forward. Sleep in bursts. Catnap in algebra. It could work. He’d find a way. With great power comes great overcompensation , right?

Thunk.

Except Dana would notice. She always did. His grades would slip again, and she’d get suspicious. Maybe even catch him sneaking back in after patrol. 

  Thunk thunk thunk.

“God, I’m doomed,” Peter muttered, face still smushed against the table.

Maybe he should run away. Pull a full superhero vanishing act. Find an abandoned fire station in Jersey, live off the grid, grow a beard… okay, try to grow a beard. Get a fake ID. Maybe something badass, like “Blade Shadow.” Or “Dusty Edge.” He’d get a job at a diner and make enough to eat grilled cheese sandwiches and save up for web fluid.

Except…

Peter sat back with a long groan, slumping down in the chair until he was almost sliding off it. Who was he kidding? No one would believe he was sixteen. Not with his middle-school baby face and his grand height of 5’5” (on a good day, and only if he stood real straight).

Suddenly, a knock at the door broke through his spiral of thoughts. 

The heavy metal door swung open with a creak, and Marcus stepped into the room, a look of concern etched across his face. “Peter! Are you alright? How long were you in here?”

“Uncle Marcus?” Peter blinked, surprised. What was Marcus doing here? He worked in Park Row—that was at least a 30-minute drive away.

“I got a call from one of my buddies here that they had arrested you. Peter, what were you thinking?” The disappointment in Marcus's voice was palpable.

Peter’s heart raced as he hurried to explain. “I swear, Uncle Marcus! I wasn’t looking for Ben’s murderer this time! I just happened to run into a drug dealer selling Eureka to someone on my way back from school, and... and it was just the perfect opportunity to get more information!”

Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration boiling over. “Approaching an armed drug dealer and trying to buy drugs from them to get information is completely reckless and dangerous, Peter. I told you that you need to let the professionals handle these things!”

"Well, they aren't doing a good job, so someone has to step in," Peter muttered.

Marcus sighed and sat down across from him. “We’re not done with this conversation, Peter. But... something more urgent has come up. Have you eaten? I brought you some chicken nuggets from McDonald’s.”

Peter blinked, surprised, and took the nuggets sheepishly. “Thanks…”

"Peter, don't panic, but an FBI agent and a nurse will come in here to see you any second now."

Peter's stomach dropped, and he almost choked on a chicken nugget. What did that even mean?

"What? Why?!" Did the FBI somehow find out that he was Spider-Man? Shit. Shit. Shit. 

 “Your fingerprints were flagged,” Marcus said carefully. “They matched a missing child in the FBI database.”

“That makes no sense,” Peter said, frowning. “I can’t be missing. There’s no one left to look for me.”

Marcus hesitated. “I have no reason to believe May or Ben knew, Peter. But... there’s a possibility Mary and Richard Parker weren’t really your biological parents.”

"What... do you mean?" Peter frowned. Was he adopted or something?

Marcus took a deep breath, gently held onto Peter's forearm, and looked straight into Peter's eyes.

“Peter... there’s a possibility you were kidnapped exactly ten years ago today—when you were four years old. An FBI agent and a nurse are going to do a DNA test and ask you a few questions. If you are who they think you are... your real parents are alive. And they’ve never stopped looking for you.”

The color drained from Peter’s face, and he subconsciously held his breath as he tried to process what he had just heard. Kidnapped?

"Peter, breathe. It's all going to be okay." Marcus’s voice was calm, but it felt miles away as Peter's thoughts raced.

"I... I...," Peter started to say, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"I guess they are here," Marcus said gently. He got up to open the door, and two women swiftly entered the room with an air of authority.

"Hello, Peter. I'm Agent Meyers from the FBI, and this is Nurse June. I'm not sure how much Officer Lee here updated you on the situation, but we are just here to take a quick DNA test and ask a couple of questions."

Marcus stood behind Peter and put one hand on Peter's shoulder. "You just came in as I was delivering the news. Though Peter here might need a couple minutes to wrap his head around what I just told him."

"That's completely understandable. Peter, would it be alright if we could perform a DNA test first then?"

Peter barely managed to give a small nod, his throat dry and constricted. 'Maybe when they get the results back, they’ll realize this was all just a big misunderstanding,' he thought desperately. 'I can’t have been kidnapped. I just can’t have been.'

Memories flickered through his mind, hazy and indistinct. He didn’t have many recollections of Mary and Richard, but he knew they had never abused or threatened him. Sure, they were a bit on the overprotective side. They had homeschooled him in Canada before they passed away, but nothing about them ever seemed strange or weird. They just seemed so... normal.

Peter stared blankly into his reflection as the DNA test was performed, spiraling into a full-blown existential crisis. Who am I?

"All right, DNA test is done. We need a couple hours to get back the results," the nurse announced.

“Thank you, Nurse June.” Agent Meyers shifted her focus to Peter. “Now, while we wait for the results, I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”

No! Peter wanted to scream. He wasn’t ready to answer anything. Panic surged within him, a tidal wave crashing over his rational thoughts. He couldn’t bear to remain in the small interrogation room for another second.

“I need to use the restroom!” he nearly shouted, standing up abruptly.

“Are you okay, kid? Do you need a moment?” Marcus asked, concern etched across his face.

“Uh... I’m fine! I’m totally fine! I just really, really need to pee,” Peter replied, his gaze darting around the room, avoiding Marcus’s probing eyes.

Marcus didn’t seem convinced but relented. “Okay, Peter. The restroom is just down the hallway.”

Peter practically bolted from the room, the hallway spinning around him, each step feeling more disorienting than the last. Was his whole life a lie? Who was he if he weren’t Peter Parker? The questions swirled in his mind, dizzying him.

As he was making his way to the restroom, he heard the front doors suddenly bust open and a familiar voice shouting from the entrance.

"WHERE IS MY SON? WHERE IS HE?"

A police officer got out of his seat and tried to block the man from entering. "Sir, please calm down. Did somebody contact you? You shouldn't be here yet."

Curious, Peter approached the entrance, his heart pounding. And then he saw him— Holy shit, it was Tony Stark!

“Block my path one more time and just SEE what happens!” Tony growled, his voice low and fierce.

Peter approached Tony, completely in awe. "Oh my god, you're Tony Stark! Mr. Stark, what are you... what are you doing here? I'm sorry, you probably get this all the time, but my friend Ned and I, we are such big fans! We just watched your latest Ted Talk yesterday on your attempts to perfect the Arc Reactor as a renewable energy source and the impact it could have to lessen global warming. I think it's brilliant!"

Huh. Peter wondered why Tony Stark was staring at him so intensely and why he looked like he was about to cry.

“Addie…” Tony whispered, the name trembling on his lips.

Peter froze, every muscle in his body locking in place. Wait, that was what his mother called him in his dreams. The pieces of the puzzle began clicking into place, the stark realization washing over him like icy water.

Today was the tenth anniversary of Aidan Stark’s kidnapping. And he’d just been told he was kidnapped ten years ago, which meant—

“HOLY SHIT, YOU’RE MY DAD!” Peter squealed, the words bursting from him before he could stop them.

Chapter Text

When Tony first entered the police station, he felt like a bull chasing after a red flag. Nothing could stop him from finally laying his eyes on the boy who most likely was his son, and he completely saw red when a cop dared to stop him in his tracks. In fact, he was so livid that he nearly punched the guy in the face.

But the moment Tony saw Peter, all that rage evaporated. The way Peter’s eyes lit up when he spotted Tony. The way he smiled. The way his cheeks flushed as he chattered away. There was no doubt in Tony’s mind anymore. Peter was his son. Peter was Addie.

"Addie..." he whispered, like the name had been trapped in his throat for a decade.

The boy’s eyes widened. His whole body froze like someone had hit pause. Then, in a voice way too loud for a quiet hallway, he blurted out:

“Holy shit, you’re my dad!”

Tony blinked. Did he just—did he just call him Dad?

He took a step forward, chest aching with hope. “Addie… do you… remember me?”

The boy looked up at him, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. After a moment, he gently shook his head.

“I… I don’t think so,” he admitted, his voice small. “But… I know that name. Addie. That’s what—someone used to call me. And when you said it, it felt… real. So maybe not yet? But maybe soon?”

Tony, albeit slightly disappointed, knew it made sense. His son had been taken when he was only four. But he’d remembered his name. That was a start. He gave Addie a warm, wobbly smile.

“You have no idea how much I missed you, kid,” Tony said, blinking back tears. “I’m sorry it took me this long to find you.”

Peter shifted awkwardly on his feet. “Oh! Uh—you don’t need to apologize. I just… I literally found out I was kidnapped, like, fifteen minutes ago. Which is… wild. But my life’s been good. Mostly. I mean, I’m sorry you had to go through all this stuff—losing your son, and, uh… I guess, me.”

Tony nearly buckled under the wave of emotion. Aidan said he was ok. He wasn't hurt or abused like Tony always worried he would be. Tony let out a sigh of relief. Wait, but didn't Tony just read the file on him? How he had supposedly lost all his guardians and was living in foster care? His baby went through so much grief, so much strife in the past 10 years that he was away from Tony, and he was saying he had a pretty good life ?

Before Tony could answer, a very loud voice interrupted behind him.

“TONY! You’ve got to stop jumping out of moving cars, man! Wait—is that him?!”

Happy barreled into the hallway, nearly tripping over his own feet. His eyes landed on Peter—and went wide as dinner plates.

“Addie? Addie! Oh my god, you’ve grown so much! You probably don’t remember me, but I’m your Uncle Happy!”

Peter’s eyes grew wide again. “Um… I could be totally wrong, but I think I might remember you? Did you ever… build me a sandcastle when I was little?”

Happy lit up like a Christmas tree. “YES! First beach trip. You were three! How did you remember that?!”

OH, COME ON, Tony thought. His son didn't remember him, but he remembered his forehead of security? Was he that unmemorable to Addie? Was he that much of a shitty father to him? He barely stopped himself from doing a facepalm.

Before he could spiral further, a sharp voice cut through the hallway.

“Mr. Stark! You can’t just barge in here like this! We were going to call you after we got confirmation from the DNA test—”

“No need, Hillary,” Tony interrupted, eyes locked on Peter. “I already know he’s mine.”

“The name’s Agent Sarah Meyers,” she snapped. “And while I understand your reputation for… improvisation, we have protocols. CPS hasn’t even—”

“Chop-chop,” Tony clapped. “Let’s speed this up. I want to bring my kid home.”

Peter glanced between them, shoulders hunched like he wanted to melt into the floor.

And then—

“PETER!”

Two new figures burst through the doors—a man and a woman, both in their forties. The woman beelined for Peter and pulled him into a tight, no-nonsense hug.

Peter flinched.

Tony’s entire body tensed.

“I can’t believe you did something this reckless again,” the woman scolded, clearly trying to keep her voice low. “Peter, we talked about this—” 

Tony didn’t wait. He stepped forward, peeled her hand off Peter’s arm, and pulled the kid behind him protectively.

“Is she hurting you?” Tony asked, eyes blazing. “Because I swear, if she is, I’ll slap a million-dollar lawsuit on her before she blinks.”

Aidan panicked. “No! No! No—she’s not—she’s great! That’s Mrs. Dawn—Dana—she’s my foster mom, and she’s been amazing!”

A man stepped forward, hands raised in placation. “Mr. Stark, I’m Jack Coulson, CPS. I assure you, Mrs. Dawn is one of our most trusted foster parents in New York.”

Tony’s jaw twitched. “Then why does my son flinch when she walks through the door?”

Dana stepped forward, composed and calm. “Mr. Stark. Dana Dawn. For the record, Peter isn’t afraid of me. He’s afraid of the consequences of his actions. As most teenagers tend to be.”

Peter looked at the floor and mumbled, “Yeah… not scared. Just maybe… ninety percent sure I’m grounded for life.”

Tony bristled. “Well, that’s no longer your call to make, Mrs. Dawn. He’s my son. I’ll decide how to handle things from here.”

Dana nodded. “Of course. That’s your right. I just hope you’ll address why Peter ended up here in the first place. What he did tonight wasn’t just reckless—it was dangerous. He risked his life. That deserves more than a hug and a welcome-home party.”

"I don't need advice from you on how to raise my own son, Mrs. Dawn," Tony scoffed.

Dana just stared back at Tony, silently judging him with her eyebrows tilted up.

Before the awkward tension could escalate further, a nurse came sprinting into the hall.

“We got the results! DNA is a confirmed match. Peter Parker is Aidan Stark!”

Tony’s world stopped spinning. It was official. After ten years of nightmares, guilt, and searching—he had his son back.

He grabbed Aidan’s hand and squeezed it tightly, like he never wanted to let go again.

“Addie, I’m so glad to have you back, bud,” Tony whispered, eyes brimming. “Let’s get you home.”

Chapter Text

Peter felt certain he was having the strangest fever dream of his entire life.

When Uncle Marcus told him he’d been kidnapped as a baby, he was, like, 50% sure he was dreaming. But then he met his idol—TONY STARK—who turned out to be his dad, and then Happy “Sandcastle Guy” from his dreams showed up, and then his idol started threatening his foster mom with a lawsuit?! Yeah, this shit was officially beyond anything even his weirdest fever dreams could cook up.

But then Nurse June appeared and confirmed it—Peter was, in fact, Aidan Stark. And when Tony Stark looked at him like he was the most precious thing in the world, gripping his hand like Peter might vanish if he let go, the warmth and weight of that touch made something click.

This was real.

Tony’s expression shifted—like Peter was the most precious, fragile thing on Earth. His grip tightened around Peter’s hand, like he was terrified Peter would evaporate if he let go. The warmth of it, the grounding pressure, the way his voice cracked when he said—

"Addie, I'm so glad to have you back, bud. Let's get you back home."

Peter blinked up at him. Tony Stark is crying. Because of me.

“I, uh… please don’t cry,” he blurted, eyes wide.

Tony gave him a teary-eyed smile and pulled him into a tight hug.

Peter let out a surprised noise like a squished squeaky toy, but then melted into the embrace. It was warm. Safe. Familiar in a weird, heart-hurting way.

“This is… nice,” Peter mumbled, barely realizing he’d said it. His voice was muffled by Tony’s shirt.

Agent Meyers cleared her throat. "I'm sorry to interrupt this special moment you are having with your son, Mr. Stark, but I'm afraid you two can't leave just yet. Peter, or Aidan, still has to answer some questions about what he can remember of the Parkers, and I believe it would be better if Peter stays with his foster parent for at least a couple more days to make this an easier transition for him."

“Nope. He’s coming home with me. Tonight,” Tony said without hesitation, the edge in his voice slicing through the air like one of his suits.

Peter’s head whipped between them like he was watching a tennis match. “Wait—I am?”

Dana raised her hand calmly. “With all due respect, Mr. Stark, I think it’s important Peter feels he has a choice in this.”

“I’m not leaving him behind,” Tony snapped, one hand dropping protectively onto Peter’s shoulder. “I’ve already lost him once. I’m not risking it again.”

Peter couldn’t think. Like, actually couldn’t. His brain just fuzzed out like a TV with no signal. This day had already been so much—kidnapping revelation, surprise billionaire dad, the Stark hug—and now this?

It was terrifying. It was overwhelming.

But it was also… unbelievably nice.

He’d had parents. Twice. And both times, they’d been ripped away. Since then, Peter had stopped hoping for anything permanent. Stopped thinking “family” was still something that could be his.

Now all of a sudden, Peter's idol—Tony freakin Stark was standing there, holding on to him like he mattered more than anything.

It was clear as day how much Tony—his father, apparently—cherished him. And a part of Peter had ached to be loved like that again, the way Uncle Ben and Aunt May had loved him. Even if he didn’t feel like Aidan Stark… just yet.

Peter looked at Dana nervously. “You won’t be mad? If I don’t… uh, transition?”

Dana smiled, her voice calm but sincere. “Peter, my job was to keep you safe until someone came for you. And someone has. I’m proud of you. And I’ll be here if you ever need to come back.”

Peter nodded, visibly touched and also very unsure what to do with his face. “Okay. Yeah. I think I’ll go with... him.” He nodded toward Tony. “Mostly because I think he’ll explode if I don’t.”

“I’m this close,” Tony muttered, squeezing Peter’s shoulder a little more tightly—though his grin gave him away.

The front doors burst open once more. 

"Tony, did you find Addie?" a woman cried out, rushing in from outside the building.

"Pep! What took you so long? He's right here!" Tony replied.

Peter turned to look at the woman—and instantly froze.

She was beautiful. Blue eyes. Blonde hair pulled into a perfect bun. Tall—at least four inches taller than Peter—and elegant in a way that demanded attention. The air around her shifted like she was in control of the whole room without even trying.

'MJ's right. That woman is badass,' Peter thought.

Pepper gasped softly when she made eye contact with Peter.

"Oh, Addie," Pepper whispered, a teardrop rolling down her face. She strided towards Peter and went in for a hug, embracing Peter with all her might.

"Hello," Peter squeaked.

"Hello, baby," Pepper replied. "Words can't express how grateful I am to see you again."

Eventually, Pepper stepped back, brushing a tear from her cheek as she turned to Tony. "Sorry for the wait. I was in a meeting in New Jersey when I got the call. On my way here, though, I managed to contact our lawyers, and they've just messaged me that they have completed the paperwork that would allow Addie to come home with us as soon as possible. If Addie is ok with that, of course."

Tony beamed. “Oh, Pep, have I told you today how much I love you?”

“No, you haven’t,” Pepper said, smirking as he kissed her cheek. “But I know you do.”

Peter's interrogation session was not as bad as he expected. He wasn't able to recall the day he was kidnapped, but he told Agent Meyers all that he remembered about Mary and Richard Parker, which wasn't a lot, and how they had homeschooled Peter in a small town in Canada, around three hours away from Toronto. He also made sure to emphasize that Uncle Ben hadn't contacted Richard for the ten years preceding the couple's fatal plane accident due to a heated argument they had regarding their inheritance. He emphasized that Uncle Ben and Aunt May had no idea that Peter wasn't Richard and Mary's child.

By the time Agent Meyers told Peter he could leave, it was close to midnight, and Peter was beyond exhausted.

"Alright, I think it's time to head home, kiddo," Tony chuckled as he watched Peter yawn.

Peter said his goodbyes to Uncle Marcus, promising to visit him often. He knew he would have to get his belongings from Dana's place sometime soon, so he told Dana that he'd see her again very soon, and thanked her for taking care of him until now.

Then Happy, the CPS worker, Tony, Pepper, and Peter all got into Tony's Audi to go home. The CPS worker was seated in the front, while Peter was nestled in between his mom and dad—Peter still needed to get used to calling Tony and Pepper that—in the back. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat for the first couple of minutes of the ride but fell asleep soon enough, completely knocked out from the rollercoaster-of-a-day he just went through.

When Peter woke up, he was surprised to find that he was resting his head on Tony's shoulder.

"Oh, sorry," Peter said, quickly lifting his head.

"No problem at all, bud. We're just about to arrive."

Peter looked out the window and was met with a breathtaking view of the Avengers Tower. Oh my god. He just realized that he was going to live where the Avengers once did. Ned was going to freak once he told him!

"Whoa!" Peter couldn't help but exclaim.

Happy parked the car in front of the tower. They all walked inside the tower and got on a really futuristic-looking elevator with no buttons on the inside.

"FRIDAY, take us to the penthouse," Tony stated.

"Yes, boss," FRIDAY replied.

The CPS worker jumped up, startled to hear the AI's voice.

"Sorry, we should have warned you. That's FRIDAY, our resident AI. She makes sure everything runs smoothly in the tower and guards the tower from any breaches and attacks," Pepper explained.

"So cool..." Peter whispered.

"Why, thank you, young boss," FRIDAY replied. Peter shyly smiled up at the ceiling.

Soon, the elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened to reveal the penthouse in all its glory and a stunning view of the NYC skyline from the panoramic windows.

"That is one heck of a view," the CPS worker stated. "I would like to have a quick look around. Also, could you show me where Aidan would sleep?"

"Of course," Pepper replied.

Pepper led the CPS worker and Peter to look around all the different rooms of the penthouse, all with high ceilings and adorned with chic, modern furniture. She explained to the CPS worker that FRIDAY could make sure Peter would not be able to access certain parts of the penthouse, such as Tony's workshop, without supervision.

"And this will be Aidan's bedroom," Pepper said, opening the door.

Holy crap. The room was massive—at least three times the size of his old one. There was a king-sized bed, an attached dressing room and bathroom, and a whole corner that could easily fit a desk and sofa.

"This is the biggest guestroom in the penthouse, but now it's yours, Aidan. Feel free to let us know whatever furniture and decorations you want to give it a more personal touch," Pepper told him.

"It's so...big," Peter replied, slowly taking in the space. "I could definitely take a smaller room, I won't mind."

"Nonsense," Tony stated, entering the room. "We wouldn't feel comfortable with you staying in any other room. Besides, this room is the closest to the master bedroom, and I'd feel much more at ease if you were staying as close to us as possible, at least for now."

Oh. Peter was starting to realize that it would be nearly impossible to sneak out to be Spider-Man while living in the tower. He'll probably have to stick to his usual patrol time: right after classes end after school.

"Well, I can most certainly say that this place is more than adequate for Aidan," the CPS worker said, jotting down a couple sentences on his notepad. "Since it's already past one in the morning, I'll be taking my leave."

"Thank you for coming to inspect our place at such a late time," Pepper responded. "Please let one of our drivers drive you to your place of accommodation."

Right as the CPS worker left, Peter let out another yawn.

"I think I might try to get some sleep now, since I have school tomorrow. Uh, do you have something I could wear to bed?"

"About that," Tony started to say, turning his head towards Pepper and making eye contact with her. "We think it would be best if you stay in the tower for at least a couple more days. Pepper and I could take some time off work so we could get to know each other better."

"But I have a biology test tomorrow," Peter frowned. "If I miss any more exams, I won't be able to maintain my scholarship."

"Addie, I'll email your teachers so that you can make up any tests and assignments you miss. I believe your file mentioned that you go to Midtown High, right?" Pepper asked.

Peter nodded.

"And there's no need for you to worry about getting a scholarship anymore, Ads. In case you forgot, you're the son of a billionaire. You could attend the most expensive institution in the world and it wouldn't leave a dent on my bank accounts," Tony said, smirking.

"Oh," that was all Peter managed to say. He didn't know if he could ever get used to having that much money.

"I'll bring you one of my shirts and sweatpants for you to wear tonight. And we'll get Happy to bring you all your belongings tomorrow from the foster house."

Wait—Happy? No, no, no. His Spider-Man suit was still in the closet, tucked under his winter jackets!

"I wanna go with Uncle Happy tomorrow! I told Mrs. Dawn that I would visit again soon to properly say goodbye. And I also want to say goodbye to my foster sibling, Jake."

"Really? Addie, we just got you back after ten years, bud. We would much prefer you stay safe in the tower for at least a couple days," Tony replied, folding his arms.

"But Dad , please!" Peter pleaded.

Instantly, Tony's tense shoulders relaxed. He seemed completely entranced by the word he had just heard Peter say.

"Well, I guess if I go with you tomorrow, it'll be alright," Tony said, trying to suppress a smile.

Phew. Tony seemed to really like it when Peter called him dad. He could use this to his advantage, Peter noted.

After saying goodnight to his parents, Peter got dressed in Tony's shirt and sweatpants, which he had to roll up three times to get them to stay up his waist, and laid down on his bed. The bed was so soft he felt like he was floating in the sky. 

It was such a long day, he thought as he drifted off into sleep.

Chapter Text

Tony barely slept that night. Even with Aidan sleeping in a room that was adjacent to Tony's, Tony felt too anxious to sleep now that his son was out of sight. Every ten minutes, he asked FRIDAY whether Aidan was still in his room and whether he was sleeping. After two hours of constant inquiry, Pepper finally kicked him out of their bedroom for repeatedly waking her up.

He nearly peeked into Aidan’s room to check with his own eyes that his son was safe and sound—but stopped himself at the last second (just as he was turning the doorknob). Tony knew that if he went in, he’d probably just end up staring at his son like a creep for hours. He didn’t want to freak Addie out if he woke up.

So instead, Tony headed to his workshop. He decided to build a personalized Starkphone for his son: one with an unbreakable screen, twice the battery life of the latest model, loaded with emergency safety features, and one—or five—trackers. Just in case.

By the time he was satisfied with the final design, it was close to 9 a.m. Tony stretched his neck and got up from his workstation. He needed a coffee break. And maybe… it was time to tell his best friend the news.

Tony made himself a cup of coffee from the machine in the corner and sat down on the couch. Time to text Rhodey.

9:12 A.M.

Tones : I found him!

Platypus : Found who? The perfect shrink? Been telling you that you needed one for a while.

Tones : No, I found Addie! He's sleeping in the tower.

Rhodey called him almost instantly.

"You found Addie?! When? Where? How? Tell me everything, Tones!"

"Found him yesterday night. Fri alerted me that there was this kid arrested in Queens for trying to buy drugs whose fingerprints matched Aidan's pretty much to a T. I got there, took one good look at him, and I just knew straight away it was Addie. He didn't change one bit, honey bear. He's still the sweetest little angel to ever goddamn exist, though I never imagined Addie would get arrested for anything. Hey, maybe he's finally taking after his pops."

"Where was he for the past 10 years?"

Tony sighed and took a sip of his coffee. "Canada for three years, then Queens for the next seven. There was this woman, Mary Parker, who just took him with her and hid away in some hicksville in Canada. She brainwashed Addie into thinking he was her son. Jesus, I can't believe I searched every nook and cranny of this whole damn country to find Addie for years, and he was in Canada."

"And she brought him back to New York seven years ago? That was right around the time you got abducted, right? That evil, cunning woman... did you get her locked up?"

"She's dead. So’s her husband. Died in a plane crash when my son was just 7. He was then shipped away to live with the husband's brother and his wife in Queens. Aidan basically swears on his life that they had no idea that he was not a Parker. Seems a little attached to them. But guess what?"

"What...?" Rhodey asked apprehensively.

"They're also dead. My son's been living in fucking foster care for the past 3 months," Tony replied, draining the remainder of his coffee.

"Shit. That's rough. I'm so sorry, Tony. Did he seem ok to you?"

Tony hesitated. “He says he had a ‘pretty good life,’ but… that’s just Addie. Always hiding how he really feels so Pepper and I don’t worry.”

“I’m just glad you found him. Can I come see you guys today? I wanna remind him who his favorite uncle is.”

"Too late. The spot's already taken. Addie remembers that Happy built him a freaking sandcastle when he was three."

"Well, did you ask him if he remembers me?"

Tony groaned in frustration. "I haven't, and you can't make me. I'm going to completely lose it if I find out he remembers you too when he doesn't have a single memory of me. God, Platypus, was I such a shitty father to my son?"

"Hell no. I still remember how shocked I was to see how hands-on you were with him. You were changing his diapers, giving him baths, and singing him nursery rhymes all the time! That spider song... what was it again?"

" Itsy Bitsy Spider ," Tony chuckled. "His favorite."

"See! You were a great dad! It's just that Addie has no control over what he remembers from when he was only four."

"Thanks, sugar bear. You always know how to cheer me up," Tony replied. "I'd...like to spend today alone with my wife and son, but how about you and the rest of the gang come by tomorrow for dinner? Well, maybe not Spangles, cause his self-righteous ass will most definitely be lecturing Addie the entire time "to just say no to drugs," and my son needs a break after what he went through the past six months... and maybe not the witch girl, cause that fling she's having with my former AI is just plain CREEPY, and I don't want to creep out my son. Scratch that, why don't you and Nat..."

"We'll all be there, Tones. You can count on it," Rhodey responded firmly.

"Thanks, Rhodey. See you soon." 

Just as Tony ended the call, FRIDAY chimed in.

"Boss, young boss has just left his room."

Tony immediately rushed out of the workshop. He had ordered Friday earlier to let him know when Aidan got out of bed.

He found Aidan sitting cross-legged on the living room couch, looking no older than ten in Tony's baggy shirt and sweatpants. He resembled a baby porcupine with his bed hair pointing up at the ceiling and his cheeks even rounder and puffier than normal. His baby was... still a baby, Tony thought as he felt a lump forming in his throat.

"Morning..." Aidan mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Good morning, Addie. Did you sleep okay?" 

"I did. How about you?" Aidan gave Tony a shy smile that just melted Tony's heart.

"I doubt your father had a blink of sleep. I kicked him out of the bedroom because he was constantly asking FRIDAY whether you were sleeping or not," Pepper answered while entering the room.

"Really?" Aidan frowned. "Uh... is there, like, a CCTV in my room?"

“No, no,” Tony said quickly. “FRIDAY can detect your heat signature, so she knows if you’re in the room or what you’re doing generally. But there’s no camera.”

"Oh. I see," Aidan mumbled, biting his lips nervously.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, FRIDAY can just report where you are, not what you’re doing,” Tony offered.

"Yeah... I'd prefer that, if that's ok," Aidan slowly replied.

"Of course it's ok, Ads. Got that, Fri?"

“Yes, boss. I will only report the young boss’s location, not activities. Do you have any other requests, young boss?”

"Could you... just call me Peter, FRIDAY? Young boss is a bit too much."

