Sweet Sixteen
The rain hadn’t let up all day.
Tony leaned heavily over the balcony, his chest resting against his forearms and his hands stuffed deep underneath his armpits. The sight ahead gave him a bird’s eye view of the compound’s hundred acres of land, with the hallway of the facility — a bridge, at best, letting him oversee everything happening down below.
It was nice here, quiet. It was the best place to find some solitude.
The sky was gray and cloudy, and the absence of the sun left him feeling empty, almost distant. Below him, rain drizzled down on the grass and tarmac, and the sound from it bounced off the steel walls surrounding him.
Tony silently observed the monotonous activity, watching as engineers worked on different planes and jets in the hangar bay while out in the fields, SHIELD soldiers continued to train despite the bleak weather. Life went on, all the way down to the landscapers that trimmed bushes and mowed the grass.
It was strange. The world continued to spin, all while Tony felt his world come to a sudden, crashing halt.
“Hey, you.”
Tony craned his head over his shoulder, slightly surprised that the clicking of high-heels didn’t alert him to Pepper’s presence.
She smiled softly, approaching him with a red steel thermos in her hands. “FRIDAY told me I’d find you here.”
Tony let out a hum, not sure of what else to say. The sound of her heels came to a stop as stood side-by-side with him, only the pitter-patter of rain filling the space they occupied.
“Brought you the good stuff.” Pepper extended the coffee thermos out to him. “Finca El Injerto espresso, freshly brewed.”
“Ms. Potts, you are my savior.” Tony didn’t hesitate to take it into his hands, the heat enclosing the steel sending goosebumps up and down his arms.
There was an ‘I know’ somewhere hanging between them that Pepper held off on, opting instead for a tenderhearted smile. Any other time and Tony knew she wouldn’t let a beat pass, always quick on her feet to match his snark, always one step ahead of his playful mockery.
He wasn’t sure why she stayed silent. Perhaps it was the dark bags hanging under his eyes, or maybe or the stress wired deep around him. Whatever it was, he appreciated it.
He just wasn’t in the right mindset for quirky banter right now.
It was a quality in her that he didn’t just love, he was downright jealous of it. She always had the right words for the right time and place. Him — well, he was lucky if he had a functioning filter most days. She always found a way to make up for what he lacked.
Tony took a large gulp of coffee, thinking about how inadequate he was in comparison. Hell, inadequate didn’t even begin to touch how inadequate he felt. With her, with the kid — Christ, after a handful of days the kid was finally coming too and the most he could manage to say was, ‘yeah, that was pretty scary.’
Tony scoffed at himself. For a man as suave as he was, it seemed like he and words couldn’t get along anymore. Because holy hell and damn it to all, that was more than just scary. It was downright terrifying.
And talking about it meant re-living it, something Tony was far from ready to do.
So he found solitude. At least up until now.
“I got word a few hours ago that the compound is officially out of lock-down,” Pepper announced, breaking the silence between them. “I’m going to have to leave for Atlanta later tonight, probably around eight.”
“Atlanta?” Tony grimanced. “Gross.”
Pepper smirked, letting out a friendly huff. “Yeah, well, some of us have actual work they need to get done.”
He sighed, looking down below where his hands loosely cupped the thermos. While there was no animosity in Pepper’s tone, Tony still couldn’t help but feel choked by conflict. The warmth seeping through the steel was different from the musky humidity surrounding him. It seared into his fingertips, not so hot to cause burns or blisters, just hot enough to keep him grounded.
The air was too musky to breathe, too humid, but at this point, anything was better than the sterile atmosphere of the infirmary.
At the same time, guilt spread through his shoulders, sinking deep into his nerves. Pepper was right; he hadn’t done anything productive since returning from —
Tony shuddered, taking a swig of the coffee. He knew he'd been carelessly neglecting his duties and responsibilities over the past handful of days. It went without saying that he’d be utterly lost without her.
“Thanks, Pep.”
Pepper furrowed her brows. “You already had the espresso beans here —”
“No, no...not for the coffee. For keeping everything afloat while I’ve been...” Tony waved his hand in the air, hoping the gesture would speak the words he couldn’t formulate.
Luckily for him, Pepper seemed to understand. She leaned over the balcony herself, just far enough that the metal railings couldn’t touch her white blazer, and she rested her hand on-top of his.
For someone who wouldn’t describe himself as a ‘touchy-feely’ sort of person, the contact seemed to wash away any rigid tension that spread through his being like ink on a paper.
In the distance, Tony could hear soldiers running, their boots slamming against the tarmac as they got closer to the building where he and Pepper stood. Water splashed up from the ground and even standing on the balcony high above them, Tony flinched. He was starting to wonder if the day would ever come where the concept of water didn’t bother him, didn’t taunt him with the reminder that he narrowly escaped a watery grave.
“You really care for him.” Pepper playfully jabbed her elbow into his side, jolting him out of his own thoughts. “You know, you didn’t have to hide him from me.”
“What are you talking about?” Tony looked over at her, confusion written vividly across his face. “I told you about him. You knew all about him.”
“Yeah, I knew about him. But I never got to meet him. The press conference was my one and only opportunity and after that, you...locked him away like you didn’t want to share him with anyone.” Pepper paused, pursing her lips in thought. “Which, coming from you isn’t all that surprising.”
