Chapter Text
Life has a funny way of working out, how random events can lead you down a path you never saw for yourself. Tony didn’t realize when he walked out of his tower that night, sleep-deprived, sock slipping in his shoe, that his life was about to change forever.
The air was cold and damp from the rain earlier in the day. The streets were still puddled with water, and the air smelled like ozone and pollution—it smelled like New York. He looked to see Happy waiting by the car, holding open the door. Tony had no reason to pause and turn at that moment, but he did. It was like he could feel something behind him nudging him to look.
What he saw was something that made him lower his glasses, peeking over the rims. Stretched out on the ledge with his head on a dirty backpack was a scrawny kid. It looked like he was trying to get cover from the weather, sleeping wherever he could. The boy didn’t appear more than twelve or thirteen from his size—maybe even younger. It was hard to tell. One thing Tony noticed, though, was how sickly he looked. His skin was pale, making the streaks of dirt stick out. A bruise colored his cheek, and his lip was swollen and split. The picture before him made Tony’s stomach twist uncomfortably.
Without thought, his feet brought him forward, maybe a bit too fast, as the kid jumped awake and stumbled to his feet. Tony was a little surprised how quickly the boy moved.
He put up his hands, taking off his glasses and stashing them in his pocket. “Easy, kid,” he said. “I’m one of the good guys. I haven’t seen you around here before. What’s your name?”
The kid shifted his weight between his feet for a second. Tony watched as the kid seemed to weigh his options, his eyes continually searching like he expected danger. Tony was just about to speak again when the kid grabbed his bag and bolted down the street. He was gone and around the corner in a heartbeat. The boy was fast. He’d give him that.
“Dammit.” Tony ran a hand through his hair, not sure why he felt so frustrated. It wasn’t like the kid was anyone special, but something about him made Tony care. The kid looked so lost.
“Boss?” Happy was beside him, looking confused.
Tony shook his head, grabbing his glasses and putting them back on despite the darkness.
“Nothing. I don’t know. There was just some kid here.” He played off the encounter despite the nagging feeling of concern. He stepped around Happy and slid into the backseat of the car.
“You want me to notify security. Make sure he doesn’t come back?” Happy asked before shutting the door.
“No, it’s fine. He’s just a kid,” Tony said, waving Happy off and signaling the conversation was over.
As the car pulled away from the curb, Tony couldn’t help but wonder who the boy was. His heart went out to the kid. He doubted he’d see him again, though. Taking out his phone, his thoughts wandered to the list of projects waiting for him the next day, and he tried to put the night's events behind him.
It wasn’t long before he forgot about the encounter. It wasn’t hard amidst the chaos of his life. Between the meetings, the projects, and trying to keep the world from being attacked by the latest threat, he was a busy man. It wasn’t until he had a moment to escape from the tower on his own that he ran into the boy again.
Wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses for disguise, Tony slipped from his building and onto the sidewalks of New York. There was a small hole in the wall coffee shop a short walk from the tower. He was reasonably sure they knew who he was, but the staff never bothered him. The short walk let him clear his head. Sometimes he needed space, the walls of his workshop feeling tight and all too confining.
When he walked into the shop, he didn’t immediately recognize the kid behind the counter, but the sight of him caused him to pause. He looked out of place—not a regular employee. It took a moment of studying him to place his face. Once it clicked, he was sure it was him—the bruised boy he’d met that night.
The kid was standing behind the register, looking much too young to be out of school. He was cleaned up a bit. His bruises were mostly gone, but it didn’t help how pale and underfed he looked. Tony imagined a stiff breeze might be enough to knock him over.
He wasn’t sure why, but he was curious about the kid. It wasn’t entirely unusual for Tony to want to solve puzzles—and this boy definitely was one. He was much too young to be out of school and working. Tony wondered if the kid was homeless or just in a rough home. He hoped no one was hurting the kid. Tony knew first hand what it was like to grow up with someone who used their hands or a belt.
Tony walked up to the counter and pulled his glasses off, slipping them into his pocket. The boy seemed to shrink back as he made eye contact. Tony smiled, knowing the kid recognized him. His eyes drifted to the nametag that looked like it had seen better days—Peter. So that was his name. It wasn’t much to go on, but he made a mental note to try to run him when he got back to the tower. Tony never claimed not to be curious, and this was for a good cause. Maybe he could help the kid out a little—make sure he wasn’t falling through the cracks.