Fuck. It totally went over Tony's head that his son might prefer to be called Peter, the name he identified with for the past 10 years, and not Aidan. Tony shared a look of alarm with Pepper.

"I'm sorry we've been inconsiderate," Pepper started to say. "Do you prefer that we call you Peter?"

“Honestly, I don’t mind if you call me Aidan. It might take some getting used to, but… I know how much it means to you. I’m okay with Aidan. Or Addie.”

Both Tony and Pepper let out sighs of relief. Tony would have hated to have to call his son by the name his son's kidnapper gave him.

"Okay, buddy. Well, let's get some food in you. Do you still like cheese and ham in your omelette?" Tony asked, ruffling Aidan's hair.

Aidan nodded, eyes lighting up.

Time went by too quickly for Tony's liking. Aidan told him and Pepper all about his friends Ned and MJ from school, and how much his friends idolize Tony and Pepper. Apparently, in the seventh grade, when they'd had to give presentations on who their role models were in English class, Ned chose Tony and MJ chose Pepper. Tony was slightly disappointed to hear that Aidan chose his Uncle Ben as his role model, and not him though.

Aidan told them that he loves Star Wars and building Legos with Ned. His favorite subjects were chemistry and woodshop—although he had to wait until his sophomore year to take a chemistry class—and he was part of the academic decatholon team. Tony tried to pay attention to every single word his son was saying. He made a mental note to make his son his own workstation down at the workshop. Maybe he'll make it Star Wars themed.

After brunch, Pepper brought out albums of Aidan's baby photos. They sat together, sharing different anecdotes from when Aidan was a baby, while flipping through each page. When they got to a photo of three-year-old Aidan clapping happily on the beach, Aidan's eyes went wide, and he exclaimed with joy that he dreamt of being on the beach with Pepper and Happy just yesterday.

Before he knew it, it was a quarter past four in the afternoon, and Happy was supposed to be up here any time now to drive them to the foster house.

"Alright, let's get ready to go to Dana's place now, spiderling," Tony told Aidan.

In a flash, Aidan jumped up from his seat, completely knocking down a stack of albums from the table in the process. He was the spitting image of a deer caught in headlights as he stared at Tony with pure bewilderment in his eyes.

“What… did you just call me?” he asked, taking a step back.

Tony blinked. “Aidan, did I say something wrong? Your favorite song as a baby was Itsy Bitsy Spider, so I used to call you my spiderling sometimes. If you don’t like the nickname, I won’t use it again, bud.”

"Oh. Oh ... Okay... I see." After a couple of O's, Aidan seemed to calm down a little bit. "Sorry for how I just reacted. You see, I just really hate spiders now. I'm terrified of them, really. So I'd prefer if you don't... call me that?" His voice wavered slightly, as if even he didn’t fully believe his own excuse.

"Okay kid, noted," Tony replied, after a long pause.

“Wow, look at the time!” Aidan said loudly, already retreating toward his room. “I’ll go get changed real quick!”

Tony exchanged another loaded look with Pepper. Then he let out a soft sigh and stood up to grab a pair of jeans. His son might be hiding something—but Tony would figure it out eventually.

Chapter Text

Tony's POV

Happy drove Tony and his son to Dana's modest two-story brick house that afternoon to retrieve Aidan's belongings. As soon as Happy pulled his car up to the side of Dana's home, Aidan practically bolted out of the car and ran inside.

"What's the rush, Ads?" Tony called out as he trotted in after his son.

"I need to use the bathroom real quick!" Aidan replied.

"Peter!" A young boy shouted out from the kitchen.

"Hey, Jakey! I'll come back after using the bathroom!" Aidan hollered out while hastily climbing up the stairs.

Tony chuckled and shook his head. He remembered the three Capri-Suns he saw his son chug down about two hours prior. He should have reminded Addie to use the restroom before they left.

"Hello, Mr. Stark. It's good to see you again. Would you like some coffee or tea?" Dana said while entering the living room.

Tony was now slowly starting to feel the fatigue set in after the all-nighter he pulled building Aidan a phone. "I could do with a cup of coffee, actually, preferably black."

"Perfect, please wait here for just a moment while I fetch one for you."

As Tony settled down on an orange couch—tacky, he thought— he saw Happy waddling in through the front door, his arms full of unassembled cardboard boxes.

"I'm guessing his bedroom's on the second floor," Tony said, pointing his finger upstairs.

Happy grumbled something under his breath and continued waddling up the stairs. Tony smirked. That's what you get for being Addie's favorite uncle, he thought to himself.

"Here's your coffee, Mr. Stark," Dana said as she stepped into the room.

“Just set it there,” Tony said out of habit. “I don’t like being handed things.”

Dana gave a nod, then sat across from him in a worn but clean recliner. Tony took a sip. To his surprise, it was good. Bold, hot, just bitter enough to wake him up.

“Not bad,” he muttered.

Dana smiled faintly and sat in the recliner across from him. “Peter’s only been with me a few months, but he made an impression. Bright, kind, thoughtful. Always looking out for Jake. Never complains, never slacks off. He’s got a good heart.”

Tony’s chest warmed, just a little. “Yeah... he’s always been like that. Even when he was a toddler—just had this way of pulling people in.”

Her smile softened but didn’t reach her eyes. “Which is why I’m worried.”

Tony looked up sharply.

“He’s still grieving, Mr. Stark. May’s death was just a few months ago, and Ben’s… well, I don’t think he’s ever let that go.”

Tony’s grip tightened on his coffee. “He hasn’t said much about them.”

“He wouldn’t. Not unless you asked the right way. Two months ago, he came home with a bruise on his jaw. Said he got mugged. But I didn’t buy it.”

Tony stiffened.

“I asked Officer Lee—Marcus—if he’d noticed anything. He said he’s seen Peter at the library, late at night, combing through old police records. Looking into Ben’s case.”

Tony set the coffee down slowly, carefully. “He’s been investigating his uncle’s murder?”

Dana nodded. “Marcus thinks he’s been going out alone. Looking for answers. For justice. Maybe even revenge.”

The words hit Tony like a sucker punch. Aidan. His baby. Chasing criminals in the dark—alone.

“He’s just a kid,” Tony said, more to himself than anyone. “He could get hurt. Killed.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Dana said gently. “He’s smart, but he’s not invincible. He’s carrying guilt that isn’t his to bear, and it’s pushing him to make reckless choices. He thinks he has to fix it. Make it right. Even if it means endangering himself.”

Tony’s mind was spiraling now—his son walking into sketchy alleyways, questioning strangers, getting bruised and not telling anyone. What if next time it wasn’t just a bruise? What if it was a bullet?

“Mr. Stark,” Dana continued, “I’m not telling you how to parent. But he needs someone to make him feel safe again. Someone who doesn’t let him disappear into that guilt. Who reminds him that he’s still a kid. And that he’s allowed to let go.”

Tony rubbed his temples. “I don’t want to be too controlling. But I can’t— I won’t —lose him again.”

“Then don’t be afraid to be the bad guy sometimes,” Dana said softly. “Not forever. Just long enough to make sure he lives long enough to forgive you for it.”

Tony swallowed hard, staring at the wall.

Peter's POV

By the time Happy, Tony, and Peter made it back to the tower, the sky had turned dusky orange. It was just past 7 p.m.

Peter bolted to his room the second they stepped inside. He threw his backpack under the bed with a little too much urgency—especially considering it was currently smuggling his Spider-Man suit, neatly stuffed beneath a pile of clean socks. He gave it a final glance, made sure it was hidden, then headed back out to the dining area, trying to act casual.

Dinner was pasta—Tony’s version of casual comfort food. Pepper chatted lightly, mostly about setting up Peter’s new room, but Tony barely said a word. He just pushed his food around, brows furrowed like he was trying to solve an equation no one else could see. Maybe something Avengers-related, Peter thought.

After dinner, Peter headed back to his room and spotted his phone lying face-up on the bedside table, screen dark and neglected.

Oh no.

He hadn’t checked it all day.

With a growing sense of dread, he unlocked it.

Chat name: Just Your Basic Average Clique

8:30 A.M.

Wade : Peter? When are you coming to school? Did you sleep in?

9:31 A.M.

Shego : First period just ended. Where are you?

Wade : Are you sick Peter? :(

11:45 A.M.

Wade : Um Peter, Flash is telling everyone that he saw you getting arrested. Is it true?

Shego : Btw we don't believe a single word that dickhead says

3 P.M.

Wade : Are you in jail Peter? :(

4:32 P.M.

Shego : Just let us know you are safe dork

Oh shit! Peter just totally forgot to tell his friends he wasn't going to school today, and he just never got to checking his phone for the whole day either. He quickly started to type out a message.

8 P.M.

Kim : I'm so sorry guys. I completely forgot to tell you that I won't be at school today.

Wade : Peter! I was worried!

Shego : Not cool going MIA like that

Wade : What were you doing the whole day??

Kim : It's a long story, but I did sorta get arrested yesterday after running into a drug dealer and an undercover cop

Shego : What?!

Wade : Oh no! Did you get in a lot of trouble? Are you grounded for life?

Kim : Actually no! Something big happened and I don't live with Dana anymore

Wade : What?! Were you really sent off to...that other school?!

Shego : What other school?

Kim : No! Uhh, can I just facetime you guys?

Wade : thumbs up

Shego : thumbs up

Peter hit the call button.

MJ answered from her kitchen, leaning against the island with a judgmental eyebrow already halfway raised. Ned was sitting on his twin bed, eyes wide like a kid at a magic show.

“Peter!” Ned said. “What happened?!”

“Yeah,” MJ added. “What the hell is going on?”

Peter took a breath and launched into the story—everything from the arrest to the fingerprint match, to the moment Tony Stark walked into the precinct and called him Addie. He told them about the DNA test, about Pepper, about moving into Avengers Tower and having his own room with a view of the actual NYC skyline.

When he was done, there was silence.

Then—

“NO WAY,” Ned gasped. “You are Aidan Stark? Iron Man’s your dad and you live in the freakin’ Avengers Tower?! Are you sure you’re not dreaming? Are you sure I’m not dreaming?”

“I thought I was dreaming too,” Peter said, bouncing slightly on the bed to match Ned’s energy. “But I’m literally sitting here right now, so… I guess not.”

“I have so many questions!” Ned blurted. “What’s Iron Man like in real life? Is the tower full of cool tech? Did you meet any Avengers yet? Are you going to be one?!”

Peter opened his mouth to answer—but MJ beat him to it.

“I doubt it,” she said flatly. “Spider-Man’s still pretty small-time. He’d probably need way more street cred.”

Peter froze. Wait. What?

“I—um—I’m not Spi—” He paused mid-lie when MJ gave him that look.

“…When did you find out?” he asked, cheeks warming.

"I had my suspicions from September when you started showing up with random bruises and you were uncharacteristically silent around us for a couple weeks. But I knew for sure from, like, a month ago."

"How?!"

"You basically told me yourselves, dumbasses! Did you really think I wouldn't figure it out when Ned wanted to change our group chat theme from Drake and Josh to Kim Possible and insisted that Peter be Kim?"

"Wow, I didn't know you'd find out so soon! By the way, I thought K.C. Undercover might also be a good option, but Peter said that was TOO obvious, and MJ, you look just like K.C. for some reason, so it kinda complicated things too much," Ned rambled on.

"Ugh...the both of you are complete idiots! It's a miracle that the whole world doesn't know that Peter's Spider-Man yet!"

"Stop being so mean to us," Ned whined.

"MJ, you can't tell anyone that I'm Spider-Man...or that I'm Aidan Stark!"

"Alright, Hannah Montana . I won't tell a soul."

"Ooh! That should be our next theme! I call dibs on Lily!"

"Guys, could you just be serious for one second? Nobody, I mean, NOBODY can find out either secret! There's a good chance I won't be able to go to school with you guys if anyone finds out, and I'd rather lose a whole arm than be separated from you two!"

"Awwww, Peter, me too! I won't tell anyone. You have my word," Ned stated earnestly.

"You have my word too," MJ also stated sincerely.

"Thank you." Peter gave his friends a small nod of appreciation.

"But seriously, what's it like living with Tony Stark?" Ned started again.

Peter let out a small laugh, amused by Ned's persistence. "Well... he surprisingly seems like a good dad. He cried when he found out I'm his son, and he made me an omelette today. And a pretty good one too." Plus he gives out nice hugs, he thought to himself.

"Whoa... Iron Man cried for you and made you an omelette?! I would be, like, my life has been fulfilled and has no meaning anymore and just drop dead!"

"But I already get this feeling that he's, like, really really overprotective of me. And this tower has an ultra futuristic AI that can track down where I am at any moment! I don't know how I could possibly sneak out to be Spider-Man now!"

"Maybe he would be totally cool with it! He is a superhero too, you know?"

"Ned, are you kidding? What parent would be fine with their fourteen-year-old son going out to fight criminals every day? Especially if said son had been kidnapped for the last 10 years and just got back to them!" MJ said, exasperated.

"Arrgghh, but I can't just stop being Spider-Man! I have these powers now, and I just have to use them to help people! Do you guys have any advice on what I can do?"

"Just face it, Peter. You're a complete open book. Your dad is going to find out in a month, tops, and you'll be banned from being Spiderman, probably until you're 21. Better start making peace with it now."

Peter started to panic. He couldn't stop being Spider-Man for 7 years! The people of New York needed him! And he still hasn't found Uncle Ben's murderer yet! Peter clenched his jaw. He really needed to step up his game now. He'll do whatever it takes to keep Spiderman a secret from his dad.

"I'm going to prove you wrong, MJ. I can keep a secret if I want to... and I'm not speaking to you for a week now," Peter said while pushing his lips out into a pout.

"Sorry, Pete, but you know I always keep it real."

Peter huffed in annoyance. "I'm going to hang up now. Goodnight guys."

"Huh, I thought you weren't speaking to me for a week."

"Ugh... just... shut up, MJ," Peter grumbled as he hung up the call.

Peter laid down on his bed. He'll show MJ that he could keep Spider-Man a secret, alright. He clicked on the Youtube app on his phone and started to search 'How to be good at keeping secrets.' 

He fell asleep halfway through the second video.

Chapter Text

Peter had a mission today—one he was determined to complete. He had to figure out a way to secretly continue his crime-fighting, web-slinging lifestyle, even while living inside a tower that was basically a high-tech fortress with 93 floors and state-of-the-art surveillance.

Eyes blazing with resolve, he sprang out of bed and checked the time on his phone. 7:20 a.m. Perfect. If he moved fast, maybe he could get in some exploring before his parents even noticed he was up.

First things first: the windows. He padded over and examined them closely. No surprise—they didn’t open. Not when you lived on the 80th floor. Standard billionaire-parent safety protocol. Okay, then. That just meant he’d have to look elsewhere for possible exits. Maybe balconies? Terraces? A retractable landing pad?

"FRIDAY, are my parents awake?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"Yes, Peter. Boss and Boss Lady are awake," FRIDAY responded smoothly.

Peter furrowed his brows. Did they even sleep at all? "Oh, where are they right now?"

"Boss is in his study, and Boss Lady is currently out of the tower. She left the penthouse at 7:05 a.m."

Peter exhaled in relief. No Pepper around, and Tony's distracted in his study? Perfect.

“Cool, cool. Thanks, FRIDAY,” he said casually, already edging toward the door.

"Should I let Boss know that you are looking for him, Peter?" FRIDAY asked, her tone as casual as ever.

Peter nearly jumped. “No! No, I don’t want to bother him. And… uh, don’t tell him I’m leaving my room either!” He waved his hands in front of him as if FRIDAY could see his nervous energy.

“I have not received any explicit orders to do so,” FRIDAY said, “but based on Boss’s recent behavioral patterns, it is probable he would want to be informed regardless. May I ask why I should not alert him?”

Peter groaned. Why is FRIDAY so thorough? He scrambled for an excuse. "Uh... he probably didn't get much work done yesterday because of me, and he's really busy with all the Avengers stuff, right? I’d hate to interrupt him, you know," Peter added with a nervous chuckle.

"Very well, Peter. I will not alert Boss that you are leaving your room."

Peter slumped in relief. "Thanks, FRIDAY." Geez, did he really have to go through this much just to sneak out of his room? This was getting ridiculous.

"Oh, by the way FRIDAY, is there somewhere in the tower I can go to get some fresh air?"

"Yes, Peter. I recommend that you head to the Sky Lounge and Garden, located on the 78th floor."

"Awesome, thanks Fri!"

As he made his way to the elevators, Peter’s enhanced hearing picked up a familiar voice from down the hall. Tony. He was on the phone with someone.

"...and that's why I really need to keep an eye on him, Nat."

Nat? As in Natasha Romanoff? Was his dad calling the Black Widow? Eager to know what they were talking about, Peter made a quick u-turn and headed towards Tony's study. He'll just listen in for a little bit, just to satisfy his curiosity.

"Pep's gone to speak with Addie's principal. She's going to work her little magic and get all his teachers to sign NDAs about him being our son. The fewer people know, the safer he'll be."

Oh . So that’s where his mom had gone so early. Honestly, Peter was fine with that plan—if it meant he could still go to Midtown as Peter Parker and not Aidan Stark, he wasn’t about to complain.

"We’re also donating a small crapload so the school can boost security—install more cameras, safety measures, yada yada," Tony continued. "Nat, could you and Cap head down there tomorrow, check the place for any safety hazards, blind spots? Maybe draw up a map of escape routes in case something happens—press finds out, or God forbid… something worse?"

Peter groaned internally. More security cameras? Great. He’d have to be extra careful when making his web-fluid at school now. He leaned in closer, focusing on Tony’s voice.

"Thanks, Nat," Tony continued. "And listen, I’ll ask the whole team at dinner tonight, but... would you be willing to move back into the tower for a few months? Just until we get things settled. Pep and I, we can get swamped with work, and Happy’s head of security, but he can’t watch over Addie 24/7. There’s only a short list of people I trust with my son, and you’re right at the top. I’d feel better knowing you and a few others are around to keep an eye on him when we’re not."

Peter’s eyes widened, and he sucked in a silent gasp. 

Wait… what?!

Tony wanted the Avengers to move in... to babysit him?! He would’ve been ecstatic at the idea of living with the Avengers under normal circumstances, but not when they were going to be keeping tabs on him like a toddler! This was bad. Really bad.

If hiding Spiderman were a video game, Tony had just cranked the difficulty level from Hard to Nightmare mode. How was Peter supposed to sneak out and be Spiderman if Earth's mightiest heroes were literally living down the hall?

Tony’s voice continued, unaware of Peter’s growing panic. "Yeah, I’d prefer to homeschool him too, but Addie... he’s really attached to his friends, Fred and PJ, Ted and AJ, or something like that. He’ll probably fight me tooth and nail to stay at that school with them. So we’ll settle for Happy driving him back and forth every day."

Peter’s heart sank. No, no, no. This was getting worse by the minute. Now he couldn't even go to school on his own?! How was he supposed to be Spiderman when Tony was pulling out all the stops to make sure he was under constant supervision?

Peter backed away from the door, his mind racing. This is bad. Really bad. Tony’s overprotectiveness was reaching new heights, and if Peter didn’t figure out a way to keep his Spiderman identity a secret, the whole tower—and probably the Avengers—would know in no time.

Peter rushed toward the elevator, barely able to keep his frustration in check. He just needed to think, to breathe. “FRIDAY, take me to the 78th floor, please,” he said, his voice tense. He needed fresh air before he exploded.

The elevator doors slid open onto the Sky Lounge and Garden, and Peter was greeted by the cool, open space. Rows of outdoor sofas faced the city skyline, offering an incredible view of New York. Without a second thought, Peter threw himself onto a random sofa and took several deep, steadying breaths.

He closed his eyes, letting the wind ruffle his hair and listening to the sounds of the city far below. Horns honking, people yelling, the general hum of life in New York. The chaos of the outside world felt oddly grounding compared to the madness happening in the tower.

Okay , he told himself. So Tony’s paranoid . That doesn’t mean this is over.

Maybe once things calmed down, the constant surveillance would ease up. He just had to be patient. Be smart. Show Tony he was responsible now—mature, capable.

And in the meantime, maybe he could start sneaking out from Ned’s place again. If he could convince Tony to let him go.

Peter opened his eyes again with renewed vigor. He won't let what he just overheard discourage him from continuing on with his mission.

He looked around the area, searching for any security cameras. He spotted two cameras, one directed towards the row of sofas and one directed towards the garden, but none pointing towards the ledge. 

Perfect .

Peter hurried toward the ledge, leaning over slightly to peer down. His enhanced vision allowed him to see the streets below, though the cars looked like tiny toy models and the people like floating specks of dust. Wow... he was really high up.

Okay… How long would it take to climb down? Maybe eight minutes. Ten if he played it safe. But imagining himself crawling past windows and making awkward eye contact with tower employees in the middle of their Zoom calls? Yeah. Hard pass.

Instead, he turned his gaze to the skyline. About a hundred feet away stood another skyscraper—slightly lower, with a flat roof. Bingo. If he could just sprint, jump, and web to that building’s left corner...

He started rehearsing the move in his head. Sprint from the sofas. Launch off the railing. Angle wrists. Fire web. Easy.

Except, as Peter acted it out, his body forgot it was just a mental run-through.

Peter accidentally jumped up slightly—in real life— toward the edge of the ledge with his arms raised upwards as if he were shooting out a web from his webshooter. There was a problem, though. He wasn't actually wearing his webshooters at the moment; they were currently tucked away inside his locker at school.

When he landed, he found that his upper body was completely dangling down on the railing now, and his head and arms were pointed dangerously towards the ground. Peter’s heart pounded in his chest as he found himself dangling over the side of the 78th floor, staring down at the dizzying drop. Ahhh! Holy Shit! He felt his balance slipping, gravity pulling him closer to the edge. His instincts kicked in, and he was just about to activate the micro-setae in his palms to stick to the railing when, suddenly, two strong hands yanked him back with a force that knocked the breath out of him.

Before he could process what had just happened, Peter was spun around, face to face with Tony—his dad's eyes blazing with fury and sheer panic.

 “Aidan Maria Stark! What were you thinking ?!” Tony’s voice thundered, laced with so much fear that Peter flinched.

Peter blinked, his brain still buffering. “Wait… Maria?” he wheezed, before reality came rushing back all at once. “I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I wasn’t trying to fall—it was an accident!”

Tony didn’t let go. His grip on Peter’s arms was iron-clad, like he was afraid Peter might vanish if he so much as breathed the wrong way. Peter could feel the tremble in his dad’s fingers.

“You were dangling off a skyscraper!” Tony shouted, jabbing a finger toward the ledge. “Do you even understand basic safety ? Do they not teach gravity in Queens public schools anymore?!”

“I do—I was just distracted and—” Peter tried to explain, but Tony cut him off.

“THANK GOD I never got around to disabling your Baby Monitor Protocol. If FRIDAY hadn’t pinged me that you were within two feet of a railing, and I hadn’t sprinted down here in time…” Tony’s voice cracked, the anger giving way to something more fragile. “I could’ve lost you again, Ads. For good .”

Peter’s throat tightened. “I’m sorry, Dad. I promise I’ll be more careful now,” he mumbled, eyes fixed on his shoes.

Tony didn’t answer—he just pulled Peter into a tight, grounding hug.

“Good,” Tony whispered into his hair. “Because I can’t lose you again, Ads. Not when I just got you back.”

Peter pressed his head into Tony’s shoulder, feeling completely defeated. Spectacular job, Peter. He thought bitterly. Now Tony’s going to be even more paranoid about you. There’s no way you’ll convince him you’re grown-up and responsible now.

As if reading his mind, Tony pulled back, resting his hands on Peter’s shoulders and lifting his chin so their eyes met. His gaze had softened, but it was still serious.

“I spoke to your foster mom yesterday.”

Peter’s head jerked up, dread settling in.

“She told me you’ve got a habit of doing reckless things. That you go looking for danger. Alone.”

Peter’s stomach dropped.

“What I just saw?” Tony continued, “That was exactly what she warned me about.”

Peter opened his mouth to defend himself, but no words came out.

“You don’t get to be reckless with your life anymore,” Tony said quietly, voice steel under velvet. “I’m taking Dana’s advice, Aidan. I’m laying down the law so you know exactly what to expect from me from now on.”

Peter blinked. “Like… rules?”

“Yep. Real ones. With consequences. Because apparently someone needs a crash course in not dying .”

Tony placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder and gently steered him toward the elevator.

“Let’s head inside, kid.”

Peter gulped.

Yeah… he really, really didn’t like where this was going.

Chapter Text

Tony’s hands were still shaking as he led his son back up to the penthouse.

He tried to hide it—tried to breathe normally, walk like a man who hadn’t just seen his child nearly fall seventy-eight stories to his death—but his fingers betrayed him, curling tight around the edge of his Arc Reactor as if it could anchor him in place.

Less than forty-eight hours. That’s how long it had been since Tony got Aidan back. And already, he’d come within inches of losing him again.

The image of the jump replayed in his head on a sickening loop. The way Aidan’s body had tilted forward, arms raised like he was mid-flight—Christ. For one heart-punching second, Tony had wondered if he meant to do it. But no. That wasn’t what he saw. Not the dull, checked-out look of someone who wanted to fall. Aidan had looked… alive. Excited , even. Like he was playing a game.

Or pretending he could fly.

Tony made a mental note to ask FRIDAY for footage. Whatever the hell that jump was, he needed to understand it. But one thing was clear: Dana might’ve only had three months with the kid, but she’d read him damn well. The boy had zero self-preservation instincts. That had to change.

Starting now.

But first—breakfast. Because lecturing a kid on safety worked a hell of a lot better when they weren’t running on adrenaline and air.

“What do you want for breakfast, Ads?” Tony asked, aiming for casual but failing to hide the edge in his voice.

Aidan blinked at him, clearly still rattled. “Um… cereal?”

“Cereal it is.” Tony opened the pantry, half-filled with Pepper-approved options and half stocked with the sugar bombs of childhood. “We’ve got Cheerios—cardboard edition, courtesy of your mom—Fruit Loops, Cap’n Crunch, Raisin Bran, Cocoa Puffs, Frosted Flakes…”

“Uh… Cocoa Puffs?”

“Excellent choice.” Tony poured a bowl, then grabbed Lucky Charms for himself. Need all the damn luck I can get , he thought grimly.

They ate in silence for a while, the sound of clinking spoons and cereal crunching the only noise in the room. Tony’s mind was racing, replaying the near-accident over and over. When he couldn’t take the silence any longer, he put down his spoon and cleared his throat.

“You scared the crap out of me, Ads," Tony said quietly, his tone serious but not angry. "I can’t have you being so reckless with your safety.”

Aidan hunched over his cereal. “I know... I said I’ll be more careful now.”

"Let’s just get this over with," Tony began, trying to keep his voice calm. "While Pepper might have her own rules for you to follow, I just need you to promise me three things." He held up three fingers in the air.

Aidan glanced up warily. “Okay… what are they?”

“One: always carry your phone. Always. Two: don’t lie to my face. Not even half-truths. And three—this one’s key—you can't do anything dangerous or reckless. No stupid risks. That includes rooftop gymnastics.”

Addie started shifting in his seat, his thumbs twiddling. "Oh..." He glanced back down at his hands, the words clearly making him uneasy.

"Aidan, can you just promise me those three things?" Tony pressed, leaning forward slightly. He needed to hear it.

Aidan let out a small whine, eyes still fixed on his hands. "I don’t know..." he muttered, eyes glued to his hands, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tony sighed, but he softened his tone. "Look. I don’t care if you fail a couple classes, eat dessert for breakfast, or dye your hair green just to mess with your old man. You could even get a tattoo that says ‘Iron Man Sucks’ in Helvetica bold." He gave a small smirk, trying to lighten the mood. "Sure, Pepper might take issue with some of those things, but I won’t. I just need to know that you’re safe."

Aidan looked up briefly, eyes wide and uncertain, then dropped his gaze again.

“I’m serious, kid. As long as you’re not putting yourself in danger, and you’re honest with me... I can deal with the rest. Can you do that? Can you at least try?”

Aidan’s silence stretched on, and for a moment, Tony wasn’t sure if he’d answer. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he mumbled softly, "I’ll try."

Not the yes Tony was hoping for, but... he’d take it.

Tony let out a breath and rubbed his jaw. “Here. I made this for you,” he said, pulling the custom-built phone from his pocket and sliding it across the table. “I want you to have it with you. Always. Especially when you go back to school on Friday.”

"Fine," Aidan retorted curtly, still averting his eyes from his father.

Tony’s patience was thinning by the second. The sullen look on Aidan’s face wasn’t helping. He knew the kid was overwhelmed, maybe even embarrassed—but that didn’t change the fact that he’d nearly fallen off a goddamn skyscraper this morning.

“Aidan, I need you to take this seriously,” Tony said, setting his spoon down with a soft clink. “If you break any of those promises—especially the one about endangering yourself—then I’m sorry, bud, but it’s not gonna be fun. You’ll be grounded. No stepping outside this tower unless it’s for school. FRIDAY will track you like a hawk with a vengeance. I’ll basically have her narrate your life in real-time until I trust you again.”