Tony shook his head, returning his gaze to the steam rising from the open thermos. “Doesn’t matter. Once I fix this, once I make up for what happened...he’s going back to Queens and staying there. All this — the company being infiltrated like that, them using him against me...it’s too dangerous for him to stick around. I should have kept him at arm’s length to begin with.”
“That’s it?” Pepper exhaled a scoff that cut deep into his bones. “Just like that, you’re going to kick him to the curb?”
“I’m not ‘kicking him to the curb.’” Tony rolled his eyes. “He’ll keep his suit, he can keep doing his Spider-manning thing. I won’t stop any of that, that’s his business, his M.O. He did that before me, he’ll do it long after me.”
“But you’re going to abandon him?”
“I’m not going to — Christ, first Rhodey, now you.” Tony scrubbed at his forehead with the back of his hand. “Why am I suddenly the bad guy? It’s not like I’m tossing him to some county general hospital, you know. I’m not forgetting he existed. Hell, I’m doing my best to keep him alive, get him better, it’s not like I want to see him this way and —”
“Calm down,” Pepper stressed, craning her head forward to see him better. “You’re working yourself up, Tony. What’s this really all about?”
Tony sarcastically and dramatically shrugged his shoulders, turning to face her in one swift swing.
“Oh, I don’t know, does a crazy, psychopathic Russian spy ring any bells?" he asked, with a dark undertone to his voice. "The sick bastard was given front row seats to everything involving my life, Pep. He saw me get close to Pete and it — it’s bad enough that’s already happened to you, I can’t...”
His voice began to waver and crack and, ‘Goddammit ,’ Tony looked away with a loud attempt at clearing his throat. He was tired, so incredibly tired of being stressed to the point of nausea, being one push away from falling off the edge of a mountain he never wanted to climb.
“That can’t happen with him." A shaky hand ran over his mouth as Tony said, "He’s just a kid.”
It was surreal to think that only a few weeks ago he, and the team were at each other’s throats about the very same issue. He had been so adamant that he’d protect the kid from anything like this happening, that’d he’d be fine running around as a superhero as long as Tony had his back.
It was his pride – always his pride, blinding him from the facts. He had gotten close to Peter. Getting close to someone always brought on trouble. He knew that, he knew that the moment he looked at the little twerp sleeping in his car, and he chose to ignore it.
And Peter had to pay those consequences.
It wasn’t fair. Superpowers or not, Peter was still in high-school. Tony wasn’t so quick to forget that he was the one who not only once, but twice now turned down the offer of coming onboard the Avengers. He had every right to want to be a kid and Tony couldn’t take that away from him.
“So you think things will get better if you high-tail it out before you two get too close?" Pepper removed her hand from his, going to fold her arms over her chest. "You know, I recall something similar happening with me, and I also don’t remember being too happy about it. It might be smart to re-think that idea.”
Tony leaned forward against the wet metal railings, feeling the dampness sink into his wrinkled AC/DC t-shirt.
“It is what it is," he mumbled. "He’ll have to deal.”
“Tony, you’re being—”
“He almost died!” Tony shot up stiff as a board, facing her head on as he forced himself to dry swallow, all in an attempt to rid himself of the painful lump forming in his throat. “He almost died, Pep. I held him in my arms as he...”
A shiver rippled through his core and Tony had to look away, trying to focus on anything but the echoes of haunting memories that crudely invaded his mind. The smell of musty grass, the humidity in the air, the drizzle of rain — anything but the pleas, the cries and the screams.
Tony sniffed, swiping his thumb over his nose.
“People like Dmitri won’t be able to hurt him if I stay out of his life. If it means I need to cut all ties to keep him safe, you can be damn well sure that’s what I plan on doing.”
Bringing the thermos to his mouth, Tony let the coffee scorch his throat as he drank gulp after gulp, desperate to settle his nerves. He was barely getting by telling himself things would get easier, better, that he’d go back to how things were six months ago, and then it wouldn’t be so difficult anymore.
Right now, it was the only thought that kept him together, like glue to a broken vase. If he couldn’t protect the kid at arms reach, it’d have to be done at a mile’s distance.
Right now, he just wanted Peter to be safe.
That apparently couldn’t happen as long as he was around.
“You know,” Pepper visibly shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “You once told me that you wanted your legacy to be about more than just weapons and technology.”
Tony didn’t break his stare, eyes locked straight ahead. “Your point?”
Pepper stared at him, her eyebrow high in the air.
It took a moment for things to click, to finally register what she was implying. The moment it hit him, Tony spun on his heels with comically large, wide eyes.
“Him?” His voice squeaked at the absurdity of the implication. “Pepper, he’s —”
She immediately held a hand in the air. “Wait a minute, hold on—”
“He’s got an aunt, he’s got his own life, he —”
“Hold on, you are jumping way ahead of things.” Pepper sighed. “Like you usually do.”
“Hey!” Tony pointed a finger her way. “I take offense to that.”
Pepper rolled her eyes. “Tony. Hear me out.”
“I always hear you out,” he insisted.
She cocked her head to the side. “Do you, now?”
“I do.” Tony puffed out his chest and straightened his posture. “You don’t give me enough credit.”
Pepper stared him straight on, not fooled on the least bit. “So you’re not nervously rambling like a buffoon —”
“Not at all.”
“Because I brought up the slightest possibility of Peter taking on a bigger role in your life —”
Tony shook his head. “No clue what you’re talking about.”
