Chapter Text
“Your mark is pretty unusual, huh?” the guy said.
Tony glanced over at the lanky frat boy lounging back in his bed. He was smoking a cigarette with his eyes on Tony’s wrist, and Tony reflexively turned to hide the mark while he stepped into his jeans. Shrugging, Tony glanced at—Jim, was it?—and the cursive letter “E” tucked neatly into his collarbone. That alone was enough reason for Tony to not think too hard on remembering the guy’s name. He looked away. They weren’t meant for each other. Tonight was just a quick lay between two horny college students.
“Yeah, well. Any leads on yours?” Tony asked, making light conversation while he wiggled into a t-shirt.
“Nah. Figure when it’s time…” he trailed off, stamping the butt of his cigarette into a smoldering ash tray.
Right. Tony rolled his eyes to himself, maybe not so subtly judging by the guy’s expression, and shoved his wallet back into a pocket. “Good luck then, see you in physics I guess,” Tony said.
“Right, later.”
The walk back to Tony’s dorm was chilly. He hadn’t brought a jacket to the bar and didn’t expect to be out so late. Goosebumps rose hairs up and down his forearms while he walked briskly back to the pad he shared with Rhodey. Tony had thought once, that if it was anyone, it could be Rhodes. But Rhodey was straight, and his “T” was for a woman. A Theresa, maybe. Tammi. Trisha. Tally.
Tony sighed. He wished his guesses could be nearly so straightforward. Unlike everyone else on the planet that was born with the mark of their soulmate as a letter of the alphabet, Tony was born with a symbol of a spider.
The symbol was permanently etched on the inside of his wrist, as if tattooed there in blank ink. By now, he was used to the stares. His childhood was peppered with memories of adults with furrowed brows, whispered conversations while he played with other kids, teachers squinting at it when he raised his hand in class. It made him feel like a complete outcast. And over time, he learned to hide it.
His father had done research, of course. As far as Howard could tell, Tony’s case was unprecedented. Some individuals were born with more than one letter—two or three, sometimes a full first name. In other cultures, kanji and symbols were the norm. But Tony’s mark had no linguistic origin other than it was a doodle of a fucking spider.
Tony swung the doors open to his building, and before he completely left the breezeway he noticed something that made him pause. There was a payphone in the corner with a ragged phone book chained to a desk. Biting the inside of his cheek and pulling a face, he finally sighed and went toward it to repeat what he had already tried a hundred times.
He grabbed the thick book and flipped through the pages, starting halfway in. He flew by P, Q, and R, then slowed at S. A few pages later, he reached SP… SPI...
Spiak… Spica… Spice… Spicer… Spicola…
Now or never. Come on, white pages.
Spidel… then Spiece.
No Spiders today.
Tony slammed the book closed and got in the elevator for the fourth floor.
"I can tell you the word for spider in every language," he confessed to Yinsen.
Tony sat curled around his car battery while tracing the outline of his spider symbol with a calloused finger. Facing death brought him peace, perspective, and longing. Longing for the soulmate he was never going to meet.
"There is still time," Yinsen replied.
Tony grit his teeth and raised his head to meet Yinsen's bespectacled eyes. The thought of finding his spider was Tony's only motivation to live. Tony clung to that hope. Gears turning in his head, Tony sat and thought about how to escape.
"We might have a way," he said.
After dealing with his loss of Obie and post-traumatic stress of being a prisoner of war in Afghanistan, Tony kept everything a little closer to his chest.
“I need watches, Pepper,” Tony declared in the middle of signing some paperwork for Stark Industries.
“Watches,” she echoed dryly.
“As many as you can find. Ones with thick bands,” he clarified, finishing the last signature with a flourish.
The watches came. He sifted through them all, hundreds of them, with bands that came in every material—gold, platinum, leather, teflon, silicone, nylon. As long as the band was thick enough to conceal his mark from prying eyes, he kept them and wore them. Slowly, his soulmate mark disappeared from conversation. People stopped bringing it up or pointing it out, and Tony really liked it that way.
