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Peter stood from his workbench, tossing aside tools and moving to rub his face in an attempt to stifle a yawn. As he did so he narrowly avoided stabbing his own eye with the screwdriver that, rather than land beside the wire strippers Peter dropped, had instead stubbornly stuck to the pads of his fingers.
"Thats awkward." He said, brain to mouth filter apparently not effective between the hours of two and six am.
"What is?" Tony glanced up to see his son glaring at the screwdriver in his hand.
“Um, nothing."
Tony raised an eyebrow, then shrugged, going back to the hologram designs for his new gauntlet.
Peter continued to stare at his hand, heart pounding in his throat. He rubbed free his hand over his chest, reminiscent of the way his father sometimes tapped his arc reactor when anxious.
Someone once told him there was an old Chinese curse that said "may you live in interesting times".
After the spider bite a few weeks ago, Peter's life had gotten considerably more interesting.
Asthma? Resolved. As was his myopia. Then there was the new things. Super strength, enhanced senses, sensitivity to peppermint and an odd pervasive paranoia to name a few. And, of course, sticking to things.
He'd nearly had a nervous break down when he woke up for school last Monday and found himself hanging from the ceiling.
There was no getting around it. Peter had super powers. It wasn't in the plan. It wasn't his first choice. But, when he thought about it, and he had, a lot, he was kind of in the truly unique position of having an entire tower full of actual super heroes to go to for advice on the matter.
Not the least of which being his own father.
"Actually dad. Not nothing." He said in a whoosh of breath and nerves.
Tony dropped his tools and immediately made his way over to his son, eyes scanning for injury.
"What happened, are you bleeding? Did you burn yourself again?"
Peter rolled his eyes.
"No dad. I'm fine. Well, I mean, I'm not fine but-"
Tony narrowed his eyes, satisfied his son wasn’t in any immediate danger, but still scanning him for some clue as to a more subtle injury or hidden problem.
“Then what’s up kiddo?"
Peter tried to smile but it came out like a grimace. "I just um...I've been going through some…changes recently." He made a vague gesture over his body and raised his eyebrows as if he expected his Dad to fill in the blanks.
Unfortunately for him, Tony did.
"Changes huh?" Tony looked caught between embarrassing his son and being embarrassed himself. "I mean, we had the birds and the bees talk but I can hit the high points again if you still have questions..."
"The birds and the bees- Oh my - dad no!" Peter inhaled so hard he choked and then started coughing, wincing when he scraped his collar bone with the screwdriver.
"Breathe bud," Tony reached out and thumped him on the back a few times, switching to rubbing when the coughing stopped. "Well if you didn’t mean that what did you mean?"
Peter held up his hand, palm flat.
"A screwdriver?"
He flipped his hand upside down.
Tony tilted his head. "Did you glue that to yourself?"
Peter sighed. "No. It’s just...sticking to me."
Tony gave him a blank stare. "You mean theres glue on the screwdriver?"
"No. I..." Peter glared down at the tool, taking a moment to concentrate. Sometimes if he focused he could-
The tool clattered to the floor.
After a second, with the same blank look on his face, Tony bent over and picked up the screwdriver.
There was no glue.
"I-" Tony stopped frowning, then tried again. "I feel like I'm missing something."
Peter blew out a long breath and started to reach up to push his hands through his hair, but stopped and folded his arms with his hands under his armpits instead.
Because…sticky. And he wasn’t fully able to control when he did and didn’t stick to things. obviously.
"Remember when I got really sick a few weeks ago?"
Tony nodded, looking back down at the screwdriver before setting it aside. "You stopped wearing your glasses after." He observed, an odd, thoughtful quality to his voice.
Peter wasn’t surprised. His dad noticed everything.
"Yeah. My inhaler too."
Tony narrowed his eyes slightly and dipped his chin once.
"I saw you didn't get your last refill." He folded his arms, “I was planning to ask about it."
"I don’t need it anymore." Peter bit his lip, partially expecting his father to explode because he'd always been touchy about Peter's asthma. He was borderline obsessive about medications and doctors and do you have you backup inhaler and your backup backup?
But Tony didn’t move, just tilted his chin and waited.
Peter had never felt want for his father's attention. He had always been good about dropping whatever he was working on if his son said the word.
But only now, in that moment, did Peter understand what it was to be the subject of 100% of Tony Starks attention and focus. He was a laser guided missile locked onto a problem that needed fixing. It was exciting and intimidating and Peter couldn't help but ramble under the pressure of his gaze.
"Well, basically I got bit by what might have been a radioactive, but certainly genetically enhanced spider on my field trip to Oscorp."
Tony blinked. Peter breathed.
"And after I got over the flu from hell I could see, had no asthma, had super senses, I have a six pack and I can stick to things. And maybe super healing too, haven’t had a chance to test it much." Peter balled his hands into fists, staring at his dad’s black leather boots.
“I can’t really control it. I…the spider is dead. I think there might be other things but I’m not…I’m not…” He shrugged and swallowed hard. His throat was too tight and his face too hot and he didn’t quite know why he felt like crying.
A pair of warm calloused hands grabbed hold of both sides of his face, tilting his head up slightly. Tony swept his thumbs back and forth across his cheek bones and under the delicate skin under his eyes, catching a stray tear with the edge of his thumb.