“Similar to that of...I don’t know, a son?”
“He’s not my son,” Tony finally snapped, his voice dangerously low. “Okay? He’s not. He’s just some kid, some brat who got in way over his head and is, quite frankly, lucky that I came along to keep an eye on his scrawny pubescent ass before he seriously screwed the pooch himself.”
Pepper squinted suspiciously at him.
“Really?”
Tony gave one curt nod. “Yes.”
“Really?” she repeated.
“That’s what I said,” Tony reaffirmed.
Pepper didn't back down. “So making him that suit, all those protocols linked to FRIDAY — some of which I distinctly remember waking me up in the middle of the night —”
Tony wagged a finger. “Yeah, and I fixed that.”
“Assigning Happy to him?” Pepper titled her head to the side. “What about that?”
Tony shrugged. “Happy didn’t seem to mind.”
Pepper gawked, her jaw dropping to the floor.
Tony couldn’t blame her, not even he believed that lie.
“What?” he defended. “I’m not making the kid take the train home all the damn time, and it’s only fair that he hitches a ride when he comes up here — ”
“Yes! Let’s talk about that!” Pepper laughed, seeming more amused at his persistent denial than anything else. “All those date nights you canceled to work with him in the lab? That’s just…?”
Tony kept a straight face as he answered, “Coincidence.”
Pepper’s expression burned into his skin hotter than the coffee’s thermos. Her face had fallen flat, mixed with an even amount of disbelief and disappointment.
“Tony,” she admonished, “come on.”
He gritted his teeth, relishing in the distraction of tension straining his jaw.
That was the thing with Pepper; she saw through every inch of his bullshit, every facade he tried to use as a mask. And as much as he loved her, as much as he genuinely adored her, she was also the reason why he hated people getting so close to him.
Once they saw the real him, there was no going back.
That was too permanent for his liking.
“Why are you acting like it’s such a bad thing for you to get close to him?” Pepper asked, sympathy accenting her tone.
Tony tapped the thermos against the metal railing, the ‘clank clank clank’ resounding between them.
“Because Stark’s destroy.” His voice was sharp, cold, almost bitter. “We’re men made of iron, we decimate everything we touch, incapable of doing exactly what you’re insinuating.”
“Which is what?” Pepper’s eyebrows arched high to her hairline. “Loving somebody?”
Tony went to respond to that, only to find the words die in his throat. He knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on, having dug himself into a hole too deep. He was smart enough to know that anything he said would put him in the position or either proving her right or downplaying their own relationship, neither of which he wanted to do.
He settled on staying quiet. His foot physically tapped against the floor as he bit back his snark.
Pepper’s touch returned, this time her hand gently cupping the back of his elbow. She leaned closer to him, caressing his exposed skin from his over-worn t-shirt.
“You’re not Howard. And he’s not a Stark. He’s a Parker,” she reminded. “One who could use a lot of advice, a lot of guidance from someone other than his aunt. Someone who understands him on the same level that you do.”
Tony closed his eyes, willing his own thoughts and remarks to stay at bay, looking anywhere but at her in a pitiful attempt to remain detached.
“You’ve always had your sights set on the big picture, Tony. The Avengers initiative, a nuke in the sky, putting a suit of armor around the world — you never think on a smaller scale.” Pepper shifted, leaning close enough to him that he could feel her breath against his skin. “Sometimes a difference is made by being there for just one person. Sometimes it’s not all about saving our world." Pepper gave a soft smile in the pause that followed. "It’s about saving theirs.”
Beepbuzzzzzbeepbuzzzzz.
Tony's wrist-watch took away his response, the blinking and beeping gaining both their attention’s.
He tapped the smart-device once before answering, “Yeah, FRI?”
“Boss,” the voice came through no sooner after. “You requested that I informed you when Mr. Parker received another intrathecal injection of painkillers.”
Tony paused, furrowing his brows tight.
“Already? Claire Temple said that dose would last twelve hours. It’s only been...” He mentally did the math, sighing and squeezing his eyes shut when got to the answer. “Great, six. Six hours. Where the hell is this new miracle drug they’re supposed to be giving him?”
“Would you like me to relay that question Doctor Cho and Doctor Banner?”
“No, FRI, it was rhetorical.” Tony gripped the metal railings, lowering his head to his forearms as he muttered, “This is a goddamn cluster-fuck if I’ve ever seen one before.”
Pepper squeezed his elbow before pulling away. “Listen, you should know that if this is about the spy compromising the company, we’ll recover. I’m pretty sure Happy has already fired half of SI staff just out of precaution. But if this is really about you being afraid to take on a bigger role in Peter’s life, then you need to seriously think twice about what you plan on doing." Pepper turned on her heels but hesitated on walking away. "Either way though, I’m sure whatever you do, you’ll make the right decision.”
“Yeah?” Tony arched an eyebrow and craned his neck to the side, resting his cheek against his arm. “Why can’t you be that confident in me all the time, hm?”
“You just need a little guidance yourself.” Pepper tapped a finger against his chest. “A push.”
As quickly as she had poked him, she leaned forward for a kiss, leaving a gentle mark against the scruff of his face.
The storm outside picked up, heavy enough that the approaching wind began to blow rain inside the hallway they stood in. Pepper walked away before her crisp white suit could suffer from the elements. Tony didn’t care one way or the other.