Tony was Iron Man now. He had enemies now. His enemies could and would use anything against him. To be safe, he asked JARVIS to sweep the details of his mark from the internet.
“There are sixteen records, sir,” JARVIS reported. “Three interviews on video, five magazine articles, and eight mentions in social media posts.”
“Scrub them,” Tony ordered.
JARVIS made his spider disappear from his skin in the recorded interviews. Articles in places like People magazine suddenly lost a blurb on the gossip page, and anywhere else it was mentioned that JARVIS couldn’t modify… Tony brushed it off as pure speculation. He released a few tweets from bots and planted posts on celebrity forums with fake leads on fake letters. Tony considered his spider symbol as good as erased from society.
And Tony was increasingly visible to society. He started attending galas and benefits with Pepper on his arm, not because he was in love with her, but because it just made sense. Neither of them had anyone else. Rumors that they were each other's soulmates circulated around the world, and Tony did nothing to dispel those rumors. Not that he wanted to paint a target on Pepper’s back, but she, at least, was under his wing. He could protect Pepper better than he could protect a stranger.
It had been decades, now. But Tony always kept hope. He always… wondered.
Long gone were the days of phone books, but Tony still searched on nights such as these with the newest tools at his disposal. A few weeks after Sokovia, Tony had cloistered himself away in the lab. Glass of bourbon in hand, Tony flipped through news on a holographic display. Articles and posts about people named Spider were scraped from the web by his custom script and delivered to his inbox regularly. It saved him a lot of time, and the feature was becoming his favorite element of the new AI even though he sorely missed JARVIS.
"FRIDAY, zoom in on that video."
"Zooming in fifty percent," FRIDAY replied.
Tony rubbed at the stubble on his cheek and leaned forward, intrigued. "What exactly am I looking at, here?" he asked.
The silhouette of a figure on grainy security cam footage looped on repeat across his screen. The video on YouTube was titled "You WON'T BELIEVE this swinging spider dude in NYC!!!!!" and, in fact, Tony was having a very hard time believing it.
"Is this edited?" Tony added.
"The video is not altered, sir. It appears to be a human performing a controlled fall between buildings. Imaging matches the intersection of Houston Street and Avenue A," FRIDAY replied.
A sense of intrigue overwhelmed Tony's senses, and despite his better judgment, he decided to pursue whatever the hell kind of lead this was.
"FRIDAY, monitor security cams and alert me right away next time you see this. I want a suit fired up as soon as it's confirmed."
"Right away, sir," FRIDAY replied.
Tony switched off the display and wandered back to his rooms, mind stuck on the grainy footage while he stared at his reflection brushing his teeth. Regardless of how the footage triggered his keyword search, what the hell kind of dumb stunt was someone pulling? Even if this bigfoot-esque clue wasn’t soulmate-related, Tony wanted to know who had this kind of technology and why they were using it. As Tony’s mind wandered, he brushed a sore molar a little too hard and winced.
FRIDAY’s voice sprang to life through the speakers in his room, “Sir, we have a confirmed sighting.”
“Already?” Tony mumbled to himself, toothbrush still in his mouth. He hurried to spit and wipe the extra toothpaste from his lips, glad he hadn’t changed from his lab clothes yet.
“Where’s the suit?” Tony chided FRIDAY.
“Your balcony, sir,” she replied, almost cheekily.
Tony made a frustrated grumble at the sight of the Mark XLIII, but he walked to it quickly, regardless. He suited up and took off.
“Navigating to the coordinates of the last confirmed sighting in Queens,” FRIDAY reported over audio. “Twitter photos were posted of your person of interest seven minutes ago.”
“Wonderful,” Tony said. “Can I get a summary?”
“According to the source, the mystery person appeared out of nowhere to return a young woman’s stolen purse,” FRIDAY replied.
“He returned it?”
“Yes, sir. According to Twitter,” FRIDAY replied dryly.
Tony rolled his eyes. Ok, so he had a masked wannabe hero on his hands.