“W-what can I get you?” the boy finally said, his gaze flitting between Tony and the door like he was silently trying to will him to leave.
Tony studied him for a moment. “Nothing special, a large coffee, black.”
Peter nodded. “I … It’ll be right up.”
The kid was skittish, and Tony didn’t like that he was afraid of him. He put his hands in his pocket and watched as Peter poured the coffee. Something caught his eye, though, when Peter stretched out his arm—deep purple bruises. They didn’t look like fingerprints, but that didn’t mean they weren’t. A strange feeling of protectiveness began to bloom in his chest. Both times he’d seen him, he’d been bruised. A bit of anger built in him. Tony had a thing against people who hurt kids.
After a moment, Peter turned, passing the coffee to Tony, the bruises on his wrist on full display. Peter seemed to notice Tony eyeing them as he pulled his arm back quickly and tugged down his sleeve.
“How much do I owe you?” Tony asked, still studying the kid.
“Three dollars.”
Tony pulled a fifty from his pocket, passing it over. “Keep the change.”
The kid looked like he could use it.
“I can’t,” Peter stammered out. “It’s too much.”
“Trust me, kid, that’s nothing. Keep it. Buy a burger or two after work. It looks like you could use a meal.”
Peter nodded, putting the money in the drawer and separating the change. “Thanks.”
“No problem, kid.” Tony turned to walk away but stopped as an idea struck him. He spun back around. “You were out in front of my tower the other night, right?”
The boy looked away, a blush touching his cheeks. He shrugged a shoulder as he worried his sleeve.
“It’s okay,” Tony reassured him. “I mean, if you don’t have any place to go—like if it’s raining and you need a place to crash, not saying you do, but if you did, it’s okay to come inside. God, I’m coming across creepy, aren’t I? Shit.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “It just looks like you could use a safe place. There’s no safer place than my tower. Sound good?”
The kid looked up, his mouth moving like he wanted to say something, but after a moment, he just settled on a nod.
“Good, you got a last name I can leave with security?”
The boy licked his lips, looking around before giving the smallest of nods. “Parker. Peter Parker.”
Tony smiled. “I’ll let them know.”
Tony didn’t know if he’d take him up on the offer, but he hoped he would. It was clear the kid needed someone in his corner.
When he got back to the tower, he had FRIDAY search for records on Peter Parker. What he found even made his iron-clad emotions rise to the surface. Peter had lost family member after family member. Everyone he had was dead. The last—his aunt—died not more than a year ago. Protective Services had placed him in various foster homes, but he had run away from them all. He disappeared from his last home months ago.
Tony sipped his coffee as he looked over the records projected in front of him. Peter wasn’t enrolled in school—not that he’d expected it. What did catch his eye were his previous grades. The kid had was smart. He was near the top of his class before his aunt passed away.
He sighed. It was strange how invested he was becoming with a kid he had only met twice, especially since kids really weren’t his thing. It wasn’t like he hated them, but he didn’t have the patience. In all honesty, he knew he was a shitty role model, and being around them did more harm than good.
He knew this Child Protective's job to handle, not his. He should just call up the authorities and let them know where to find him and be done with it. It was that simple, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t shake the memory of those damned doe eyes looking back at him. It made him have feelings—which was frankly disturbing. Feelings were squishy things he tried to avoid.
Sighing, he scrubbed a hand over his face. What the hell—in for a penny, in for pound. “FRIDAY, you know who you’re looking for—Peter Parker. You see him lurking, let me know immediately and give him access to the lobby. I don’t care about the time. Wake me up. Got it, girl?”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Days passed, and there was no sign of Peter. Tony went to the coffee shop each day, hoping to see him, but nothing. He asked the shop manager, but she said he had quit days ago. Tony felt a twinge of worry. With no job, he probably had little money. The change from the fifty Tony had paid with wouldn’t go far. He could only hope Peter was safe, but from the bruises Tony had seen on him, he knew he probably wasn’t.
Stressed, head hurting, Tony walked into the common room. Bruce was there with Natasha, making lunch. They looked up when he walked in.
He was immediately greeted by Natasha.