As she walked away, she made sure to look behind her while she said, “Don’t be so afraid to get close to him, Tony.”
Tony stood up straight and leaned his hip against the balcony railing with a sigh of defeat.
It wasn’t fair; there wasn’t an atlas for this. There were no guidelines he could follow, and every decision he made seemed to bite him in the ass. Now, along with his own subconscious, Rhodey’s ever-annoying and self-righteous presence and even May Parker stewing in his head, Pepper had managed to plant her own opinions where he couldn’t shake them.
As annoyed and frustrated as he felt, he still managed a smile, knowing full well what she was doing. It was just like Pepper to get inside his head like that. She had every intention of planting those seeds in his mind before she left the compound, all so he would spend days, if not weeks, repeating the conversation in his own head like a broken record.
Damn that woman knew him well.
Sipping the last of the coffee, he realized that he couldn’t deny her constant comfort. She was always there to act as his lifeline, always there to pull him from the depths before things got too bad, to rescue him from himself.
‘Rescue...’
Tony shook his head, bringing his wrist up to his mouth. “FRI, get me Banner and The Gallium Gang.”
He pulled himself away from the balcony as the rain picked up into a heavy downpour, the wind blowing forceful droplets in his direction. His foot tapped anxiously against the floor, the sound of pitter-patter echoing off the steel ceilings and seeming twice as loud in the empty corridor space.
An image finally popped up from his watch, a holographic live-feed of the one of the compound’s laboratory spreading out before him.
“Brucey,” Tony sing-song greeted.
Bruce barely looked up, his glasses low on the bridge of his nose as he answered, “We’re working on it, Tony.”
Tony couldn’t tell which he sounded more of — stressed, impatient or an unhealthy combination of the two.
“ETA? Estimate? Give me something here, Banner.” Tony sighed, leaning against the nearest and driest wall, propping his foot up behind him. “FRIDAY just told me they’re sticking another needle in his spine. The kid’s becoming a living pincushion at this point.”
The news seemed to get Bruce’s attention. He looked up, startled, and pushed his wire-frame glasses up his nose with latex-gloved hands.
“Already? Jeeze that’s —” He shook his head, dismissing the obvious. “Soon, okay. We’ll have it soon.”
Tony wasn’t going to tell him that the answer wasn’t new information. The man was smart enough to know that himself.
Instead, he settled on asking, “What’s the big hold up?”
Watching him from the live-feed, Tony saw as Bruce adjusted liquid inside two different glass beakers, one deep blue and the other cloudy white, and his focus was intent on his measurements rather than the conversation at hand.
“It’s...it’s complicated. We had to —” Bruce paused, setting down the beakers with a loud sigh. “Listen, we had to start from scratch.”
“You had to — what!?” Tony gaped, his mouth hung open as he pushed himself off the wall with force. “What the hell, Banner! ? Are you telling me that you pissed away all this time just to throw everything out the window? Where’s Cho, put her on. I want to find out why I’m paying her clearly incompetent team an arm and leg for no goddamn reason.”
“Calm — calm down, Tony.” Bruce held two hands out, nearing close enough to the video screen that Tony could only see straight through the pale yellow latex gloves. “Helen’s doing everything she can to get this formula off the ground, you know that. But you’re forgetting that she’s also the primary physician assigned to Peter’s case. So to move things along, we decided to call in some reinforcements.”
“Reinforcements —” Tony didn’t bother hiding his frustration. “Great, reinforcements, and how’s that going to make a difference?”
“We needed someone with better knowledge and more hands-on experience with this type of situation,” Bruce explained. "You know we’ve been playing in the dark with Peter’s physiology.”
Tony physically bit his tongue, wishing it caused him more pain than the punch to his gut from Bruce’s statement. One look at the scientist and he could tell he wasn’t malicious but the intent, whether good or bad, was pointless.
Bruce was right. Tony's insistent need to hide Peter away, not to mention Peter's request he stay anonymous as Spider-Man to the team, put them in this mess.
His shame burned hot red, and he forced himself to shake away the thought. Right now, his feelings didn’t matter.
“Okay. And?”
Bruce stayed focused on multi-tasking. “Her name is Moira MacTaggert, she’s a fantastic geneticist and an expert in mutant affairs. She’s helping us understand Peter’s mutation on a whole new level." Bruce paused, only briefly. "We were trying to enhance Cap’s formula, but something within his physiology is building a tolerance to it way too quickly. So we made a comparison with his blood and Steve’s, and it turns out both their liver enzymes are two completely different beasts. They produce similar amounts of ultra-rapid metabolizers, but it’s like night and day with how they function. We need to create something specifically for Peter, not piggyback off something else. Once we came to that conclusion...we started from scratch.”
“And it took someone else for you to realize that?” Tony scolded.
“Well, no, we-we knew that,” Bruce stammered, his tone caught between defensiveness and his own shame for the setback. “We were just trying to work around it. Steve’s painkiller was effective, after all.”
“Keyword there, Banner,” Tony snapped. “Was.”
“Don’t freak out so soon,” Bruce insisted. “Now that we’re able to take more frequent blood samples from Pete with his hematocrit levels stabilizing, we can progress at a faster rate. Moria’s already starting the second phase of a new drug. Once we find the right therapeutic levels, we should be able to start trial doses later tonight. I’m telling you, Tony, this woman is a genius when it comes to enhanced individuals. I’ve never seen someone so familiar with the mutant gene before. I’m confident we’ll figure this out.”