He was approaching the park where the incident occurred, but Tony was too high for anyone to really notice he was there.
“Thrusters on silent mode. FRIDAY, what do we have?”
“Monitoring 360 motion detection,” FRIDAY reported. “Ninety-nine percent of individuals identified as non-threatening. Unique movement pattern detected 200 yards northwest.”
Bingo.
Tony descended to the city block highlighted on his AI visual input. He spotted the outline of a person jumping from rooftop to rooftop, so he landed his suit at a higher vantage point to watch. Eventually, the figure stopped and crouched to retrieve something concealed in shadow.
“Zoom,” Tony said.
The figure was slender, clothed in baggy sweats, and looked to be breathing heavily. The person hesitated as they reached toward their sweatshirt hood, glancing around as if they could feel someone watching. Tony forced his heartbeat to slow by taking deeper breaths, and the figure eventually pushed their hood back to reveal their face in the moonlight.
Tony’s breath caught in the back of his throat as the kid—a teenage boy, really—yanked pool goggles off of his head and sat on the roof like a sack of potatoes to unwrap a snack. Tony felt adrenaline coursing through his veins. The kid ruffled his sweaty hair and chewed through a granola bar at a speed that would make any competitive eater envious. The kid had already moved on to a bag of gummy bears.
“FRIDAY,” Tony’s voice cracked. “Get me an ID.”
“Already searching, sir,” FRIDAY replied.
In his peripheral vision, Tony could see FRIDAY flipping through mug shots and driver’s licenses to match the face of the kid in front of them. But that was just it—he was a kid.
“Jesus fucking mother of Christ,” Tony cursed. His heart was still beating wildly and some part of him, deep in the back of his brain, knew exactly why. Unable to stand the feeling any longer, he pushed off from his perch and cruised at a fast clip back to Stark Tower.
Tony knew what was coming. He just never expected it to be like this.
It was six months later that the gears of Tony's plan were set in motion.
Rhodey didn’t like it.
“I still don’t think this is a good idea, Tony,” Rhodey said.
“It’s the best strategy I’ve got,” Tony replied. He looked defeated, slumped in an oversized armchair in his apartment while talking to Rhodey on the phone.
“Doesn’t mean you have to do it,” Rhodey shot back.
“Well, what would you suggest?” Tony needled.
“Tony,” Rhodey laughed, “I’d do the same damn thing. I’m just here to warn you not to get yourself hurt.”
Tony smirked, “What, you worried about me?”
“Just be careful, Tones.”
“I will,” Tony murmured.
Tony found himself sweating bullets in a tiny living room inside a Queens apartment, waiting for the love of his life.
“More tea?” May offered.
“Please,” Tony smiled, hoping it didn’t look forced.
A key turned in the lock, and suddenly... he was here.
"Hey May," a voice started to say, "there's a crazy car parked outside—"
The kid emerged from the hallway and stopped speaking at the sight of Tony.
"Mr. Parker," Tony smirked, eyes shifting from May and back to Peter, noting at once the kid's shock of seeing an Avenger sitting in his living room.
"Um. What— um," Peter was doing a very poor job at concealing his expressions, but finally choked out, "Hey, um. I'm, um- I'm Peter."
Tony was already enamored.
"Tony," he said, although he knew he didn't need to introduce himself.
They made up a charade about the grant, which actually went much more smoothly than he expected. Tony hit on May, too, as part of the ruse. It was all theater, really. Until it wasn't.
The click of the lock echoed in Tony's ears.
"As walnut date loaves go, that wasn't bad," Tony said, out of earshot from Aunt May now that they were in Peter’s room. Tony turned and literally cringed at the line, but he felt like his heart was going to pound right out of his chest. He had been feeling on edge since he parked outside the building.
Tony quickly changed the subject to Peter’s technology. Then dumpster diving. And finally, went in for the jugular.
Video recordings. Every single incident he had found Peter involved in over the last 6 months, displayed on hologram. Tony had done his research, and not just on the spider antics. He knew who Peter's best friends were, what snacks he liked, how many iterations of dollar store superhero outfits Peter had gone through, and he knew when Peter was born.
