The Curse Named Peter Parker

by RevengeWitch

Summary:

Peter Parker is 16, homeless and after an unfortunate event, he is also powerless. Forgotten by everyone, he wanders the streets with only one goal in mind: To survive another day.

But his world is turned upside down when his dead mentor mysteriously resurrects, he doesn’t remember Peter but it’s okay. Peter thanks whatever great power did this, however, his gratitude doesn’t last long.

Tony Stark is back, but he is different.

Chapter 1: Shivering

The rain.

Something that Peter once loved but now was his main source of discomfort. And as if that wasn’t enough, he was also shivering with cold air seeping into his moist clothes. He had managed to find a small shelter under the awning of a deserted corner store, but he wasn’t fast enough in doing that.

He wrapped his arms around his torso and tried to retain what was left of his body heat.

While he knew this much wouldn’t cause hypothermia, it didn’t make the situation any better. He had nowhere warm to go, no one waiting for him. The apartment that always smelled like cinnamon, the gentle smile of his Aunt were nothing but a fleeting memory in the back of his mind. He had tried too hard to get over his once carefree life, so like he always did in these cold rainy days, he repressed the memories once more.

People were running around in the rain, some with umbrellas and some without. They all had somewhere to get to, someone’s arms to seek refuge in. Peter bit his bottom lip to keep it from trembling from the harsh weather.

Was he jealous of those people?

No, no way.

Maybe?

Taking a break from biting his lower lip, he took a deep breath as an all too familiar feeling crept into his heart. His eyes burned, though he didn’t let the tears gather. Some people gave him a pitying look as they passed him by, it was something he had gotten used to.

They pitied but did nothing. Peter wasn’t expecting them to do something anyway, he didn’t deserve it after killing everyone he loved solely because of his curse. He gazed at the wet ground, his eyes unfocused, he thought about the loved ones he caused to die.

His parents, Uncle Ben, Aunt May, all the people Mysterio got killed simply because Peter couldn’t be responsible enough, and...and Tony Stark. His mentor, the man who once gave him everything and then devastated him.

He remembered Pepper talking to him after the funeral, telling him how just a single photo of Peter standing side by side with him had led him to save the entire world with a single snap of his fingers. The ghost smell of charred flesh reached his nose.

If that wasn’t a curse, what was it?

For all that reason, though homeless with plenty of other homeless people to befriend, he had chosen to remain adamant about his solitude. It sometimes hurt, well, maybe it always hurt but who cared? Definitely not him, he wouldn’t risk another person dying merely due to his wicked curse.

He shut his eyelids tight enough to see the dancing colors swimming on the black background of nothingness and breathed in the cold, crisp air through his nose only to let it out slowly. He did it a few more times, feeling himself getting calmer with every breath he let out.

His ears picked up a commotion, the thrum of the city around him rose up to a more noticeable level. He heard people whispering with what seemed like a surprise or shock.

Slowly opening his eyes, he took a glance around to see the source of this commotion. He saw men and women just standing still, looking up at one of the gigantic digital billboards while the red on the screen washed over them through the rain.

Curiosity took hold of him, he raised his head from the ground to the billboard to see the root of the new shift in the atmosphere.

A gasp escaped him when his eyes met with the LED screen, his mouth hung open with complete disbelief. He was supposed to take a breath, but he forgot, leaving his lungs empty for a small window of time.

To make sure what he saw was correct, he read the headline over and over again until he could no longer make sense of the words.

TONY STARK, MYSTERIOUSLY BACK ALIVE

Chatter around him got even more audible, he paid it no mind. His thoughts were slowly becoming a mess, a painful smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I’m hallucinating again...” he whispered, “This can’t be right, it’s not possible.”

But he heard a man speak particularly loud about the situation.

“He returned from the dead? How is that even possible?”

A woman’s voice replied, slightly monotonous with surprise.

“I have no clue, it says he was randomly found walking around the shoreline.”

“Wow, the return of the hero huh?”

“Well, nothing should surprise us anymore at this point.”

“True.”

Peter left the shelter of the store and slowly walked forward so he was closer to the big screen, there were newly acquired photos of the man covering the whole screen. They were obviously taken by clueless people who thought he was just a Tony Stark lookalike so they could share it on social media.