Aidan finally looked up from his cereal, his eyes wide with horror. “What?! Noooo!”

“Yes. Sorry, kiddo, but I’m not rolling the dice with your life,” Tony said, his voice grim but calm.

Aidan groaned, slumping in his seat.

“And since we’re already in Dad Lecture Mode…” Tony leaned back, arms crossed. “Let’s talk about something Dana told me yesterday. Like how this wasn’t your first time getting close to drug dealers. Or how you’ve been playing junior detective.”

He let the words land, watching the flicker of shock—and then betrayal—cross Aidan’s face.

“She said you’ve been out there digging into your uncle’s death,” Tony added, quieter now. “Alone. At night. Getting hurt.”

He saw it clearly—how hard Aidan flinched at the mention of Uncle Ben. The grief came flooding back to the surface like a dam cracking. It was all over his face, even if he didn’t say a word.

“Look, I know that… guy was important to you. I know he meant a lot,” Tony said, struggling with the word uncle, because technically the guy wasn’t—but calling him anything else felt wrong. “But Aidan… you’re just a kid. You don’t owe anyone justice. And what happened to them? That wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m not a kid,” Aidan shot back immediately, his tone sharper than Tony had expected. “I’m fourteen.”

Tony arched a brow. “Which still lands you firmly in the ‘child’ category, bud. And what you’re doing? It’s not just reckless—it’s insane. I can’t let you endanger yourself like that.”

“Well, I’m not just a kid, Tony!” Aidan shot back, standing up now, eyes blazing. “You don’t know anything about me!”

Tony couldn't believe what he was hearing. Where was this tone coming from? Was his sweet Addie really talking back to him like this?

“And this is something I have to do for Uncle Ben and Aunt May! It’s for them ! It has nothing to do with you, so you have no right to try and stop me!” Aidan was practically screaming at him now, his voice shaking with anger.

Tony pushed back his chair, rising slowly, jaw clenched. “Actually, I do. I have every right to stop you. I’m your father—whether you like it or not. And if I ever catch you chasing down another sketchy lead, or talking to a drug dealer, you’re done. Tower lockdown. No exceptions. I mean it.”

“You’re being paranoid!” Aidan shouted. “This is total bullshit!”

“Aidan!” Tony barked, voice like a whipcrack. “Watch your damn language!”

Tony groaned inwardly the moment it left his mouth. God, I sound like Rogers. Steve could never find out.

But Aidan wasn’t done. “You swear all the time! You’ve done way worse! You’re just a massive hypocrite!”

Tony threw his hands up. “Yeah, well, I don’t want you to be like me, Aidan. I want you to be better!”

“That’s not fair!” Aidan’s voice broke at the edge. “And I’m not agreeing to any of this!”

He stormed off before Tony could say another word, disappearing into his room and slamming the door hard enough to rattle the floor.

Tony stared after him, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Tough luck, kid,” he muttered under his breath, voice raw. “I’m the one who calls the shots around here.”

Tony let out a frustrated sigh and muttered to himself, “Well, that was a complete success.” He pressed a hand to his aching forehead and collapsed into his chair. He was stunned—whatever that explosion of teenage rebellion was, he hadn’t expected it. He was starting to realize that dealing with teenage Aidan was going to be much more difficult than dealing with toddler Aidan. Who would’ve guessed his sweet, innocent kid had such a fierce, rebellious side to him?

Just then, the elevator dinged open, and Pepper briskly stepped inside the penthouse, looking as stunning as ever. 

God , Tony thought, as he watched her cross the room. It had only been a few hours since he last saw her, but somehow, he’d missed her like it had been weeks.

"I heard yelling on my way up here. Are you and Addie okay?" Pepper asked as she walked toward him, her concern evident.

"Ah, Pep! You just missed several historical moments," Tony said, trying to keep his voice light despite his frustration. "First shouting match, first door slam, and—drumroll—first time he cussed out the old man. Real shame you missed it."

Pepper raised an eyebrow, concern deepening. “Tony. Seriously. What happened?”

Tony sighed and launched into the whole story—starting with FRIDAY’s alert, the rooftop near-disaster, and the argument that had exploded into full-blown rebellion. Pepper listened closely, her face tightening at parts, only interjecting now and then with a soft gasp or murmured “Oh my god.”

When he finished, Pepper let out a heavy sigh. Without saying a word, she wrapped her arms around Tony, holding him tightly, as if her embrace could melt away the stress of the last hour.

"Thanks, gorgeous. I really needed that," Tony murmured into her shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment to soak in the comfort.

"I'm just so relieved you were there to catch him when he almost fell," Pepper said softly. She pulled back slightly, her face clouded with worry. "Do you think he tried to..." Her voice trailed off, shaky with emotion.

"God, no," Tony said quickly, reassuring her. "It was clearly an accident. He wasn’t trying to hurt himself. It looked more like he got carried away pretending to fly."

Pepper let out a long breath of relief and sank into the chair next to Tony. "Thank goodness." She paused for a moment before speaking again, her voice calmer. "You should have waited for me before having that talk with Addie about rules and consequences. You know you're not exactly the best at easing people into tough conversations."

Tony let out a short, bitter laugh. “So I’ve been told. Once or twice.” Or, more like weekly. Possibly hourly.

Pepper leaned closer, her tone softer. “And you clearly hit a nerve when you brought up his uncle. Whether we like it or not, Uncle Ben was probably the only father figure he ever had. It’s only been six months, Tony. No answers. No closure. Of course he’s angry.”

Tony frowned, reflecting on Pepper's words. "Well, when you put it that way..."

“Let me talk to him,” Pepper said gently as she stood. “I’ll explain that you and I will look into Ben’s case. Together. We’ll keep him in the loop so he doesn’t feel like he has to go chasing danger alone. And don’t worry—I’ll make sure he apologizes to you too.” She added a small, confident wink as she turned toward the hall.

Tony watched her, filled with admiration and relief. "God, Pepper, I love you so much," he whispered, grateful for her calming presence and how she always knew what to do.

"I know," she replied casually, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she headed toward Aidan's room.

After about twenty minutes, Tony heard Aidan’s bedroom door creak open. He glanced up to see Pepper gently leading Aidan into the kitchen, her hand wrapped around his. Aidan shuffled behind her, his posture slouched, eyes fixed on the floor. They stopped right in front of Tony.

Pepper gave Aidan a gentle nudge, encouraging him to speak. “I’m sorry for yelling and cursing... and for slamming the door,” Aidan mumbled, still staring at his shoes. After a pause, he added, “I still think you’re kind of paranoid though...”

Tony smirked slightly but decided to let the last part slide. “Thank you for the apology, Addie. I’m sorry I yelled at you too.” His tone was soft, wanting to show his son that he wasn’t still mad.

Aidan peeked up for just a second, eyes scanning Tony’s face for a reaction. Then, with a tiny nod, he dropped his gaze again.

Pepper stepped in smoothly. “Alright, Aidan. Let’s get you settled with those homework assignments your teachers gave me this morning.” She handed him a slim folder filled with handouts and printouts. “I’ll call you when it’s time for lunch, okay?”

Aidan took the papers with a sigh. “Okay… Mom.”

The word came out a little soft, a little unsure—but it was there. And that was enough to make Pepper smile.

She reached out and ran a hand gently through his curls, smoothing them with practiced ease. Aidan didn’t pull away.

Tony exhaled deeply, feeling a weight lift off his chest. Thank God that was over. He shot Pepper a grateful look, winking and smiling at her. His miracle worker . 

With that, he got up and stretched. Time to get back to his study and squeeze in some work before the Avengers came over for dinner later.

Chapter Text

Peter couldn’t stop glancing up at Tony as he helped set the dining table. The guilt had been gnawing at him all afternoon. He felt awful about how he’d acted earlier. Aunt May and Uncle Ben had always taught him to be respectful—especially to adults and people trying to help him—and if they’d seen him yelling and cursing at his dad like that? They’d be mortified. Heck, if he’d said anything close to that to Uncle Ben, he would’ve been grounded for a week. He winced just thinking about it.

But when Tony had brought up Uncle Ben—told him it wasn’t his job to go after the guy who killed him—Peter had just… lost it.

It wasn’t what Tony said exactly. It was what Peter thought he meant. That Ben didn’t count. That Peter’s connection to him didn’t matter because they weren’t really related. That getting justice wasn’t Peter’s job, because technically, Ben wasn’t his uncle at all.

But Peter couldn't simply forget and move on now, just because he wasn't their real nephew. He was eternally grateful to Ben and May: for taking care of Peter when he had nowhere else to go, for telling Peter that he was the most precious gift they have ever received and not the burdensome extra mouth to feed that Peter thought he was, for all the Sunday movie nights together, for all the warm hugs and I 'lurb' you so muches. They had shaped Peter to be the caring, compassionate, and mostly respectful person he is today. He certainly didn't get those traits from the billionaire and former playboy standing on his left.

So yeah. He’d snapped. Told Tony he had no right to stop him. Accused him of being paranoid and controlling and everything else he could think of in the moment.

God , Peter thought, I can’t believe I said all that .

After he’d cooled off, Pepper had come to talk to him. She’d sat down with him gently, calmly, and explained things in a way that actually made sense. She said that she and Tony weren’t trying to take anything away from him—that they understood how much Ben meant. And that Tony’s panic wasn’t about control. It was fear. The kind that made you hold on too tight.

She told him they would help investigate Ben’s case. That they’d use every connection and resource they had to do it properly—and they’d keep Peter involved every step of the way. He didn’t have to go through it alone.

A part of Peter felt a little reluctant to take a step back and let his parents take the wheel on this case. After all, this was HIS problem and not his parents'. But the more rational side of him knew his parents—with all their resources, connections, and technology—stood a much better chance of finding Ben’s killer. Plus, Peter was already getting a soft spot for his mother. He just couldn't stay defiant while looking into her kind blue eyes, clearly filled with concern for him. So Peter will let his parents help out and step back—for the time being.

So, here he was, setting the table awkwardly, stealing glances at Tony every few minutes. He cringed as he replayed the half-hearted apology he had given earlier. Maybe I should apologize again... properly this time.

Peter opened his mouth—then froze as the elevator chimed open.

He spun around.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. That had to be the Avengers.

“Tone, where’s my favorite nephew at?” someone called from the elevator.

Peter’s eyes widened as Colonel James Rhodes— War Machine —stepped into the room like he owned it.

For a second, Peter forgot how to move. Then he jolted into action, desperate not to seem rude.

“Colonel Rhodes, sir! It’s—it’s an honor to meet you,” Peter said, stepping forward with a handshake. “And… did you just say I’m your favorite nephew?”

Rhodey grinned and shook his hand. “Heard me right. Man, you’ve grown up. What are you now, thirteen?”

“Fourteen,” Peter said quickly. “Freshman at Midtown High. And, um, wow. I can’t believe I’m War Machine’s favorite nephew. Ned is gonna flip when he hears this.”

“Midtown?” another voice chimed in. “That’s the science school, right?”

Peter’s head whipped around. Captain America— actual Steve Rogers —was looking straight at him.

Peter swallowed. “Y-yes, sir. Midtown School of Science and Technology.”

“You must be pretty smart,” Steve said with a warm smile.

Before Peter could recover from the shock of that, Tony clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, “Smartest in his class. Full-ride, Cap.”

Peter’s face turned a shade of red he didn’t know was possible. Did my dad just brag about me? To Captain America??

Steve Rogers smiled at Peter and shook his hand. “I see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. It’s nice to meet you, Aidan.”

Peter’s heart raced. “It’s... really nice to meet you too, Cap... Captain,” he stammered, trying to keep his cool, but his voice cracked with excitement. “I’m a big fan, sir.”

"He's a polite one, this kid. He couldn't have gotten that from you though, Tony," came a voice that Peter instantly recognized. Oh my god... That was the Black Widow—Earth’s greatest assassin and spy, casually standing in the room.

Tony shot a mock glare in Natasha’s direction before replying, "Hey! I could be... who am I kidding. He definitely got that from Pep, not me."

Peter wanted to disagree. He knew he got his politeness from Aunt May and Uncle Ben, but there was no way he could focus on that right now. Black Widow is here. Right in front of him.

Just then, the elevator dinged open again, and Peter turned to see a young woman in her early twenties and—wait, a red man?! Peter’s eyes went wide as he took in the sight of the floating, red figure. Holy-obi-wan-kenobi. It was Vision, the vibranium-skinned android who hovered just above the floor. Peter’s jaw nearly hit the ground. He had read about Vision, but seeing him in person was like stepping into a sci-fi movie.

The young woman beside Vision, who Peter realized must be the Scarlet Witch, approached the group, carrying a tray covered in wrapping paper. She seemed a bit hesitant but offered a soft smile. Vision floated in behind her, perfectly in sync.

“Thank you for inviting us over for dinner,” she said. “Vision and I baked some brownies today for everyone to try. I don’t know how well they turned out, since it was our first time baking, but...”

Before she could finish, Peter blurted out, "Oh my god! I get to eat brownies that were hand-made by Vision and the Scarlet Witch? Yes, please!" The words tumbled out before he realized it, and his face flushed with embarrassment. Oh no. Did I just interrupt the Scarlet Witch?

To his relief, the red-haired girl burst out in laughter, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Peter exhaled, grateful he hadn’t offended her.

"You are so adorable, baby Stark," she said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye.

Peter groaned in mock annoyance. "Hey, I’m not a baby. And you look pretty young yourself!"

Wanda grinned and teased back, "I’m 21, so probably much, much older than you, baby boy."

"Could you youngins' stop talking about your age? You're making Capsicle here very uncomfortable," Tony interrupted with a smirk, glancing at Steve, who was clearly amused by the conversation. "Come sit! Hope you all like Chinese food," Tony added, motioning toward the dining table.

Pepper and Tony had ordered around 40 containers of various dishes of American-Chinese food. The food had just arrived around 10 minutes ago and was all laid out on the dining table. Peter sat down in between the Scarlet Witch, or Wanda as she told Peter to call her, and Captain America. Peter eagerly put down some kung pao chicken, beef broccoli stir-fry, and shrimp lo mein onto his plate and started to chomp down on the food.

While slurping on some lo mein, he noticed Wanda putting down two egg rolls on the side of his plate. He looked up at Wanda, whose lips were curled up in amusement, and thanked her for the egg rolls. At least he tried to. His mouth was full of noodles, so he's not sure Wanda understood what he was saying.

Around the table, the conversation bounced from one topic to the next, spanning everything from life at the Avengers Compound versus the Tower to more lighthearted discussions like the Kardashian sisters—Really? The Kardashians?—and speculating about Bruce Banner's whereabouts. Then, the mood softened as Natasha shared baby photos of Clint's newborn, Nathaniel, causing a chorus of “awws” from the table.

After the Black Widow shared some photos of Nathaniel that Clint had sent to her, Tony couldn't resist getting FRIDAY to project dozens of photos and videos of his own baby. Peter desperately wanted to hide in embarrassment as the Avengers cooed over all his baby photos and videos.

When they were mostly done with the Chinese food and started digging into Wanda and Vison's brownies—which were slightly burnt on the edges but much more edible than all of Aunt May's past baking attempts combined—Tony cleared his throat to get the group's attention.

"Alright, there's something Pep and I want to ask you all. The thing is, Pep and I often have to travel all over the world for work, even if we don't want to. It's a real bummer. One of the downsides of running, well, the largest tech conglomerate in the world."

"Tones, stop bragging and just get to the point," Rhodey interjected, rolling his eyes.

Pepper, smiling at Rhodey’s interruption, picked up where Tony left off. “We were wondering if any of you would be willing to temporarily move back into the Tower for a couple of months. Just until things settle down. You see, we’re trying to keep Addie out of the public eye for now. We don’t want the press to find out that he’s home because that could lead to a lot of unwanted attention—paparazzi, even more kidnappings... you get the idea.”

Pepper’s voice softened as she spoke, and Peter felt a strange mix of emotions stir inside him. He hadn’t thought about how dangerous it could be for the public to know who he really was.

“We don’t have a lot of people we can trust with this,” Pepper added, looking around the table at each Avenger. “And the truth is, Tony and I would feel much better knowing that Addie has people he can rely on while we’re away.”

Tony leaned forward slightly, his usual playful bravado replaced by genuine sincerity. “The bottom line is... we trust you. With our son. And we don’t trust easily.” He glanced at Peter before continuing. “So, we’d really appreciate it if any of you could help us keep our kid safe.”

The room was thick with a moment of silence as the group absorbed Tony’s words, until Captain America broke through with his steady voice.

“Wow, Tony. I’ve got to say, I’m touched that you’re trusting us like this. I won’t take it lightly. I’m more than willing to move back in and help you and Pepper keep Aidan safe.”

Rhodey jumped in, grinning. “Tones, you know I’d do anything for my favorite nephew. Say the word, I’m there.”

Wanda leaned in, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “I’d honestly love to. It’d be nice to get to know baby boy here a little better,” she teased, throwing a wink Peter’s way.

Vision, ever composed, nodded. “It would be my pleasure to assist you and your family in any way I can, Mr. Stark.”

"So it's settled. When do we move back in?" Natasha inquired, the spirited spark in her eyes starkly contrasting her usually blank expression.

Peter couldn't believe it. All the Avengers present had just agreed to move back into the tower to help take care of him. And surprisingly... Peter wasn't really upset about it. Sure, it will be much harder to hide Spider-Man with the Avengers living in the tower, but that was a problem for future Peter. Right now, after hearing the heartwarming interaction between his dad and the Avengers, the fanboy inside Peter just felt stoked that he'll be able to live with the heroes he idolizes and get to know them on a more personal level.

As the team started discussing when they could move in, Peter finished off the last bite of his brownie and leaned toward Wanda for another slice. He was about to take a bite when he felt a light tap on his arm.

“Son,” Captain America said, his tone gentle but direct, “since you go to school in Queens, I want to ask you something.” Steve pulled out his phone, his brow furrowed in thought. “I’ve been on the lookout for new recruits, and I came across this video the other day. Tony, can you do that thing you do with the screens?”

Tony, with a smirk, waved a hand. “Sure thing, old man. FRIDAY, project Cap’s screen.”

A big hologram of a video appeared on top of the dining table. At first, the video just showed a typical busy street in NYC—that is, until a vigilante in a red and blue suit leaped into frame while projecting long lines of web-strings with his signature hand move. Right as a speeding car was about to crash into a bus, the vigilante swiftly swung himself between the two vehicles and stopped the car with his hands just milliseconds before it hit the bus. The car came to a complete halt, and the vigilante quickly swung out of frame.

Shit. That was a video of Peter on patrol around two weeks ago. Someone must have filmed Peter without him noticing. He gulped nervously.

"Damn, that guy must be really strong to stop a moving car like that," Rhodey said, clearly impressed.

Natasha leaned in closer, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "And his movements—so fast, so agile. How’s he swinging on those web strings like it’s nothing?"

Peter shifted uncomfortably as Captain America chimed in, phone still in hand. "I’ve learned he’s a new vigilante—calls himself 'Spider-Man.' Mostly seen around Queens for the past five months." Steve turned toward Peter, his eyes curious. "Aidan, you ever run into him while walking home from school?"

Peter’s palms began to sweat. Oh no... okay, stay cool. He heard Tony mumbling something under his breath about Spider-Man, but Peter was too focused on maintaining his composure to pay attention.

Alright, Peter, don’t mess this up. He remembered the video he’d watched the day before: How to Lie Convincingly . Breathe normally. Keep your cool. Don’t touch your face. And keep it simple.

"Oh, Spider-Man?" Peter replied, doing his best to sound casual. "Not really, but I’ve heard of him before."

Yes! Nailed it! Peter congratulated himself internally. His voice was steady, no stutters or nervous glances—just smooth and natural. I’m basically a pro at this.

Steve nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Well, if you do run into him, let me know. I’ve been thinking about scouting the kid, but I get the feeling he might be on the younger side—maybe college-aged. I want to gather more intel before making any moves."

Peter gave a quick nod, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of Steve Rogers trying to "scout" him. 

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. After another half hour of friendly conversation, the Avengers started to take their leave, all promising to return to the tower before Thanksgiving. Tony muttered something about needing to work and disappeared into his workshop. Peter, on the other hand, stuck around to help Pepper clean up, putting the dishes away in the dishwasher.

It was around midnight when the two were done with the dishes. Peter yawned and wished his mother goodnight. Feeling exhausted and emotionally drained from all the events that transpired today, he went into his room to get ready to go to bed. Just as Peter was about to switch off the lights and crawl into bed, there was a knock on his door. Great, what now?

"Hey Addie, can I talk to you for a sec?" It was Tony.

"Sure. About what?" Peter replied while sluggishly opening the door with his eyes half closed.

Tony leaned against the side of Peter's door and crossed his arms over his chest. Frowning, he stared intently at Peter for a good minute, sort of like he was examining a test subject. Peter began to feel very uneasy being subjected to his father's intense gaze.

"I'm just going to be blunt, kid. Are you hiding something from me?" Tony questioned.

Peter was completely caught off guard by the sudden interrogation. He never imagined that Tony would suspect him of hiding something so soon. It's only been two days since he's gotten here! And hadn't Peter given such a natural and convincing performance at dinner today when Captain America had asked him if he had seen Spider-Man? How the heck did his dad find out he was hiding something?

"What? N-no... of course not. No! Wha... what makes you think that?" Peter blurted out, his voice failing to mask his bewilderment and trepidation.

"Just a hunch. So there's nothing you want to come clean about? Nada, Aidan?"

Well, Peter couldn't back down now. He had already lied to both Captain America and his dad today. Besides, if Tony only had a hunch, maybe he was trying to extract a confession out of Peter soley based on gut feeling and not based on any evidence.

"Nada. I'm not hiding anything, dad," Peter replied, a bit more calmly this time.

In response, Tony squinted his eyes and made a humming noise.

"Well, alright then. Guess I was wrong," Tony stated after a long pause. He uncrossed his arms and stood upright.

"I guess so... ha ha..." Peter let out a nervous laugh. "I think I might try to get some sleep now. Goodnight... and I'm really sorry for how I acted this morning."

"Thank you for your apology, Ads. Sleep tight, kiddo," Tony replied while giving Peter a slight smile. He made sure Peter was lying down in bed before he turned the lights off in his room.

Just as Tony was about to leave the room, he hesitated, turning back one last time. His voice was softer but held a serious edge. "Addie, I hope for both our sakes that you’re telling the truth. Goodnight, bud."

With that, Tony closed the door behind him.

Peter lay there, staring at the ceiling. His heart was still racing, his mind spinning with what had just happened. How close had Tony gotten to figuring it out?

He barely slept at all that night.

Chapter Text

It was blatantly obvious to Tony that Aidan was hiding something from him.

Tony had always known his son to be sweet and loving, but when it came to honesty, Aidan had a history of being less than forthcoming. Even as a little kid, Aidan would hide things, usually out of fear that he’d be a burden or cause unnecessary worry. It ranged from small secrets—like when he was having trouble sleeping because he’d lost his favorite stuffed spider, Lulu—to bigger issues, like the time he sprained his knee after getting pushed off a slide but kept it to himself.

But Tony always found out when his son was hiding something. He always did. Thankfully, his son was a far cry from a master deceptor. In fact, the kid was extremely easy to read. Tony learned quickly to be attentive to the little signs that his son exhibited when he was being untruthful, and boy did his son give out A WHOLE LOT of signs: the way he gulped and stuttered, the way he nervously glanced around the room, the way he clenched his jaw, the way his doe eyes grew wide and blinked excessively.

Now, ten years older, Tony was relieved—and amused—to find that some things hadn’t changed. When Aidan had freaked out the other day after being called "spiderling," Tony’s gut instinct kicked in. The kid’s hiding something, Tony thought. And he was confident he’d get to the bottom of it soon enough. He always did.

After the Avengers left the tower, Tony headed straight to his workshop. He had something pressing to check on before the day was over: the footage of Aidan’s near fall that morning. He needed to analyze it, not just to prevent future accidents but also to satisfy a nagging feeling that something about the whole incident wasn’t adding up.

"FRIDAY, do we have any footage of Addie’s jump from this morning?"

"Yes, boss," the AI replied smoothly. Within moments, the video appeared on the screen. Tony settled onto the leather couch, his eyes locked on the feed as he directed FRIDAY to play it.

The footage showed Aidan leaning against the railing, glancing back and forth between the sofas behind him and the city skyline in front of him. Then, just as Tony remembered, Aidan absentmindedly jumped up a little, arms raised at a strange angle—almost like he was... signaling something.

"FRIDAY, pause it."

Tony frowned at the screen, his mind racing. What was Addie doing with his hands? The angle of his arms didn’t make sense. Superman didn’t fly with his arms at a 70-degree angle—and certainly not with a hand gesture that looked like... rock 'n roll?

"Zoom in on his hands," Tony instructed, his curiosity piqued.

FRIDAY zoomed in, and Tony stared at the image. Thumb up, index finger up, middle fingers down, pinky finger up. Wait. That was familiar. Where have I seen this before?

Then it hit him like a freight train. The Spider-Man video.

"FRIDAY, bring up that video of Spider-Man you projected earlier," Tony muttered out before even processing what he was saying.

Tony once again watched Spider-Man swing into frame while projecting strings of web onto the buildings surrounding him.

"Pause and zoom in on the guy's hands," Tony instructed, this time more forcefully.

And there it was. That hand motion. The same exact gesture Tony had seen in Aidan's footage—thumb, index finger up, middle fingers down, pinky up. The same motion his son made at the railing earlier that morning. Tony froze. His eyes widened, disbelief coursing through him like a cold shock. What the actual fuck ? 

His mind was racing, but he couldn’t process what he was seeing. No. No way. He refused to believe it. There had to be an explanation.

Maybe Aidan was just a fan. Yeah, that made sense. Maybe he was just mimicking Spider-Man. Kids did that all the time, right? They saw heroes on the news, got inspired, and pretended to be them. But... Aidan hadn't seemed all that interested in Spider-Man during dinner, Tony recalled. He wasn’t starry-eyed or excited about the vigilante like a fan would be. He was too calm.

Tony felt lightheaded. The pieces were lining up in a way that he couldn’t ignore, but he wasn’t ready to accept them yet. There has to be another explanation. But the glaring question was forming in his mind, louder and louder with every passing second.

Could his son—his son—be Spider-Man?

No plan. No strategy. He just needed to know. He needed answers. Without thinking, Tony shot up from the couch and stormed out of the workshop, his footsteps echoing through the hall as he made his way to Aidan’s room.

Once he reached the door, he knocked briskly, his heart pounding in his chest. After a moment, Aidan opened the door, clearly surprised to see him standing there so late. Tony paused, scanning his son, searching for any sign—any hint—that could confirm what he was thinking.

Staring back doe-eyed at Tony while dressed in an oversized Star Wars graphic t-shirt and checkered pajama pants, Addie was the picture-perfect image of a sweet and innocent little boy. He was quite small and scrawny, even for a fourteen-year-old. There was just no way in hell that the young boy in front of him could stop a speeding car with his bare hands and swing around the city like a professional acrobat like the spider dude in the video.

After a good minute of staring intently at his little boy, the question of whether Addie was Spider-Man just seemed completely outlandish now. Tony let out a sigh of relief.

However, it was still clear to him that his son was hiding something. Now Tony couldn't wait any longer. He had to find out what Addie was hiding for his peace of mind.

"I'm just going to be blunt, kid. Are you hiding something from me?" Tony questioned.

Aidan’s eyes went wide with panic, darting nervously across the room, looking everywhere but at Tony. "What? N-no... of course not. No! Wha... what makes you think that?" His voice cracked, and Tony felt a twinge of disappointment. Come on, Aidan. Just tell me what's going on.

"Just a hunch," Tony replied, leaning in slightly, his eyes narrowing. "So there’s nothing you want to come clean about? Nada, Aidan?"

Aidan swallowed hard before shaking his head. "Nada. I’m not hiding anything, Dad."

Tony felt the sting of disappointment hit him harder this time, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Really, Aidan? After everything Tony had said about trust earlier, Aidan was still lying straight to his face. Tony squinted, making a low, skeptical hum. His son was good at many things, but lying was not one of them.

Still, it was late—too late to press the issue further. It was almost one in the morning, and Tony didn’t have concrete evidence of what Aidan was hiding. He would have to let it go for now. But not forever. He would get to the bottom of this soon enough.

"Well, alright then," Tony finally said, straightening up. "Guess I was wrong."

Aidan let out a nervous laugh, trying to cover his unease. "I guess so... ha ha..." His smile was forced. "I think I might try to get some sleep now. Goodnight... and I’m really sorry for how I acted this morning."

Tony’s disappointment softened at Aidan’s apology. He managed a small smile and nodded. "Thank you for that, Ads. Sleep tight, kiddo."

As Tony turned off the lights and stepped toward the door, a final thought crossed his mind. He paused, his hand on the doorframe, and glanced back at his son, his voice serious again. "Addie, I hope for both our sakes that you're telling the truth. Goodnight, bud."

Tony barely slept that night. He managed to scrape together maybe three hours, and even that felt like a generous estimate. The second he laid eyes on Aidan the next morning, it was obvious the kid had fared even worse. The dark circles under his eyes weren’t just visible—they were practically stamped across his face like a guilt-ridden billboard.

