Chapter Text
Peter looks everywhere except at Mr. Stark. In fact, he’s blatantly staring up at the ceiling, neck cranked back and everything. His mask is off, and he stretches the material between his sweaty hands. This is not what he was expecting when he rushed out of his advanced bio engineering class after getting a text from “Iron Dad”.
“So, you didn’t read the files I sent you.” It isn’t a question, and Peter doesn’t have to look at him to know there’s a furrow between Mr. Stark’s eyebrows and a frown pulling at his lips. His irritation is clear in his scent, making Peter’s spidey-sense tingle lightly along his skin. “I mean, that’s just what I’m guessing, because I know you aren’t this stupid, kid.”
Peter squeezes his eyes shut. White spots dance behind his lids from the florescent lights in the lab. “I’m twenty,” he says. “I can make my own decisions, my own judgments. I don’t need files on every person I meet.”
A laugh bursts out of Mr. Stark’s throat, sounding almost like a cough. Peter can sense him moving around his many lab tables until he comes to a stop right in front of him. “You can’t even look at me.”
Peter’s head snaps down, and even though his heart is pounding, even though he knows Mr. Stark can smell the anxiousness on him, he manages to glare at the other omega.
Mr. Stark only shakes his head. “Seriously, Peter.” With a long sigh, he swipes his hand down his face. Guilt builds in Peter’s stomach, and his eyes find the floor. “I can make a list for you of why you aren’t old enough to make these decisions. You want to hear it?”
Eyes wide, Peter shakes his head. “No. Nope. Not necessary.”
Mr. Stark smiles sarcastically and spreads his arms out in a wild gesture. “Well,” he says, “too bad, because here it is. One,” he holds up a finger, “you can barely control yourself around him. I don’t think I need to remind you of that first time you met him.”
Peters cheeks color to match his suit. “I’m getting better. He’s just—"
“Nope. Don’t want to know,” Mr. Stark interrupts. Peter’s mouth snaps shut. “Two: you still call me ‘Dad’ during your pre-heats, and if that doesn’t scream ‘I’m a kid’ then—”
“You can’t use that against me! You know the spider bite messed with my hormones and everything’s even worse during that time,” Peter yells.
Mr. Stark gives him a ‘no shit’ look. “Took my third point right out of my mouth, kid.”
A growl rumbles from Peter’s mouth, not as loud or as rough as an alpha’s growl, but it’s enough to get his point across. They’ve had this conversation before. Multiple times. Now they’re just going in circles. “None of that even matters, okay? I can’t just stop or forget about it or… or whatever! This is just how I am, and he’s just… I don’t know!”
“Yes! Exactly!” Sometime during his little speech, Mr. Stark must have picked up a screwdriver. He waves it in Peter’s face, almost hitting him across the nose. “Point four: you don’t even know why you like him. He’s a killer. Dangerous. Insane. Psychotic. You’d know it all if you just read the files. It’s all in there.”
He’s not going to read about Wade’s “origin story” as he calls it. No, Wade will tell him one day, just like he’s told him about his favorite Mexican joint in Manhattan, and his latest mission, and the entire first season of Golden Girls.
A small smile graces Peter’s face as he thinks about the late-night conversations.
He likes Wade for a lot of reasons. He’s funny and smart. He’s sweet and caring, but crude and vulgar. He’s beyond annoying, but never fails to make Peter feel happier. And big. Wade is really big, maybe even bigger than Steve. And strong. Not as strong as Peter, of course, but that’s besides the point. Then, there’s the fact that he can’t permanently die. He won’t get hurt by one of Spiderman’s crazy villains. Peter wouldn’t lose him to Death.
He opens his mouth to try to tell Mr. Stark, but the words don’t come out. What if he says it, and it still isn’t enough for the millionaire? Peter looks at Mr. Stark’s expectant face, suddenly overcome with defeat. Shaking his head, Peter raises his hands to slip his mask back on. The smooth fabric contorts to his features with ease, bringing a slight coolness to his still-warm cheeks.