Then the screen suddenly cut into a live feed of the front of the Stark tower, showing it crawling with an uncountable amount of reporters and cameras all directed at the people standing behind a strong line of security holding the vulture-like reporters back.

One of those people was Pepper Potts-Stark, who was standing at the front to give a speech. Behind her were some personnel, plus what was left of the former Avengers: Bruce Banner and Clint Barton.

They all looked zoned out, their eyes almost blank with the effect of the peculiar event as they stared at the crowd unseeing, just waiting for them to calm down.

Reporters were relentless as they asked question after question, all of them getting lost amidst the seemingly unending chaos. With her lips pressed into a thin line and slightly frowned eyebrows, Pepper just waited for the cacophony to calm down.

Someone from Peter’s left yelled at the screen.

“Oh my god! Someone shut them up!”

One of the security guards, as if he heard the yelling, got in front of Pepper and raised his voice high enough to be heard by the whole crowd as he lifted his palms up to gather attention. His voice boomed around the area, alerting the reporters into silence like they were some unruly first graders.

“Please calm down and let her speak! Or else we will have to cut this short and you will go back empty-handed.”

The guard raised his eyebrows as if to dare the reporters to continue screaming like they did up until that point. But now there was complete silence as they were left speechless with the sudden authority.

Pepper could be seen putting her hand on the guard’s shoulder to give him a silent thanks, the guard stepped aside and she came back into focus again.

Her expression gave nothing away; you would think her dead husband hadn’t suddenly resurrected out of nowhere, that was the kind of woman Pepper Potts-Stark was. Always strong, resilient and strong-willed against the odds.

She took a deep breath to give her speech, and the entire city held its breath, descending into silence.

Her sentences were short, to the point.

“First of all I want to confirm that yes, it really is Tony Stark. We don’t know how he came back to life, he is currently going through a medical check-up. The only obvious clue we could find was the black infinity symbol carved onto his neck like a tattoo. He won’t be giving a speech any time soon, and that will be all for the time being. Thank you for listening.”

She gave a final smile and turned around to leave, the reporters suddenly came back to life and the speakers of the billboard were muted to protect people’s poor ear drums from erupting in the face of the sudden roar. The screen changed into a black one.

Peter lowered his head once more, the murmurs of the crowd around him reached his ear but they went unprocessed against his more pressing thoughts.

Mr.Stark is back, he is back, he is back!

His brain chanted the same thing again and again as if it was trying to convince Peter’s heart that it was true, that he was back.

Now another kind of smile turned the corner of his lips up, he breathed heavily as happy tears dropped down onto his already wet shirt. But then his eyes suddenly widened, losing focus as another thought started coming alive to kill the hope-filled one.

So what? I’m sure he doesn’t remember me like everyone else, and...I can’t let him die again.

Suddenly, he was just a small child standing under the chilly rain, soaked from head to toe. He still didn’t have anywhere to go, no one would share their warmth with him no one cared. Still, he was grateful to whatever or whoever brought him back.

The world needed the Iron Man.

Spider-Man was no more. Not after losing his powers in a single day.

And Peter? He was nothing. Nothing but a curse that could potentially kill everyone he would love in the future, or currently loved even though they remembered nothing about who he used to be. In their eyes, he would just be a homeless kid they would accidentally glance at while crossing the street in their luxury cars. Maybe they would feel sorry for him for a split second, then they would forget about him the moment their eyes turned elsewhere. The image of his figure would be buried among the countless other drifters in their memories.

Trying to get his bearings together, he pinched the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t the time or place to have a mental breakdown. He had to find somewhere warm, and he had to do it fast because he hadn't slept for two days. The darkness was threatening to claim him any moment, even the wet pavements looked like a bed to him.

Maybe nothing would happen if he just slept under the rain?

Where would he find a warm place? He couldn’t just go sit in a café or anything, he didn’t have that kind of money.

Mr.Stark wouldn’t let you live in the streets.

“You’re not helping, stupid brain!” he chastised himself.

He got weird looks from the passing people, surely it wasn’t their first time seeing a homeless teen.