He was fifteen years old. Tony reminded himself, again, to keep it professional.
"You got mad skills," Tony smirked.
Peter floundered, trying to keep his identity secret even though he knew he was grasping at straws. All Tony had to do was jab the attic door to expose Peter's secret, officially.
As Peter scrambled to cover his suit, Tony said, "So. You're the… spider-ling."
His heart skipped a beat, so Tony added word vomit to calm his nerves, "Crime-fighting spider. You're Spider-Boy?"
Peter slumped, "I'm Spider-Man."
Tony made fun of the onesie and goggles, transitioned to making sure Peter was good at keeping secrets, and eventually found out Peter was a boy genius. All in all, Tony was nothing short of impressed.
But his world shifted when Peter told him, "I’m just looking out for the little guy."
At that precise moment in space and time, Tony understood why Peter was his soulmate. Pulling himself out of his overwhelming feelings, Tony stood. He said, eyes averted, "I'm gonna sit here, so you move the leg."
Tony sat next to Peter on the twin bed and tried to talk him into coming to Germany. He hesitated at first—and only meant to give Peter a quick pat on the shoulder, truly—but his hand lingered. Peter was giving Tony a million reasons why he couldn't come, and all of a sudden Tony realized his hand had been there too long and his heart had swelled a little too big and his symbol was starting to burn and he had to get out of there. Tony wanted Peter to come. Every cell of his being was crying, come with me. But Peter was saying… no.
"Why?" Tony asked. The sound of the neediness in his voice, something only he could hear, made Tony withdraw into himself. He brushed off Peter's comments and made jokes as he tried to escape.
Whatever, Tony told himself. This is fine. It’s fine, he thought, although the craziness in his brain and his heart made him feel everything except okay. But before he even turned the knob to leave, Peter webbed his fucking hand to the door.
Peter stared at Tony with an expression Tony couldn't interpret. After a pause, Peter cleared his throat and said, "Um, Mr. Stark…"
Tony raised an eyebrow, "Yes?”
Peter looked lost in thought. Tony prodded again, gesturing at his hand, “You have my undivided attention."
"I… is there… I'm, um, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me, just feeling a little starstruck I guess. I—I can come. To Germany. I'll come," Peter said.
A smile bloomed across Tony's face. "Good," he said. "Now get me out of this."
Losing his cool after the Ferry Incident, Tony thought for sure Peter would have figured it out.
Tony was definitely not having the "I'm Your Soulmate!" talk with Peter until he graduated high school, at least. But times like these tried his patience and emotions just enough that he thought Peter would be able to look through his mask and see exactly just how much Tony loved him.
As if the constant surveillance, GPS tracking, and rescuing weren't big enough hints. Now he was staring down the teenage fucking idiot he was bound to who would have gotten himself killed with his brazen stupidity if Tony hadn’t showed up. Tony’s rage was immeasurable, an equal but opposite counterweight to Peter’s disappointment in himself for failing to keep the boat from falling apart on his own merit.
Peter lashed out during Tony’s lecture, shouting at the Iron Man suit, "Well if you really cared, you'd actually be here."
Tony was operating on barely-concealed fury when he stepped down from his suit, and nearly had a stroke when Peter protested that he was fifteen.
"This is where you zip it,” Tony fumed. “What if somebody had died tonight? Different story, right, cause that's on you. And if you died…" Tony got quiet and added, "I feel like that's on me. And I don't need that on my conscience."
Tony took Peter's suit without a single regret.
He would keep Peter safe by whatever means necessary, no matter how much Peter hated it. Because it was terrifying to love someone this much, terrifying to fear for their safety day and night. Tony knew he would lose his mind if he lost Peter. The only thing that hurt him about taking Peter’s suit was that it severed the only evidence of a bond they shared. The spider outline on the fabric at Peter’s chest was the same symbol he hid beneath his sleeve.
Things were tense after that.