Someone’s not a fan of lying to Dad , Tony thought, sipping his coffee with a knowing hum.

Over brunch, Aidan was the picture of awkward avoidance. He kept his eyes fixed on his waffles, talking only to Pepper and pretending Tony didn’t exist. Pepper, ever the multitasker, was trying to help Aidan pick out some furniture and decorations for his new room. Aidan kept insisting he didn’t need anything, but with some gentle nudging and that special Pepper Potts persuasion, she got him to agree to a bigger desk, two bookshelves, and more Star Wars posters than a kid his age should admit to wanting.

When Pepper finally felt satisfied with Aidan's choices, she moved on to her next topic: Addie's dire need for a wardrobe upgrade. Oh boy. That was Tony’s cue to duck out. Standing up from the table, he made a light-hearted comment about needing to see Aidan in some Iron Man PJs and left for his study to avoid getting roped into a wardrobe conversation.

A couple of hours later, Tony had successfully buried himself in a backlog of Sokovia damage control updates and the final tweaks on the next Starkphone’s design. He was mid-email when there was a soft knock at his door.

Tony looked up as the door creaked open just enough to reveal a mop of curls and a pair of sheepish eyes.

"Tony..." Aidan started to say as he peeked inside the room. "FRIDAY's not letting me watch Game of Thrones ."

"Addie, I know that's an R-rated show. You should watch something more age-appropriate, pal," Tony replied, smirking at how young his son looked with just his forehead and eyes peeking inside the room.

"Come on, everyone at school... ok," Aidan gave up arguing halfway when Tony gave him a look of disapproval. He pouted slightly and left while gently closing the door.

About an hour later, Tony wandered into the living room to grab a coffee—and stopped in his tracks.

There, sprawled upside down on the couch like he’d melted into it, was Aidan. His shirt was halfway up his chest, one arm dangling off the side, and he was absolutely surrounded by a battlefield of crumpled Lindt chocolate wrappers. The TV was still going in the background, a Big Bang Theory rerun playing to a deeply unappreciative audience.

Tony blinked. “Well, that’s a crime scene,” he muttered under his breath, a grin tugging at his mouth.

“FRIDAY, get a few pics, will you? Nice and close. I want good lighting. Future blackmail purposes.”

A soft camera click followed as FRIDAY obediently snapped a handful of candids.

Tony stepped closer, ready to gently wake Aidan—maybe roll him over before he wrecked his spine—but before he could even reach out, Aidan’s eyes snapped open.

Then, in a single fluid motion, the kid pushed off the couch, flipped up into a handstand, and twisted mid-air into a clean landing on his feet.

Tony froze.

Aidan froze.

They just… stood there, staring at each other in mutual shock.

Tony blinked slowly. “...What the hell was that?”

“Uh—I, um—gymnastics?” Aidan offered weakly, trying for casual but coming out breathless.

“Gymnastics,” Tony repeated flatly. “Since when?”

“Just the basics!” Aidan squeaked, already backing up toward the hallway. “Really basic! Anyway, I’m gonna go take a nap now. Super tired. Bye!”

And he vanished, practically sprinting down the hall.

Tony watched his son hurry off, a mix of amusement and suspicion bubbling up inside him. He shook his head and headed to the kitchen, where he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"FRIDAY, send those pics of Addie to my phone and Pepper’s," Tony said with a smirk. A few seconds later, his phone buzzed with several heart emojis from Pepper, responding to the cute snapshots. Tony chuckled, zooming in on Aidan's sleeping face—mouth slightly ajar, a smear of chocolate on his lips. Adorable, he thought fondly. But something else caught his eye.

Tony paused. Wait... Hidden beneath the rumpled Star Wars shirt, Addie wasn’t as scrawny as Tony initially thought. Holy smokes. The kid had been hiding a six-pack under there, something Tony definitely wasn’t expecting. Looks can definitely be deceiving, he thought to himself.

Tony paused. Didn't this also mean that he couldn't conclude that Aidan wasn't the spider vigilante just because he was Tony's little boy? He groaned and brought the palm of his hand up to his face.

Although Tony desperately didn't want to, he was starting to reconsider the very very slim chance that Aidan might be the spider guy from the video. He recalled all the strange things he noticed about Aidan from the past three days: how he freaked out over Tony calling him 'spiderling,' how he was so unwilling to promise Tony that he would follow his three simple rules, how he was doing the same hand gesture as the vigilante when he almost fell from the sky garden, how he had lied to Tony that he wasn't hiding anything even after being pressured to confess the truth.

Not to mention, he found out today that his son had abnormally quick reflexes, acrobatic skills, and hidden rock solid abs.... Goddamn It. His son might be Spider-Man. His son might be the spider-themed vigilante cosplaying as a superhero in a goddamn onesie.

Tony rushed into his study and demanded that FRIDAY bring up every video she could find of the crime-fighting-spider. FRIDAY was able to bring up a total of 32 videos, and Tony watched EVERY SINGLE ONE.

In half of the videos, Spiderman wasn't doing anything too dangerous or extraordinary. He was returning lost purses and helping old ladies cross the street. He was saving kittens from trees and stopping petty bike thefts. Spider-Man was just... being a friendly neighbor. Tony could tell from the videos that the vigilante had a heart of gold; he genuinely wanted to help out the people in his neighborhood in any way he could. These were the videos that made Tony realize just how similar the vigilante was to his compassionate and kind son. God, maybe he is Addie .

Tony groaned, grabbing a fistful of his hair, and leaned back, frustration boiling inside him.

But then came the other half of the videos—the ones that made Tony’s blood run cold.

Spider-Man wasn’t just doing community service. He was stopping runaway cars with his bare hands. He was dodging bullets— actual bullets —while disarming drug dealers. He was running into burning buildings. He was dangling from crane cables three hundred feet in the air like it was fun.

And he was doing it alone .

No armor. No backup.

Just a skinny teen in a cloth suit and a death wish.

Then Tony saw the clip. The one that nearly knocked the air out of him.

Spider-Man diving into a shootout in an alley. Three armed men. One with a semi-automatic. Aidan— it had to be Aidan —took them down with terrifying precision. But not before a bullet grazed his arm. He faltered for just a second, then kept going like nothing had happened.

Tony’s breath hitched.

One second slower. One inch to the left. One miscalculation—and his son would’ve died.

Tony’s grip tightened around his mug until it cracked in his hand.

“FRIDAY,” he said, voice hoarse, “shut it down. Just—turn it all off.”

The screen went black.

Just one bullet.

That was all it took to kill Pietro Maximoff—Wanda’s twin brother, barely more than a kid himself. Twenty-one years old. A blur in motion. A hero. He died six months ago in Sokovia, throwing himself in front of a hail of bullets to save Clint and a child. And why? Because Tony had made a catastrophic mistake—he built an AI that decided the world would be better off without humans.

Pietro’s death had never stopped haunting him.

The guilt clung to him like a second skin, every day, every breath. He couldn’t bring Pietro back. Couldn’t undo the chain of events that led to that moment. But now—now the thought of Addie, his own kid, following the same path, putting himself in the line of fire like that...

It was unbearable.

Tony felt his chest seize as the memory surged—the blood, the screams, Wanda’s wail. He hadn’t been able to save Pietro.

But Addie?

He would. He had to.

Losing him wasn’t an option.

In that instant, Tony made himself a promise.

If Aidan was Spider-Man, he was going to find out. And when he did—he would do whatever it took to pull him out of that suit, out of that danger, out of that nightmare.

He wasn’t going to lose his kid.

Not again.

Not ever.

Tony couldn't remember how he got to the dining table. He couldn't even tell you what he was eating right now. All his energy and attention were focused on one thing and one thing only: figuring out how he would confront his son about whether he is Spiderman or not. Would he have to interrogate his son? Check his phone? Search his room? And if Aidan turns out to be Spider-Man... Oh god...

"...y."

"...ony!"

"Dad!"

"Huh?" Tony replied, jerking his head up towards his son. He was suddenly snapped out of his trance.

"I called you three times. I have something I want to ask you. Are you feeling okay?" Addie asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Sorry, bud. Just a little tired. Ask away."

"Um... I've been going to Ned's place every Saturday dinner for a couple years now, so he's expecting me to come this Saturday too. Would it be ok if I go?" he hesitantly asked.

"Where's your friend's place?" Tony frowned. He didn't like the idea of his son leaving the tower when it wasn't really necessary.

"It's just in Queens. He lives three blocks away from school."

"And what are you two kiddos going to do?"

"Uh... just, y-you know, eat dinner, build Legos, do our homework together... yeah," Aidan replied, looking away from Tony's eyes and blinking excessively.

Tony sighed. Seriously, Aidan? The boy was clearly lying to him again. Tony was this close to telling his son that he couldn't go until he realized something.

The boy was probably planning on doing the thing he's been hiding at the friend's... Ted's place. This would be the perfect opportunity for Tony to find out what his son was hiding from him; he'll just have to see what Aidan was really doing that night.

"Alright, kid. But I want Happy to drive you back and forth. And remember to always carry the phone I got you."

"Okay, thank you," he replied contentedly, nodding his head.

Tony nodded back, taking a bite of mac and cheese. Now we’ll see what you’re really up to, spiderling.

Chapter Text

"Thanks again for driving me, Uncle Happy!" Peter said in his usual animated tone. He grabbed his backpack from the seat beside him and pushed the door open to get out of the car.

"I'll be back at 11 P.M. sharp. Don't be late!" Happy yelled out as Peter slammed the door shut.

“I won’t!” Peter hollered back, grinning as he sprinted toward Ned’s building. His whole body buzzed with anticipation.

Peter couldn't wait to go on patrol again. With all the mind-blowing changes in his life this past week, he desperately craved the one activity he could always count on to relieve his stress: Spiderman patrols with Ned.

He was already frustrated enough to discover how overprotective Tony was of him, expecting Peter to stay cooped up in the tower like he was freakin' Rapunzel from that Disney movie. But his frustration grew even more when he returned to school yesterday.

Flash had been spreading rumors to his classmates that Peter had been in Juvie for drug abuse while he was absent from school. Ned and MJ did their best to defend him, telling everyone he'd just been sick, but nobody really believed them—not when it was far more entertaining to believe that Peter had been in jail.

With his enhanced hearing, Peter easily caught all the whispers and side glances as he roamed the halls between classes. It wasn't exactly fun being labeled as a 'poor, troubled orphan spiraling out of control' or a 'teacher's pet turned drug addict.' He joked that it was about time he got some street cred, but in truth—it sucked.

So yeah. He needed this.

He didn’t bother knocking when he reached Ned’s fifth-floor apartment. He knew the door would be unlocked.

“Did the pizza get here yet?” he called out, stepping inside.

Ned popped out of the kitchen, proudly holding up a large pizza box. “Like, two minutes ago!”

"Awesome, bro!" Peter exclaimed as he gave Ned a fist bump. He wanted to eat as fast as possible so that he could start his patrol right away. If he finished the pizza in 10 minutes, he'll have a good 4 hours before he had to be back to Ned's to meet Happy again.

Peter quickly devoured four slices of pepperoni pizza and washed them down with a can of Dr. Pepper. He wiped the grease off his face with a paper napkin and half-heartedly brushed the crumbs off his shirt. Satisfied he'd gotten most of them, he unzipped his backpack and pulled out his Spiderman suit.

"Ned, find anything good?" Peter asked as he stepped into his suit.

"“Looks like there’s a robbery on Franklin Avenue,” Ned reported, scrolling through his hacked police feed.

“Nice. I’m on it.” Peter finished strapping on his web shooters and jogged to the bedroom window.

“Don’t forget your comm!” Ned called, his mouth full of crust.

"Oh right, and I'm leaving my phone here—I'm sure Tony's got a tracker in this thing." Peter grabbed the earpiece from Ned's desk and placed the phone Tony gave him in its place. He couldn't possibly carry the phone with him on his patrol—Tony would find out he was gone immediately.

"Woaw. Cool... or not cool? Are you sure we can still do this, Peter? I don't know how I feel about helping you keep a secret from the freakin' Iron Man, dude. I mean, what if he gets angry at me and blasts me into oblivion?" Ned asked nervously.

"You'll be fine, Ned," Peter said with a slight shrug. "He'll probably be furious at me though... with him trying to make me follow those stupid rules and all." Peter mumbled, his voice growing smaller.

"Rules?"

"Ugh, don't get me started. I'll tell you when I get back," Peter huffed, rolling his eyes. He opened Ned's window and started climbing out. "Alright, let's get this show on the road," he exclaimed as he launched himself out of the window, firing a web toward the apartment building across the street.

He swung upwards, landing smoothly on the rooftop. Just as he was about to sprint toward another building, he heard a strange noise from behind—a low-pitched mechanical whirring followed by a deep thud of something heavy landing on the same roof he was on.

"Hi, Spiderman. Building LEGOs, was it?" A very familiar voice called out.

Peter completely froze in his tracks. He prayed to whatever higher power was listening that the voice he just heard didn't belong to who he thought it did. Slowly, he turned around, and his heart sank when he saw the unmistakable metallic red and gold armor staring back at him.

Shit. It was his dad.

"Sorry, d-do I know you?" Peter stammered anxiously, trying to disguise his voice with his best attempt at a Batman impression.

"Drop the act, Aidan. I know it's you," Tony said, his tone flat and unamused.

Shit! Shit! Shit! What now?! Peter shifted slightly, debating if he should just deny everything and bolt.

"And don't you dare try to run, little boy. Unless you want me to interrogate your little friend too," Tony threatened, pointing his finger towards Ned's bedroom window.

Peter gulped and turned his gaze to the window. Ned was staring at Peter and his dad, his mouth agape.

"Peter... am I losing my mind, or is Iron Man really here talking to you right now?" Ned whispered through Peter's earpiece.

Peter swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly dry as sandpaper. He turned back toward Tony, whose glowing eyes narrowed behind the faceplate.

“How did you…” Peter began, barely able to force the words out.

"Of course, you don't even have your phone with you. Of course, you were going to do God knows what dangerous stunt you usually pull, without any way of getting help!" Tony's voice rose in frustration.

"Ned's my backup," Peter replied lamely.

"Your little fourteen-year-old friend from school is not backup, Aidan," Tony snapped, clearly exasperated.

"He's fif—"

"No. This is where you ZIP IT, alright? The adult is talking!"

Peter flinched and took a step back. Tony was absolutely livid. His gaze dropped to the floor, and his chin trembled slightly.

"Here's what's going to happen, pal. You are going to go back to your friend's room, retrieve your phone, and come straight back. Then, I will fly us back home, where we'll have a long conversation about all of this. Capiche?"

Peter barely nodded. “Capiche…” he muttered, the word landing on his tongue like a rock.

He turned without another word, his shoulders sagging, and made his way back into Ned’s window.

Peter was carried back to the tower in silence, and the ride felt like it ended far too soon. The penthouse was quiet—too quiet. With Pepper away at a gala in Staten Island, the space felt empty, like it had exhaled all its warmth the moment they walked in. The silence pressed down around Peter, heavy and suffocating, like the whole tower was holding its breath.

His stomach twisted. He couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen when his mom found out. Would she be disappointed? Furious? Worse—hurt? The thought made his throat tighten. Maybe it was a blessing she wasn’t home. Or maybe it would’ve helped, having her there. Right now, Peter didn’t know which was worse.

Tony powered down the suit and stepped out without a word. His jaw was tight. His movements were stiff. Without warning, he reached for Peter’s mask, tore it off, and gripped his arm—not rough, but not gentle either—as he steered him into the living room.

He pushed Peter down onto the couch like he couldn’t trust him to stay put on his own, then dropped into the recliner beside it, burying his face in his hands.

The silence returned, louder than before. Peter stared down at his feet, his heart pounding, waiting for the bomb to drop.

Finally, Tony sat up. His eyes were rimmed red, and his voice was cracked around the edges. “Aidan,” he said. “Look at me.”

Peter hesitated, then glanced up, landing somewhere around Tony’s shoulder.

“Just… how?” Tony asked, voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t have these powers when you were a baby. So how in hell—how did this happen?”

“I got bitten,” Peter mumbled. “About eight months ago. Radioactive spider.”

Tony reeled back like the words physically struck him. “Where the hell were you exposed? Were you experimented on, Aidan? Did the Parkers do this to you?”

“No! Of course not!” Peter sat up straighter, defensive. “It was a field trip to Oscorp in eighth grade. I wandered into some restricted area, and before I knew it…”

Tony’s face darkened. “Norman Osborn. That good-for-nothing son of a bitch. What kind of security team lets a kid wander into a lab like that?”

“Dad…” Peter said weakly. His chest ached. They hadn’t even been talking for five minutes and Tony was already unraveling. This was a nightmare.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to breathe. “I’ve had my suspicions, Aidan, for a couple days now,” he said tightly. “I watched every video I could find. Had FRIDAY analyze your… powers. FRIDAY, give me the rundown.”

“Certainly, Boss,” FRIDAY replied. “Spider-Man exhibits enhanced strength, agility, reflexes, the ability to crawl on surfaces, web projection, and elevated speed and stamina.”

Tony turned to Peter again. “That everything?”

Peter nodded hesitantly. “Mostly. I also have, um... enhanced senses. Like hearing and sight. And something like a sixth sense—it warns me when there’s danger. Oh, and I heal fast. My skin’s kind of tougher than normal.”

Tony blew out a breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. “FRIDAY, add all that to the list.”

He paced a slow circle, trying to process what he was hearing. “I’ve gotta admit,” he said finally, voice low. “That’s... impressive. But that doesn’t make you invincible, Aidan. Don’t you get it? You could be killed out there.”

Peter flinched, but held his ground. “I have to do something with these powers,” he said quietly. “Uncle Ben always said, ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’”

Tony scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If that uncle really cared about you, I doubt he meant you should throw yourself into danger every night. You can’t even drive yet, Aidan. For God’s sake—”

“You don’t know that,” Peter snapped, his voice tight. “You didn’t know him.”

Tony froze for a second. “You’re right,” he said, quietly. “I didn’t. But I do know this—what you’re doing is reckless. And I can’t let it go on. I can’t stand by while my son throws himself in front of bullets and burning buildings.”

“I try to be careful,” Peter shot back. “I know how to handle myself.”

Tony let out a humorless laugh. “No. You don’t. You’re fourteen. You’re my kid. And I’m telling you—this ends now. You’re done being Spider-Man.”

And that was it. The final match dropped on gasoline.

Peter stood so fast the couch nearly tipped. His fists clenched at his sides. “You don’t get to do that!” he shouted. “You’re an Avenger—you risk your life every day and suddenly I’m the problem? That’s the biggest hypocrite shit I’ve ever heard!”

“Aidan Maria Stark—watch your tone, young man!” Tony barked, rising to match his son’s volume and stature.

Peter’s voice cracked with fury. “No! Screw you! You can’t just show up and pretend you know who I am! You weren’t there for ten years—ten! You don’t get to swoop in and tell me who I can or can’t be! I’ve built something—Spiderman means something to people! And you want to take that away? You’re fucking insane!

Tony’s face twisted, equal parts pain and fury. “You do not speak to me like that!” he roared. “You broke every rule I set. You lied to my face—more than once. You left your phone behind on purpose. And you went out on a patrol with no backup, no oversight, no way to call for help!”

Peter flinched under the weight of each word. But he didn’t back down.

“Congratulations, kid,” Tony said coldly, voice clipped and rigid. “You’re grounded. Indefinitely.”

“FRIDAY,” he added, turning to the ceiling like it was a courtroom mic, “start a full diagnostics report on every external feed outside his room. Motion, thermal, light sensors. If he so much as cracks a window open, I want to know.”

“Right away, Boss,” came the AI’s smooth, unbothered response.

“You can’t do this to me!” Peter yelled, his voice going shrill with desperation. “You don’t get to control my life!”

Tony stepped forward, his face inches from Peter’s now. “You’re fourteen, you live in my tower, and your name is legally Aidan Stark. You bet your ass I can.”

Peter’s voice broke on the next words—raw, cracked, full of fire and grief. “God, I hate you! I wish you never found me!”

The words hit like a knife. Tony froze.

Peter didn’t wait for a reaction. He turned and stormed down the hall, slamming his bedroom door with enough force to rattle the windows.

Peter stood in the middle of his room, chest heaving, fists clenched, eyes stinging.

He didn’t even realize he was crying until a couple of hot tears slipped down his cheeks. With a frustrated growl, he wiped them away with the heel of his palm, furious at himself. Crying made it feel like Tony had won somehow—like he was just a dumb, emotional kid who didn’t know what he was doing.

His legs gave out beneath him like a puppet with its strings cut, and he dropped to the floor. Pulling his knees to his chest, he rested his forehead against them and tried to breathe through the wave of anger, betrayal, and sadness crashing over him.

I hate him.

I hate him for finding me. For pretending to care. For acting like he knows anything about me.

But even as he thought it, the anger faltered.

Because Tony had found him. Had brought him home. Had given him his own room, pulled an all-nighter building him a phone. He'd actually asked what Peter wanted for breakfast. He'd tried.

And Peter had wanted that. So badly.

God, he wanted this whole family thing to work. To believe he could stay here—belong here—and be safe and loved and maybe even happy. Something he hadn’t dared hope for since Aunt May died.

But he couldn’t stop being Spider-Man. Not when he’d felt what it was like to save someone. To stop a car with his bare hands. To hear a cry for help and be the one who could do something.

It wasn’t just a choice. It was a responsibility. A duty.

His hands curled into fists again.

Maybe he should run away. Maybe Xavier’s school would be better—a place with other powered kids. Somewhere he wouldn’t be locked in a tower and tracked like a flight risk.

But… what about Ned? And MJ? And Midtown?

And his mom. Pepper had been kind to him in a way that made him feel like he actually mattered—even when he was being a total mess.

His chest ached. His thoughts tangled. He didn’t know what to do, or who he was supposed to be anymore.

With a groan, Peter launched himself onto his bed, curling into the blanket and letting the fabric swallow him whole.

Then—

Knock knock.

A soft knock on the door. Then silence.

Peter didn’t answer. He stayed curled up on his side, facing the wall. His eyes were dry now, but only because he’d already cried out everything he had.

“It’s me,” Tony’s voice came through, quieter than usual. “I’m coming in.”

Peter didn’t move. The door creaked open anyway, followed by slow footsteps and the soft click of it shutting behind him.

Tony stood there for a second, hovering by the bed like he didn’t know whether to sit down, speak, or vanish altogether. Peter stayed still, eyes fixed on the wall.

“Just go away,” he mumbled.

“I know,” Tony said quietly. “I deserve that.”

Peter didn’t respond.

Tony let out a long breath and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed—keeping just enough distance that it didn’t feel like a trap. “I lost my cool,” he said. “That’s on me. I’m not proud of it. Hell, I’m not proud of any of what just happened.”

Peter stayed quiet. He gripped the blanket like it might hold him together.

“I’m way over my head here,” Tony admitted. “I don’t know how to fix this, kid. I’m scared out of my mind.”

Peter flinched—not from anger, but something softer, more fragile.

Tony’s voice dropped. “I already lost you once, Addie. Ten years. Ten years thinking you were gone. And now that I’ve finally got you back…” He paused, like the words hurt to say. “I can’t lose you again.”

Still, Peter said nothing.

“I’m willing to compromise,” Tony continued, choosing each word like it might make or break everything. “I know how much being Spider-Man means to you. I do. You’re out there trying to help people, and part of me... part of me is proud of that. But I’m begging you—just stop. Just until you’re eighteen. Give me a few years where I don’t have to wonder if tonight’s the night I get a call saying my kid didn’t make it.”

Peter finally turned over, meeting his eyes. His jaw was tight, his expression guarded.

“I can’t wait four years,” Peter said softly. “People need me now. Not in four years.”

Tony shook his head, desperate. “There are other heroes. Adults. People with teams, with armor, with backup. The world doesn’t need a fourteen-year-old risking his life in a sweatshirt and a mask.”

Peter looked away. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs. Everything Tony was saying made sense, but it still felt impossibly wrong. If he didn’t help, who would?

And then Tony’s voice broke—really broke—and Peter heard the thing that shattered his resolve.

“Please,” Tony whispered. “Please, kiddo. I’m not too proud to beg. I don’t care how pathetic I sound. Just don’t make me watch my son die.”

Peter blinked, slowly turning toward him.

Tony’s eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

Peter’s breath hitched. He had never—never—seen Tony Stark cry.

That was it.

Something inside him broke. The anger that had kept him upright all night cracked down the middle, and before he could stop it, the words tumbled out:

“Maybe you shouldn’t have found me,” he whispered. “Maybe it would’ve been better for both of us.”

Tony flinched like Peter had hit him.

“Hey,” Tony said quickly, moving closer. He knelt beside the bed, eyes locked onto Peter’s. “Don’t say that. Not ever.”

Peter’s hands trembled. “I’m a curse, okay? Everyone who’s ever loved me—Uncle Ben, Aunt May, the Parkers—they’re gone. They died. And now I’m here, and you and Mom are here, and I’m just... I’m scared I’ll ruin this too. That you’ll die. That I’ll lose you. That it’ll be my fault. Just like all the others.”

A sob escaped, and Peter curled into himself, pressing his face into his hands.

Tony didn’t hesitate. He gathered Peter into his arms and held him tight, as if sheer force of will could protect him from every nightmare.

“You listen to me, Aidan,” Tony said, voice rough, full of steel and sorrow. “You are not a curse. You’re not broken. You’re not a danger. You’re a gift. Just being alive—just you existing—that’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Peter cried harder, his fingers twisting into Tony’s shirt. “Aunt May used to say that,” he choked. “That I was a gift.”

“She was right,” Tony whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Peter’s head. “And I’ll say it every day if I have to. For the rest of my life.”

They stayed like that, locked together, as the storm passed.

Eventually, Peter’s voice came again, soft and thick with exhaustion. “Okay.”

Tony froze. “Okay?”

“I’ll stop,” Peter whispered. “For now. I’ll stop.”

Tony let out a breath that sounded like relief and heartbreak all at once. He held Peter tighter.

“But I still hate you,” Peter mumbled, voice wobbling.

Tony smiled gently, brushing his hand through Peter’s curls. “That’s fair. I’d rather you hate me and stay alive than love me and be gone.”

Peter sniffled, curling closer. “I’ll hate you even more if you die. So don’t.”

Tony chuckled through a lump in his throat. “Deal. Not going anywhere.”

Peter’s breathing slowed. His grip loosened. Within moments, the weight of the night pulled him under, his cheek pressed against Tony’s chest.

Tony didn’t move. He just sat there, cradling his son like he was something precious. Something irreplaceable.

Because he was.

Chapter Text

*Vrmm*

*Vrmm*

*Vrmm*

Peter groaned and blindly slapped around his nightstand for the source of the vibration. His fingers finally landed on his phone. Groggy and half-asleep, he dragged it to his face, expecting to see an alarm—maybe he’d overslept for school?

But no. Not an alarm. Just...

44 unread messages

From the group chat. Oh god.

Chat Name: Best of Three Worlds

Yesterday 7:42 PM

Lily: Peter!!!

Lily: How did Mr. Stark find out so fast?!

Lily: Is he killing you right now?!

Lily: Is he gonna kill me too?!

Lily: Please tell him I’m sorry!! I’m too young to die!!!

Lily: crying emoji

Yesterday 8:10 PM

Lily: Is your dad gonna tell my mom I’ve been helping you with Spider-Man stuff??

Lily: Please say no!! She’ll ground me until I’m 30!!!

Yesterday 9 PM

Lily: Can’t believe I saw IRON MAN today tho

Lily: Bet that was his Mark 43 armor

Lily: So much cooler in real life

Lily: chef’s kiss

Lily: This is literally the best and worst day of my life

Yesterday 9:14 PM

Oliver: facepalm emoji

Oliver: Seriously, Peter? Five days.

Oliver: You’ve really outdone yourself.

Oliver: [GIF: Slow clap]

Lily: Don’t be so mean, MJ :(

Lily: His dad is an Avenger!! We never stood a chance!!

Lily: loudly crying emoji

Yesterday 11:02 PM

Lily: Peter?

12:05 AM

Lily: Are you dead, Peter??

12:30 AM

Lily: DID IRON MAN ACTUALLY KILL YOU?!

Lily: screaming emoji

Oliver: Stop freaking out and go to bed, Ned.

Oliver: Peter’s fine.

Oliver: He’s just too emotionally shattered to text back.

Oliver: Or Stark took his phone.

Oliver: Either way, muting this chat. Night.

Lily: Goodnight MJ :'(

1:32 AM

Lily: Wait... is your dad sending you to that mutant school now??

Lily: Are we still gonna see you at school or… are you leaving forever?!

3:30 AM

Lily: Peter… if I never see you again…

Lily: I just want you to know—I love you, bro.

Lily: Best friend EVER. No one else compares.

Lily: loudly crying emoji

8:02 AM

Lily: PETER I DIDN’T SLEEP AT ALL

Lily: LIKE. NOT. A. SINGLE. SECOND.

Lily: weary emoji

Lily: PETER PLEAAASSSEE

Lily: Just tell me you’re alive!!

Lily: I’m begging you!!

