Chapter Text
Spiderman sat atop an apartment building as the sunset faded from gold to grey, his senses extended outwards toward the people of Queens.
Waiting.
At dusk the criminal element started to become active, laying traps in the very same shadowy places Spiderman called home.
Thieves. Muggers. Rapists. The dregs of society. The seedy underbelly of the city Spiderman had sworn to protect.
Criminals.
But they weren’t his focus.
They were secondary. Extra. Obvious.
They were not Spiderman’s priority.
Thieves were easy to spot. Easy to catch. Spiderman didn’t mind leaving them to the local authorities for the most part.
Spiderman looked out for the little guy. The crimes with no victims. The victims with no names.
His ears belonged to the open windows, the thin plaster walls. His eyes roamed past cracked glass, strained toward shadows flickering behind cockeyed blinds and blanket curtains.
He watched as fathers returned from work and mothers poured drinks after a long day.
Spiderman waited. Listening, watching.
He waited for the sharp play of violence against the walls, listened for the muffled outcry for help that would go unanswered.
Except tonight. Tonight, Spiderman would answer. Spiderman was there.
Spiderman stood up for the little guy. For the woman who wore sunglasses at night and indoors. For the boy who fell down the stairs. Out of a tree. Off the bed. Again and again and again.
Spiderman would see the truth in their eyes despite the lies on their lips.
Spiderman would stop it. He would protect them.
He would save them.
He had to.
Because no one ever saved him.
Tony was bored.
Well. Bored was probably the wrong word.
Turns out having half the population return to existence in a literal ‘snap’ is a logistical, political, bureaucratic and emotional nightmare. There were now two sitting presidents and 62 Senators instead of the 50 the constitution allowed. Then were were the two SHEILD directors arguing over the controlling interest of the Avengers, neither of whom were thrilled with Tony’s five year plan to retire as Iron Man, and he didn’t even want to think about the current state of the SI Board of Directors.
So yeah, bored was probably the wrong word.
But there was also the fact that if Tony had to look at white hospital walls for one more minute he was going to lose it. So he'd just...left.
He was going to go back, obviously. He'd just summoned the Mark 47 and gone for a little ride.
When Pepper and Cho found out he’d signed himself out of medical to go on a sunset pleasure flight they were going to take his other arm.
Whatever. Tony was bored.
"Boss, incoming call from The Tower. It’s Mister Rogers."
"Put him through dear." Tony said with a slight sigh, hooking a sharp turn around the Empire State building before heading back toward the Tower as the line clicked open. "Capcicle. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Tony? Why aren’t you in Medical. Does Pepper know?"
"What are you, my babysitter now?"
"No. I just...nevermind. I was looking for you to see if you were up for a trip to the common floor, theres someone I'd like you to meet."
"Fine." Tony sighed. "I was really hoping to track down that Spider guy tonight."
Steve made an odd noise and cleared his throat. "Well then I have a surprise for you."
Arriving back at the Tower, Tony landed on the large balcony outside the common dining area and sent the suit into standby in his lab.
"I'm here, somebody get me an icepack, will ya." Tony grumbled as the doors slid open for him. He tilted hid head side to side and attempted to massage the ache from his recently mended shoulder. The prosthetic Cho had provided him was lightyears ahead of what was commonly available, but he couldn't wait to get into his lab and create one for himself. Preferably one that didn't leave him feeling like he'd been sitting with his shoulders tensed up by his ears for ten hours straight.
Rhodey, Natasha and Sam were gathered in the sitting area between the kitchen and the living room. As he rounded the corner he caught sight of Steve beside them and another, smaller figure wearing some god-awful red and blue onesie.
"Steve? Why is there a pajama-clad child in the dining room." Tony frowned, massaging his shoulder. Natasha appeared beside him with an icepack and he nodded his thanks.
"Tony! You made good time." Steve lead the pajama guy around the table by a hand on his shoulder toward him. Tony never took his eyes off the odd black goggles on the strangers head, who seemed to be leaning into and away from Steve's touch in turn. "And he's not a child, this is Spiderman, the vigilante from queens you've been looking for.
Tony narrowed his eyes. Spiderman remained unnaturally still.
"Playing it a bit fast and loose with the word 'man' there aren’t we?"
Steve's shrugged a little. "He's eighteen."
Tony scoffed. He most certainly was not.
How Steve could not see that was positively frightening.
"Spiderman, Tony Stark. Tony Stark, Spiderman. Our first member of the pilot program. The one for trading the next generation of Avengers?"