In the end, though, Tony wanted to believe that everything worked out for the best. When Tony eventually offered Peter a chance to join the Avengers, to be a real team member, he saw in Pete's face that he was thinking about saying no. Seriously thinking about saying no.
But he didn’t. Peter cocked his head and accepted Tony’s pitch.
Pure happiness flowed through Tony’s veins at the knowledge that soon, Peter would be living here at the Avengers compound. With him. Fighting bad guys. With him.
With an award-winning grin, Tony ushered Peter into the press conference to introduce Spider-Man to the world.
“Peter,” Tony nodded.
Peter looked up from the book he was reading at the breakfast bar in the Avengers living quarters, expression unfocused from recently waking up. The edges of his lips involuntarily quirked upon seeing Tony.
“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter greeted brightly.
“Coffee, kid?” Tony offered, jabbing the buttons on the espresso machine, arm crossed impatiently over his house coat while waiting for his own cup.
“No thanks, not today,” Peter replied, reaching for another frozen waffle from the stack in front of him while his attention turned back to what he was reading.
The compound was quiet this weekend. Steve and his sidekick were back in DC dealing with some military debriefings. Bruce was deep in the lab, as usual. Thor was in outer space. And Natasha and Clint were out running drills together to meet the flavor of the month’s physical acuity goals.
“Got plans?” Tony asked casually, pretending to brush some lint from his sleeve while his coffee percolated.
“Uh…” Peter looked up from his book again. Tony was leaning against the counter, silk pajama pants draping elegantly and house coat hiding the majority of his bare chest. Tony’s eyes met his after Peter dragged his gaze up far enough, and Peter blushed at the intensity.
“Well, I, you know—just the usual, uh, webbing stuff,” Peter stammered.
Tony didn’t miss the blush. He capitalized.
“Want to help me out in the lab? I’ve got a two-person job.”
“Yeah? Okay, um, sure,” Peter nodded.
“Meet me down there. Take your time,” Tony said.
Just as quickly as Tony appeared, he was gone. Peter blinked, and just to make sure he hadn’t imagined the whole encounter, checked the mugs hanging under the cabinets to be sure one was missing.
Tony didn’t wait for Peter to get started. By the time Peter walked into the lab, Tony was already blaring AC/DC and only half visible from his position under a robot the size of a dump truck.
“Tony?” Peter called, knocking on the side of the… was it some kind of tank?
“Yello!” Tony replied, rolling out from underneath. Peter looked awfully tall from Tony’s perspective so close to the floor.
“What can I help you with?” Peter offered brightly, swaying forward slightly as he shoved his hands into his jean pockets.
“You know how to run wires?” Tony asked.
“Um…” Peter sucked in his bottom lip, “no?”
“You're about to learn. Grab those pliers, come under here with me.”
“What is this thing?” Peter asked inquisitively as he joined Tony beneath the robot. They were shoulder-to-shoulder in the darkness, staring up together at exposed electrical wiring of the machine.
“Basically a laser cannon,” Tony replied.
Peter’s eyebrows shot up, “You’re kidding?”
Tony half laughed, glancing over at Peter beside him. The outline of Peter’s youthful face was traced in light from the glow of blue LEDs set up to illuminate their tight workspace. The image captivated him, turning Tony’s cursory look into a stare. The beauty radiating off of Peter was so powerful it made Tony’s heart feel like it skipped a beat.
“No,” Tony breathed.
Growing hot and feeling desperate to escape the space, Tony rolled out. Peter frowned, hesitating. “Uh, Tony?” he called, bumping his head as he raised it to see where Tony had gone.
“Yeah, kid. You stay there,” Tony instructed while trying to compose himself. He stood from the creeper, and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands as he paced.
“I’ll feed you some wires,” he called, finally stopping and letting out a long breath. “Hang tight.”
“Okay,” Peter called.
Tony glanced at Peter’s feet sticking out from under the machine. His toes were wiggling inside Converse hi-tops, content to hang out, unaware of Tony’s inner turmoil. Tony cursed to himself, wondering why he thought this was such a good idea in the first place.