With no other choice, he headed back under the deserted store’s awning again and sat on the wet ground without a care in the world. To keep warm, he pulled his knees towards his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, he leaned his head on his knees.

It’s okay, I’ll get through this. I’m okay, I’m okay...

Repeating that like a mantra in his head, he drifted off to sleep, still wet and shivering. With the last of consciousness, he thought about the smiling faces of the people he loved. If he had died, at least there would be no one to grieve him.

He didn't know how long he had slept, but it was a dreamless sleep. Which was a rare occurrence. Normally, he would always be haunted by nightmares. Most of them were about holding May in his arms as she bled to death, her eyes losing their focus.

Or he would be looking at Mr.Stark’s half-burned skin and the lifeless eyes on the battlefield. Sometimes the man would speak with a dead, flat voice laced by a tinge of resentment.

“I’m dead because of you.” He would say, “I shouldn’t have tried to save you, my child is fatherless. All because of you.”

Peter would wake up from those dreams hyperventilating and disoriented, sleep wouldn’t be an option for the rest of the night or day. He would just leap out of wherever he was sleeping, a cardboard bed if he was lucky, and find some odd jobs to do to earn money for the food.

Even though he was obviously homeless, people would find it in themselves to trust Peter. Maybe it was because he looked like a desperate child and they wanted to be charitable towards him. Some would even ruffle his curly hair which was getting too long for his liking.

Through the haze of sleep, he felt a difference but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He felt the malaise and fatigue hitting him with full force.

Oh, I’m sick.

Realization had come quickly.

There was nothing he could do about it, maybe he would die this time. He had returned from death's door many times, maybe this would be the exception.

He was half-awake due to the uncomfortable feeling, his body felt like it was floating in the air, he didn’t feel the cold anymore. His ears picked up 2 sets of feet walking towards him, albeit slowly. Peter didn’t bother lifting his head up, so what if they wanted to hurt him?

The dialogue between the two men reached his ears, their voices familiar.

“Is he dead?” one of them asked.

“Nope, but he will be.”

A muffled sound of someone hitting the other carried to his ears.

“Don’t say that!” the gentle one protested.

“What?! I’m just being realistic!”

“I need you to be helpful now, come on, grab him.”

There was a moment of silence as the rougher man took a second to answer.

“Are you suggesting we kidnap him?” he queried.

“No! I just want to get him somewhere warm and maybe give him some meds. He looks sick and...he is obviously homeless.”

“You wanna take him back with us?”

“Where else would we take him? The whole city is swarming with hungry reporters.” The gentle man tried to reason “Look, we are already causing a commotion. Just do as I say before people start gathering.”

The other man took a deep breath and sighed rather loudly, and then Peter felt hands going under his knees and back. He was being carried.

He wanted to push at the man carrying him, what was happening?

“No...” he weakly babbled, “Let...go...”

The one with the kind voice shushed him.

“Shh, it’s okay, we just want to help.”

Peter wanted to protest, to say no.

You can’t help me, you’ll be cursed!

He lifted one of his hands and tried to get himself free, a pathetic attempt, really.

The man carrying him chuckled, causing deep vibrations in his chest.

“That’s cute, but you’re in no condition to fight back.”

Was he being kidnapped? In the middle of the street with hundreds of people passing by?

He wanted to open his eyes to take a look, but they remained shut. He was weak and powerless.

What a surprise.

Whatever was happening, he would deal with it when he woke up.

If he woke up.

He gave up trying to fight and unwillingly leaned into the warmth of the person carrying him.

 

Chapter 2: Burning

The first thing Peter noticed was that his eyelids were burning, but his body was cold and shivering. Which was strange, considering the second sensation he felt was a soft blanket covering him.

There was something else too, on the crook of his left arm, it felt slightly painful.

He attempted to recall the events that led to the position he was in right at the moment, which was...

Peter tried to open his eyes, weariness pressed on his eyelids refusing to let him crack them open. However, when he finally succeeded in raising his heavy eyelids at least halfway, the beige ceiling adorned with soft lights he saw appeared eerily familiar to him.

Through the haze of his newly awakened mind, he tried to think of a reason why that ceiling would be familiar and also, why did he have a roof over his head? The last he remembered, he was homeless.

Oh!

Adrenaline rushed through his whole body, he had recalled what had happened.