Lily: pleading face emoji

Peter lowered the phone and let out the longest sigh in the history of sighs.

All of yesterday’s disasters came rushing back like a wave of secondhand embarrassment. The patrol. Getting caught red-handed. Tony literally flying in to bust him. The yelling. The crying. The part where he maybe—probably—definitely sobbed into his dad’s shirt like a baby.

He groaned and flopped back onto his pillow. He was never going to live this down.

After a full minute of muffled screaming into cotton, Peter finally rolled over, unlocked his phone, and squinted at the screen. Ned was clearly spiraling. MJ was pretending not to care but definitely still reading everything. Peter figured he should probably confirm he was still alive. 

8:15 AM

Hannah: NED I’M ALIVE.

Hannah: AND NO, I’M NOT BEING SHIPPED OFF TO MUTANT BOARDING SCHOOL.

Hannah: Seriously, why is that always your first assumption??

Lily: PETER!!!

Lily: Oh thank GOD

Lily: But you were sooo worried if anyone found out, you would be sent there!! 

Peter sighed again. 

Okay, fine, that had been a real fear a few weeks ago—back when he was living with Dana and didn’t even know who he was. But now? Tony and Pepper were... intense. Protective. Definitely not the "ship-you-off" type. They'd just lock every window in the building and stick him with three layers of AI surveillance instead.

Still, he had considered sending himself to Xavier’s yesterday. That moment in his room, after all the yelling, when everything felt like too much—he’d honestly thought about running away. And then Tony cried. And he cried. And somehow, in the middle of all that emotional mess, he agreed to stop being Spider-Man until he was eighteen.

Peter blinked up at the ceiling.

Can I... retract that?

Is that allowed?

Damn it. He always got caught up in emotions.

Hannah: Well he's not sending me there

Hannah: I mean, seriously, he's way WAY too overprotective to even consider it

Hannah: He's already way too paranoid to let me out of his sight...or to be spiderman

Hannah: Uuuggghhhh I still don't know how he found out so soon

Lily: Oh no :( Did you get in a lot of trouble yesterday?

Hannah: Yeah…

Hannah: I'm grounded…indefinitely. 

Oliver: Figures. 

Oliver: Welp. Kiss your suit goodbye, Pete. It was a good run while it lasted.  

Hannah: Fuck you.

Lily: [GIF: Surprised Pikachu Face]

Lily: Did you just swear Peter? You never swear!!

Oliver: Woaw guess someone's really diving into their teenage angst era

Peter stared at his screen, eyes wide. Oh no. What did I just type?

He never swore at his friends. Ever. Especially not at MJ. A fresh wave of guilt hit him like a truck. His stomach twisted.

What is happening to me?

A week in the tower and he was already snapping at people, swearing, spiraling—turning into a snarky jerk just like... ugh. Just like Tony.

He hastily typed out an apology:

Hannah: Sorry MJ...I think Tony's a bad influence on me. I've been swearing nonstop since I started living here

Hannah: And sorry I worried you guys... see you both tmr at school

Oliver: Don't sweat it. See you tmr nerds

Lily: Have a good day! I'll try to get some sleep!

Peter dropped his phone onto the pillow and slumped back with a groan, dragging both hands down his face.

What the hell is happening to me?

These outbursts, this... anger. It was all so new. He’d always tried so hard to keep himself in check, to never be a burden or cause trouble. But now, it was like the floodgates had opened, and he couldn’t stop the emotions from pouring out. Maybe MJ was right—maybe he was slipping into the stereotypical "angsty teenager" phase.

He groaned again, louder this time, and rolled over to bury his face in the blanket.

He still didn’t know what he’d say—or could say—when he saw Tony later today. That whole mess from last night was still sitting heavy in his chest like wet cement.

But worse—way worse—was the realization that snuck up on him like a horror movie jumpscare.

His mom. Oh no.

Pepper had probably found out. Of course she had. She and Tony shared everything. Which meant she probably knew everything. And if that wasn’t terrifying enough, he had no idea how she’d react. Would she yell? Ground him again? Cry?

God, if she cried he’d literally melt into the floor and disappear.

“FRIDAY,” he mumbled into his blanket. “Are my parents awake?”

“Yes, Peter,” the AI answered politely. “Boss and Boss Lady are currently speaking in the master bedroom.”

Oh, great, Peter thought. "Thanks, FRIDAY," he mumbled. They were probably talking about him—definitely talking about him. The master bedroom was just across the hall, and with his enhanced hearing, Peter figured he could eavesdrop. Slowly, he got out of bed and pressed his ear against his bedroom door, listening closely despite the thick walls.

“I can’t believe you didn’t call me the second you figured it out,” Pepper said, her voice taut with frustration. “Tony, we’re supposed to be doing this together.”

Peter winced.

“I didn’t have time,” Tony replied. “And it wasn’t exactly a calm discovery, Pep. I caught him mid-patrol. I was trying not to explode in front of the kid.”

“Trying not to—” Pepper cut herself off with a breath. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about. I know how you get when you’re scared. You go straight into control mode, and you stop thinking about how you sound—how he’s hearing you.”

Tony made a noise—half scoff, half sigh. “Oh, don’t start.”

“You yelled at him, didn’t you?” Pepper continued, gentler but no less piercing. “You lost your temper. You said something harsh.”

Another silence.

Peter felt himself tense.

Then, Tony groaned quietly. “There was... maybe a bit of a yelling match.”

“Tony—”

“I redeemed myself later, okay?” he cut in quickly. “There was yelling, yes. But also a lot of hugging. Tears. A really intense heart-to-heart. He even fell asleep on me. That’s gotta mean I didn’t totally mess it up.”

Peter’s cheeks burned. Ugh, why did he say it like that?

Pepper exhaled. “Still. I need to check for myself if our baby is okay.”

“Pep—”

“Nope. Move aside. FRIDAY, is Addie awake?”

Peter’s eyes shot wide open. Oh no. Abort mission. Abort!

"Yes, Boss Lady," FRIDAY answered unhelpfully. "He is currently awake and standing right by the door.”

Peter stared up at the ceiling, betrayed. Snitched. The AI snitched.

“Thank you,” Pepper said, already heading his way.

Panic detonated in his chest. He scrambled back into bed like it was a bomb shelter, yanked the covers over his head, and tried to make himself one with the mattress. Be cool. Be still. Be a blanket burrito.

Knock knock.

“Aidan?” Pepper’s voice came through soft as velvet. “Sweetheart, can I come in?”

“…Yeah. Yeah, Mom,” Peter muttered, trying for casual and landing squarely on pitiful.

The door creaked open. Pepper entered, and for a long second, she just stood there in the glow of the hallway light, studying the lump of blanket that was her son. Then she crossed to his bed and sat beside him, the mattress dipping gently under her weight.

“Aidan Stark,” she said in that soft-but-firm mom voice that gave Peter no choice but to emerge from hiding.

He peeked out from under the blanket, bracing himself.

“Don’t you ever, not even for one second, think that you’re a curse.”

Peter blinked.

Pepper’s voice trembled—not from anger, but emotion. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me. And to your dad. Do you hear me?”

Peter’s throat constricted. “I—what?”

Before he could say anything else, Pepper leaned in and wrapped him in her arms. He didn’t even hesitate—just curled into her like a kid, letting her hold him, warm and safe and solid.

“You’re not a burden,” she whispered. “You’re not dangerous. You’re not wrong or broken or too much. You are a miracle, baby.”

He barely had time to process the words before she pulled him into her arms. And just like that, he caved—again. He folded into her, pressing his face to her shoulder like he had as a little kid, and all the grief and fear he’d tried to keep buried came rushing back up. The tears burned down his cheeks, soaking into her shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he choked. “I didn’t mean to lose it. I just—I couldn’t hold it in anymore.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” she whispered, rocking him gently. “You’ve been so brave, baby. But you don’t have to be strong all the time.”

They stayed like that for a long time. When Peter’s tears finally ran dry, she helped him sit upright, brushing back his curls with her fingers.

“Did your dad say anything too harsh?” Pepper asked softly. “You know how he gets when he’s scared.”

Peter let out a breathy, bitter little laugh. “Not really. I mean… not compared to what I said.”

He didn’t elaborate, but the words echoed loud in his head anyway—hypocrite, I hate you, I wish you never found me. God. He couldn’t even bring himself to repeat them out loud. Just thinking about it made his chest tighten with shame.

Pepper didn’t press. She just kept rubbing slow circles on his back, grounding him like always.

After a beat, Peter swallowed hard and said, “And then he... made me promise I’d stop being Spider-Man. Until I’m eighteen.”

He looked up at her, eyes still red and glassy. “Do I really have to?”

It came out smaller than he meant—less like a challenge and more like a plea. Like some stubborn, aching part of him was still hoping someone might say no, that it was all a mistake, that he could keep doing what made him feel like he mattered.

Pepper let out a soft sigh, brushing his curls back as she cupped his cheek. “I know it’s hard. I know Spider-Man isn’t just a suit to you. It’s a part of you. But we just got you back, sweetheart. And we love you too much to risk losing you again.”

She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead before pulling back to meet his eyes. “We’re not asking you to stop because we don’t believe in you. We’re asking you to stop because we want you here—with us. Safe. Alive. Long enough to become whoever you’re meant to be.”

Peter blinked fast, trying to hold back the new wave of tears building behind his lashes. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, just to keep from crumbling all over again.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just nodded. Once.

He didn’t agree with the decision. Not deep down. It still felt like he was abandoning something important—like he was walking away from the part of him that had kept him afloat after May died. But this wasn’t about what he wanted right now.

It was about Tony calling him a gift—the best thing that ever happened to him.

It was about Pepper saying he wasn’t a curse, but a miracle.

It was about knowing, even through all the yelling and fear, that his parents loved him—fiercely, protectively, unconditionally.

So, yeah. He’d try. For them.

Peter let out a long, unsteady sigh, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

This was going to suck. So much.

But maybe… maybe it would also be okay.

Eventually.

Peter didn’t see much of Tony over the next three days—which, frankly, felt like getting ghosted by your emotionally repressed billionaire dad. One minute they were sobbing in each other’s arms, and the next? Tony had vanished into his workshop like a ghost. A ghost that occasionally barked orders at FRIDAY or left half-drunk coffee cups in places coffee should never be.

Apparently, coordinating Avengers move-in day was some kind of logistical apocalypse. Tony was either buried under blueprints, elbow-deep in a mess of tech parts, or ranting about fire safety protocols to holograms. Peter had barely caught a glimpse of him since Friday night.

Meanwhile, Peter was drowning in schoolwork. He was still playing catch-up after the whole "missing and then grounded" arc. It was not fun. Between makeup tests, extra assignments, and teachers giving him that “please don’t fall behind again” look, Peter was running on fumes.

Also, he had to go to a check-up. Because of course he did.

Pepper had booked him in with Dr. Cho on Monday, and the results were... enlightening, to say the least. Peter, despite his regular large meals, was slightly underweight. Apparently, his fast metabolism was to blame. No matter how much he ate, it wasn’t enough to keep up with the energy his body burned through. Dr. Cho had given him calorie-packed energy bars to help him gain weight and maintain his health. She was also working on custom-made medications for him because, unsurprisingly, regular painkillers and drugs had little effect on him due to his accelerated metabolism.

And yes, he was still grounded.

Sort of.

The “indefinitely” grounding from Friday night hadn’t lasted long. After a very long conversation—and some masterful sad-eye deployment—Peter had somehow convinced his parents to reduce his sentence to one month. No leaving the tower unless it was for school, and under FRIDAY’s quiet but constant surveillance. It was less than ideal, but survivable. He had his phone, could move freely within the building, and was too swamped with schoolwork to feel too confined—until today.

It was Wednesday, November 25th, the day before Thanksgiving. It was also the day the Avengers were moving back into the tower. Peter had five days off from school for Thanksgiving break starting today, but his original plan to invite Ned over had completely fallen apart. Ned would have freaked out at the possibility of meeting any of the Avengers, but Tony—being the ass that he was—had informed Ned's parents about his involvement in Peter's vigilante activities. To top it off, Tony made them sign NDAs to keep Peter's identities as both Spiderman and Aidan Stark a secret. As a result, Ned was also grounded for a whole month, basically until Christmas Eve. With no other plans for the break, Peter’s mom suggested he start studying for finals. Yay.

Peter had just finished eating some leftover chicken parmesan for lunch, swinging his legs on the kitchen stool as boredom crept in. His mom and Happy had gone out grocery shopping earlier that morning, and Tony was locked away in his workshop, likely working on some cool project. Normally, Peter would have been curious enough to sneak a peek, but he was a bit too salty with his dad's ghosting to go check out what he was doing. At least the Avengers were supposed to arrive soon—he heard they'd be here in less than two hours. He couldn't wait to see them again.

With boredom clawing at his skull and no homework urgent enough to distract him, Peter remembered something Tony had mentioned last week: the tower had a gym on the 70th floor.

Well. He couldn’t swing around rooftops now, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still keep in shape. Hiatus or not, one day he’d be back in the suit. Heading to the elevator, he directed FRIDAY to take him to the 70th floor.

When the doors opened, Peter’s jaw dropped. Holy cow… The gymnasium was absolutely massive. An indoor running track looped around the entire space, circling pristine, full-size basketball courts with sleek wooden floors. Bleachers lined the walls, and the entire area had an ultra-modern, high-tech aesthetic. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the New York skyline, bathing the space in natural light. One wall was lined with high-end fitness equipment that looked like it came straight out of a futuristic action movie.

How have I been cooped up in my room for days when this was just sitting here 10 floors below? Peter thought, wide-eyed with disbelief. He kicked himself for not exploring it sooner.

After stretching out his limbs for a couple of minutes, Peter jogged over to the track, feeling the pent-up energy in his body begging for release. He launched himself into a sprint, running as fast as his legs could carry him. The rush of air against his face felt amazing, his heart pounding in his chest, his muscles burning in the best way. The endorphins kicked in, fueling him, pushing him faster and faster. By the time he hit 50 laps, he barely felt winded.

But Peter wasn’t satisfied yet. He pushed himself harder, running another 50 laps, then 30, then 10 more, until finally his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed onto the cold floor, breathing heavily, his heart still hammering in his chest. He lay there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, his pulse thrumming through his body. Man, he needed that.

After catching his breath, Peter grinned to himself. Alright, now for the fun part. He jumped back up, shaking out his legs as he jogged over to the basketball court. It was time to brush up on his flips.

Peter’s body moved instinctively as he sprinted across the basketball court. He launched himself into the air, nailing a perfect front flip before smoothly transitioning into a backflip. The adrenaline coursed through him, pushing him to go further. He sprinted again, leaping into the air, twisting his body into a series of rapid flips—a double helix, then a triple—his limbs spinning in perfect synchronization. He landed gracefully, knees bent, his heart racing with excitement. Yes! Nailed it!

"So it's true." A voice called out from behind. "You're Spider-Man."

Peter quickly turned around to see Wanda by the entrance of the gym, her eyes wide and her hands over her mouth. He froze, his heart pounding even harder than it had during his run. He hadn’t even heard Wanda come in.

"Uh...hi, Wanda... didn’t expect you to get here so early," Peter stammered, forcing out a nervous laugh. "Did Tony tell you?" He wouldn’t put it past his dad to just spill his secret like that.

Wanda shook her head, still looking stunned. "No, Nat figured it out... and confronted Tony about it maybe ten minutes ago. Nobody believed her, though. I didn’t believe her... until now." Her voice was still filled with disbelief as she took another step closer.

Peter’s mouth dropped open. What the hell? How was everyone finding out his secret so easily? At this rate, he might as well write "I’m Spider-Man" on his forehead, and it wouldn’t make a difference. Ugh.

But he should’ve known better than to think he could hide anything from Black Widow. Of course she’d figure it out—there was no secret the spy couldn’t uncover. The woman was a living lie detector, and there was no hiding anything from her.

“Yeah…” Peter exhaled, his voice hollow. “I’m Spider-Man. Surprise?” He gave a weak shrug, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wanted to joke but couldn’t find the strength. “Or—I was Spider-Man,” he added, a little bitter this time. “Tony found out this weekend. And I… I promised I’d stop. Until I’m eighteen.”

He paused, eyes flicking down toward the floor. “It felt right in the moment, I guess. He was crying. I was crying. It was a whole thing.” He gave a small, humorless laugh. “But now I’m not sure. I don’t know if I actually made the right call. I mean, people still need help. I still want to help. So yeah, I’m kinda stuck.”

Wanda tilted her head slightly, then nodded toward a nearby bench. “Hmm… come sit with me, baby Stark.”

"Please just call me Peter, Wanda," he muttered, following her toward the bench, his frustration slipping into his voice. "I’m not a baby, you know. I’m in high school," he added, muttering under his breath.

"Alright, Peter," Wanda teased with a small smile. But her tone shifted as she added, "Seriously though... you remind me a lot of my brother, Pietro."

"Oh, you have a brother? Is he younger than you?" Peter asked, not really thinking before the words tumbled out of his mouth.

Wanda’s smile faltered, her expression clouding over. "Well, I had a brother..." she said quietly. "He passed away six months ago. He was my twin—twelve minutes older than me."

Peter froze, mentally kicking himself. How could I forget? Wanda’s brother, Quicksilver, had died during the Battle of Sokovia. "Oh... I’m so sorry," he said, his voice soft and filled with regret. "I lost my uncle six months ago, too. He was shot," Peter added, feeling like he needed to share something personal in return.

Wanda glanced at him, her eyes softening. "My brother too..." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "You must miss him a lot. Just like I miss Pietro."

"Yeah, I do. I... I think about him and my Aunt May every day," Peter admitted, his voice quieter now. "They were basically my parents, you know? They took me in after... well, after my fake parents died."

Wanda’s expression shifted, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "Wow... you really do have a lot in common with us," she said softly. "Our parents died when we were ten. Pietro... he used to be this total ball of energy—just like you. Always positive, always smiling. But after we lost them in an air raid and ended up in an orphanage... he changed. He had to."

Peter felt a lump form in his throat, unsure of what to say. "How did he change?" he asked carefully, his voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda’s face darkened, her eyes distant as if she was lost in memories. "He got so... angry. He didn’t trust anyone. We had to grow up fast, but he grew up even faster. Even though he was only twelve minutes older, it felt like he was years older." She paused, her hands fidgeting as she spoke. "He became so overprotective of me, like it was his job to take care of everything. He was always fighting. Always."

Peter sat in silence, absorbing her words, trying to imagine what that kind of life must have been like. "He must’ve really loved you," Peter said softly.

"Yeah, he did. And I loved him too," Wanda replied, her voice cracking slightly as she struggled to maintain her composure. "And it hurts that he died before he could experience life—finding love, having kids, all those milestones." She took a shaky breath. "But what really, really sucks is that in the short life he did have, all he did was fight. He was always angry. I barely have any good memories of him because he was constantly battling something."

Peter’s heart clenched at her words. He could feel her grief in every syllable. Wanda’s hands trembled slightly as she continued, her voice filled with frustration. "It’s not fair. His whole life was just... one fight after another. And now, he’s gone, and all I can think about is him being angry all the time. That’s what I’m stuck with—memories of his anger."

Peter lowered his gaze, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t good at this—comforting people. "I’m sorry," he said softly, not knowing what else to offer.

“Peter, you'll get to be Spider-Man eventually. But right now, you’re still a kid, and I don’t want you to miss out on just being you. My brother never got that chance, and I don’t want that to happen to you too.”

Peter frowned, feeling the weight of her words. “I guess…” 

Wanda sighed, her expression softening as she reached over to ruffle his hair in a comforting gesture. “I know it feels like forever, but trust me, it’ll go by faster than you think. And...” she paused, her voice growing quieter, “you never really know how much time you have with the people you love. It could be years... or it could be months.”

Peter nodded slowly, the truth of her words sinking in.

“I’d give anything to have one more day with Pietro,” Wanda whispered, her voice filled with sorrow. “And I’m sure you feel the same way about your aunt and uncle. You only realize how important that time is... when it’s gone.”

Peter’s chest tightened at the thought of Aunt May and Uncle Ben. The grief was still fresh, the ache still sharp. “Yeah... I do.” He missed them every day. 

Wanda gave him a gentle look. “I’m not Mr. Stark’s biggest fan, but even I can see how much he loves you. You already lost so many years with your parents because of what happened. If I were you, I’d try to make every day with them count. Trust me, Peter, once it’s gone... you can’t get it back.”

Peter didn’t reply right away. He just stared at the floor, chewing on the inside of his cheek. But somewhere in him, the words were landing. Giving him more clarity. Grounding him.

Wanda smiled, a teasing glint returning to her eyes. “Well, that’s just my opinion, baby boy.” She grinned mischievously, causing Peter to groan in playful exasperation. “But seriously, you’ve got to show me those flips again! They were amazing. Come on!”

“It’s Peter,” he said with a grin as he stood up, ready to show off his flips again for Wanda.

Chapter Text

Well this sucks.

Tony lay in bed, arms crossed behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it might have answers for him—or at least a blueprint for how not to screw up parenting. Morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, a calm contrast to the internal static buzzing in his brain. 

It was Thanksgiving, a day meant to be full of warmth, overeating, and family dysfunction you could at least laugh about. But instead of feeling grateful, Tony just felt... off. Off-balance. Off-kilter. Just—off.

It had been four days since he’d caught Aidan in the middle of a rooftop patrol. Four days since the shouting, the accusations, the emotional breakdown that ended with his son crying in his arms. Four days since Aidan had agreed to put Spider-Man on hold until he turned eighteen. (If it were up to Tony, “temporarily” would’ve meant forever and then some—but even he wasn’t naive enough to think his teenage vigilante of a son would go down without a fight.)

Also, it had been four days since Aidan told Tony he hated him. That he wished Tony had never found him.

Yeah. That part still stung.

Tony had tried to shrug it off. He’d heard worse. Hell, said worse. Being hated wasn’t exactly new territory—it was practically in his resume. But this wasn’t a pissed-off investor or a press conference gone wrong. This was his kid. The one he’d just gotten back. And for once in his life, Tony Stark had no idea how to fix something.

Not immediately, anyway.

So he defaulted to the only coping strategy he knew: work. Between the Avengers' move-in logistics and a thousand unanswered emails, he kept himself conveniently buried. Coordinating five powered personalities with wildly different dietary needs and emotional baggage had made avoidance easy.

Meanwhile, Aidan had gone radio silent. Not entirely—he was polite enough around Pepper and hadn’t run away (yet)—but the kid was clearly keeping his distance. No more playful snark. No late-night tinkering. Just school, sulking, and sleeping way too late.

Tony sighed, finally dragging his arm away from his face.

He wasn’t good at this. He never had been. People didn’t usually expect emotional fluency from the guy who put a missile system in his chest. Feelings? Communication? Repairing relationships? That was all Pepper’s department. But this wasn’t just some PR nightmare or ex-girlfriend with a grudge. This was Aidan. His son.

And despite his natural instinct to avoid emotional confrontation like it was a Hydra base, Tony had been trying to do something.

He's been working on a surprise for Aidan to try to ease the tension. Two nights ago, in a rare moment of inspiration—or desperation—he’d decided to build something for Aidan: a workspace. His own corner of the workshop designed just for him. Tony had spent hours making it perfect, pouring over every detail like it was a mission. Because in a way, it was. A mission to reconnect with his son.

He’d remembered the conversation they had last week. Aidan had been so animated, telling Tony how much he loved Star Wars. He also remembered Aidan mentioning how Workshop was one of his favorite subjects in school. It wasn’t just the Spider-Man stuff his kid loved—Addie had a natural knack for building things, much like Tony. 

That’s where the idea of the workspace came in. Tony figured if Aidan couldn’t be out swinging across the city as Spider-Man because of the patrol ban he had enforced, then maybe working on projects and building things could be a good alternative. It wasn’t the same, but it was something. A way to channel that energy, to keep his mind and hands busy, and maybe even give the kid something to enjoy.

So he’d gone all out. The workspace was Star Wars-themed, of course. Tony had made sure of that. He decked it out with sleek black and chrome finishes, lighting that mimicked the glow of a rebel base, and even a floating holoprojector for fun. He wanted it to feel like a place Aidan could lose himself in, a corner of the tower where he could work on his own projects, experiment, and build.

The thought of it made Tony smile to himself, just for a moment. He pictured Aidan’s face when he saw it—maybe, just maybe, it’d break the ice. But then the doubt crept in. What if Aidan didn’t care? What if this was just another reminder of everything Tony wouldn’t let him do, like patrol as Spider-Man?

Tony sighed. He wasn’t expecting a miracle tonight. He wasn’t expecting Aidan to immediately stop being angry for the patrol ban. But if Aidan could see that Tony wasn’t just shutting him down, then maybe it could start...fixing things.

Taking a deep breath, he eased himself out of bed. He still had to finish the final touches before the big Thanksgiving dinner with the Avengers. After dinner, Tony would take Aidan down to the workshop and show him what he had been working on.

Tony wandered into the living room, the familiar scent of cinnamon Yankee candles hitting him like clockwork. Pepper always made sure the place smelled like some kind of seasonal wonderland during the holidays. He smirked—cinnamon wasn’t exactly his scent of choice, but hey, if it made her happy, he’d take the sugar cookie atmosphere.

Pepper was in the kitchen, hovering over the turkey like it was a high-stakes science experiment. Precision, focus, surgical grace. Meanwhile, Aidan was curled up cross-legged on the couch, a party-sized bag of Doritos in his lap, watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade with a kind of quiet that tugged unexpectedly at Tony’s chest.

It was their first real Thanksgiving together in ten years. Aidan was home. Actually here. And even though they hadn’t exchanged more than a few words since the rooftop incident, the image of him sitting there—snacking, safe, breathing—hit Tony like a sucker punch to the heart.

Aidan glanced up as Tony approached. For the first time in days, their eyes met. He didn’t look away.

Okay. Good sign. Note to self. Don’t screw this up.

“Morning,” Tony said, aiming for casual but not cold.

Aidan hesitated, then gave a tiny nod. “Morning.” He held out the Doritos bag without a word.

Tony blinked. A peace offering? Huh. “You trying to bribe your way out of being grounded?” he asked, plucking a chip anyway.

Aidan shrugged, eyes back on the TV. “Depends. Is it working?”

Tony sat down at the opposite end of the couch, not too close, but close enough to try. “We’ll see,” he said, popping the chip in his mouth. “But if you were hoping for leniency, you probably should’ve offered Cool Ranch.”

Addie gave the tiniest hint of a smile—more of a twitch, really—and Tony mentally filed it as a win. They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of the parade filling the room as they munched on the chips.

As Tony settled back into the couch, savoring the moment, the elevator dinged open. Rhodey, Wanda, and Vision stepped into the penthouse looking a little too prepared for what they’d signed up for. Pepper had enlisted them to handle the Thanksgiving cooking this year, hoping that their lack of involvement in last year’s catastrophe would give them a shot at producing something edible.

Last Thanksgiving had been nothing short of apocalyptic. Thor had tried to “infuse” the turkey with thunder, an idea that left the bird as crispy as a piece of charcoal. Then Tony himself, in a moment of misguided brilliance, had experimented with a high-tech stuffing method that turned the kitchen into something resembling a science experiment gone wrong. Steve had somehow managed to “enhance” the cranberry sauce with way too much salt, claiming he’d seen his mom do it once. And then there was Clint, who had taken it upon himself to teach Natasha how to shoot arrows… using mashed potatoes as ammunition.

By the end of it, nothing was edible, and Pepper had FRIDAY order pizza, which arrived just as the smoke detectors were going off. This year, everyone who participated in last year's cooking was strictly banned from the kitchen.

Rhodey, Wanda, and Vision were Pepper's last hope. None of them had participated in last year’s chaos, so she was counting on them to keep things under control and actually deliver a Thanksgiving meal.

Rhodey shot Tony a look as he walked in, one eyebrow raised. “So, let me get this straight—you guys messed up so badly last year that you had to order pizza?”

Tony grinned, leaning back. “Let’s call it improvisation. When life gives you inedible turkey, you order pizza.”

Rhodey laughed. “And that’s why you’re not cooking this year.”

“Exactly,” Tony replied. "This year, I’m on the couch, Doritos in hand, and that’s where I plan to stay.” He grabbed another chip from Aidan’s bag. “Besides, I’ve got... other things to finish up today.” He shot his son a brief glance, though the kid didn’t seem to catch on.

Wanda glanced around the kitchen and gave Pepper a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, we’ve got this. I even brought a recipe for the stuffing.”

Vision nodded eagerly. “Pepper, I assure you, this Thanksgiving will go according to plan.” There was this determination in Vision’s eyes, like he was preparing for the most efficient meal prep of his synthezoid life.

Pepper’s eyes sparkled with hope. “Thank you, Wanda, Vision, Rhodey—seriously, thank you. I just want one normal holiday meal without a minor explosion.”

As they began to move into the kitchen, Aidan perked up from the couch. “Can I help?” he asked, his eyes flicking between Pepper and the TV.

Pepper turned to him with a gentle smile, clearly touched by his offer. “Maybe later, okay? If I need more help, I’ll let you know. But for now, why don’t you enjoy the parade? You’ve been looking forward to it.”