Tony grabbed a ladder and climbed to reach another exposed panel roughly above where Peter was waiting. “Up here now,” Tony said. He grabbed a roll of wire and fed it down the panel, eventually asking, “See it yet?”
“Not quite, keep going,” Peter yelled back.
“Now?”
“Yeah! Got it.”
“Great,” Tony said. “Strip it for me, I’ll send another one down.”
“Mkay,” Peter replied. Tony heard Peter faintly humming to the music while he sent a second wire down the panel.
“Okay, got this one too,” Peter called up. “What should I do with it?”
“Same thing. I just need to go grab you another set of wire strippers for that one—” Tony started to say.
“I can get it!” Peter’s voice called brightly.
Tony’s brow furrowed, “No, kid. I’ll—”
He heard a loud screech, then the groan of metal, and then Peter screamed.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Tony cursed, skipping the last few steps and jumping down from the ladder to reach Peter.
Peter had rolled the creeper right into a jack supporting the enormous machine. The side of it slipped and landed on Peter’s shoulder, pinning him to the ground.
“Tony!” Peter yelled, panicking. He was pushing up hard with his free hand, but with only one usable arm he didn’t have the strength to lift the weight.
“I got you, hold on,” Tony said, feeling just as panicky but keeping his voice level. “You’re going to be okay.”
FRIDAY already had a suit on the way. “You’re going to be okay,” Tony repeated, this time looking straight in Peter’s green eyes as the suit expanded across his chest and down his arms. When the last link clicked into place, Tony grabbed the corner of the goliath hunk of metal and lifted, ignoring Peter’s screams while pushing him safely from harm's way.
Tony barely registered that Peter stopped screaming as he set the machine back down. He turned to take in the damage to Peter’s shoulder as the Iron Man suit slipped away.
“Peter,” Tony called, kneeling at his soulmate’s side. He reached out to feel Peter’s pulse.
Peter’s eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving, but Tony felt his heart beating. He must have passed out from the pain, Tony thought. Hesitating for the briefest of seconds, he reached out to rip Peter’s shirt to see how bad the injury was. Tears burned at the back of his eyes as he took in the red and purple contusions, what must be nothing short of a shattered collarbone, broken arm, and broken ribs. He blinked back the tears and carded his fingers through Peter’s hair.
“FRIDAY, we need paramedics,” Tony called.
“Sir, based on Peter’s previous wound recovery rate, he should be fully healed in less than two hours,” FRIDAY replied.
“Call the fucking paramedics.”
Tony’s eyes darted across Peter’s body to his crushed shoulder again, noticing for the first time… something different. His body froze as he focused on a letter scripted artfully in the center of Peter’s chest.
“Fuck,” he whispered. His hand, still holding Peter’s, began to tremble.
The mark was a letter “A”.
Tony felt his insides lurch.
Was this a cruel twist of fate that the first letter of Anthony would be on Peter’s body? Tony wasn’t sure if Peter even knew his full first name. Everyone called him Tony—magazines, newspapers, fundraising gala announcements… hell, even his trophies were engraved with his nickname. Was this his curse? Celebrity notoriety? Would it occur to Peter that…
Wait. Tony’s blood turned to ice at the sudden realization that the letter may not even stand for him. Could Peter’s true love be someone else entirely?
Tony bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. This was almost too much to bear. Tony knew that clinging to hope, as he had been, would only lead to pain. But for all his well-laid plans to catch up to him like this felt like a knife twisting in his heart. He had heard this happened, sometimes. Rare cases in which someone's soulmate did not have a reciprocating mark. Tony had never even dared to imagine it could happen to him.
Peter groaned.
Tony pulled himself out of his thoughts and focused back on Peter.
“Hey, kid, easy now…” Tony said, voice gravelly with emotion.
“Fuckin’ hurts.”
“I know, hold on. Paramedics are on the way,” Tony assured.
“Wha? No, no,” Peter protested, grimacing.