Bruce’s reassurance fell on deaf ears. A blanket of static cut through Tony’s train of thoughts, and he suffered a desperate attempt to string together an appropriate response.
There wasn’t much he could say, if anything at all. This wasn’t his forte, it wasn’t his expertise, and as much as he wanted to help and progress things, he wasn’t any use to them.
He hated that. He hated standing around, doing nothing. Just by existing, he had become his own biggest nuisance.
‘Ugh,’ Tony thought, running a hand down the length of his face. The self-loathing part of him was trying to make another entrance and he just was not in the mood.
“Alright,” he settled on saying. “Keep me posted.”
His fingers went to tap off the device right as Bruce’s head shot up, so fast his glasses fell to the tip of his nose once again.
“Hey, hold up,” Bruce called out, setting down the beakers once more. “Helen mentioned something about you creating some sort of...nanite cast for Pete’s leg? That true?”
Tony cocked an eyebrow. “Nanite cast? Is that what she’s calling it?”
“You think you can actually do that?” Bruce pushed his glasses up his nose. “Invent healing nanobots for a bone fracture?”
Tony let out a heavy sigh, his free hand going to rub the back of his neck with a shrug.
“I know don’t, we’ll see. I’m tearing apart Mark 37 to utilize the remaining functioning nanites. I think we can get them to...I don’t know, do something subcutaneous that promotes tissue healing — I don’t know, Banner,” he rambled on, pacing through the empty hallway. “I could really use your help on it, so why don’t you get that painkiller up and running so we can figure something out together. Get the kid out of that medieval contraption sooner rather than later.”
Bruce hummed, his tone seemingly impressed.
“That’s a whole new level of medical bio-engineering, you know.” He diverted his eyes from the screen, his focus intent on his task at hand. “If you can pull that off.”
Tony rolled his eyes.
“C’mon Banner, you should know me better by now.” His hand reached over to his wrist-watch, ready to end the conversation the moment he answered, “I don’t do if’s. ”
It was amazing how quickly Tony could return to his basic instincts. Gliding backward in his workshop chair, letting the wheels swivel across the smooth flooring, he hadn’t realized how much he needed the break from staying vigil at Peter’s bedside. Concertinaing on something different — inventing, fixing, brought a sense of peace to him he hadn’t felt in days.
It was nearing midnight when he finally left his lab. The nanites from his makeshift armor were finally completely disassembled, and with FRIDAY running processing protocols to attach them onto what he’d later dub as being ‘new skin’, there wasn’t much left for him to do. Eventually, if all went well and his math was right — which it always was — he’d have a flexible sock-like device to slip around Peter’s leg and cause the kid as little pain as possible.
It was also amazing how quickly he passed by his own quarters, opting instead for the med bay he' become so accustomed to. Old habits die hard, he supposed.
Tony wasn’t surprised to see that May hadn’t left her post, curled up in the plush armchair at Peter’s beside. In her hands was a tablet that she scrolled through, her finger gliding up in the air every so often. It was late at night, and aside from the lights of monitors, computers and the small lamp near May’s side, the room was kept dim. It was actually a relief to his already strained and tired eyes.
Tony zipped up his thin jacket on his way in, feeling the rush of cool air hit his skin as the automatic glass doors to the large hospital room slid open for him. He had created a routine by now — check the computers, check the charts, preoccupy himself in an attempt to furiously escape the grip of stress that clung to his every being.
The only problem was that there wasn’t much added to the medical charts in the whopping handful of hours since he had left Peter’s bedside. For the remainder of the time he stood staring at screens, he found himself tenderly rubbing his arm, the constant ache he had grown to live with grounding him to reality.
May broke the silence first, starting with an overly loud yawn that led straight into a garbled mess of words. “The stahereaweallygrat.”
Tony looked over, an eyebrow arched high. She almost immediately caught onto his confusion, managing a small chuckle at herself.
“Sorry, it’s been a long day. I was just saying that the staff here are really great. They washed his hair today, cleaned him up a bit. He’s starting to look like himself again.” May ran a hand through Peter’s brown hair as she spoke. “I got to talking with this nurse — Claire? Nice lady. Says she deals with...’special’ people like Peter often. She really thinks he’s going to pull through.”
Tony frowned. “You don't?”
There was a pause, a gap from any conversation that lagged between them. May stared down at Peter, taking a moment to sweep her own hair off to her shoulder as she fidded with the split ends that laid down by her waist.
“What are they going to do when they run out of ways to medicate him, Tony?” she asked. “They’re putting needles in his spine now, you know.”
“I know.” Tony stifled his sigh, careful not to let his frustrations rub off on her. “But trust me, they’re making progress. Banner and his team are getting close to making something that’ll knock the kid off his ass for days, I promise.”
May didn’t seem affected by his reassurance and he couldn’t blame her. It was empty, void of any hope, only a reflection of how tired he felt and nothing more.
Tony frowned at the silence that fell between them, staring straight ahead in deep thought. Even without the intubation, Peter still somehow managed to look worse. Even now, even after these crude procedures that put medicine directly into his spine, Peter’s eyes rolled restlessly beneath closed lids.