Aidan nodded shyly, his eyes returning to the TV.

About an hour into the parade, the elevator dinged again, and Happy, Nat, and Steve walked in. Aidan glanced up as they entered, his attention temporarily pulled from the massive Snoopy balloon on TV.

Nat strode over to Addie, a knowing smirk on her face. She casually leaned over the back of the couch, gave Aidan’s hair a playful ruffle, and said, “Hey, Spider-Man.”

Addie’s face immediately turned a deep shade of pink. “How… how did you find out?”

Just like that, the room went silent, and Tony immediately spotted the surprise and confusion washing over Rhodey, Vision, Happy, and Steve’s faces. Tony held back a grin as he watched them process what they just heard, each person looking more confused than the last.

Rhodey finally broke the silence, eyebrows raised. “Hold up. Nat wasn't joking?! You’re Spider-Man? You—fourteen-year-old you—with the baby face?”

Steve looked downright baffled, his gaze moving between Tony and Aidan as if waiting for one of them to deny it. “Wait… Tony, this kid’s been out there fighting crime? In New York City?”

Aidan squirmed under the scrutiny, looking like he wanted to sink through the couch. “It’s not… I didn’t… I mean, yeah, but…” He glanced at Tony with an almost pleading look, but Tony just smirked and raised his eyebrows with a look that said, You’re on your own, kid.

Vision tilted his head, staring at Aidan as if he were examining some rare artifact. “You are barely older than a youngling,” he stated, his voice tinged with awe and confusion. “And yet, you’ve been engaging in independent vigilante activities? Astonishing.”

Natasha just leaned back, folding her arms as she enjoyed the chaos she’d just set off. Aidan, thoroughly flustered, looked at her in bewilderment. “How did you even find out?” he asked.

Nat grinned, leaning back with a shrug. “Last Thursday, Tony asked Steve and me to check out your school, make sure everything was safe.” She raised an eyebrow at Tony. But Tony just stuffed another Dorito in his mouth, doing his best to stay out of the conversation. “So, I took a little look at your locker, and what do I find but a pair of web shooters. Not exactly your average school supplies.”

Addie’s jaw dropped open in realization. “Oh… those.”

Nat chuckled. “Anyway, I called Tony to give him an update on the school. But he sounded totally out of it—like he’d just learned something world-shattering. He almost asked if I was free that Saturday but backed out, saying he’d handle it himself.” She shot Tony a knowing glance. “I figured something was up. Then, a few days later, Tony looked like he’d just found out his coffee machine was broken forever. That’s when it clicked; Stark here had found out on Saturday that his kid was Spider-Man.”

She turned back to Aidan with a smirk. “I confronted Tony yesterday, but Mr. Secret-Keeper over here wouldn’t confirm anything. So, I figured, why not have some fun and make the Spider-Kid squirm a little?”

Tony rolled his eyes and Aidan groaned, looking as if he was calculating the quickest escape route out of the room.

Happy stared at Aidan, eyes wide. “So… you’re telling me you’ve been doing backflips over buildings and swinging off skyscrapers after school?” He shook his head, still processing. “I already worry about Tony enough—now I’ve got to keep an eye on you too?”

Steve folded his arms across his chest, studying Aidan intently. “Aidan, I’ll be honest—what you’re able to do is impressive. But it’s also unbelievably dangerous. You’re fourteen. This isn’t exactly the age for rooftop patrols and chasing criminals.” He shot Tony a pointed look, as if to say, And you’re okay with this?

Tony held up a hand. “Hey, hey—we’ve talked. The kid’s on hiatus. Temporary benching. No more night swings.”

Aidan’s gaze dropped to his feet. “I just… wanted to help people,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tony quickly noticed his son’s discomfort and reached over, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I know, Ads. I know.”

After a brief silence, Rhodey let out a low whistle and shook his head in amazement. “So you’ve been going out there, taking down bad guys on your own? Man, you’ve got guts, kid.”

Steve let out a long sigh, but a reluctant grin crept onto his face. “Well, Aidan, I’ll say this. You’ve definitely impressed us all. Just remember, we all got your back, whether you’re Spider-Man or not.”

Nat then leaned in, giving Aidan a playful nudge. “Spider-Kid, now that the secret’s out, you’ve got the whole Avengers crew on call. You’ll never have to fight alone now.”

Tony sighed in relief as he saw Aidan’s shoulders relax, the tension slipping away, and a shy smile finally appearing on his face.

The Avengers and Happy then crowded around Aidan, questions flying left and right. How did he get his powers? What kind of powers did he have? How long had he been Spider-Man? Aidan did his best to answer, flustered but still holding his own.

Taking the moment of distraction, Tony quietly slipped out of the living room and headed to the elevator, quietly directing FRIDAY to take him to the floor below.

He stepped inside his workshop, eyes settling on the nearly finished Star Wars-themed workspace he’d been building. There was still so much he wanted to get just right, and with Aidan upstairs occupied by the Avengers’ barrage of questions, Tony figured he had a few hours to himself.

First, Tony adjusted the custom lighting around the workspace. The strips of LED lights he’d installed glowed in soft blues and whites, casting a shadowy ambiance like a starship cockpit. He spent nearly half an hour fine-tuning the brightness and angles, tweaking each setting until it felt just right. He even added a few touches of red light here and there, just enough to give it that slightly ominous feel you’d find in a rebel base.

After that, Tony turned his attention to the drawers and storage compartments. Each drawer had been organized meticulously, filled with tools Addie could use for whatever project he wanted. But Tony wanted to make them special. He added small labels, each one marked with Star Wars references that only die-hard fans would know.

With that done, he turned his attention to the floating holoprojector, which was the highlight of the setup. Tony had built it to display holographic projections—blueprints, schematics, or even just some fun Star Wars easter eggs he’d hidden for Aidan to find. He ran through several tests, adjusting the clarity and range of the display, so it would project perfectly above the workstation without any flickering. Just for fun, he loaded a 3D model of the Millennium Falcon, watching as it rotated slowly in mid-air. Satisfied with the image, he added a few custom controls to the interface, which would allow Aidan to change the display with a swipe of his hand.

Finally, he took a step back, admiring the setup with a sense of satisfaction. Four hours had flown by, with every tweak bringing it closer to the vision he’d had in his head. Tony looked around one last time, nodding to himself. It was everything he wanted for his son.

Just then, FRIDAY’s voice came through. "Boss, dinner will be served in five minutes.”

“Perfect timing,” he muttered, taking one last look at the space, then turning to head upstairs.

Tony made his way to the dining table, taking in the spread before him. A full Thanksgiving feast awaited him, perfectly cooked and beautifully presented—the smell alone enough to make him feel like this was some kind of dream. Every dish looked like a masterpiece, from the golden-brown turkey to the buttery rolls, and even the mashed potatoes that Aidan had proudly contributed to. He glanced over at Pepper, who looked both relieved and proud, finally letting herself relax after seeing that the meal was a complete success.

As they settled around the table, plates were quickly filled, forks clinking against plates as chatter filled the air. Tony couldn’t help but watch Addie, who was sitting across from him, already halfway through a pile of mashed potatoes. The kid was practically glowing with happiness, savoring each bite with a level of joy that warmed Tony’s heart. He looked like any other fourteen-year-old kid, laughing at some story Rhodey was telling and digging into his food without a care in the world. For Tony, that alone made this Thanksgiving feel like a gift.

When the pumpkin pie was finally brought out, Pepper’s gaze softened as she looked around the table. “How about we go around and share what we’re thankful for this year?” she suggested gently.

One by one, the Avengers began to share their gratitude: Steve talked about the peace they’d fought so hard for, how grateful he was to have found a team that felt like a family. Natasha gave a subtle nod to the friendships around the table, a small smile playing on her lips as she admitted it was nice to be somewhere she could call home. Rhodey joked about the food actually being edible this year, earning a laugh from everyone, but quickly followed up by expressing how grateful he was for the people in his life. Vision spoke of the kindness he found in his friends and how thankful he was to learn from them every day.

Finally, it was Tony’s turn. He felt his throat tighten, the words he’d thought he could just breeze through now suddenly too difficult to say. He hadn’t expected to feel so emotional, but sitting here, looking at Aidan and the rest of his extended family, the emotions hit harder than he’d anticipated. He cleared his throat, blinking away the sting in his eyes as he tried to find the right words.

“I’m…” he began, his voice catching just slightly as he looked over at Aidan, whose eyes met his. Tony’s heart swelled, and he knew this was the moment he needed to speak honestly. “I’m thankful that I have my son back,” he said softly. “After ten years—ten years of wondering, of praying we’d find him, and… of just trying to hold onto hope… I’m thankful I finally found my Spiderling.”

Aidan looked at him, his doe-eyes wide, clearly taken aback by the emotion in his father’s words. Slowly, a soft smile spread across his face, one that was both shy and full of warmth. Tony saw a glint of tears in his son’s eyes too, and in that moment, he felt closer to Aidan than ever. They’d been through so much, and somehow, against all odds, they were here together.

Pepper reached over, placing a comforting hand on Tony’s shoulder, her own eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She gave him a gentle smile, one that said more than words ever could.

Around the table, each Avenger and Happy offered Tony a nod or gentle smile, moved by his heartfelt words. They lingered over dessert, reluctant to let the night end, each of them feeling a rare sense of peace and closeness.

Long after the last slice of pie was eaten, they began to rise. One by one, they moved to the elevator, each taking a moment to give Tony a parting nod, a hand on his shoulder, or a warm smile as they said their goodbyes for the night.

Tony watched the elevator door close before turning towards his son, a small, mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Hey, Ads,” he said, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. “Follow me. Got one last thing to show you.”

Aidan’s brows furrowed, his eyes curious, but he followed Tony without a word as they headed down to the workshop. The anticipation built with each step, and Tony’s heart thudded a little faster.

He paused before stepping inside, his hand on the door, glancing down at Aidan with a mix of pride and excitement. “All right, Spiderling,” he said, pushing the door open. “Welcome to your very own space.”

Tony watched as Aidan stepped into the workshop, his eyes going wide as he took in every detail. The black-and-chrome workbench, the soft, rebel-base-inspired lighting, the Star Wars-themed labels on every drawer. And, of course, the floating holoprojector, ready to display whatever crazy schematics or holograms Aidan could dream up. It was a place designed just for him, with every small detail carefully thought out.

“This is for you, Ads,” Tony said, his voice softer than usual. “You can come here anytime you want. Build, create—whatever’s buzzing around in that brain of yours. Just, you know, let’s keep it under the ‘don’t get yourself killed’ category.”

He waited, expecting Aidan’s face to light up or for the kid to start asking a million questions. But Aidan just stood there, completely still, his eyes fixed on the workspace with an unreadable expression. A small pang of worry crept into Tony’s chest. Had he gotten it wrong? Was Aidan still holding onto the hurt from the weekend?

Just as he was about to ask, Aidan’s shoulders began to shake, and before Tony could say anything, the kid burst into tears. Big, gasping sobs that seemed to come from a place deeper than Tony had ever seen before. Aidan pressed a hand to his face, trying to muffle the sound, his other hand clenched at his side.

“Dad… I’m so sorry,” Aidan choked out, his voice raw and trembling, breaking under the weight of each word. “I… I said I hated you… that I wished you’d never found me.” His voice cracked, and he struggled for breath, his hands clenching at his sides. “I didn’t mean any of it, I swear. I was just… I was so angry, and… I just... wanted to hurt you the way I was hurting.” He let out a shaky breath, his face twisted with guilt. “God, I’m… I’m such a horrible son. I’m so, so sorry.”

Aidan was gasping, his breaths coming in ragged, painful sobs as he looked up, his eyes full of anguish. “But you have to know, Dad… the truth is, I’m so thankful for you... I’m so thankful you found me.” His voice softened, breaking once more. “I… I love you, Dad.”

Tony’s chest tightened as he crossed the distance between them and wrapped Aidan in a tight hug, pulling him close. “Addie… hey, hey, it’s all right,” Tony murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. You don’t have to explain yourself. I know, okay? I know.” He tightened his hold, his own eyes stinging as he felt his son’s body shake with the force of his emotions.

Aidan buried his face in Tony’s shoulder, his small frame shaking with sobs as he clung to his dad. Tony held him close, rubbing a comforting hand over his back, letting his son’s emotions settle.

After a moment, Tony pulled back slightly, just enough to look Aidan in the eyes. “Listen to me, kiddo. You’re allowed to feel things, okay? You’re allowed to get angry, to say things you don’t mean. Hell, I’ve said more than my fair share of things I wish I could take back. But that doesn’t change a thing. You’re my son, Addie. My Spiderling. I love you no matter what, and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you."

Aidan sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand as he took in the workshop, his gaze lingering on every thoughtful detail Tony had put into place. “You… you did all this for me?”

“Damn right I did,” Tony replied, a crooked grin breaking through his serious expression. “Look, kid… you’ve got a spark. A knack for creating, for building. I wanted you to have a space where you can explore what you love, where you can just… be you.”

Aidan looked up at him, eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you, Dad.”

Tony felt his own tears threatening but just chuckled, pulling Aidan in for another squeeze. “You’re welcome, kid. Just promise me you’ll use this place well. Dream big, build whatever you want… and, uh, try not to blow anything up without a fire extinguisher nearby.”

Aidan let out a small laugh, one that seemed to break the last of the tension between them. He leaned into Tony’s hug, clinging just a little longer before finally pulling back, wiping a lingering tear from his cheek.

Tony gave him a soft smile, a playful glint returning to his eyes. “All right, Spiderling, before we call it a night, you’ve got to promise me something.”

Aidan tilted his head, curious. “What’s that?”

“First thing tomorrow, you show me how you make that web fluid of yours,” Tony said, his tone light but genuinely interested. “I’ve got a million questions, and I don’t plan on letting you keep all your genius tricks to yourself.”

Aidan laughed quietly, nodding. “Deal. First thing tomorrow.”

With a contented smile, Tony ruffled Aidan’s hair, guiding him back to the elevator. They walked side by side, the warmth of the night’s moments wrapping around them, both of them feeling, for the first time in a long time, complete.

Haha. You thought this was the end of Spiderman? Well, guess again.

Preview of the Next Chapter:

Peter was on his way home from school, when his Spider-Sense flared up, tingling so fiercely it nearly took his breath away. He whipped around, scanning the streets until he spotted the dark plume of smoke rising a few blocks ahead.

It was an apartment building, engulfed in flames, blazing like something out of a nightmare. And there wasn’t a single firetruck in sight. Before he could even process it, Peter was sprinting toward the chaos, his instincts taking over.

Thank you so much for reading! 

Chapter Text

Two and a half months had passed since Peter—or, as he kept reminding himself, Aidan—had tried to let go of being Spider-Man. The first few weeks? Absolute torture. It was like going through full-on superhero withdrawal. Every morning, he’d wake up with this unstoppable urge to throw on a disguise, hop out a balcony, and just… go save someone.

The worst part was hearing sirens in the distance, which set his legs twitching like they were already planning an escape route. His brain would start spinning elaborate plans: grab a ski mask, head down to Queens, avoid main streets, stick to sketchy alleyways, maybe catch a thief or two—just a quick swing through the city, and he’d be back at the Tower before anyone noticed he was gone. What could go wrong?

But then, with a groan, he’d remind himself: You promised Dad. Spider-Man is on break. Remember? 

So he’d take a deep breath, give himself a little pep talk, and tell himself he just had to hold out for four more years. Four years until he was legally an adult—and Queens could have its friendly neighborhood Spider-Man back. As Cap always said, the city would survive without him… probably.

And, honestly, it did get easier over time. Living at the Tower with the Avengers kept him so busy that he hardly had time to think about sneaking out. Some days, he still couldn’t believe it: he was living with the Avengers, and somehow, they’d all managed to become a part of his daily life in ways he hadn’t even known he needed.

Three times a week, Steve had FRIDAY wake Peter up at what felt like the crack of dawn for their morning runs. Peter would drag himself out of bed, grumbling and half-asleep, throw on a cap, and head out to a nearby park with Steve. They kept their pace just slow enough to avoid drawing attention—no superspeed sprints. Peter complained constantly, but secretly, he loved the fresh air. He liked having Steve as a running buddy. They’d talk about everything—school, missions, life—and even if Peter griped about it, he always showed up. After all, he had to stay in superhero shape for the day he could finally get back to patrolling.

Fridays meant gym days instead. Peter would never forget the first time he benched more than Steve. The look on Cap’s face was pure gold, and Peter replayed that moment in his head every time he needed an ego boost.

Peter stayed busy after school, too. Mondays and Wednesdays were set aside for Academic Decathlon meets with Ned, MJ, and—most importantly—Liz Allan. MJ took Decathlon very seriously, and as co-captain, she kept the team in line. But Peter was way more focused on the other co-captain: Liz. Peter realized he had a crush on her in December. She was not only the junior class president, but she was smart, confident, and, well… really pretty.

Every time Liz smiled at him or said hi, Peter’s brain short-circuited. He’d go bright red, forget how to speak, and just… kind of freeze. It was mortifying. But as long as he got to be on the team with her, he’d suffer through MJ’s flashcards and drills without complaint.

Tuesdays and Thursdays were “Workshop Time” with Tony, and they quickly became Peter’s favorite part of the week. About a month ago, Tony started letting him help with the Iron Man suits—real, honest-to-god Stark tech. Every time Peter stepped into the workshop, it hit him all over again: My dad is Iron Man. He’d be elbow-deep in circuitry, look up at Tony, and think, Holy crap, he saves the world—and now he’s showing me how to calibrate repulsors.

Peter learned more in those sessions than he had in years of school. Tony would casually drop concepts about flight stabilization and energy efficiency that would’ve made his science teacher faint.

After dinner, Peter would grab his backpack and head up to Wanda’s room, where both Wanda and Vision would be waiting to help him finish his homework. Vision would patiently sit with him, guiding him through tricky questions. For science and math, Peter didn’t need much help, but for essays or Spanish practice, Vision was a lifesaver. The way Vision would answer his Spanish questions with perfect grammar and a slight robotic accent never failed to make Peter laugh.

Wanda would sit nearby with a book, glancing up with an amused smile now and then. The second Peter closed his notebook, she’d jump up, linking arms with him and Vision, and drag them over to the TV. She had a stash of classic sitcoms she loved introducing Peter to, and they’d settle in with popcorn and laughter until it was time to call it a night.

After lunch, he’d make his way to the training room for his “self-defense” sessions with Nat. Peter had insisted on getting combat training from her the minute the patrol ban kicked in. “If I can’t fight crime,” he’d argued, “at least let me prep like someone who’s allowed to.” Tony had originally told Nat to just teach Peter the basics, but “basic” wasn’t exactly in Nat’s vocabulary. 

What started as simple safety training quickly became an all-out crash course in hand-to-hand combat. Peter couldn’t get enough of it. He’d step into the training room, practically bouncing, while Nat would eye him with a raised eyebrow and a barely hidden smirk. She’d throw in surprise moves, trickier combinations, and advanced techniques, challenging him to keep up. He loved every second, relishing the chance to sharpen his skills and let loose. 

And he still kept up his Saturday dinners with Ned—only now, they happened at the Tower. For Christmas, Tony had converted a guest room into a holographic gaming paradise, surprising Peter with it on top of a mountain of gifts as if to make up for every missed holiday. Peter and Ned would dive into the gaming room for hours, completely lost in virtual battles, until Happy would knock on the door, sighing and reminding Ned for the third time that it was really time to go home.

The best part? Rhodey had started joining their gaming nights. He found Peter and Ned’s energy hilarious, and the two of them loved every War Machine story Rhodey threw their way. Ned would sit wide-eyed, nearly fainting as Rhodey casually mentioned a mid-air tank rescue. “YOU DID WHAT?! That’s insane!”

Rhodey ate it up, grinning as he’d add every dramatic detail, loving the reaction. Peter couldn’t stop laughing—half at Rhodey’s stories, half at how starstruck Ned was. By the end of the night, they’d all be buzzing, reluctantly leaving the gaming room after the fourth reminder from Happy that Ned really had to get home.

Oh—and Peter grew an inch and a half. He had Pepper to thank for that. She made sure the fridge was always stocked, and FRIDAY reminded him of his ideal calorie intake before every meal like an overenthusiastic personal trainer. At first, Peter rolled his eyes. But eventually, he had to admit—it was working.

To his delight, he was now officially taller than Nat and almost eye-to-eye with Wanda. Sure, he was still shorter than almost everyone else—including MJ and his mom—but it was progress. He’d stand a little straighter around the Tower, imagining the day he’d finally shoot past them all… eventually.

It was almost 5:30 p.m. on February 10th, 2016, and Academic Decathlon practice had just wrapped up. Liz had smiled at him—actually smiled—and said goodbye as she left, her new mini skirt practically sending Peter’s heart into overdrive. She looked amazing, and he was pretty sure his own attempt at a response had come out as something like, “Uh, bye… yeah.”

With Valentine’s Day just four days away, Ned had been hounding him to buy chocolates for Liz, to “make a move,” as he kept saying. But Peter wouldn’t even dare dream of it. A cool, pretty upperclassman like Liz wouldn’t even consider going out with someone like him. There was no chance—not even a little one. Liz Allan was way out of his league, and he was just the little freshman who got flustered every time she smiled.

His thoughts were interrupted by a buzz from his phone—Happy had texted him. Something really important had come up, and he couldn’t pick up Peter from school today. Peter blinked, reading the message again, then broke into a grin. Yes! This was his first chance to walk home on his own since he started living with his parents.

He quickly texted back, No worries! I’m more than capable of getting myself back home! He tried to sound as casual as possible, hoping Happy wouldn’t sense his excitement. After all, it wasn’t like he was sneaking off to patrol or anything—he was just a regular high school kid walking home.

Peter quickly opened up Google Maps to figure out his way home by public transportation. A fifteen-minute walk would take him to a bus stop, and from there, he’d have to transfer to another bus before finally making it back to the Tower. It would take a little over an hour—way longer than a ride with Happy—but he was too thrilled by the taste of freedom to care.

With a grin, he stuffed his phone back into his pocket, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and set off toward the bus stop.

Peter breathed in the fresh air, savoring the cool breeze and warm colors of the setting sun as he strolled toward the bus stop. For once, he had the freedom to wander through the neighborhood like any other teenager, with no chaperone or car waiting for him.

His mind drifted back to Liz. With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, he couldn’t help but wonder how much chocolate she’d get. Probably a mountain of it, he figured, given how popular she was. She was the type of girl who’d be walking around with a whole pile of heart-shaped boxes, smiling and laughing as she thanked every admirer.

Just the thought of it made Peter’s heart do a weird little flip. Not that he’d actually be one of those admirers—no way. And besides, his crush on Liz was strictly between him and Ned. If his dad—or worse, the other Avengers—ever caught wind of it, he’d be teased into oblivion. He could already imagine Tony raising an eyebrow and launching into one of his classic dad talks, or Nat giving him a nudge and offering “advice” on how to win her over.

But just as he was about to lose himself in the thought, his Spider-Sense flared up, tingling so intensely it nearly knocked the wind out of him. 

Oh no. That's not good.

His heart leapt as he whipped around, scanning the streets to find the source. And then he saw it—a dark plume of smoke twisting into the sky just a few blocks ahead.

An apartment building was engulfed in flames, blazing like something out of a nightmare. Fire clawed up the walls, relentless and fierce, and there wasn’t a single firetruck in sight. Peter’s pulse quickened. He didn’t think. He didn’t have time to. All he knew was that people might be trapped in there, every second counting down against them. Without a second thought, he broke into a sprint, every instinct telling him to run toward the chaos.

He didn’t have his Spider-Man suit—Tony had confiscated it along with his web-shooters the night he found out. But that didn’t matter now. Not when lives were at stake.

As he ran, he unzipped his backpack, grabbing his gym shirt and pulling it over his head, tugging the sleeves into a makeshift mask. He reached for his water bottle, dousing his head in a last-minute attempt to shield himself from the heat. And then he was off, diving into the blaze, his only thought on the people who needed him inside.

Peter spotted a stray brick on the ground, heart pounding as he grabbed it and hurled it at the nearest window. The glass shattered, scattering across the floor inside. Without hesitation, he climbed through, thick, scorching smoke swirling around him. Each breath seared his lungs, but he forced himself to stay focused. Stay calm. Focus. There are people trapped in here, and that’s all that matters.

He closed his eyes for a second, letting his senses sharpen. Through the crackling flames, he picked up faint voices—scared and desperate, barely audible through the roaring fire. Three people. His chest tightened. He'd only been Spider-Man for five months last year, and he’d never gone into a building so close to collapse. But he shook the thought away. They needed him, and he couldn’t leave them behind.

Moving as quickly as he could, Peter wove through the smoke and flames, his instincts guiding him toward the voices. He found them—a man, a woman, and a young girl, their faces streaked with soot and fear. “It’s okay,” he said, steadying his voice despite the smoke clawing at his throat. “I’m gonna get you out.”

Step by step, he led them toward the exit, feeling the weight of the fire closing in, the heat nearly unbearable. But he pushed through, whispering words of encouragement to keep them calm. Almost there, just a little further. Finally, they reached the doorway, stumbling into the open air as their coughs mingled with gasps of relief. Watching them safe, a wave of pride surged through him.

But it didn’t last. Just as he turned to leave, his senses flared again, catching the faintest sound—a bark, weak and desperate, from the floor below. His heart sank. A dog. Still trapped inside.

Without hesitation, he sprinted back into the building, down the stairs, following the sound. The dog was huddled in a corner, fur singed and eyes wide with fear. Peter knelt down, murmuring softly, and scooped it into his arms. “I got you,” he whispered, holding the dog close. “We’re getting out of here.”

But as he turned to head for the exit, a sickening creak echoed around him. The world seemed to shift, and before he could react, the ceiling caved in, a storm of debris crashing down around him.

Pain exploded through his leg as a metal pole drove straight through his thigh, pinning him to the floor. He cried out, agony tearing through him. Panic clawed at his chest as he tried to move, the weight of the wreckage pressing down, trapping him.

His breath came in shallow gasps, the smoke thickening around him, vision blurring. He fumbled for his phone, his voice barely a whisper as he choked out, “FRIDAY… please, call Dad.”

There was a pause, and then Tony’s voice crackled through, immediate and frantic. “Addie, I’m here. FRIDAY alerted me the second you went in—I’m already on my way, with the whole team. Almost there, okay? Just hold on a little longer.”

Relief washed over Peter, but only for a second. His voice wavered, the fear breaking through in shaky words. “Dad… I… I can’t feel my leg. I… I can’t breathe right.” His breath hitched, and his voice grew weaker, barely holding back tears. “I think… I think this is it.”

There was a painful silence on the other end, and Peter could almost feel his dad’s heartbreak. When Tony spoke again, his voice was thick, fighting to stay steady. “No, Aidan, listen to me. You’re not going anywhere. I’m right here, just hold on a little longer. I’m so close. You’re strong, kiddo. You’ve got this. Just… keep talking to me, okay?”

Peter’s tears finally broke free, streaming down his face as he whispered, “Dad… I… I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just… I just wanted to help.” His voice trembled, barely holding it together. “I messed up, Dad. I’m so sorry.”

Tony’s voice cracked, a raw desperation spilling into every word. “No, Addie, no. You didn’t mess up. You’re so brave, and I’m so proud of you. Just hold on, okay? I’m almost there. Just… just stay with me.”

Peter’s breaths grew shallower, his strength slipping, his vision blurring as he fought to keep his eyes open. “Tell Mom… tell her I love her. And I… I love you too, Dad. So much.”

The silence that followed felt endless, then Tony’s voice broke through, choked with pain. “Aidan, please. Just hold on a little longer. I’m not losing you. Not like this. Just… please stay with me.”

Peter closed his eyes, clinging to his father’s words, letting the sound of Tony’s voice be his anchor, the last comfort he held as the world around him faded into darkness.

Chapter Text

The Avengers meeting had dragged on longer than Tony cared for, with Steve going through every excruciating detail about a newly discovered Hydra base in Eastern Europe. But Tony’s mind had already drifted back to his workshop, to the morning he’d spent tinkering with the Iron Man suit he and his son had been working on together. Tony still felt a swell of pride whenever he thought about it—about how quickly Aidan had taken to the work, how easily he understood the mechanics, the energy, the intricacies. Smart, resourceful—a natural, he thought with a faint smile.

Steve continued outlining the logistics, his tone as focused as ever. Tony’s phone buzzed—a text from Happy, saying he couldn’t pick Aidan up from school. Tony considered slipping out, maybe even grabbing Aidan himself and swinging by their favorite burger place. But he brushed the thought aside, smiling. Kid could use a little freedom, he thought. Besides, Aidan would be thrilled to get home on his own. And when he did, Tony could see his face light up at the adjustments they’d made to the suit together. He’d just sit tight, nod his way through “Captain America’s Greatest Hits: Hydra Edition,” and wait for his son to come home.

The room was familiar, almost comforting, in an Avengers sort of way. Steve was deep in his spiel about Hydra, Clint was cracking jokes from a video call from his home in Iowa, and Nat shot Tony a knowing look, as if she’d read his mind and knew he’d checked out five minutes ago. Everything felt routine—almost peaceful, as peaceful as things got in their line of work.