"Right. I think I ignored a memo about that." Tony muttered, still trying to place the stillness and tension coming off this "Spiderman" character. Trying to figure out why it made him uneasy.
When Spiderman still made no move to say anything, Tony stuck out his hand.
"Good to meet you, Spiderman."
Spiderman finally moved, his head dipped infinitesimally and his goggles stared at Tony's outstretched hand.
A heartbeat later Tony was flat on his back, his facenosemouth a kaleidoscope of pain and stars, Steve was yelling and Spiderman was jumping off the balcony.
“Ow ow ow!” Tony smacked Bruce’s hand away with an annoyed glare.
“I told you I’m not that kind of doctor,” The man grumbled, then sighed. He looked at Steve. “I think it’s broken.”
Tony sniffed, gagging on the taste of blood in the back of his throat, and stood. “I could have told you that.” He pointedly ignored Bruce’s responding eye roll. Instead he looked toward Steve.
“I’m going after him.” He said, in a tone that was not asking for permission, though that was how the Captain seemed to take it.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Tony.”
“It wasn’t a question, Rogers.” Tony hissed. He pulled the wad of paper towels Sam had given him away from his nose and winced at the bright red blood staining them. A few feet away the super soldier was leaning against the wall near the door while Natasha hovered, waiting for the okay to start tailing their escaped vigilante.
“He’s just a kid.” Steve said, eyeing the bruise already darkening Tony's nose and eyes.
"Not that it matters but need I remind you ten minutes ago he was a 'man'?" He looked back at Rhodes and found the look of concern and protectiveness on Steve’s face reflected on his. In fact, everyone on his team seemed to be ready to throw themselves between Tony and the little nose breaking terrorist. Which first of all, ouch. Beyond the fact that they were his team, not Spiderkid’s, did they all really think that little of him?
“Do you all really think I’m going to go in guns blazing after a child for a measly punch in the face? I’ve gotten worse from Ant Man.” He scoffed, though the jab lost some of it’s impact since Lang wasn’t there to squawk indignantly.
Rhodes and Steve exchanged a glance.
“Then why do you want to go after him?”
Tony answered with tone that said he was having to explain a very simple concept to an even simpler mind. The others would have taken offense if it weren’t very nearly his normal tone with almost everyone.
“Well clearly the kid’s got a chip on his shoulder about me. If you’re serious about bringing him into the NextGen program then I kind of think I ought to get to the bottom of it, don’t you?” When he was met with a few seconds of silence that were as good as agreement, he turned toward Natasha. “Yes, go find him. But do not engage with him. I want to talk to him first.”
The assassin dipped her chin and slipped out the door. Tony had no doubt she would find the kid, and then do precisely what she wanted, so he started toward the hall bathroom for his pain pills, his prosthetic was killing him.
“Rhodey, come set my nose.”
The colonel rolled his eyes but pushed off the wall to follow his friend down the hall.
“Okay, but this is the last time. I mean it this time, Tony.”
“Don’t be like that Honey bear. You and I both know I will get punched in the face again and when I do you will be there to reset it.”
Rhodes sighed and hung his head in defeat.
“Yeah. I know.”
Peter knew the sound of flight repulsers by heart. He supposed a lot of people did. But Peter could tell the exact trajectory and speed based on the sound alone even before the bite.
Maybe he’d spent a lot time coping by watching hours of videos of Iron Man on youtube instead of sleeping.
Maybe he was just weird.
Either way, he knew the sound of Iron Man’s suit and it was headed straight for him.
He didn’t look up, didn’t even bother with his mask. Rogers knew his identity, it was a prerequisite for joining the program, so he supposed all the Avengers did.
He did tense when he heard him land, though. Ten feet behind him on a random rooftop in Brooklyn. He’d stopped on the first flat surface he found after losing sight of the Tower to calm down from a pending panic attack and hadn't yet found the motivation to move. It was only a matter of time before one of them showed up he supposed.
He’d kind of hoped it would be Black Widow. Or Captain America. Or Falcon.
Or anyone really.
Anyone he hadn’t punched in the face.
“So.” Stark said, entirely too nonchalant. “Eighteen, huh?”
That did make Peter look up. He turned and stood all at once, a little too fast if the sudden stillness of Iron Man was anything to go by.
Peter bit his bottom lip.
“Yeah.” He said, and even he didn’t believe it.
Stark made a noise like a buzzer and tilted his head as if to ask are you serious?
“Listen, Captain Luddite might believe anything you and your fake ID tell him, but I know better.”
“You couldn’t possibly-“
A holographic image projected from the wrist of the Iron Man suit.
“How-how did you get my birth certificate.”