I was kidnapped in the middle of the street!

With the aid of the adrenaline, he managed to sit up on his elbows and observe his surroundings. He was alone.

“Oh no...” he whispered, eyes wide open, “No no no...”

He was in the damn tower!

Now it made sense why those voices were familiar, Peter knew them.

Suddenly, he had a single goal.

He glanced at the crook of his elbow to see an IV drip connected to his bloodstream, an icky feeling settled in his bones. He had to rip it off, fast.

Grabbing the cord of the IV, he carefully positioned his hand so as to not tear his skin open but still managed to fail. Not wanting to alarm anyone, he bit his lower lip to stop himself from making noise. If he alerted someone, he would be doomed before doing anything.

The blanket was thrown off to the side as he got out of the bed, but his first step didn’t go well. The moment he got off the mattress to stand up, he was hit with a nauseating wave of dizziness. It caused him to stumble back to the bed for support, his vision went black for a moment. His breathing was not doing any better, the effort proved to be too much for his already sick body.

Waiting for a minute so his body could come round wasn’t an easy thing to do, anyone could walk in and find him before he could make his way out.

When he finally regained his eyesight, he headed for the sliding doors of the med bay. Peter already knew how to get out, the only problem was doing it with no one seeing him.

He peeked over the side of the door, the hall seemed empty. While holding his breath, he opened the door, and started marching towards the emergency staircase. No way he would try the elevator, FRIDAY would surely alert someone.

Almost there!

But of course, when did Peter have any luck?

“Hey! You!” a man’s voice called out to him.

Peter stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around, it was Clint.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he questioned while stepping in Peter’s direction, but the man stopped upon seeing Peter taking a step back for every step he took forward.

He raised his hands placating, suddenly aware of the flight risk. Peter raised his voice so the man could hear him from the distance.

“Thank you for helping me, but I’m leaving.”

Clint frowned as he lowered his hands.

“Leaving? You’re sick, you can’t just leave.”

“And you can’t just kidnap people but here we are.” Peter retorted, he hadn't wanted to be this cranky but oh well. This had to be done, he knew how soft-hearted Clint was. He wouldn’t let him leave without getting annoyed.

“Well, for your information I just aided and abetted. The actual mastermind is helping with Stark’s check-up.”

“Whatever,” he sighed “I already feel better so I’m going.”

Just as he turned around, the archer’s voice stopped him.

“Wait, do you even have a place to go? Not to be mean but you looked pretty homeless to us.”

Peter let out an annoyed laugh.

“Rude much? So what if I’m homeless, it’s not like I’m the only one.”

Clint’s face softened as he looked him over, that expression pulled something in his heart.

“Yeah but aren’t you too young to be living on the streets? You’re, what, 13?”

“I’m 16,” Peter gritted out. “And I’m doing very well on my own.”

“16 is no better, you damn brat. Come on, get back to bed and we will talk.” Said his rough but caring voice.

Peter just stared at him not saying anything, he was calculating something in his head. He was pretty sure Clint could see the cogs turning, because his body had changed position like he was about to chase him down.

They kept the eye contact going without a single word, both of them daring each other to move first. He just hoped the adrenaline would help him.

He suddenly turned around and grabbed the emergency door handle, he already knew Clint was running towards him with the silent steps of a former spy.

The door swung open with force, he didn’t bother losing time to close it back.

Peter pushed his feverish body to its limits, he just had to get down to the lobby then he would be free.

“How are you so fast?!” Clint’s voice echoed from the upper floor.

Remnants of my past enhancement.

They continued this game of cat and mouse until there were only 3 floors left for him to go down, Clint was slowly closing the gap but Peter couldn’t give up despite his body trying to hinder him.

He felt out of breath, but he had to do it. He had to get out. If he didn’t, his curse would...

Peter pushed the gloomy thoughts aside, he needed to pay attention to the present moment.

1 floor left.

When he finally saw the door of the first floor, hope filled his whole being. He had made it!

He made contact with the door, expecting it to open. But to his disappointment, it ended with him crashing into the door only to fall on his back with the sheer force.

It was locked.

His head spun, he didn’t bother trying to get up.