And then, in an instant, FRIDAY’s voice cut through the chatter like a knife.

“Boss, Young Boss’s phone temperature has spiked dramatically. It is likely on fire.”

Tony’s heart dropped into his stomach. For a split second, he could barely comprehend what he’d just heard. “What?” His voice was sharp, panicked, filling the room with a tension that hadn’t been there seconds before.

The room fell silent, every Avenger’s gaze snapping to him. 

“FRIDAY,” he said louder, the urgency clawing its way into his voice. “Locate him. Now.”

FRIDAY’s response was immediate, and it chilled him to the bone. “He’s at an apartment building on Jackson Ave, Queens. Twitter reports indicate it’s engulfed in flames and likely to collapse at any moment.”

Tony felt the ground slip away from him, as though he were falling and couldn’t catch himself. His son’s face flashed through his mind, the thought of him trapped in that inferno, helpless, alone. No, no, no… not like this. He shoved back from the table, barely able to focus, fumbling as he ordered FRIDAY to mobilize the team. His voice shook. “Suit up, now. We have to get to him.”

Steve was at his side in an instant, eyes steady and resolute. “Got it. Tony, he’s going to be okay. We’ll get him out.”

The room sprang into action, the air thick with tension and urgency. Natasha gave Tony a quick nod, her voice calm but fierce. “We’re getting him out, Tony. Just stay with us.”

They all bolted to suit up, and Tony barely registered the chaos around him. It was all a blur—one moment he was strapping into his Iron Man suit, his mind racing with thoughts of Aidan, and the next, he was shooting into the sky, leaving only smoke trails behind as he flew at top speed toward Queens. The Avengers were close behind him, each one as determined and focused as he was, but Tony barely noticed. His thoughts were a whirlwind of Why didn’t I go pick him up? and Please let him be okay.

As they neared the site, the horizon was streaked with a dark, ominous plume of smoke twisting into the sky. Flames tore through the crumbling building, licking up the walls and bursting through shattered windows, leaving nothing untouched. The structure groaned, barely holding together, threatening to collapse with each passing second.

Then, just as he surged forward, Tony’s phone buzzed. Aidan. His heart nearly stopped as he answered, every nerve in his body tense.

“Dad?” The voice on the other end was small and terrified.

Tony forced himself to stay steady, pouring every bit of reassurance he had into his words. “Addie, I’m here. FRIDAY told me you went inside. I’m already on my way, kiddo, with the whole team. Almost there. Just… hang on for me, okay? I need you to hold on.”

There was a broken silence before Aidan’s voice, weak and trembling, came through. “Dad… I… I can’t feel my leg. I… I can’t breathe right. I think… I think this is it.”

Tony’s world shattered. “No, Aidan, listen to me. You’re not going anywhere. I’m right here. Just hold on a little longer. I’m so close. You’re strong, kiddo. You’ve got this. Just… keep talking to me, okay?”

He could hear Aidan’s breaths coming in shallow gasps, each one fainter than the last. His son’s voice broke, so soft, so young. “Dad… I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just wanted to help. I… I messed up, Dad. I’m so sorry.”

“Addie, no. You didn’t mess up,” Tony choked out, the desperation thick in his voice. “You’re so brave, and I’m so proud of you. Just hold on, okay? I’m almost there. Just stay with me.”

Aidan’s breaths grew fainter, each one dragging Tony closer to a reality he couldn’t bear. “Tell Mom… tell her I love her. And I… I love you too, Dad. So much.”

The line went silent, and Tony’s chest tightened until he could barely breathe. Tears prickled in his eyes as he pushed forward, his voice shaking as he fought to hold himself together. “Aidan, please. Just hold on a little longer. I’m not losing you. Not like this. Just… please stay with me.”

Finally, Tony landed outside the building, his gaze snapping to the inferno before him, his heart pounding as he took in the devastation. Flames leapt from every window, thick smoke billowing in waves. The building groaned, massive chunks of concrete collapsing. It was a nightmare, and his son was inside, waiting.

Steve landed beside him, gripping his shoulder. “We’re going in together, Tony. We’re bringing him out.”

Wanda stepped forward, fierce and determined. “I’ll hold the structure. You just get him.”

Tony barely registered their words, his mind locked on one thing: Aidan. The Avengers moved as one, each laser-focused. Vision was the first to phase through the walls, his form gliding through the chaos, creating small air pockets, stabilizing areas for the team. His voice crackled through the comms. “I’ve located Aidan. He’s on the ground floor, northwest corner… and he’s holding a small dog.”

A wave of emotion surged through Tony. Even unconscious, his son had somehow managed to protect something vulnerable. He felt a flicker of pride, mixed with frustration at Aidan’s unyielding selflessness. Vision phased back toward them, leading the team through the flaming maze, pockets of clearer air forming around them.

As Tony rounded the final corner, his heart almost stopped. There was Aidan, lying motionless beneath debris, his gym shirt tied around his face as a makeshift mask, his arm wrapped protectively around a small, soot-streaked dog nestled at his side. But Tony’s stomach dropped at the sight of a metal pole piercing Aidan’s thigh, blood pooling darkly around the wound. His son’s face was ghostly pale, his breaths shallow and weak.

“Addie…” Tony’s voice cracked as he dropped down beside him, barely holding it together, his eyes darting over Aidan’s injuries, relief and horror clashing in his mind. “Kid… what were you thinking?”

Natasha was already there, crouching down beside Aidan, her face set in fierce concentration. She quickly assessed the wound, pulling a strip of fabric from her gear and tying it above the injury to slow the bleeding. “It’s bad, Tony,” she murmured, her hands moving with practiced efficiency. “But we can stabilize him if we move fast.”

Tony’s hand trembled as he brushed back Aidan’s hair, taking in every bruise, every cut. “I’m here, kiddo. I’m here.” His voice was thick, his heart breaking at the sight of Aidan lying there, vulnerable, barely holding on.

Nat finished securing the makeshift bandage, meeting Tony’s eyes with urgency. “He’s stable enough to move, but we need to get him to the med bay. Now.”

Just then, Aidan’s eyes flickered open, a faint glimmer of recognition as he looked up at Tony. His lips moved, and a barely-there whisper escaped. “Dad…”

Tony’s heart clenched. “I’m right here, Addie. We’re getting you out.” He gripped his son’s hand tightly, his voice trembling. “You’re gonna be okay. We’re right here.”

Steve and Rhodey moved in without a word, gently lifting the debris, each movement slow and deliberate. Vision phased beside them, creating clear pockets of air, his face set in grim determination. “Path is clear,” he said. “Tony, stay close. We’ll get him out.”

With Wanda’s powers holding the ceiling steady and Vision keeping their path clear, they carefully lifted Aidan. Tony cradled him in his arms, Natasha pressing down on his thigh, doing everything she could to stem the bleeding as they moved through the wreckage. Each step felt like an eternity, Tony’s mind looping with panic and guilt, replaying every moment that led them here.

Finally, they emerged from the smoke into the cool, open air. The med team was waiting, moving with swift precision as they transferred Aidan onto a stretcher. Tony held his breath, his hands refusing to let go of his son’s, even as the medics began their work, attaching oxygen and monitoring his vitals.

As they wheeled Aidan toward the med bay, Tony followed closely, unwilling to let him out of his sight. The panic still pulsed through him, his heart pounding with a terror he couldn’t shake.

Steve came to stand beside him, a quiet pillar of support in the chaos. “He’s strong, Tony,” he murmured. “He’s going to pull through.”

Tony nodded, barely hearing him, his gaze locked on Aidan, his heart breaking at the sight of his son lying there, battered and bruised but alive.

The hours in the tower’s med bay had felt like years. Tony, shoulders rigid and eyes fixed on the door, barely moved, each minute a fresh weight of dread pressing down on him. Pepper sat beside him, her eyes rimmed red, holding back tears, and the Avengers kept a respectful silence, the tension between them thick and unmoving. Every so often, someone shifted, but no one dared break the stillness. They all knew that until Dr. Cho came through that door, the only thing they had was their worry.

Finally, the door opened, and Dr. Cho stepped in, her expression serious but steady. Her gaze swept over them, pausing on Tony and Pepper, and she took a small breath before beginning.

“Aidan’s injuries are quite severe,” she said, her voice calm yet laced with empathy. “He has substantial burns, mostly first and second-degree, that will need careful monitoring. More concerning is the injury to his thigh—the metal pole pierced deep into the muscle, and that will take time and care to heal.”

A soft gasp escaped Pepper, her hand covering her mouth, and Tony’s fists clenched, the severity of Aidan’s condition landing like a punch. Dr. Cho continued, her tone precise but gentle.

“Given the extent of the trauma, it’s a very good thing you got him here when you did. He was in critical condition upon arrival. The pressure and bleeding from his leg injury had already begun to compromise blood flow. Any more delay, and we would likely be facing a very different outcome.”

Tony’s breath hitched, her words hitting him hard, but then her gaze softened, and she offered a faint, reassuring smile.

“However, Aidan’s accelerated healing is working in his favor. Combined with the high-calorie intake you’ve maintained for him, his body is in a far better state for recovery than most patients would be with such injuries. I’m recommending a full week of bed rest—absolutely no activity. After that, he can ease into light movement, and within three weeks, I expect he’ll make a full recovery.”

A ripple of relief passed through the room. Pepper’s tears finally slipped free, her hand pressed to her mouth, and Tony’s shoulders dropped, his face reflecting a blend of gratitude, exhaustion, and relief.

Dr. Cho turned to Tony, a knowing smile in her eyes. “You did the right thing, Tony, keeping his calorie intake up. It’s made a crucial difference, along with his natural healing ability. With time and patience, I believe he’ll be just fine.”

Steve placed a steadying hand on Tony’s shoulder, and Natasha offered a gentle smile, the room’s collective worry finally giving way to hope.

Tony’s voice was thick with gratitude. “Thank you… really, Helen.”

She nodded, a warm assurance in her tone. “He’s strong, Tony. He’ll be back on his feet soon, I promise.”

Pepper stepped forward, her voice soft, thick with emotion. “Is he stable enough for us to see him?”

Dr. Cho gave a small nod, her tone gentle but firm. “Yes, but I’d recommend only you and Tony for now. He’s still very weak, and too many visitors could overwhelm him.”

Taking a deep breath, Tony steadied himself as he and Pepper entered the room together. There, lying pale and bruised in the hospital bed, was Aidan. Despite the exhaustion etched into his features, his breathing was steady, a reminder that he was safe—that he’d made it through. Relief washed over Tony, a wave so powerful it nearly overwhelmed him. He’s okay. He’s here.

As Aidan’s eyes fluttered open, they landed on Tony and Pepper, and for a brief, precious moment, everything else faded away. But then, the first thing out of Aidan’s mouth, his voice hoarse but filled with concern, was, “The dog… is it okay?”

Tony’s throat closed up, any words he might have had getting lost somewhere between anger and exasperation. 

The dog? 

His kid had nearly died—nearly died—and his first question was about the dog.

That was the breaking point. 

Something raw and furious ignited in Tony’s chest. The overwhelming relief curdled into something sharp and angry—a deep, frustrated rage that had been simmering for months. He’d tried everything. He grounded him. Took the suit. Packed his schedule with projects and training. Begged him to go on hiatus. He’d bent over backward, tried every approach in the book just to keep Aidan alive.

And yet, the second his kid saw someone in danger—no, a mutt in danger—he was out there again. No hesitation. No backup. No protection. Just  a death wish.

Tony’s voice caught in his throat. And before he could snap, before the fury broke free and turned into something he couldn’t take back, he turned on his heel and walked out.

Pepper’s soft, bewildered voice echoed after him. “Tony? Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

All he could think was that none of it mattered. Every punishment, every rule, every carefully chosen word—it was all worthless. The kid had no suit, no web-shooters, no protection whatsoever, and still, he’d run into a burning building for a fucking mutt. 

Nothing Tony did or said seemed to register with him. Nothing.

He pushed past the concerned looks from the Avengers and made his way to the workshop, the silence around him deafening. He barely noticed the half-empty bottle of wine on the shelf as he grabbed it, tipping it back with a bitter, humorless thought: Guess today’s my cheat day.

The wine burned down his throat, but it did nothing to drown out the feeling gnawing at his chest. He’d done everything he could think of, and still, he was powerless to protect his own son. Aidan’s stubbornness, his drive to help others, his fucking compassion—they were going to get him killed one day, and there was nothing Tony could do about it.

His phone buzzed.

He blinked, groaned, and glanced down. Clint.

Tony picked up with a sigh, his voice dry and sharp. “If you’re calling for a pep talk, Barton, you’re a little late.”

There was a pause, then Clint’s cautious voice. “Tony… just calling to check on the kid. You sound… uh, rough.”

“Oh, rough?” Tony laughed bitterly. “Rough doesn’t even begin to cover it. Just got out of the med bay, where my kid’s lying there, stitched together like a Frankenstein experiment, and the first thing out of his mouth is if the dog is okay. The dog.”

Clint let out a low whistle. “Yeah, that… that sounds like him. Selfless to a fault, huh?”

“Selfless? Try completely oblivious to his own mortality!” Tony snapped, pacing the room. “I’ve lectured him, coaxed him, begged him, practically wrapped him in bubble wrap, and he still manages to go and risk his life. I’ve taken his suit, stripped him of every weapon, and he goes and—” He broke off, frustration bleeding through every word. “Clint, I’ve tried everything. Everything. And he’s still out there like he’s got a death wish.”

There was a silence on the other end, then Clint’s voice, softer, a little more thoughtful. “Look, Tony… Aidan’s got a big heart. He’s going to help people, whether he’s got the suit or not. He takes after you.”

“Don’t give me that,” Tony muttered, his voice thick with frustration and fear. “I don’t want him to be like me, Clint. I know the cost of this life—I know it. And he’s just a kid. He shouldn’t have to carry this weight.”

Clint’s voice stayed calm, steady—an anchor in the spiraling chaos of Tony’s mind. “Tony, listen to me. Aidan’s got that heart, that drive, and he’s not going to just sit back. You know it. You can’t change that. But you can teach him how to survive it.”

Tony’s fists clenched, his voice rising. “You don’t get it, Clint! He’s fourteen! I don’t want him to have to survive anything. I want him safe. I want him home, away from all this… this mess that nearly destroyed me. That broke that Maximoff kid. But he won’t listen. He keeps—he keeps running into danger, and I don’t know how much longer I can watch him do it.”

Clint’s voice stayed steady, but his words struck deep. “Tony, he’s young. Right now, all he sees is people in trouble, and he knows he can help. That’s who he is—a kid who can’t just stand by. You can’t take that out of him, but you can guide it. You’ve got to show him how to be a hero without it costing him everything.”

Tony’s frustration boiled over. “But he’s just a kid, Clint! A kid who’s supposed to be worrying about school, about friends—not about dragging people out of burning buildings. I’m supposed to protect him from this, keep him safe. And when I try to stop him, he just… he just charges right past me like I’m a speed bump.”

Clint’s tone remained calm but firm, the voice of a man who’d faced down his own fears. “I get it, Tony. It’s terrifying, watching your kid dive headfirst into danger. But if you keep trying to stand in his way, he’s going to go around you. What he needs isn’t a wall in front of him—he needs someone to teach him how to be smart about being a hero. Right now, he’s got the guts, the drive—but he’s missing what you know better than anyone: control, strategy, and how to survive out there.”

Tony’s voice softened, a hint of desperation breaking through. “So what? I just… teach him how to be a hero? Isn’t that just setting him up for more danger?”

Clint sighed, a wry smile in his voice. “Tony, this is Aidan we’re talking about. He’s going to keep doing this, suit or no suit. You can either stand on the sidelines, terrified, or you can teach him how to fight the right way—when to go in, when to pull back. Show him that being a hero isn’t about throwing himself into every burning building; it’s about knowing which battles are worth it. It’s about being smart enough to keep himself safe so he can help the next person… and the next.”

Tony fell silent, Clint’s words sinking in deep, stripping away every excuse he’d used to keep Aidan from this life. Clint was right. His son was going to do this, no matter what Tony wanted. If he kept building walls, Aidan would just find a way to climb over them, leaving him unprepared and defenseless.

“Clint…” His voice cracked, the depth of his fear breaking through. “He could have died tonight. I could’ve lost him.”

Clint’s voice softened, a quiet understanding settling between them. “I know, Tony. And that fear? It never goes away. But if you want him safe, if you want to protect him… the best thing you can do is prepare him. He’s already a hero in his heart. Now, he just needs you to show him what that really means. Because if you don’t… he’s going to keep running into danger without the tools he needs to survive it.”

The room felt heavy, and Tony swallowed, a reluctant understanding taking root. Clint’s words cut through all the noise in his head. Maybe he didn’t need to stop Addie. Maybe, if he could give Aidan the right tools—the strength, the knowledge—he could finally protect his son in a way that mattered.

Clint’s voice brought him back. “We’re all scared, Tony. That’s the price of being a parent. But you can’t keep him safe by standing in his way. You keep him safe by standing beside him, by making sure he knows you’ve got his back no matter what. And if anyone can show him how to be a hero the right way, it’s you.”

Tony let out a dry laugh, more at himself than anything else. “Since when did you become the parenting expert?”

Clint laughed, light but sincere. “Hey, I may not have a suit or a lab full of gadgets, but I’ve got three kids, and I’ve learned a thing or two. And if a guy with a bow and arrow can keep his kids grounded, I’m pretty sure Iron Man can too. Just… take it one day at a time, Tony. You’re doing better than you think.”

Tony’s smile softened as the tension finally began to melt away. He nodded, the tiniest hint of gratitude creeping into his voice. “Thanks, Clint. Really. You might not have a PhD, but there’s some wisdom in there after all.”

“Yeah, don’t spread that around,” Clint replied with a grin in his voice. “It’d ruin my reputation.”

They shared a quiet laugh—a moment of wordless understanding that didn’t need to be explained.

As Tony hung up, Clint’s words lingered, slowly replacing his frustration with something he hadn’t felt in a while: clarity. He’d been going about this all wrong. Instead of trying to shield Aidan from everything, maybe it was time to prepare him. If Aidan was going to keep diving headfirst into danger, then Tony would give him every tool possible to make it out alive.

He glanced around his workshop, his gaze landing on his own suits, each one meticulously crafted, every layer of armor representing something he’d needed at one time or another. A small, determined smile tugged at his lips as the idea took shape: he was going to build Aidan the safest Spider-Man suit ever made.

He pictured it—reinforced with the same bulletproof material he used on his own armor, impact-resistant, equipped with air filters for smoke, and, just in case, an emergency parachute. A GPS beacon, body-temperature sensors—everything Tony could think of to give himself the tiniest shred of peace of mind. If Aidan was going to be out there, Tony was going to make sure he was protected in every way possible. No shortcuts.

But as the blueprint formed in his mind, he knew the suit alone wouldn’t be enough. Aidan needed to know when to jump in and when to pull back. Tony thought of every hard-learned lesson, every mistake, every bit of wisdom he’d picked up from this insane life, and he knew he’d have to pass it all down. Aidan would need control, discipline, and the ability to stay grounded even in the thick of chaos. Being a hero wasn’t just about charging into danger; it was about knowing when to walk away, to live to fight another day.

The more he mapped out the plan, the more the helplessness ebbed away—replaced by something far more powerful.

Hope.

If Aidan was determined to be Spider-Man… then Tony Stark was determined to make him the best-prepared Spider-Man the world had ever seen.

Just then, his phone buzzed with a message, pulling him out of his thoughts:

10:48 PM

Robin Hood: Just don’t make the suit too fancy, Stark. Kid’ll get spoiled.

Tony smirked and typed back:

Tin Man: You say that like I know how to make anything halfway. But thanks, Clint. Kid’s about to have the best damn suit out there. You know I don’t mess around.

He set his phone aside and took one last look around the workshop. For the first time, his fear felt manageable, replaced by a resolve to protect Aidan in a way that actually mattered. This wasn’t just about keeping him out of danger; this was about giving him the knowledge, strength, and support to be the hero he was becoming—without losing himself along the way. Tony was going to be right beside him, ready to pass on every ounce of wisdom and protection he had to offer.

With a quiet smile and a determined heart, he muttered to himself, “Alright, kid. Let’s make you a hero.”

Tony barely glanced up from the near-finished suit, his eyes bloodshot and his mind running at full tilt, fueled by scraps of sleep and stale snacks pilfered from the back of a drawer. He’d spent the last two days holed up, alone, pouring everything into this project—creating the best suit he could possibly envision for Aidan.

It was a marvel: reinforced plating, impact resistance, smoke filtration, GPS tracking, even an emergency parachute. Every detail accounted for. Every worst-case scenario imagined and prepared for. The only thing left was the AI.

He knew he couldn’t just give Aidan FRIDAY. This needed to be personal—something that felt like a friend. A steady voice to guide him in the moments Tony couldn’t.

His thoughts had just started drifting toward names when—smack! Something hit the back of his head, jolting him forward.

Startled, Tony spun around—and there stood Pepper.

Arms crossed. Eyes red-rimmed. Her expression a storm of worry, relief, and simmering frustration.

"Tony Stark," she began, voice low but steady, laced with the intensity only Pepper could manage. "Do you know how long it’s been since you walked out on your son? Two Days.”

Tony blinked, caught off guard. “Pep… I… I was just—”

But she didn’t let him finish. 

“Aidan has been out of his mind, Tony. He thinks you’re furious with him, that he’s lost your trust. Last night, he cried himself to sleep, thinking he messed up so badly that his dad wouldn’t even look at him.” Her voice trembled, but her gaze was unwavering. “I gave you time, Tony. I thought maybe you needed to cool down, but this? This is too much.”

Tony’s stomach dropped, the weight of her words crashing over him like a tidal wave. “Pep, I… I didn’t mean to make him feel like that.” He looked down at the suit, a flicker of shame crossing his face. “I got so caught up trying to keep him safe, trying to build something that’d protect him, that I lost track of time. I just wanted to finish this for him.”

Pepper’s expression softened, but her voice remained steady. “Tony, he doesn’t need a suit right now. He needs to know that he still has your love, that he hasn’t lost you.”

Tony lowered his head, every word carving deeper into his guilt. “I know,” he whispered. “I messed up. I’ll go talk to him—I owe him that.”

She studied him, seeing more than he’d said. “There’s something else. Isn’t there?”

Tony hesitated, then nodded slowly. It was time.

“Yeah, there is. There’s something I need to talk to you about—and the team too. I need help. This is too much to handle on my own.”

Pepper’s brows knit together, concern creeping into her voice. “What are you saying?”

Tony exhaled. “I don’t think we can keep Addie from being Spider-Man, Pep. Not if he’s truly set on it.” His voice dropped, raw and weary. “I need to stop holding him back… and start guiding him. Teach him the right way to do this. The safe way. I want him to understand his limits, and I can’t do that alone.”

Her gaze filled with a mixture of pride, love, and a hint of sadness. “Tony, are you sure about this?”

He nodded, his voice low but resolute. “If anyone’s going to help him become the hero he wants to be, it has to be us. I want the team’s support too. He could learn so much from each of them—their experiences, their wisdom.” He paused, his voice dropping even lower. “I need to face the truth. I’ve been holding him back out of fear, but… Clint was right. I need to prepare him.”

Pepper nodded slowly, her voice quiet but firm. “Okay. But promise me this isn’t just about making him the next Iron Man. He’s not you, Tony. He’s Aidan. He’s Spider-Man. Let him be that.”

Tony’s smile was faint, but real. “Trust me, I don’t want him to be Iron Man. I want him to be better.” His voice thickened. “That’s why I need everyone’s help. He’s… too good. Too compassionate. He needs to learn that being a hero isn’t just about diving into every fire—it’s about knowing when not to.”

Pepper reached out, her hand warm as it wrapped around his. “Then let’s talk to the team. I think you’re doing the right thing.”

Together, they stepped out of the workshop and walked down the hall, the soft hum of the Tower around them. Ahead, the conference room lights were on. The Avengers were already gathered inside, every face reflecting a mixture of concern, curiosity, and quiet support.

"Look, I need your help,” he said, his voice steady yet vulnerable. “Aidan…"

Tony took a breath to steady himself before walking into the med bay. No amount of preparation made it easier to see Aidan lying there, bruises fading across his face, looking fragile but determined. The kid was healing fast, but those marks… they twisted Tony’s heart even more, amplifying the guilt that had been building over the past two days.

The second Aidan saw him, his whole face crumpled, eyes instantly welling up with tears. “D-Dad…” he choked out—and then the dam broke.

He became a hiccuping, sobbing mess, fat tears streaming down his cheeks, a trickle of snot slipping from his nose. His words tumbled out between gasps, nearly unintelligible: “I’m… I’m so sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to… (hicc) I didn’t think you’d… (hicc) I didn’t want to mess everything up,” he managed between sobs. “But I know I messed up (hicc) and… I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you… just don’t be mad at me. P-please (hicc)… talk to me again.”

Tony’s heart shattered. Without hesitation, he crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed and carefully pulling Aidan into his arms, mindful of the injuries but needing that closeness. “Hey, hey… none of that, okay?” he whispered, his voice thick. “I’m not mad, kid. I’m so sorry you thought I was. I…” He swallowed hard. “I messed up, Addie. I lost track of time, and I should’ve come down here sooner. That’s on me.”

Aidan clung to him like he might disappear, fingers fisting into Tony’s shirt. Slowly, his breathing began to even out, his sobs softening as Tony’s presence grounded him. Tony held him close, rubbing slow circles into his back, whispering quiet reassurances while Aidan’s face remained tucked against his shoulder. Little by little, the weight of guilt and fear began to loosen its grip.

When Aidan finally pulled back, Tony cupped his tear-streaked face, gently brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Listen, bud,” he murmured. “I’m not mad. But we do need to talk about what happened. You went into that building alone. No backup, no gear. That was brave, Addie… but you should’ve called me. Called any of us. We’re a team. You’re not supposed to do this alone.”

Aidan blinked up at him, a confused, teary expression still painting his face. “You’re… not mad? But… I promised I wouldn’t go out as Spider-Man. At least for the next four years.”

Tony let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, we made that promise.” He paused, then looked him in the eye. “But… I know you, Addie. Helping people? Stepping up when no one else does? That’s just part of who you are. And I’ve realized no rule, no punishment is ever going to change that.”

Aidan’s eyes widened, a flicker of hope returning. “So… I can still be Spider-Man?”

Tony gave a small nod, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “After talking it over with your mom, we’ve decided… we’re going to let you be Spider-Man.” He held up a finger, halting the excited spark in Aidan’s expression. “But. There’s a catch. Actually—several.” He leaned in, voice firm.

“Being a hero doesn’t mean throwing yourself into every dangerous situation. It means knowing your limits. Knowing when to ask for backup. It means staying alive so you can help again tomorrow—and the day after that. You get me?”

Aidan nodded slowly, fully tuned in now, his expression sobered but understanding.

Tony took another breath and let his tone soften. “Alright. Here’s the deal—you’re still grounded. What you did? Rushing into that burning building alone, with nothing but a gym shirt over your face? That was reckless. Brave, yeah, but reckless. So you’re grounded until Dr. Cho clears you. Three or four weeks, minimum.”

Aidan’s face fell a little, but he nodded, accepting it without a fight.

“And no hanging out with the Avengers, no gaming with Ned. Just school, homework, and workshop time with me,” Tony added, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “So don’t get too excited. You’re going to be seeing a lot of me.” He chuckled when Aidan cracked a small smile, clearly relieved.

Tony’s voice softened again. “And during that workshop time, we’re going to work on something important,” he said, eyes full of purpose. “I’m building you a new Spider-Man suit. Custom-made. Just for you.” He saw the spark ignite in Aidan’s eyes but raised a hand to pace the excitement.

“Part of that means designing an AI that’s going to be with you when I can’t. It’ll help you—but it’s not a substitute for thinking. You’ll need to know exactly what your suit can and can’t handle.”

Aidan nodded, eyes locked on his dad, listening like every word was life or death.

“The suit’s good—but it’s not invincible. Bullets from regular guns? You’ll be fine. Alien-tech? Nope. Don’t even think about it. Fighting muggers and car thieves? Go for it. Enhanced individuals? That’s when you call for backup.” Tony placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice firm but gentle. “Being a hero isn’t about throwing yourself at every problem. It’s about making smart calls. If you’re going out there, you need to know when to pull back.”

“Got it!” Aidan said, practically buzzing. “Thank you! Thank you so much, Dad!”

“Alright, calm down there, Spiderling,” Tony replied, though he couldn’t help but grin. “Now let’s go over the ground rules again. No lying. No being reckless with your life—know your limits. And keep your communicator on you at all times.”

Aidan’s eyes widened, nodding fast. “Yes, sir.”

Tony took a breath, bracing for the final reveal. “And there’s one last catch. After your grounding, you’re not diving straight into hero work. Not yet. You’re gonna train—with every Avenger in this tower—for at least three months starting once summer break begins.”

Aidan’s jaw dropped. “Wait—really? With everyone?”

