Chapter Text
Peter Parker was pissed off.
Which didn’t happen often– he didn’t even get annoyed on a daily basis. Despite the many horrors that had tried to take hold of his life, he tried to be happy as often as possible: maybe to stick it to whatever power had hurt him so many times, maybe just because that was his usual disposition. Either way, Peter was a light-hearted kid. He held in his anger when he found it creeping up on him, he held back his tears when they threatened to spill. The “truth” he held so close to his heart was that ‘it was for the good of everyone if he was simply a happy kid with no emotional baggage for anyone to stress over’-- he couldn’t be more wrong, of course, but who could convince him otherwise?
So if his skin was really so thick, what had to happen to anger him so deeply?
“Peter? You good?”
Peter looked up at his hero, mentor, father figure– in the words of Queen Taylor Swift, “Call it what you want”-- and nodded tightly.
Tony Stark had been his mentor for over a year now, his legal guardian for a few months. Ever since the “civil war”, Peter (or Spiderman, really) had been in a tight spot with the government. His aunt May had folded under the pressure; Peter didn’t blame her, but still felt a little hurt at the way she finally snapped and kicked him out of the house. With nowhere else to go, Peter had ended up at the Avenger’s Tower. He really had only asked to stay a couple nights, but Tony insisted– “Kid, you’re my responsibility, you were before, and you definitely are now. I’m– kid, stop freaking out– why would you only stay a couple nights? You already have a room here”-- and after a few minutes of arguing, finally dropped the custody bomb. Even though Peter felt guilty letting his mentor adopt him, Tony seemed happy to do it and he had nowhere else to go… also, it would be fantastic to have him as a father– er, legal guardian. They had even moved out of the tower and to the compound together a few months later.
“Really? Because you’re clenching your fists pretty hard there.” Tony said, interrupting Peter’s wreck of a train of thought. The man tapped the teenager’s hands with a concerned look.
Peter looked down at his hands and was surprised to see them white with strain, clenched so tightly that his fingernails were digging into the skin, drawing blood. His eyebrows jumped up slightly in shock.
“I… didn’t realize.” Peter said, standing up from his bench at the worktable.
He had just been practicing coding in Tony’s lab when his thoughts wandered off into the dark abyss that Tony had jokingly dubbed ‘Peter’s Ball-Pit of Intrusive Thoughts’. They honestly wouldn’t have gone there if Tony hadn’t just dropped a bomb on him– not one as good as the custody bomb– no, it was the ‘the-rogue-Avengers-have-been-pardoned-and-they’re-moving-into-the-compound-with-us’ bomb.
…That’s why Peter was pissed.
Peter walked across the room to the bathroom in the corner of the room, fully aware of the soft footsteps of Tony trailing behind him. Without looking up in the mirror to observe his mentor’s expression, he turned on the sink and stuck his bleeding hands under the cold flow of water. He closed his eyes at the sudden sting of pain and relief. Tony’s footsteps left the room.
Peter opened his eyes with a soft sigh and began to actually scrub at his hands, making sure to clean the small cuts. As he turned the sink off, Tony’s footsteps returned in his direction, stopping behind him. Strong hands gripped Peter’s shoulders and turned him around. Peter sat on the counter and let Tony wrap his hands in light bandages. The man’s calloused hands were gentle with those of his kid.
“I know why you’re upset.” Tony broke the silence, but spoke so quietly that it could barely be considered broken.
Peter finally looked up to meet his mentor’s eyes.
Of course he knew. But that didn’t mean Peter wanted him to.
“Look, I know you’ve been holding a little grudge against the rogues–”
Peter snorted at the understatement. He had quite literally been doing nothing but hating on them ever since Tony’s return from Siberia. He knew something had happened there, but Tony wouldn’t tell him what.
He remembered seeing Tony again for the first time on his return home from Siberia.
Tony’s hands shook heavily and Peter grabbed them, trying to look his father-figure in the eyes.
The man continued to stare at his lap as he sat in his hospital bed, stuck in some hellscape of a transe.