The kid wasn’t healing, not even on an average level. His healing factor wasn't up and running at a level they needed, and the lack of rest wasn't helping. He wasn’t given the chance to rest. Common knowledge — rest meant recovery, and right now Peter was barely granted that sweet mercy.
Tony folded his arms over his chest, taking note that the recliner he'd been occupying stayed open and untouched. Rather than heading there though, Tony settled in the chair directly across from May, an odd desire to get close to the kid itching at him.
Damn it, Pepper.
It was funny; she encouraged him to stay close with Peter, and Rhodey insisted he wouldn’t be able to go a day without seeing the twerp. He was beginning to wonder if the two were onto something after all.
May’s lighthearted scoff caught his attention.
“Kids,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Look at this.”
With both her hands, May turned the Starkpad around to face him, the screen of the large tablet brightening the otherwise dim room. Tony leaned over the bed to get a better look, resting his forearms against the plastic guardrail of the hospital bed along the way.
He furrowed his brows. “Is that —?”
“One dumb-ass teenager trying to put me in an early grave?” May nodded, briefly turning the tablet back around before showing Tony again. “Yep, that would be it. It’s amazing, really, that it took this long for him to get hurt. Back-flips, front-flips, jumping off the top of the roof flips...how he never broke a single bone is beyond me.”
“Huh,” Tony muttered, slightly amused at the photo. “When was that taken?”
May pursed her lips in thought. “Sometime last year, I think. Definitely post-spider bite."
Tony's eyes burned with irration, mostly from the lack of sleep, but still he went on to stare at the picture, almost studying it. It was barely professional level, but he had to give the photographer credit. Good composition, great lighting, nearly perfect aperture settings — his gaze wandered to the top frame of the tablet, noticing the username of the Instagram page May had been browsing through.
@queenspparker.
Of course the kid had social media.
Still, it took that moment for Tony to realize this was the first time he had ever seen anything of Pete’s online. Government files, documents, school records, official registrations — he knew all about Peter before Berlin, but never thought to see what the teenager was doing elsewhere.
Generation gap, he supposed. After all, it wasn’t like he bothered with that nonsense himself. That’s what he paid a publicity team for.
Tony's finger pointed to the screen. “And Peter took that photo himself?”
“Oh yeah, he was super into photography.” May handed him the Starkpad, and he leaned over to take it from her. “Ben got him this old and outdated DSLR for his eleventh birthday – you should have seen it, he went nuts with it. Even took some classes at school to get better at the whole thing. Take a gander, his Insta was spammed with all kinds of stuff.”
Tony decided to do just that. His fingers scrolled through the multiple different posts on the social media page, the first handful being typical teenage nonsense — his friends, his family, sight-seeing, so on and so forth.
It wasn’t until he got further down and reached the much older dated posts that Tony took notice. His finger stopped scrolling so fast, examining each individual post with piqued interest.
“I didn’t know he had a knack for photography,” Tony softly stated. “I’ve seen him take photos with his phone but...never anything like this.”
“That’s because he stopped when Ben died.”
Tony froze, his finger mid-swipe when he heard May speak. Almost immediately, his stomach dropped.
“Oh,” he managed.
It was one thing to see photos of Peter and his mother; after all, Tony knew first-hand everything that had happened with the kid’s parents.
Ben, though, was always a subject Peter never wanted to talk about.
Being that Tony could relate, he never pushed it.
It had always been clear Peter and his uncle were close, even more clear that the wound was still fresh.
But suddenly, looking through the old Instagram photos was less enticing, each holding a story of a much happier boy, one who held more sunshine to offer the world.
“I don’t think he wanted to touch the camera again. Too many memories,” May explained, suddenly hugging herself tightly. “Plus, you know...the whole Spider-Man thing.”
“Right.” Tony cleared his throat, placing the tablet down to sit in his lap. “Maybe we can, uh...we can work on that. I’ve been thinking... it might help if I take a step back. Get him to focus less on the superhero-ing gig and all.”
“Take a step back?” May raised her eyebrows and quickly shook her head. “Uh, that’s not the agreement we had with this, mister.”
Tony looked studiously through the pages of photos down on the screen below him, pretending they interested him when in reality, he simply struggled to find the right response to say.
“I know," was the best he could start with. "But he needs to be a kid again, May. He needs to go back to this stuff, not...galloping around with self-sacrificing suicidal idiots like us.” Tony licked his lips, looking up at her with a dry smirk. “The idiot part applying to them, obviously. The self-sacrificing suicidal part me.”
May couldn’t find it in her to smile at his weak attempt at humor. She gripped her cardigan tighter around herself, sitting up taller in the plush armchair.
“I don’t disagree that he needs to prioritize, Tony. Pick and choose his battles, for sure, get a little better at following curfew, take a few weekends off. But we both know you’ll never be able to rid him entirely of this." May cocked an eyebrow at his insistent need to not look at her. "I’ve spent the better part of this year learning to accept that — you wanted me to accept that. So where’s this all coming from?”
Tony looked down to his lap, barely lifting the Starkpad high enough for her to see over the guardrails of the hospital bed.
“This,” he dryly replied. “He was safer doing this kind of stuff. We’re not going to be the reason—...I’m not going to be the reason he doesn’t get to see his college days. Besides, he’s... he's a teenager. He’ll get over it.”