Tony raised a brow. “Yup. You’re getting the full Avengers boot camp. Cap’s gonna drill you on technique, Nat’s going to make sure you can hold your own in close quarters, Wanda’ll work with you on focus, Rhodey on tactics, Vision on analysis. The works. You’ll only go back out there when they say you’re ready.”

Aidan bobbed his head eagerly, not a second of hesitation. “I’m in, Dad. I’ll do whatever it takes.” He paused, eyes warm. “Thanks. I know you’re doing this because you care.”

Tony’s face softened, pride blooming in his chest. He reached out and pulled Aidan gently into a hug. “You’re worth it, kid. You’re gonna be a great hero—I know it.”

Aidan clung to him, his voice small but full of feeling. “I love you, Dad.”

Tony closed his eyes, hand resting protectively on the back of Aidan’s head. “Love you too, Spiderling. Always.”

They stayed that way, sharing a quiet moment that said more than any words could, each silently promising to protect each other no matter what.

Chapter Text

September 7th, 2016

Queens, New York

If Peter had one word for how he felt right now, it would be: awesome.

Okay, maybe two words. Super. Awesome.

Scratch that—Super. Hero. Awesome.

The wind tore past him as he slingshotted off a traffic light, knees tucked tight to dodge a flock of angry pigeons, and launched into a clean downward dive.

“Karen, be real. Scale of one to ten—how cool do I look right now?”

“You are currently executing a textbook dynamic arc. Pose efficiency: 92%. Flare: 87%. Avenger-level style confirmed.”

“Oh my god, I love you.”

It had been exactly fourteen days, six hours, and twenty-two minutes since Peter Parker— a.k.a. Aidan Stark (still weird) —got the official Stark Industries green light to swing back into action. And he was thriving. 

Queens buzzed below him, horns honking, dogs barking, someone shouting about gluten-free bagels, and Peter soared above it all like it was his own personal superhero montage.

He flipped onto a rooftop and landed in a picture-perfect three-point stance. Because Nat said it looked cool. And also because he 100% liked feeling like an Avenger-in-training.

“Karen, can I get a status update on our guys?”

“Five suspects entered a black Dodge van, heading west on 32nd. Velocity increasing.”

Peter squinted toward the intersection. Tires screeched. The van burst through a red light, nearly plowed into a city bus, and kept going.

“Yup, that’s them. Geez, even I drive better than that—and I’m legally not allowed to drive.”

He fired a web and yanked himself airborne, launching into a high-speed sprint along the rooftops.

The suit didn’t even creak. Bless you, Stark-tech.

“Karen, target speed?”

“Approximately sixty miles per hour and climbing.”

“Awesome. Love that for me. Totally wanted a cardio day.”

He leapt across a narrow gap, knees tucked, hit the other side in a smooth shoulder roll, and fired another web before he even stopped moving.

Below, the van plowed through trash cans and sent pedestrians scrambling. Peter’s pulse was picking up.

“Stark rule number one,” Rhodey had barked in bootcamp,

“Keep your pursuit low-profile unless you want a PR disaster. Or a lawsuit.”

“But what if they’re, like, fast?” Peter had asked.

“Then you be faster. Or smarter.”

Right. Smarter.

He swung under a construction beam, kicked off a scaffolding bar, and landed on the roof of a passing delivery truck like a parkour ninja with extra flair.

“Karen—project trajectory, find me a shortcut!”

“Calculating. Nearest intercept point is seven blocks ahead. You’ll need to increase your velocity by 23%.”

Peter flexed his hands, breath steady. “Okay. Cool cool cool. Just gotta do a real big jump. No big deal.”

He launched upward in a wide arc, the city below a blur. His fingers grazed an old fire escape. He used it to whip himself forward—a blur of red and blue and web—landing hard on the corner ledge of a brownstone just as the van swerved below.

Peter grinned under the mask, heart hammering.

“Boom. Stuck it. Ten outta ten. Somebody call the Olympic—”

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The rear doors of the van flew open and immediate chaos erupted.

“OH, COME ON!” Peter yelped, twisting midair as bullets ripped through the air around him.

He fired a webline to dodge, but a bullet grazed the strand and it jerked violently off-course.

He dropped fast, heart in his throat, then bounced off a bus stop bench with a sharp oof, flipping forward like a falling cat with impulse control issues.

“Control the fall. Own the landing.”

Wanda’s voice, calm and steady during aerial drills. “And breathe.”

Peter hit the ground in a crouch, rolled once, then sprang into another sprint.

“Karen! Distraction protocol—the sparkly one!”

“Deploying Sparkle Pop.”

A sphere zipped ahead and burst into a flash of blinding light and a high-pitched BZZZZZ! like someone tickling a taser.

The gunfire paused. 

Peter took the window—vaulted onto a passing garbage truck, webbed forward, and slingshotted onto the van’s rear bumper like a clingy spider from a B-list horror movie.

“Knock knock! Housekeeping!” he shouted, already reaching for the door—

Just as one of the guys inside lifted what looked disturbingly like an alien space stapler.

Glowing.

Buzzing.

Definitely-not-from-Earth.

Peter’s stomach dropped.

“No no no no no,” he muttered, edging back. “You were doing so well with the regular crime!”

He slapped the side of the van like he was trying to reason with it.

“Hey! Quick suggestion—you toss the glowy death guns out the back, I pretend this was all just an enthusiastic misunderstanding, and we never mention this again. What happened to good old-fashioned human guns, huh? Simpler times. Fewer interdimensional explosions!”

“Detecting Chitauri-origin plasma signature,” Karen announced cheerfully. “Activating Stark Protocol 19-B: Oh-Hell-No Mode.”

Peter’s eyes widened behind his lenses.

“No no no—Karen! Cancel! Cancel! I’m this close to finishing it on my own! I just gotta—”

“Alerting Mr. Stark.”

“Stop snitching! We talked about this!”

But it was too late.

From above, the clouds parted like a dramatic movie moment, and a red-and-gold blur came rocketing down from the sky like divine overparenting on turbo mode.

Before Peter could blink, a modified Iron Man drone suit swooped in, locked its magnetic gauntlets under his armpits, and yoinked him off the van mid-air like a superhero claw machine.

“WHOA WHOA WHOA—HEY! I HAD IT HANDLED! I HAD IT HANDLED!” Peter shouted, flailing like a very angry wind sock.

“Initiating extraction. Parent override engaged,” the suit droned, and Peter was positive it was smirking.

“Come on! This is undignified! Put me down! I have rights!" 

The robbers stared, speechless, as the armored suit rocketed away with Spider-Man flailing and yelling about civil liberties.

Peter scowled as he stormed toward the elevator, suit half-unzipped, curls wild, and ego freshly bruised. He’d saved two civilians, stopped a robbery, and landed a triple backflip off a moving truck.

But nooo.

One glowing alien space stapler and suddenly he was a kid on time-out.

The elevator dinged like it was mocking him.

He stomped into the penthouse with all the fury a teenage superhero could muster.

Tony didn’t even look up. He was casually stirring something on the stove, still in an undershirt and track pants like it was a totally normal Tuesday—not the day he’d launched a drone to snatch his kid out of a live crime scene.

“Hope you had a fun patrol,” Tony said, not even glancing his way. “You’re just in time for dinner.”

Peter’s jaw dropped. “I—are you— you yoinked me out of mid-air like I was a toddler on one of those backpack leashes!”

Tony finally looked over his shoulder, completely unbothered. “You looked like you were about to get toasted. I stepped in. Parenting.”

“I had it handled!” Peter groaned, throwing his arms up. “I dodged the bullets! I saved people! I did, like, six flips! Karen said my pose efficiency was ninety-two percent!”

“Mm. Pretty solid,” Tony said, still stirring. “What tanked the other eight percent?”

Peter pointed accusingly. “ You , yoinking me off a moving vehicle in front of the bad guys! Do you have any idea what that does to Spider-Man’s street cred?!”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure they’ll recover from the trauma of watching you get carried off like a wet cat.”

Peter huffed and stomped over, arms crossed over his half-zipped suit like he was on strike. “You’re totally ruining my rep. And I can’t believe Karen snitched on me again.”

“Karen is programmed to snitch on you.”

“Well maybe she should be reprogrammed to trust me for once!” he grumbled, collapsing into a barstool like it had personally betrayed him.

Tony set the spoon down. “You remember the deal?”

Peter dropped into a dramatic impression, mimicking Tony in the most annoying voice possible:

“‘Regular crime only. No alien tech. No supervillains. No cosmic disasters on school nights."”

Tony gave him a look. “Exactly.”

Peter threw his hands up. “Okay, but what counts as alien tech?! Maybe it was just a really fancy stapler!”

“Was it glowing?”

“…maybe.”

Tony smirked and turned back to the stove. “Then it’s an alien stapler.”

Peter dropped his head onto the counter with a thud. “I was trained by the freakin’ Avengers, for god’s sake!”

Tony didn’t even turn. “Language.”

“AGHHHHH!!” Peter groaned into the countertop. "You totally suck!"

Just then, the elevator dinged again.

Pepper stepped out, heels clicking softly on the marble floor. She took one look at Peter sprawled across the kitchen island, then at Tony, coolly plating pasta like nothing had happened.

“...What did I walk into?” she asked, setting her bag down.

Tony gestured with a fork. “Spiderling meltdown. He got plucked off a van mid-patrol and now he’s emotionally compromised.”

Peter sat up. “Emotionally compromised?! I was completely humiliated ! In front of the bad guys!"

Pepper crossed her arms. “Addie, don’t take that tone with your father.”

Peter blinked. “Wh—? I wasn’t—I’m not taking a tone!”

“That is definitely a tone,” she said smoothly. “And you’d better cut it fast unless you want to lose patrol privileges.”

Peter stood up like a startled cat. “No! You can’t do that!”

She raised one sculpted brow. “Keep going and watch me."

Peter visibly deflated. “...Noooo.”

“Patrolling,” she continued, calm and firm, “is a privilege. One you begged for. One we granted under very clear conditions. You don’t get to bend those rules just because you feel unstoppable.”

Peter opened his mouth, hand lifted like he had a retort—

Then flopped back into the stool like a sad, flattened spaghetti noodle.

Pepper sighed, walked over, and brushed his curls gently from his forehead. She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his temple.

“You’re brave, sweetheart,” she said softly. “But you don’t have to keep proving it. We know. Just come home safe. That’s all we care about.”

Peter blinked up at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, like all his protest had just melted into goo.

“And now,” she added, straightening with CEO precision, “Wipe the pout off your face and say thank you to your father for not letting you get blown up by alien tech you weren’t even supposed to be near."

Peter grumbled something that may or may not have been “thanks” and poked his pasta with the sulk of a boy wronged by the universe.

After dinner and a quick shower, Peter trudged onto the Avengers’ residential floor, dragging his overstuffed book bag over his shoulder. His hoodie clung to his damp T-shirt, hair still wet and curling, and his socks didn’t match—not that he cared.

He passed through the sleek halls of the tower, past glowing panels and biometric doors, until he hit the familiar comfort of the common lounge. The lights were low and golden, the city beyond the glass sparkling like a thousand stars.

Vision hovered a few inches off the floor in front of the coffee table, perfectly centered and serene, tablet glowing faintly in his hands. Wanda sat on the couch nearby, wrapped in a soft knit blanket with a thick novel and a steaming mug of tea. Her usual.

“Hey, Vis,” Peter muttered, flopping onto the couch beside him and pulling out his Spanish workbook like it weighed ten pounds. “I’m ready to suffer.”

“Buenas noches, Peter,” Vision greeted with a small nod, folding his hands as his tablet blinked to life. “Are we working on reflexive verbs this evening?”

Peter squinted at the page. “Uh, yeah. It’s the one where the verb, like, yeets itself back at you, right?”

Wanda snorted softly behind her mug.

“That is not the terminology,” Vision replied with his usual polite calm, “but yes. That is the general concept.”

They settled into a quiet rhythm. Wanda’s book rustled. Vision’s voice guided him steadily through the grammar maze. Peter actually surprised himself—he wasn’t half bad anymore. After months of tutoring with Vision and sheer survival instinct from being corrected mid-sentence at dinner by Natasha, he could now conjugate a decent amount without breaking a sweat.

“Nosotros nos preparamos para la misión,” Peter said, underlining the verb twice for flair.

“Correct,” Vision replied, pleased. “Your grasp of reflexive structures has improved significantly.”

Peter leaned back with a little nod. “Gracias, maestro.”

An hour later, packet done and pencil dropped, Peter slumped sideways on the couch with a groan.

“I just don’t get it,” he said. “I spent the whole summer training with literal Avengers. I’ve been shot at. Body-slammed by Natasha. Emotionally eviscerated by Wanda—no offense—and thrown into the air by Steve like a human football.”

“No offense taken,” Wanda murmured, turning a page.

Peter sat up, flailing his arms. “Three months of bootcamp, and the second someone whips out a fancy space stapler during patrol, I get drone-snatched mid-air like I’m a rogue Roomba. I mean, come on. I’m practically an Avenger already!”

A voice cut in from behind.

“Not quite,” Natasha said as she passed through, casually twirling a training baton.

Peter blinked. “Nat! Come on, be real! I’ve improved so much.”

“You have,” she agreed. “But you’re still playing tee-ball, kid. We’re in the majors.”

“Tee-ball? I—wait, that’s the baby version, right?”

“Exactly.” She didn’t even slow down. “Talk to us again when you can legally drive.”

Peter scoffed. “I’m fifteen ! So like… in a year I can get my permit—”

“Actually,” Vision interjected gently, looking up from the workbook, “you are currently fourteen years old. Aidan Stark was born on October 3rd. Therefore, you will not be fifteen for another... twenty six days.”

Peter stared. “...Seriously? You’re counting?”

He winced. He kept forgetting that his real birthday was months later than the one he’d grown up with. That still tripped him up more often than he’d admit.

Vision tilted his head. “It is important to track the developmental milestones of a growing adolescent.”

Wanda smirked into her tea. “You really are just a baby boy.”

Peter groaned and flopped backward dramatically across the couch cushions. “This is a nightmare. I was kidnapped . Orphaned twice . Got powers. Found my billionaire birth parents . All in one lifetime and I’m still only fourteen ?! They should grant me extra age points for trauma.”

Nat’s voice echoed faintly from the hallway, “You’re still taller than Steve was at that age.”

“Not helping!”

Wanda lowered her book just enough to glance at him over the top edge. Her expression softened.

“You’ll get there,” she said gently. “Just be patient.”

Peter shifted a little, his face still buried in the throw pillow.

“…Okay,” he mumbled.

For a second, it was quiet. Almost peaceful.

Then—

Tony’s voice crackled through the tower’s overhead speakers.

“Hey, Spiderling. Lights out in twenty. That includes brushing your teeth, no ‘I forgot,’ and no sneaking onto the roof. You’ve got school tomorrow. Let’s move.”

Peter froze. A beat of silence passed.

He sat up slowly. His face was pure horror .

“…Did he just—PA announce my bedtime?”

Wanda covered her mouth with her hand, failing to hide a grin.

Peter looked around like he expected hidden cameras. “There are literal Avengers living on this floor. And I just got bedtime-blasted over tower-wide speakers like I’m in toddler jail!”

As if on cue, Tony’s voice returned—even smugger.

"And don't forget to floss, kiddo." 

Peter let out a strangled squeak, grabbed a couch pillow, and launched it at the ceiling.

“I hate this tower! That’s it—I’m moving to Wakanda! They probably respect boundaries there!” 

Wanda couldn’t hold it anymore. She dissolved into quiet giggles, setting her book down as she looked at him with fond, exasperated eyes.

“Come on, bebé Avenger. Up you go.”

Peter slung his backpack over one shoulder, still pouting, and muttered the grumpiest, most emotionally devastated: “’Night.”

And with that, he shuffled toward his room—one sock half-off, soul half-crushed—already planning how to tell Ned and MJ everything at school tomorrow.

“And I’m telling you—it wasn’t just embarrassing. It was legendary levels of humiliation.”

Peter leaned over the lunch table, mid-rant, hands flailing like windmill blades. His voice was way too loud for someone allegedly trying to keep a low profile.

He, Ned, and MJ had claimed their usual spot in the far back corner of the cafeteria—aka the nerd bunker—specifically chosen so Peter could talk about the unholy trinity that was his life: Peter Parker. Aidan Stark. Spider-Man. Not that anyone cared what the nerds were whispering about during lunch… but still.

Ned blinked, chewing his sandwich. “Wait… you got yoinked?”

“ Mid-air ,” Peter said dramatically, stabbing his finger at the table. “Off a moving van. I was in full swoop mode. Had momentum. A dramatic flip queued up and everything. Then bam! Iron Dad’s drone grabs me by the armpits like I’m a toddler about to lick an outlet at Target.”

Ned gasped like he’d just watched Mufasa fall off the cliff. “Nooo.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” Peter said, leaning in like he was revealing top-secret intel. “Not only did he yoink me out of a fight, he PA’d my bedtime."

Ned clutched his juice box like it was a sacred relic. “He did what?!”

“ Full. Speaker. System .” Peter spread his arms. “’Spiderling, brush your teeth. No sneaking onto the roof.’ I’m pretty sure Thor heard it from space.”

“Brutal,” Ned muttered, shaking his head. “Here. You need sugar.” He popped open a container of Lola’s legendary Snickerdoodles and held one out like a peace offering. “For emotional damage.”

“Thanks,” Peter sighed, taking one solemnly. “Anyway, I said I was moving to Wakanda, and Wanda laughed. Wanda. Who has literally seen my soul. Like, with magic.”

MJ, without looking up, casually flipped her sketchbook toward them.

There it was: a cartoon Peter mid-meltdown, flailing dramatically on a couch, speech bubble reading: “ I’m moving to Wakanda!”

Peter blinked. “Wait. Is that… me?”

“Mmhm,” MJ said, her pencil still moving. “I like sketching people in emotional distress. You’re very expressive.”

Peter stared at it. “I should be offended.”

“You should,” she agreed.

“But honestly? That’s kind of amazing.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I call it ‘Spiderling Meltdown No. 3.’ I’m thinking of making it a series.”

Ned leaned over to get a better look. “You do have a very drawable panic silhouette.”

Peter squinted at both of them, mouth twitching in a half-hearted glare. “I need new friends.”

MJ raised an eyebrow without looking up. “You’d miss us.”

Peter opened his mouth to argue—and promptly rolled his eyes instead. He slouched further into his seat, dramatically biting into his cookie.

But mid-chew, his gaze drifted over MJ’s shoulder, scanning the lunchroom out of habit more than anything. And then he stilled.

Something didn’t feel right.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he zeroed in on the front tables—on one person in particular.

Flash Thompson. Sitting alone.

Slumped forward. Head low. No obnoxious laughter, no loud commentary about the food or the freshmen or someone’s haircut. Just… quiet. Still. Un-Flashlike.

Peter blinked. “Okay… weird. Since when is Flash quiet?”

Ned turned to look. “That’s… yeah. That’s not right. Usually by now he’s either insulting someone’s shoes or flexing like a Roman statue.”

Peter tilted his head. “And he hasn’t bothered me once since school started. It’s been, what—seven days? That’s gotta be a world record.”

“Maybe he’s sick,” Ned offered, eyebrows raised. “Or got replaced with a clone. Like a super boring one.”

“Maybe he got abducted by personality aliens,” Peter said, eyes still on him. “And they forgot to reboot him after the probe.”

MJ finally looked up from her sketchbook. Her expression was unreadable, eyes calm behind her curls.

“I heard his older brother went missing over the summer,” she said.

Peter and Ned whipped their heads toward her like synchronized meerkats. “ What?”

MJ shrugged, flipping her pencil in her fingers. “Back in July. Disappeared out of nowhere. Some people think he ran away. But there weren’t any signs of that. No note, no prep, nothing.”

Ned’s face fell. “Seriously? I didn’t hear anything.”

Peter leaned forward. “Flash had a brother?”

“Yeah,” MJ said. “Only a year apart. Apparently they were super close. Like, talk-every-day kind of close. His name was Jace, I think. Class president at his school. Football captain. Everyone liked him. From what I heard, he was… actually a decent guy.”

Peter turned his gaze back to Flash.

The usual smugness, the cocky posture—it was all gone. No smart remarks. No puffed-up ego. Just a hunched-over teenager picking at the edges of his lunch tray like he wasn’t really there.

He looked… hollow. Like someone hit pause and forgot to press play again.

“…That’s weird,” Peter murmured. “That doesn’t feel like a runaway situation.”

MJ nodded slowly. “It doesn’t. But no one really talks about it anymore. It made a ripple for like two weeks, then everyone moved on.”

Peter’s brows pulled together.

For the first time in… maybe ever, Peter felt a tiny twinge of something he never expected to feel toward Flash Thompson.

Concern.

The rest of the day passed in a blur.

Peter sat through class after class, pencil tapping absently, eyes occasionally drifting toward the window instead of the board. His mind was miles away, still stuck on the image of Flash hunched over his tray, so unlike himself it left a strange echo in Peter’s chest.

He hadn’t expected to feel bad for Flash. But he did.

Because he knew what it was like.

To lose someone.

To have the world keep spinning like it hadn’t just dropped out from under your feet.

To feel like the people around you kept moving forward while you stood frozen in place, quietly cracking apart from the inside.

Peter slumped in his seat as the teacher’s voice droned on about cellular respiration. His notebook lay open, notes half-finished, a small doodle of a spider mask in the corner.

He got it. The fear. The helplessness. The not-knowing.

He lived with it every day.

But as his thoughts swirled around that familiar ache, they bumped into something else—something brighter. Something recent.

His parents. Tony and Pepper. And the rest of the team.

Sure, his parents (weird to say that—his actual parents) hovered like two overpowered helicopters. Sure, the Avengers treated him like he might shatter if he stubbed his toe. But they made time for him. Always. Tony never missed their weekly tech lab sessions. Natasha still called him “Kid” like it was a badge of honor. Steve offered one-sentence life advice that sounded like it came from a fortune cookie. And Wanda—Wanda always made space for him to feel things, even the ones he couldn’t name yet.

It was weird.

It was a lot.

But it was good.

Peter realized, somewhere between fifth and seventh period, that he was actually… happy.

And yet—

That old question crept in again, soft and sharp all at once:

Was he allowed to be happy?

Because even with everything good, even with the way Tony ruffled his hair and the way Pepper left tea outside his door, one thing still hung over him like a shadow.

Uncle Ben.

It had been over a year. Over a year since the night everything changed. Over a year since the gunshot, the sirens, the unbearable stillness.

And the man who did it? Still out there.

Tony had tried. Pepper too. They looked through police files, ran background checks, even tapped into Stark-level surveillance systems. But all they ever found were dead ends and cold trails. Just enough to reopen the wound. Never enough to close it.

Peter stared down at his desk.

The guilt hadn’t left. Not really. He didn’t know if it ever would.

But now—now he could do something. He was back. He had the suit. The training. The permission.

And that meant one thing.

He was going to find the man who killed his uncle.

No more pushing it off.

No more excuses.

It was time.

The final bell rang, slicing through the building like a jolt of static. Peter flinched, snapping out of his thoughts just as the familiar chaos erupted around him.

Backpacks unzipped. Chairs screeched. Voices rose in a tidal wave of noise as kids spilled into the hallway like a stampede of caffeine-fueled gremlins. Peter moved through the crowd like a ghost, weaving between flailing arms and flying notebooks, his thoughts still half-rooted in the ache behind his ribs.

Ned jogged up beside him, slightly out of breath and dodging a rogue frisbee someone definitely wasn’t supposed to bring to school.

“So,” Ned asked, adjusting his backpack strap, “when’s Happy scooping you up for your… you know…”

He dropped his voice to a theatrical whisper. “Stark Internship.”

Peter snorted, snapping back to reality just a little. “In like ten. He’s probably parked around the corner pretending he’s not my full-time babysitter.”

Before Ned could make another joke, a voice cut through the crowd—sharp, cold, and way too loud.

“Well, well, well. Look who gets the billionaire treatment.”

Peter’s stomach tightened instantly.

Flash.

Leaning against a locker, arms crossed. Except he didn’t look smug this time. He looked bitter. Wired. Like he was itching for something—anything—to punch.

Peter sighed. “Guess someone found his volume button again.”

Flash pushed off the locker slowly, his gaze fixed on Peter like he wanted to burn holes straight through him.

“You know what’s really weird?” he said, voice rising just enough to pull in nearby attention. “That you—of all people—get chauffeured around by Tony Stark. You? The loser who used to eat lunch alone in the science lab?”

Peter tried to keep walking. “Knock it off.”

But Flash wasn’t finished.

“Or maybe this whole ‘internship’ thing is just a cover,” he said, louder now, loud enough for people to start glancing over. “I mean—look at you. New shoes. New bag. Stark tech all over you. Maybe you’re not working for Stark. Maybe you’re just— selling yourself.”

Peter stopped in his tracks.

Ned froze beside him. “Dude. Seriously. Not okay.”

Flash stepped closer. The venom in his voice was unmistakable now—hot, sharp, and personal.

“What would your aunt think?” he sneered. “What about your uncle? Bet they’d be real proud to see you whoring yourself out for a fancy ride and a new wardrobe.”

The world fell away.

The hallway noise dimmed.

Peter didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Something inside him twisted hard—like someone had grabbed a piece of him and yanked.

Then, voice low, shaky with restraint, he said:

“…You know what? I get it.”

Flash paused. “What?”

Peter turned to face him fully, eyes cold. “I get why your brother left. If I lived with you, I’d run too.”

Flash’s face twisted in rage. And then he swung.

It was clumsy. Fueled by pure fury. A wild punch with no aim.

Peter sidestepped without even thinking.

Everything slowed.

“NED, WATCH OUT—!”

Too late.

Ned stepped in between them—and Flash shoved him. Hard.

Ned hit the floor with a loud thud, the sound cracking through Peter like lightning.

Something snapped.

Peter grabbed Flash by the front of his shirt and slammed him into the lockers so hard the metal echoed through the hallway. The impact made a few kids scream and scatter.

Flash gasped, trying to shove him off, but Peter didn’t budge.

“Touch him again,” Peter said through clenched teeth, voice low and deadly still, “and I swear to God, you’ll regret it.”

He wasn’t yelling.

He didn’t need to.

Flash froze. For the first time, he looked scared.

“HEY!” a teacher’s voice bellowed down the hallway. “ BREAK IT UP—NOW!”

Peter let go like he’d been burned.

Flash slumped back against the lockers, gasping.

Peter stumbled back a step, chest heaving, hands shaking from something that wasn’t just adrenaline.

Ned was already sitting up, rubbing his side with a wince.

The teacher stormed toward them, radio in hand. “ All three of you. Principal’s office. Right now.”

Peter didn’t say a word.

He just picked up Ned’s backpack, helped him up, and walked silently toward the office—rage, shame, and guilt all tangled in his chest like barbed wire.

Chapter Text

The soft whir of arc reactors hummed in the workshop as Tony crouched beside the newest prototype gauntlet, calibrating the feedback regulators. He glanced at the time: 3:57 PM.

Three minutes until Workshop Time.

Their biweekly tradition. Aidan would usually burst in right on cue—damp hair, half-zipped hoodie, half a sandwich still in his hand—launch into a story about school drama, drop his backpack in a hazardous location, and then proceed to touch every shiny object within reach like an over-caffeinated squirrel.

Tony had started calling it “Spiderling Hazard Hour” in his calendar. He looked forward to it...frankly more than anything.

So when his private line buzzed—not Addie, but Midtown High School—he frowned. Probably something minor. A prank. A weird experiment. Maybe Addie accidentally webbed himself to the vending machine again.

“Stark,” he answered, tightening the last bolt. “If this is about a library fine, I feel like an email would’ve done the job.”

“Uh—hello, Mr. Stark? This is Principal Morita, from Midtown—”

Tony straightened a little, pausing mid-reach for his goggles. The guy sounded winded. Not a great sign.

“Principal Morita. What an honor. Did my son break the grading curve again? He’s got a dangerous habit of answering extra credit questions before they’re handed out.”

The principal cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m calling about a… situation. Peter was involved in a physical altercation today.”

Tony froze. A beat of static silence.

“…Come again?”

“There was a fight. Another student, Flash Thompson, was involved. Security footage shows Peter reacting... let’s say, aggressively after an argument. We’d like you to come in.”

Tony stared at the gauntlet in front of him, as if it might explain how his kid—gangly, gentle, apologizes-to-lamps Aidan—had just been described as aggressive.

“You sure you’ve got the right Peter Parker?” Tony asked, half-joking. “Nerdy kid? Curls? Talks like someone double-espresso’d a golden retriever?”

“I’m afraid so,” Principal Morita said. “It wasn’t premeditated, but it did get physical.”

Tony’s stomach twisted. Not anger—yet. Just unease. Addie didn’t escalate. Not unless something serious happened.

Still, he couldn’t let this turn into a media frenzy.

Tony exhaled. “Okay. So here’s the thing. If I walk into that school as myself, every gossip site from here to freaking Russia is gonna plaster it across their front page. ‘Tony Stark's Troubled Teen Terrorizes Midtown.’ Probably with the wrong kid's face in the header.”

There was a pause. Principal Morita, to his credit, was trying to keep up.

“I… understand. But as his guardian—”

“You remember the NDA, right?” Tony cut in.