Peter shook the man’s hands, kneeling on the floor so that he could look up at Tony’s face.
Something in Tony’s eyes was broken.
And Peter had been one of the few people that knew that it took months for that look to leave.
And Peter had been the one to watch Tony’s hands shake for months.
And Peter had been the one to run into Tony’s room at night when he woke up screaming from nightmares (the man crying in fear, and then in shame when Peter came to comfort him. That was supposed to be Tony’s job, he was supposed to be strong, he was supposed to be iron).
Peter couldn’t just forget that.
Tony chuckled slightly at Peter and continued, “I know you’re only mad at them for sending me to the medbay that one time,” He saw Peter open his mouth to argue and continued, speaking faster before he could be interrupted, “But I don’t want you to hold that against them, okay? It wasn’t their fault. And you don’t even know what really happened, so there's not even a point in being mad.”
Peter squinted at the man, pulling his hands out of Tony’s and clasping them in his lap. “You’re right. I don’t know what happened. But I know what it did to you. Tony, they hurt you, they– they were supposed to be friends! Friends don’t make you afraid! They made you afraid, Tony.”
Tony shook his head slightly, a surprisingly soft look on his face. “And you got me through it, kid. And I appreciate that a lot, I do, but now it’s over and we don’t have to misuse all your old rogue avengers merch. That means no more captain america dart board.”
Peter shook his head, sliding off the counter. “Why are you forgiving them?”
“Why aren’t you?”
“Because I don’t think you really are.” Peter countered.
Tony rubbed a hand over his forehead. “I did, though, okay? And they’re gonna be here really soon, so you’re gonna have to work on your manners again.” Tony laughed quietly and threw an arm around Peter’s shoulder, leading him back to the desk. “I guess we might have gotten a little too comfortable without them around huh?”
Peter stayed silent, and so the man turned to stand in front of him. “Hey, Pete. Look at me.” Peter looked up reluctantly. Tony put his hands on Peter’s shoulders, “Look. You don’t have to forgive them. That’s up to you. But I think you should at least give them a chance. Okay, Pete?”
Peter smiled slightly at the earnesty (and the nickname) and nodded. “‘Kay.”
Tony smiled.
And a few days later, FRIDAY was notifying them that the rogues had arrived. Tony ran to Peter’s room to get the boy.
“Are you ready to meet them?” Tony asked. He knew Peter had been dreading it, but still hoped that his happy nature would find some way to come out for the rogues.
Peter shrugged. “I guess.” Thoughts were running wild in his brain.
He did not want to meet the rogues.
He did not want to get to know the rogues.
He did not want them to get to Tony again, or him.
They stepped into the elevator together.
“I don’t want them to know I’m Spiderman.” Peter said suddenly, turning to Tony.
Tony’s eyebrows raised, and then furrowed. “That’s okay. They don’t have to know. Is there… any reason why?”
Peter shrugged. “I don’t know, I just… I don’t think I’m quite ready for more people to know.”
Tony nodded, and Peter couldn’t help but feel warmth at the immediate and unwavering support. “That’s okay.” Tony said. “I understand that.”
And Tony didn’t have to know that Peter was hoping to throw off the Avengers. Some random teenager living at the tower? And considering his odd resemblance to Tony, they would most likely assume he was Tony’s secret son or something. And whatever they did in Siberia, they would regret immediately if they thought Tony had someone at home panicking for him.
And though that wasn’t far off from the truth, they would never have taken Peter seriously without the legal claim to the Stark name. But they would regret it if they did.
Because what would they have done if they had orphaned Tony Stark’s son?
Tony put an arm around Peter’s shoulder, pulling him away from his secret plan. “So… would it be okay if we told them the other half of the truth?”
Peter looked up at his mentor, confused. “What do you mean?”
“About who you are. You know…” Tony looked at Peter, as if calculating the teen’s expression. He finally settled on finishing his sentence. “You know, My kid. My ward. Whatever you are.” He finished with a huff of a laugh.