“You should be evaluated—”
“—I’m fine, I’ll be fine, it’s no trouble, my fault, tell 'em not to come,” Peter rambled.
Feeling thunderous, Tony talked over Peter’s protests, “Absolutely. Not.”
Meeting Peter’s eyes with an authoritative glare, Tony went on, “You will listen to me, and you will listen to the paramedics, and I will not see you doing anything to jeopardize,” Tony said with special emphasis as he watched Peter try to sit up, “a full recovery. Are we clear?”
“Okay, okay,” Peter finally agreed. He glanced down at his injury and reached over with his healthy arm to touch it tenderly. The action covered Peter’s mark with his shirt once more, and Tony relaxed back.
“I’ll wait,” Peter murmured.
“We’ll wait,” Tony corrected.
Waiting, Tony mused, was all he ever did.
Peter healed. Time passed. Tony deteriorated.
Eventually, Peter noticed.
The glances between Natasha and Clint in the evenings didn’t make sense, at first. But in the weeks following his accident in the lab, Peter started to put some pieces together. Tony was changing. He was drinking more. He was sleeping more, too, but always looked tired. He was spending more time with Rhodey and less time with anyone else. When he did interact with the rest of the team, Tony was unfailingly irritable. He was generally unpleasant to be around, incessantly grumpy, and even a little mean. Cap’s low tolerance for Tony’s temper left most of the Avengers walking on eggshells in the common spaces, uncomfortably anticipating the next verbal shouting match.
All of these things, if considered independently, would not be especially remarkable. Tony was famous for his mood swings. But Peter had noticed something else, too. The most important factor in all of his mentor’s changes, at least from his perspective.
Tony was avoiding him.
Peter spent most nights, like this particular night, dwelling. He lay in bed staring at the ceiling fan as it rotated lazily. Entire parts of his life had changed because of Tony’s distance. Basic things, like how Tony used to chat with Peter over breakfast, were now missing. Tony didn’t check in on Peter at night anymore, either. Peter’s eyes drifted to his door frame, reminiscing to when Tony used to rap a melodic knock before popping his head through with a smile. It had been months since Tony took the time to do that.
Breathing deeply, Peter rolled on his side, trying in vain to take his mind off of the ache he felt at Tony’s absence.
Tony didn’t ask Peter for help in the lab anymore. He didn’t offer to work on Peter’s suit. He didn’t ask about Peter’s life. He simply no longer reached out. These changes in Tony stung Peter the most. Peter hadn’t realized how much he cherished those small interactions until they were gone. He missed Tony’s presence, and Peter blamed himself for the void he could feel between them. Peter was sure Tony loathed him for making such a rookie mistake in the lab. After all, who would want such an idiot for a protégé? Maybe Tony was so irritable all the time because he wanted Peter to quit the Avengers and wasn’t sure how to fire him. Or maybe he just wanted Peter to take the hint and go back to New York on his own.
Once Peter realized what was happening with Tony, a sense of dread and helplessness followed him night and day. All Peter wanted was to make this right, somehow. Apologize, maybe. Or at least call out the elephant in the room so Tony could start acting like he existed again. Peter groaned and rubbed his face in frustration, knowing full well he had another fitful night of sleep to look forward to if he spent another night waiting for Tony to magically go back to normal. Peter knew he had to step in if there was any chance to salvage their relationship, but the task was… daunting, to say the least.
Nevertheless, Peter was never one to back down from a challenge. He needed to do this. Feeling his heart pounding, Peter found his feet leading him down the hall on their own accord. It was close to midnight, but Peter knew almost everyone was still awake. The Avengers were night owls. It came with the job description.
Within moments, Peter stood in front of Tony’s door. He wiggled his sock-clad feet against the plush carpet, feeling helpless, but also determined. Peter steeled himself to knock, but before he even had a chance to raise his fist, the door opened.
“Come in,” Tony called. He sounded far away.
Peter walked across the threshold and hesitated to go any further. Tony’s quarters were enormous, practically an entire house in and of itself. He squinted in the darkness, unsure how far he could go without violating Tony’s privacy.