Tony brushed off the subject with a nonchalance that could only be obtained from having had the conversation multiple times before. Rhodey, Pepper, now May — the latter of which currently stared at him as if he had grown four heads and started speaking a foreign language.
She raised one eyebrow high in the air and squinted her other eye, all while slowly letting go of the tight hold on her cardigan.
“Okay..." May slowly started. “Then can I ask why the sudden change of heart? Why stop him now and not before?”
Tony kept his head bowed, and his eyes focused on the tablet, easily deflecting with a flat-toned statement of, “It’s for the best, May.”
“Mgmmghh...” Peter moaned, his head lolling against the pillows.
While May all but shot up from her chair, Tony kept his head bowed low, lifting only his eyes to make sure everything was okay. Even that proved to be a punch in his gut. They both had very, unfortunately, become accustomed to the occasional abrupt groans and whimpers from Peter.
Still, the timing seemed to mock him, like the kid was listening in on the conversation himself.
“Shhh, shh, you’re okay sweetheart. It’s okay,” May reassured, her voice a low whisper as she brushed Peter’s hair away from his forehead. “Try and go back to sleep, baby. Shh, just sleep.”
It was truly a miracle that Tony bit his tongue and didn’t snap at her. Listening as Peter choked a cry against the cotton of his pillow, seeing as the kid grimaced so hard the oxygen mask resting against his face practically fell down — how the hell was he supposed to ‘just sleep’ like this?
Tony settled on shaking his head, returning his focus on the tablet. It was easier that way; keep his mouth shut and there wouldn’t be a problem.
As he did, May readjusted to a more comfortable position in her chair, all the while keeping one hand on Peter’s forearm.
“You know, losing Ben was hard on him.” May was quiet when she spoke up. Tony almost didn’t hear her, needing to look up and confirm that she did indeed say something. “It changed him, it took something from him.”
She gently caressed Peter’s arm, small circles to avoid the tubes and catheters, and Tony waited patiently for her to continue. He couldn’t help but notice that she seemed to have aged ten years since this whole ordeal started, the lines around her mouth more profound, the bags under her eyes darker.
“But I have to admit, ever since you came into his life — really came into his life, ‘ice cream after his finals’ sort of thing...”
May gave him a look, one that saw past his front and made him vastly uncomfortable.
Tony made a mental note to chastise Happy’s big mouth at a later date.
“He’s been more like himself again. There’s a side to him that’s returned, something I haven’t seen since Ben passed. It’s been nice.”
And then she said what Tony would have paid millions of dollars not to hear.
“He’s been happy with you around.”
Suddenly, in that very instant, every conversation he had with Rhodey and Pepper and anyone else that cared to listen to him didn’t matter anymore.
Because while he had been dead-set on keeping Peter away from him, taking him out of the dangerous world of Iron Man and the likes, now….now...
Fuck.
Now he didn’t know what the hell to do.
Buzzzzzz. Buzzzzz. Buzzzzzzz.
Tony furrowed his brows, the vibrating tablet quickly gaining his attention. He quirked an eyebrow as he handed it back off to May.
“You, uh, you have an alarm going off?”
May fumbled to take the device in her hands, making it clear she was unsure of how exactly to turn off the alarm she had set.
“Ah, yes, jeeze, sorry. Just didn’t want to miss it.” She managed to figure it out before Tony could offer his help, immediately dropping the tablet down into her over-sized purse on the floor. “Time really does fly when you’re having fun, huh.”
“Miss what?” Tony dared to ask.
“Midnight," May simply answered. "It’s officially Peter’s birthday." A smile played tug-of-war with her eyes. May's hand stayed on Peter’s forearm, gripping it softly as she turned to look at him. “Happy sweet sixteen, honey.”
The information slammed straight into Tony, his expression sobering deeper than he thought possible. He tried to force a smile, barely managing a pathetic half-tug on the corner of his lips.
“No shit,” he mumbled, letting his expression soften, just a tad bit. As gently as someone would touch a newborn, he tapped his fist against Peter’s shoulder. “Happy birthday, spiderling.”
A muffled and incoherent moan mixed together with the whir of oxygen that seeped through the plastic mask on Peter’s face. It only managed to blend in with the surrounding machinery’s constant beeping and buzzing, no place for someone to celebrate their birthday, let alone their sixteenth.
Tony shook his head – it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair and damn it to all, he’d make up for it.
One way or another, he’d find a way to give Peter what he deserved. Not just in a birthday celebration.
No. He deserved more.
Pepper's words seem to crawl through his ears, no different than how Tony expected them to.
"Sometimes a difference is made by being there for just one person."
He’d bring back that sunshine @queenspparker had going for him.
It was only right of him to at least try.
So caught up in his thoughts, Tony barely noticed that his hip buzzed with the vibration of his own cell phone.
He frowned, digging deep into his pockets to retrieve the device, glaring when he saw who was calling him at midnight of all hours.
“I’m sorry, I have to take this,” Tony said, pointing languidly to his cell phone.
May simply nodded as he stepped away, and he made sure to wait until the med bays doors slid shut before hitting answer on his phone.
“Rogers. Where you at?” Tony rested the phone against his shoulder, his arms crossed as he paced the brightly lit hallway. “Compound’s finally out of lock-down, I think its best we get Barton back to —”
“We’re not there, Tony.”
The voice was so quiet on the other end that Tony had to pause, taking a second to make sure he heard the man right. He immediately dropped his hunched shoulder, holding the cell closer to his ear with his own hand.