Peter grinned widely. “Yeah. You can tell them I’m your kid.” He turned
He turned to face the front of the elevator and just missed the surprised and adoring expression Tony’s face had shifted to. He did realize, however, that this was actually going to help his plan. A lot.
The elevator doors opened, and the two stepped out into the large opening hall at the front of the building. Standing in the middle of the room were the rogues, all looking uncomfortable, all shifting on their feet or fidgeting slightly.
Tony strode confidently forward, never missing a beat. Peter followed, falling into stride beside him, as if to remind Tony, “We’re in this together.”
They stopped in front of the group. Usually Peter would feel uncomfortable at the confused and calculating glances that were sweeping him up and down. But he remembered how strong Tony had to be to stand in front of them, and straightened his back to stand taller. He was Tony Stark’s kid, dammit. They weren't going to make him self-conscious.
Also, ever since Peter had moved in and the two had gotten closer, Tony had proved himself to be extremely overprotective and the king of helicopter-parents. (Peter didn’t really mind it and honestly appreciated being fussed over. He didn’t ever have anyone that was really invested in his life and well-being, not as much as Tony was. Though it could reach an annoying point, in the end, it was worth it.) And so if Peter flinched under their gazes or shrunk away, Tony would probably grab him and run the other direction. Peter didn't want to look weak.
After all, the Avengers had only ever met Spiderman, not Peter Parker. They say first impressions are everything.
Speaking of, the rogues were not making a good one.
“Tony.” Steve stepped forward, holding out a hand.
Only Peter noticed the beat of hesitation. But everyone could feel the tension, sticky and thick like a hot day in New York City. Which, it just so happened to be.
Tony took the hand and shook it.
“Welcome back, everyone.” Tony said, pulling away and scanning the group. “It’ll be good to have a full house again.”
Peter could tell that everyone was itching to ask who he was, but was holding back for the sake of formality.
“It has been quiet. Especially without Rhodey around.” Peter said, surprising even himself when he spoke.
The group laughed politely.
“And who are you, son?” The question was finally asked by Steve. Taking one for the team.
“This is Peter.” Tony said simply, putting a happy arm around the teen. Because Peter wasn't looking at him, he didn't see how Tony had latched onto him as if to say, "No, my son." But Peter could tell that it relaxed him as much as it also helped Tony. They had learned fairly early in their relationship that physical touch made both of them feel more grounded, more present. And Peter had learned later that Tony was absolutely just as clingy as he was.
“And… who is Peter?” Natasha asked carefully, a small guarded smile playing at her lips.
Maybe he shouldn’t do anything, Peter thought suddenly. Maybe the rogues had felt enough guilt already.
But then Peter remembered Tony’s shaky hands, his injured face, his sad eyes, and Peter shook the feeling off easily.
“He’s my kid.” Tony said, holding his head high.
Peter smiled. Tony Stark was proud to be his dad. Or… for him to be his kid.
Also, Tony had set his plan in motion without him having to do anything.
Everyone’s eyebrows raised in unison.
“You… what?” Clint said. “I thought that was a me thing?”
“Well, you didn’t patent having a secret family, so I thought it was fair game.” Tony quipped back, squeezing Peter’s shoulder.
Nobody asked any more questions, as if they already knew the whole story from that one joke. Peter really did look a lot like Tony, they never would have guessed he was adopted.
Tony gave the group instructions on where their rooms were and let them get their stuff and take it into the elevator. The two waited for the next one together, Tony still keeping a steady arm around his kid’s shoulders.
Later that night, when the two set off for a ‘team dinner’, Tony threw his arm around Peter’s shoulders again. Peter appreciated the affectionate gesture, not realizing it was protective. And Tony was worried about Peter being around the rogues.
The elevator doors slid open, and the two began towards the dining room on the avenger’s common room floor. Tony squeezed his shoulder before sliding it back to his side.
“Play nice, Peter.” The man whispered.
Oh, Peter would play alright. But he wouldn’t guarantee that it would be nice.