“Wow, no offense, Tony, but you look like shit,” she said. “You getting enough sleep these days?”
Tony waved her off and plonked down on the couch, kicking his feet up. He threw his arm over his eyes, sighing. He was exhausted, but his brain just wouldn’t shut up and let him sleep.
“You alright, Tony?” Bruce’s voice came from the kitchen area.
“Fine,” Tony mumbled. “Just need sleep.”
“Alright, well, lunch will be ready in a few if you want to join us,” Bruce offered.
Tony didn’t answer. He was busy remembering the kid as he tried to cover his bruises from Tony’s view. He should have asked questions—he should have done more. It was clear the kid was in trouble.
Tony heard the elevator door open. He lifted his arm and looked over the edge of the couch. It was Clint, shuffling in, looking tired and still in pajamas.
“Morning,” Clint yawned.
Tony flopped his arm back over his eyes.
“What’s up with him?” Tony heard Clint ask.
“One of his moods,” Natasha said.
Tony pushed himself up to sit forward, looking over at them. “I’m not in a mood. Why do you always think I’m in a mood?”
“Because you are?” Clint answered, laughing. “You’re the moodiest bitch around here—other than Thor when he doesn’t get the remote.” Clint grabbed a bowl from the cupboard. “Hey, topic change, you guys see the news the other day? Our little friendly neighborhood Spider-Man stopped one hell of bank robbery.” He grabbed the cereal. “Alien tech involved.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Don’t start. He’s lucky is all.” He got up and walked over to the kitchen. “And speaking of, we need to track that tech.”
“Hey, dudes got some skills is all I’m saying,” Clint said. “You should have seen the hits he took and still kept fighting. I don’t care what kinda mutations he’s got. I bet he’s feeling that fight.”
“The guy is a vigilante,” Tony said, picking the croutons out of the salad Natasha was making and popping them in his mouth.
She swatted his hand away. “Tony, you look like you've barely slept.”
“I’m fine.”
He was answered by a chorus of scoffs.
“Whatever.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, rubbing his tired eyes. They burned from little sleep.
“What’s eating you so much? Haven’t seen you like this in a long time,” Natasha asked.
FRIDAY’s voice interrupted. “Sir, Peter Parker has arrived at the tower. Where shall I direct him?”
“Tell him to wait there. I’ll be right down.”
“Who’s Peter?” Bruce said.
Everyone seemed to be looking to him for an explanation, but he wasn’t about to explain. Tony had other priorities. He jogged toward the elevator, quickly slipping inside. The elevator didn’t seem to move fast enough. He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck in frustration, tapping his foot. Patience wasn’t something he was blessed with.
When he stepped out of the elevator, he looked around. His eyes quickly fell on Peter, and he looked like shit. He was beaten to a pulp. He had molted bruises on his face; his eye was swollen shut. Tony’s stomach did a flip. He took purposeful strides to the boy. Without saying a word, his hand reached out and took his chin gently, turning his head side to side as he took in the damage. Tony’s blood was beginning to boil. He’d find who hurt him and he’d kill them.
“Christ,” Tony breathed.
Peter seemed overwhelmed and stepped back, snapping Tony out of it. He realized the kid looked about ready to run again. He debated on telling FRIDAY to lock the building, but he didn’t.
“Sorry, kid,” Tony said. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I just … Jesus, kid.” He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes focused on the bruises. “You’re gonna be alright. We’ll figure this out. I won’t let this happen to you again.”
Peter’s eyes went wide. “No, umm … that’s not why I’m here. I just … I know you said I could come here and …” He looked everywhere but at Tony. “I’m just tired and kinda hungry. I haven’t eaten for a day or two and … I’m sorry. I should go. This was a bad idea. I—”
“Peter, wait. It’s fine. I offered, remember?” Tony said, reaching out to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “How about some lunch? I know just where we can steal some.”
Peter looked like he was about to run, and Tony sucked in a breath. He’d made up his mind. He wasn’t letting the kid out of his sight again—not until he knew what was going on. He would grab him if he had to. Thankfully, it wasn’t necessary. Maybe it was exhaustion or hunger, but his shoulders dropped, and he nodded.
“Good,” Tony said, letting out the breath he’d been holding. “Come on. I’ve got some people for you to meet.”