“I said come in,” Tony repeated.
“Where are you?”
“Over here.”
Like that was helpful. Peter frowned and sighed in frustration. “Okay then,” he muttered, practically stomping as he proceed to where he guessed Tony would be.
Peter found him in the study. Tony was lounging in a leather armchair surrounded by bookshelves and books, illuminated by warm lamps and bulbs so different from the bright and cold tech environments Peter was so used to seeing him in. A decanter of liquor sat on his desk. Matching liquid swirled inside a tumbler in Tony’s hand. He didn’t look up when Peter came in, eyes cast in shadow as they stared down at his wrist watch while the seconds ticked by.
Peter cleared his throat. “Um, Mr. Stark—”
“Call me Tony, kid,” he interrupted softly.
Peter’s eyebrows shot up. On the list of things he expected Tony to say, those four words weren’t on it.
“Oh, uh, okay. Um, Tony.”
When Peter said his name, Tony finally looked up. He rested his head, slightly cocked, on his fist as he watched Peter continue.
“Tony, I, um… I came here to apologize. For the lab accident. I know it was completely my fault, and I’m really, really sorry for causing such a mess. I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to help. But, you know I, I…”
Peter felt his voice choking up as he blinked back tears. “I don’t want my mistake to ruin your impression of me. I, uh…” Peter cleared his throat, “I understand, though, if you want me to leave. Go back to New York. You have every right to be upset with me. I just... I would really appreciate it if... you would tell me what you need me to do. I want to fix it. If I can. Just… just tell me what you need me to do, to earn a second chance.”
The silence that followed Peter’s words felt deafening.
Finally, Tony said, “I’m not mad at you, Pete.”
“You’re… not?”
“No. Sit,” Tony gestured to the second chair in the room.
Peter did, but couldn’t relax into the leather. His back was tense as he perched on the edge of the seat cushion, feeling worlds away from comfortable with the desk between him and Tony. From his position, Peter could plainly see Tony’s expression, but couldn’t discern his feelings. Peter waited with bated breath for the other shoe to drop.
Tony sipped his bourbon, and continued. “I’m not mad,” he started slowly, “but I do think it may be best if you left.”
Peter’s face crumpled. “What?”
“I think I made a mistake,” Tony replied. “I shouldn’t have brought you here so soon.”
“I don’t understand, Tony,” Peter pleaded.
“You’re too young.”
“I’m not! Tony, listen, I— I know… just give me another chance. Just because you think I should leave, maybe… there could be another solution. Please. I want to make it up to you, somehow, prove to you that I belong here.”
Tony shook his head slowly, unable to look Peter in the eyes.
“Tony, please. I don’t want to leave.”
“You can still be an unofficial Avenger,” Tony supplied. “I’m not telling you to stop fighting crime, kid.”
“What, like, go back to being the Neighborhood Spider-Man? Why?”
Tony didn’t speak.
Peter was starting to feel desperate. He felt like his life was spinning out of control, when he had specifically come here to prevent that from happening.
“No,” Peter said, standing from his chair.
Tony’s lips parted in surprise.
“I’m not leaving here. Not leaving you. For the first time, Tony, I feel like I belong somewhere. That place is here. I can’t go. I won’t.” Peter felt like he was hyperventilating, and maybe he was.
“You told me, once,” Peter gulped, “Never to do anything you wouldn’t do. And I’m going to take that advice. You wouldn’t leave me here if you made a stupid mistake. And I won’t either.”
Did Tony look… impressed?
“You want to stay,” Tony summarized.
“I do.”
“If I offered you a million dollars, would you leave?” Tony mused.
“No,” Peter shook his head firmly.
The corner of Tony’s mouth turned up in a smirk. He asked, “Sports car and all-you-can eat Thai?”
Peter frowned, “Tony, I’m being serious.”
“So am I. You wouldn’t leave, for anything?”
“No,” Peter said again, but in a smaller voice this time.
“Then stay,” Tony rose, finishing his drink. “I’ll see you in the morning, Pete.”