“It’s fine, Mr. Stark,” he says, fiddling with his web-shooters just to do something with his hands. “Pretty sure he’s not interested in me, anyway.” A tightness grabs at his throat, and he turns away from the other omega to hurry to the lab door. “Not old enough for him. Can barley get a full sentence out without losing my train of thought from just looking at him. Can’t even stand on my own two feet if I smell him around my pre-heat.” Peter huffs out a breath. “Not even around my pre-heat, really. That’s just how it always is.”
“Peter,” Mr. Stark says. Hand on the lab door, Peter waits a few seconds, debating if he should just leave or not. Grumbling, he turns back around. Mr. Stark is peering at him like he hopes to see through the Spiderman mask to the no doubt pathetic look on Peter’s face. “Jesus, kid. I can do the scolding stuff, but emotions? That’s more for your aunt, or Bruce, or maybe even Steve.”
From the safety of his mask, Peter rolls his eyes. He bets Mr. Stark would have great relationship advice if it was anyone other than Wade. Not that Peter really wants relationship advice from him. It’d be too embarrassing.
“That being said, there is a bigger reason why I asked you to come here. Now, come back over here, and take a look at this,” he says, waving Peter forward. “And for God’s sake can you not be so quiet? It’s unnatural for you.”
“This whole conversation is unnatural,” Peter mumbles, but he meets Mr. Stark by his display of holograms. The other omega’s scent has lost its acidic smell of irritation, and Peter tries not to greedily inhale the calm, sweetness he’s come to associate with ‘dad’ and ‘secure’.
His eyes quickly scan the holograms. From inside his suit, Karen catalogs all the information. “A mission,” he concludes. “Weapon X? I think I head of that before.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Mr. Stark cross his arms. “If you read those files, you would know all about it.”
“Wait, what?” Beneath his mask, his eyebrows furrow together not in confusion, but in concern. If this has something to do with Wade…
Mr. Stark moves some of the holograms around, bringing forward a picture of a man with dark blond hair and brown eyes. His handsome features tick at something in Peter’s brain, but before he can put the pieces together, Mr. Stark says, “Your boyfriend before Weapon X got ahold of him.”
A noise leaves Peter’s throat, somewhere between surprise and denial. He blows the picture up, studying every part of it. Wade’s full of scars now, but, of course, he wasn’t always like that. Peter clears his throat. “So, he was experimented on, right? That’s what this program does.”
“Yeah,” Mr. Stark says. “We all thought Deadpool wiped them out years ago, but Shield has new intel on them. They’re taking mutants off the streets, old and young.” He swipes the picture of Wade away and brings up twenty or so more.
Thoughts of Wade flee Peter’s mind. The pictures show both male and female, the oldest being maybe fifty. The youngest is a little boy who looks around six. Through the lenses of his mask, he can see that Karen is cataloging the many faces, but Peter’s eyes are stuck on the little boy’s smiling features. Dark, curly hair and front teeth that look to big for his mouth.
Cursing, Peter snaps his eyes away and starts pacing back and forth. “When do we leave?” he asks, “Today? We should go today. Get everyone else packed up and ready. Who’s all here? I’ll go tell them.”
People are being kidnapped and experimented on. Probably tortured, too. God, he feels sick. Why did Mr. Stark waste time talking about his nonexistent relationship with Wade when this was going on? They could be on the jet by now.
“We aren’t leaving until tomorrow,” Mr. Stark says, making Peter stop short. “Steve and Bucky are on their way here. Sam, Clint, and Natasha are upstairs, figuring out the plan.” Peter goes to argue, but Mr. Stark holds up a hand to stop him. “This isn’t the type of mission where we can go in guns blazing. There are hostages. No doubt injured and terrified hostages.”
The little boys toothy grin is still in the corner of Peter’s vision. The last thing he wants to do is get these people killed. And that’s what would happen if they charged in. The Weapon X people will see them and go right to the hostages to use them against the Avengers. He’s been in more than one situation to know this. Peter groans and runs his hands over his masked head. This is awful.
“Go visit your aunt, kid,” Mr. Stark says as he closes the holograms away in a single file. “Get a good dinner and rest. Be here at seven tomorrow morning for lift off.”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay.”
Peter walks away, head slightly fuzzy with all the information and anxiousness. Get some rest. Not likely.
“Oh, and kid,” Mr. Stark says, stopping Peter from walking out the door. “Deadpool is coming with.”