"Hey," Tony rasped, looking petrified and worried but the steadiest bulwark Peter had ever known. "You okay?"
"Yeah." Peter bit his lip and shrugged again, careful not to dislodge his father’s hold. "Most of the time."
Tony's heart did a little twist in his chest and tugged Peter forward. Peter collapsed immediately into his chest.
“Sorry," he muttered into the threadbare David Bowie shirt. Tony pressed a kiss to his hair, then one to the side of his head.
"No Bambino, I'm sorry. I should have noticed something was off."
Peter pressed his face further into the fabric, muttering against his father's shoulder, “I didn’t want you to. I was...adjusting."
Tony sighed, he squeezed Peter's shoulders and the kid melted further into the embrace. He knew no safer place in the world than his father's arms.
"Still. You shouldn't have had to go through this alone."
Peter interlaced his hands behind his father’s back and relished in the feeling of large hands running long, steady sweeps up and down his spine.
"Its been really scary." He admitted quietly. He felt another kiss on his head.
"I've got you," his dad whispered, he brought one hand up to smooth down the back of his head. "I've got you now."
Tony rested one cheek on top of Peter’s head. He would have to call Bruce. And Cho. Get some tests done. Get bloodwork on file. Find out what the mutation might have done to his kid's DNA and immune system. They would need to find out more about his abilities too. NDAs would need to be drawn up, for the school and maybe some medical specialists. Peter would probably need to visit his therapist a little more often for a while and-
"There’s something else."
Tony lifted his head and stood back to hold the boy at arm's length.
"You're not gonna tell me you eat bugs are you?" He asked, lighter than he felt.
Peter wrinkled his nose. "What? No!" Then deadpanned, "although there is a fly in here thats driving me nuts."
Tony tilted hie head, trying to figure out if he was joking. "Is that what you wanted to tell me?"
Peter stiffened and shook his head. "No. Its just…” He paused, frowning at the wall over his dad’s shoulder. He needed to phrase this right. Tony Stark was notoriously overprotective and if Peter wasn’t careful he’d end up locked in his room like Rapunzel until he was thirty. But he’d already decided, he had to do this.
“Pete?”
“Why do you do it?”
Tony furrowed his brows, confused. Peter took a deep breath and stepped out of his embrace, turning to gesture toward the Iron Man suits that lined the far wall. “Iron Man. The Avengers. All of it.”
Tony took a deep breath and shoved his hands on his pockets. Peter waited for him to gather his thoughts, watching quietly as his father wandered over toward the suits, his reflection lining up with the face on the Mark 47.
He realized he’d never even thought to ask him about it before. Peter almost couldn’t remember a time before his dad had been Iron Man.
Tony’s gaze shifted to catch Peter’s in the reflection of the glass. “After Afghanistan…it started because I wanted to do something good. After so many years making things that hurt people, I wanted to make something that would help them.”
He turned around to face his son. “It felt like the right thing to do.”
Peter nodded. His gaze fell to the helmet from his dad’s current suit. The back was off, wires sticking out all over from where his Dad was repairing damage from their last battle with a squadron of Doombots. “And now?”
Another deep breath. “Now its like...I have all these suits, you know? I have this AI, the Avengers, all the resources at SHEILD’s disposal and…” he blew out a short breath, and Peter looked up. “If I warn the world that something bad is going to happen, and they ignore me, thats on them. But if I see something bad about to happen, and I sit here safe and sound with my suits and do nothing, then thats on me.”
“Like” Peter bit his lip. “Like if you can help, and you don’t, bad things happen because of you.”
Tony nodded. Peter took a deep breath.
“I want to do something. With this.” He held out his hands. “I have these powers now and I feel like I should...I feel like I should help people. I want to train with you, with the team. I want..."
"Okay."
Peter blinked. Once. Twice. And then, "Okay?"
"Yeah Pete. Okay.” Tony smiled. “I know you well enough to know once you've decided something thats it. And I couldn’t stop you even if I wanted to. And, I'm not sure I do. Wanting to do good...thats what makes you you, baby.” Tony pulled one hand out of his pocket and put it on Peter’s shoulder, drawing him in for a quick kiss on the forehead. “I love you for that."
Peter beamed up at his father. “Really? You’ll let me?”
Tony took a deep breath. “I’m not gonna pretend the idea doesn’t scare the shit out of me but…yeah. Sure. Why not.”
If it was possible, Peter’s grin brightened. Tony pulled his other hand out of his pocket and held up one warning finger.
“But there will be ground rules. School comes first. And we’re building you a suit, to keep you safe.”
“Yeah, yeah sure.”
“And you will need to take precautions to protect your identity. And you’ll stick to small time stuff for now. We’re going to do this right. Your safety is the number one priority.”
“Whatever you say Dad.”
“Damn straight.” Tony slid his arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulled him into his side so he could steer them both out of the lab. Outside they waited for the elevator that would take them to the penthouse.
“Radioactive spider, huh?”
Peter dropped his head to his dad’s shoulder with a sigh, suddenly exhausted and starving in equal measure. “Yeah, I think so.”
Tony hummed.
“Well, one thing is for certain. I'm going to sue the pants off Norman Osborne."