Clint’s head made his appearance in his vision, he was almost out of breath just like Peter.

“You...know...how to...run.” the man breathed out each word.

At least 5 minutes passed by in silence as their breathing got into a regular rhythm, then Peter was grabbed and pulled to his feet.

“Let’s go, I’m not taking those stairs.” He said leading Peter to the elevator.

He knew it was useless to try and convince the man to pretend none of this happened and let him go, so he chose to be silent.

The elevator took them up to the medbay floor once more, then Peter was back in the bed again. Clint threw the blanket over him, tucking Peter in like a worried father would. He pointed at the IV.

“Let me call Bruce, he can put a new one in.”

Peter frowned.

“No need.”

“Hey, none of that, your body is still burning. Now sit tight until I get back.”

He turned around but before leaving the room, he had one last thing to say. Not to Peter though.

“Oh, FRIDAY, don’t let him out until I return.” He commanded.

The lock of the glass door was turned as soon as he left, Peter let his body relax. There was nothing he could do now. While it was true he wanted to get away, he didn’t want to damage anything on his way out.

But the problem was that the longer he stayed here, the more he felt homesick for the place.

No, not the place, people.

He wondered where Mr.Stark was.

Was he okay? Did he remember him? Was he still the same person or had he changed into a new one? Was it even the real Mr.Stark?

Questions swirled around his already chaotic brain, there were so many thoughts and he couldn’t just pick one of them to focus on.

 

I want to see Mr.Stark.

I have to get away.

What if something happens because of my curse?

I don’t wanna go back to the cold streets.

I’m hungry.

I wanna stay but I shouldn’t.

I wish he could remember me.

I miss Mr.Stark...

               

His eyes burned like they did when he came close to crying, he tried to stop them from leaking out by pressing the palms of his hands onto his eyes. His breathing was heavier than one second ago, so he just held it in until the need to breathe that deeply went away.

What was he supposed to do now?

The longer he remained in the tower, the more he was longing for it. It was like trying to refuse a five-star food while you were hungry. The smell would entice you, infiltrating your senses, reaching right into your desires to usher you into taking a delicious bite.

Or more simply, it was like a homeless person looking at the displays of a bakery.

That homeless person in question being him.

Clint returned 10 minutes later, with Bruce closely trailing behind, a worried expression etched across his face. The door slid open as they got into the medbay, Peter watched them move across the room to get closer to him.

“Hi there.” Bruce said, his gentle voice now obvious to Peter.

“Hi.” He said quietly.

Then the man took hold of his arm to inspect it, scowling after seeing the damage done. Clint chimed in from behind.

“Can’t believe you just ripped it off, why did you even do that?”

Peter just shrugged, the less he talked the less he would harm them with his curse. While they didn’t remember him, Peter knew them very well. And he was sure the universe could sense their life energies getting closer, fate intertwining with each other’s.

It wouldn’t go unpunished.

Bruce cleaned the slightly torn-off part of the skin and put a band-aid on it to stop the mild bleeding, the IV drop was connected to his other arm. After he was done, instead of leaving, his eyes met with Peter’s.

“It’s kinda late for this but I’m Bruce Banner,” he then pointed at Clint “and this is Clint Barton. May I know your name too?”

Seeing his hesitation, Clint cut into the conversation once more.

“C’mon kid, just a first name.”

He licked his dried-out lips before giving out his name.

“Peter.”

“Peter,” Bruce repeated with a warm smile “That’s a nice name. So Peter, can you tell us why you were sleeping on a cold sidewalk?”

At first, he didn’t want to answer. What would that even achieve? Those two would get worried about him, look at him with the classic pity-filled stare and then they would refuse to let him go before doing something good for him.

On the other hand, they all knew the answer was pretty clear with just one look at his clothes and hair. So remaining silent would do nothing for the situation.

“I don’t have a home?”

Bruce shook his head in understanding and sympathy, Clint was frowning. His voice sounded like he was interrogating rather than just trying to understand.

“Why not? Did you run away from home?”

“No?” he responded.

Clint’s frown deepened and now Bruce also joined him in interrogating.

“Were you thrown out something?” he probed.

“No?”

Clint lost his patience and stepped forward to make direct eye contact with Peter while pushing Bruce away in the process. His pitch was rough but somehow still thoughtful.