“Well jeeze, I didn’t realize you were so eager to leave,” he quipped, sarcasm a heavy deflection. “I know it’s been a rough couple days, but I sort of figured a hundred acres and a lap pool was enough space to stretch out your legs.”
The only thing Tony heard next was silence, thick and eerie with a slight bit of static coming through. He furrowed his brows, held out the phone to check it for signal, and returned it to his ear with a frown.
“Rogers?”
“Listen,” Steve’s voice was hushed, “May Parker mentioned that there were a few personal items of Peter’s she wanted to pick up from Queens. Now that the building is out of lock-down, please make sure she’s able to get that done.”
“Why —”
"Just...just make sure she’s taken care of," Steve needlessly concluded.
“I plan to.” Tony let a beat pass. “Now, you want to tell me why SHIELD dropped the lock-down to begin with?”
A heavy blanket of tension lingered between them, a lull from their voices leaving the faint background noises from wherever the hell Steve was at to become more audible. There was shuffling of feet, a slight echo from other voices, an overhead paging system — wherever it was, it was official.
He could take a little bit of solace from that fact; at least they weren’t back on the Raft.
"Cut the cryptic silence, Rogers." Tony shifted on his feet, his eyes narrowing though no one was around to see him. "What’s going on?”
“SHIELD dropped lockdown because they got what they needed from us,” he answered, his tone low and serious.
Tony rolled his eyes. “Which was what, exactly?”
A beat brought along more overhead paging, sounding from both the medbay and speaker of Tony's phone.
“I made a promise to you, Tony," Steve finally answered. "I plan to keep it.”
The realization Tony him so hard he almost lost his breath.
“Jesus, what...what did you tell them?" Tony was already shaking his head. "Forget it, it doesn’t matter. Which headquarters are you at? I’ll meet you there.”
Strained yet firm, Steve bluntly answered, “No.”
“Rogers, I swear to God —”
“Tony, as far as they’re concerned, you weren’t involved in the rescue,” he elaborated. “You weren’t involved in anything. And if I have any say in this, it’ll be kept that way. Myself, Barton and Romanoff are handling damage control of this. Do us all a favor and don’t get involved.”
Tony stopped pacing, his head bowed low as he took in what was said.
Clint, Natasha, Steve — he huffed a sigh.
Of course; all three of them were official SHIELD agents. The rest of them were merely associated through the Avengers. If any of the team not assigned permanently to SHIELD were caught disobeying orders, they could be blacklisted and burned for life, taken somewhere off the map by Director Hill, never to be seen by society again.
SHIELD employees like Barton, like Romanoff — at best, they would get a black mark on their record. A much lighter sentence than prison for life.
And Rogers? SHIELD loved the endangered Cap too much to give him anything but a good smacking.
Go figure, the star-spangled man-with-a-plan was at it again.
Tony swiped his nose and sniffed. “How bad?”
“One way or another, I think it’ll all blow over.” Steve’s tone seemed sincere, slightly optimistic. “They actually seem a little relieved that Peter’s death had been faked. Less paperwork for them, I’m sure. But the less you know, the better.”
Tony shook his head. “You guys shouldn’t be dealing with them by yourself. Let me come over there, I can talk them down, I can —”
“Tony,” Steve firmly interrupted. “You need to be with Peter right now. Stay there, it’s for the best.”
He needed to be with —
Tony could have thrown his phone against a wall right then and there. What the hell was Rogers talking about saying he needed to be with —
Oh.
‘Christ.’ Tony dropped his shoulders with a sigh, his free hand going to rub at his forehead.
Of course Steve wanted him to stay at the compound with Peter.
Of course the man would put himself in the line of fire to ensure Tony got that time. If anyone was gung-ho about family, it was Steve fucking Rogers. And after all, this team was all the family that man had going for him.
Hell, if Tony was frank with himself, the team was the only family he had as well.
He sighed. Dysfunctional or not, maybe it was about time they started acting like the messed up family they were.
“When you think you’ll be back?” He cleared his throat, lacing his tone with a false sense of indifference.“You know, in case Barton’s wife starts spamming up my phone.”
There were a few seconds of silence. Tony kicked his sneakers against the squeaky clean infirmary floors, watching as the tread left faint scuff marks on the white tiles.
“I’m not too sure,” Steve eventually answered. “I’ll try and keep in touch, though.”
He swallowed hard, deciding to keep his answer short. “Yeah. Do that.”
Tony stared absentmindedly at the ground, suddenly aware of how heavy his eyelids felt and how desperately he wanted to crawl into bed and sleep away the next two months.
Or two years, at this rate.
“I gotta go, Tony. Give Peter my best wishes.”
“Yeah, of course.” Tony stood up straight, letting a false confidence flow through him. “Get well soon’s from Captain America, the kid will be thrilled.”
There were no formalities in goodbyes between the two of them. A ‘ding’ buzzed from his cell and that was that — Steve had hung up, and the call was over.
Tony shook his head and stuffed his cell phone into his back pocket.
“Christ, I need a drink,” he murmured, his hand running down the length of his face.
Despite his desire for sleep, and despite his craving for a tall glass of Scotch, Tony headed in the opposite direction of both his personal quarters and the lounge. If he was going to do anything, it was going to be what was in his control.
He was back in his workshop before he knew it.