Tony drew his eyebrows together as if asking if that was a rhetorical question or not.
“Really?”
Peter sighed and his shoulders slumped, he dropped his gaze to the gravel rooftop. “I guess it doesn’t matter.”
A moment later the holograph disappeared and the faceplate flipped up on the suit.
Tony sniffed and held back a wince when it made his face throb.
“So answer me something, kid,” He paused not quite long enough for Peter to actually respond. “Why’d you hold back when you hit me?”
Peter looked up, confusion twisting his face. “I broke your nose.”
Tony laughed and nodded. “True. No denying that. I'm gonna have a shiner by dinner that’s for sure.” The kid’s face morphed into a grimace that the man would have almost described as apologetic. “But from what the others told me your Super Spidey Strength is enough to rival Cap’s own. So if you wanted to you could have quite literally knocked my block off. But you didn’t. What I want to know is why.”
Peter sighed, shaking his head, kicking the gravel under his feet. “Does it matter?”
“Yes. If you want on the team it does.”
Peter’s gaze snapped to his again, eyes wide and earnest and god how gullible was Steve that he believed this babyfaced child was eighteen?
“I can still be on the team?”
“Sure. In like…three years.”
The hope left Peter’s face like a physical mask slipping away, falling toward the ground and dragging his eyebrows and corners of his mouth with it.
“Three years? But-but that’s not fair.”
“Those are the rules, kid. You can’t join the Avengers until you’re eighteen. No one can.”
“But-but,” Peter shook his head, frantic, eyes shifting wildly around and Tony got the odd, sinking feeling there was more than just disappointment breaking loose across his face. Something else deeper, colder. Something that looked an awful lot like fear.
“Pete, hey hey, it’s fine. It’s okay, you just-“
“It’s not!” Peter suddenly burst out, eyes going red and shoulders pulling stiff with anger. “Why do you keep doing this? Why do you have to ruin everything? What did I ever do to you!?”
“Keep doing what kid? I don’t make the rules.”
“First the snap and now this.”
Tony blinked. “The- kid, what the hell are you talking about? How did I hurt you with the snap?” Tony knew bringing back the universe in an instant had been hairy, it had complicated a lot of things for a lot of people. Some people were annoyed with the way it came about but he’d never actually been blamed for it.
Peter shook his head, bringing both hands up into his hair as if to run them through it only to yank them back down again.
“Nevermind. I just…” he shook his head again, shutters of steel slammed down over his eyes locking the torrent of turbulent emotions Tony couldn’t even begin to name behind them. “Just leave me alone.”
Peter took two steps away and Tony recognized the look of him about to dive off the edge of a building.
“Wait! Just - just wait a second.” Tony licked his lips, buoyed when the kid immediately stopped, though he didn’t turn back around. “Let me…let me make it up to you,” he pulled a face, he didn’t even know what he was making up for, but smoothed it out again before Peter caught it. “Why don’t you come to the tower tomorrow.”
Peter turned enough to glare over his shoulder. “What for?”
Tony’s fingers twitched as his mind raced for a reason.
“Um, uh, those,” he pointed suddenly at Peter’s wrists, “your little shooter thingies. You made those yourself?”
“Yeah,” Peter said slowly.
“The web stuff too?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright, we’ll start with that then,” Tony said, gaining confidence as a plan came together in his head. “Since you’re going to be entering the pilot program-“
“-in three years-”
“-we’ll get you set up with some real gear. I’ll make you a suit. Can’t have you running around in a onesie when SHEILD comes calling. And, uh, maybe you can do some training with the team sometimes. Just…to keep you sharp.”
Peter seemed to consider this, his shoulders dropped from where they were hunched up by his ears and he tilted his head.
“You’ll make me a suit?”
Tony nodded, growing a little excited as he though back over what the others had mentioned to him about the kid’s powers.
“Yeah. A little side project.” He smiled. "It'll be fun."
Peter frowned again. “No one but the Avengers know my identity.”
Tony cleared his throat. “Sure we’ll say, uh, we’ll say you’re my intern. We’ll get you a badge and everything. Make it official.” He waited, Peter continued to stare at him with that look that was partially cautious hope, part cynical suspicion and part irritatingly blank. “What do you say, kid?”
Peter was chewing his lip, but pursed his lips and nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow.”
“Great.” Tony clapped his hands and flicked his faceplate back in place. “I’ll have someone pick you up from school."
“Wait, how do you know where I go to school?”
Iron Man’s head tilted in a way that even his expressionless mask was calling Peter an idiot.
“I’m Iron Man, kid. Like it’s hard?”