“Why are you saying it like a question?”

“I don’t know.” Peter shook his head.

“Okay,” Clint took a deep breath “Yes or no questions are useless anyway. Now tell me, where are your parents?”

“Dead.” He retorted straight-faced.

The two men looked taken aback for a solid minute there, their mouths slightly ajar, but then they quickly recovered. This time, Bruce was the one to speak.

“Do you have anyone who can take you in?”

“No, everyone is dead.” He said, still with the same straight face.

Clint and Bruce glanced at each other, their thoughts synchronizing. Bruce spoke directly to Clint.

“Should we call CPS?”

“NO!” Peter shrieked.

Both of them got startled and jumped in place.

“What the hell?” Clint breathed out, he was holding his chest.

“Oh...” the other man uttered with realization “You ran away from them, didn’t you?”

Now Peter really didn’t know how to answer that, none of the alternatives appeared to be suitable. He weighed his options.

He could tell the truth, but if he did, how would he explain the rest? What would he even say? Oh, I don’t exist? Then they would begin investigating, they would find how weird his existence was. Or more like his non-existence. Maybe they could even see him as a threat?

But if he lied and told them that yes, he had run away from CPS, it would lead to the same result. They would investigate, find out he didn’t exist, and yada yada yada...

Just as he was about to give up, a light bulb went off in his head. He let a sly grin take over his features.

“You really wanna know?” he queried.

Clint and Bruce peered at each other once more, they looked uncertain now. But still, their curiosity came out on top.

“Yes?” they both said at the same time.

Peter knew what he was doing. If there was no way out, if he was going to end up at the same point either way, then he would at least get something out of it.

“Let’s do a trade, I’ll tell you what happened and you’ll answer my questions.”

Clint crossed his arms, taking a defensive stance.

“What kind of questions are we talking about?”

“How is Mr.Stark?”

The man let out a laugh at that, Bruce looked just dumbfounded.

“You’re gonna spill in return for information about that guy?” Clint said amused.

Peter shook his head yes.

Bruce took over the conversation.

“I’m assuming you want a general report?”

He shook his head again.

“Well...normally, we wouldn’t tell this to just anyone but...I have a feeling I can trust you. You somehow feel, I don’t know, familiar? Did we meet before or something?”

Clint reentered the conversation with wide eyes.

“Right? I feel the same! Isn’t it weird?”

Oh boy, now he was panicking. He just hoped it wasn’t apparent to them.

“Can you just answer my question?” he pressed.

“Oh, right.” Bruce turned to him “Physically, he is fine. Mentally, we are not sure. He is not the old Tony Stark we know.”

“What do you mean?” Peter tilted his head in question.

“He...uh, he doesn’t remember us.”

“By ‘us’ you mean..?”

Clint answered in his stead.

“None of us, basically no one. Not even his own wife and kid or his childhood friend for that matter. And he acts--”

He was nudged by the archer to not continue.

Peter was, in one word, stunned.

He didn’t remember anything?

So Mr.Stark didn’t remember him?

Maybe that was for the better given that there was a curse he had to be apprehensive of, he couldn’t risk anything at this point.

Due to that fact, now three of them were staring at each other in silence.

The two men were waiting for Peter to fulfill his end of the deal.

And Peter wasn’t sure about what to say.

Notes:

Looks like unlike my other works, this one will be more slow-paced.

Also I'd like to thank you all for the kudos and the comments, they are all so precious to me. Doing a master's degree did wonders (obvious sarcasm) for my mental well-being and I find peace here, with you 🥰

Chapter 3: Running

They all stared at each other for what felt like hours until Clint broke the silence.

“So...you gonna talk or not?”

Peter swallowed and thought about his options. While he didn’t want to lie, that was unfortunately his best shot at getting out of the place without causing a whole event about his non-existence.

“I...” he started slowly, “ran away from CPS, just as you guessed.”

“Why?” Bruce inquired as he frowned at the interesting information.

Avoiding eye contact and lowering his gaze to his lap as if he was about to talk about something real and painful was easy enough for him, the real problem was achieving the outcome he needed.

“They placed me in 5 different houses and in each of them...I was abused. I have no trust in CPS, I have no intention of going back there.”

“We’re so sorry to hear that happened to you, Peter.” Bruce said softly.

Peter just nodded, intentionally refusing to make eye contact with the kind man. He didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes, especially when it was because he had lied about his situation.

“Even if you call the CPS, I’ll just run away from the new home. So don’t bother.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Clint crossing his arms like he did when he was trying to come up with a solution. That was a good sign, that meant at least one person would opt to not call the CPS.

Bruce on the other hand...

Peter could feel his dilemma without even looking at his face.

But in the end, the man rubbed his own temples and sighed in defeat.

“Okay, how about this? You stay here until you’re no longer sick, then we’ll talk about our options. Is that okay?”

This time Peter made eye contact with the worried man and smiled.

“Sure, I’m willing to stay as long as the CPS isn’t involved.”

Clint clapped his hands.

“Then we got ourselves a deal, nice, glad we got this out of the way.”

It didn’t escape Peter that the last part was sarcasm, but it also didn’t matter for now. By the end of this whole ordeal, he would be out of the tower anyway.

After the agreement, the duo left the med bay without much of a fuss. Peter could finally breathe and think about his next step. However, his clouded mind was making it harder to think logically, especially after wasting all his energy on convincing Bruce and Clint that they were actually on the same page.

He took a deep breath, he had time.

For now.

He would wait until night when everyone was asleep or just busy in their own place, and then he would make his escape. Simple and easy.

His thoughts were interrupted by Clint and Bruce suddenly barging through the glass door, their faces looked something between shocked and excited. Clint ran up to his bed and looked Peter in the eye.

“Kid, what is your last name?”

A sense of suspicion crept into the back of his mind.

“I’m not telling you.” He protested.

Bruce pushed Clint aside.

“Okay, you don’t have to tell us your last name. Just tell us if you’re Peter Parker or not.”

Then there was complete silence, Peter’s heart skipped a beat.

“No.” he lied.

Simultaneously, a shadow of disappointment took over their features. And Peter, despite the rising adrenaline, feigned innocence.

“Why? Who is he?” he inquired.

Bruce shook his head sideways.

“We don’t know, he hoped you would but...”

Clint patted the man on the shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

Once again, Peter was alone in the med bay. But this time, he was panicked.

How did they know his name? They clearly didn’t actually know him but they had a name because no one remembered him. He was quite literally wiped out from reality. No name, no school records, no hospital records-- nothing.

It was obvious that there was some kind of commotion out there, but what? And would it affect him?

He didn’t want to find out.

There were only a few hours until midnight, all he had to do was bide his time until the clock reached midnight. He knew the ins and outs of the tower, he also knew the emergency door at the ground floor was locked so that was a plus.

With nothing to do, he watched the ceiling and thought about Mr.Stark. The old, sarcastic, mentor figure Mr.Stark. Not the one he saw on the battlefield.

Curiosity filled him, a sense that was old and exciting. It was a sense he rarely encountered since he began living on the streets.

How was he back?

Why was he back?

Why couldn’t he remember anyone?

Was he really Tony Stark?

The questions seemed endless.

While Peter tried to think of every possibility, there was no one to answer him and nothing he could get the answer from. For the moment, it simply was a mystery. One that he would have to stay away from if he wanted to protect everyone.

Who knew what would happen if someone happened to remember him? Or if someone wanted to get involved? His curse would probably wipe out everyone who even thought about befriending him.

A pained laugh escaped his lips.

Taking a deep breath, he willed the bad thoughts away.

The midnight was here.

He sat up on the bed to observe what was happening behind the glass doors of the med bay, the coast seemed clear. Grabbing the cord of the IV drip, he ripped it out of his arm. Beads of blood met the floor, and he sidestepped around them.

To his joy, the glass doors opened as he walked up to them. Peter felt a pang of guilt at Bruce and Clint’s naïveté about trusting a homeless kid. Despite that, he had to move on.

Slipping through the med bay door was easy, the hard part was slipping through the security. On the other hand, maybe he didn’t need to.

His memory supplied him with the knowledge of another emergency exit, one that wasn’t official and only a handful of people knew. He slowly made his way to the usual emergency stairs, all he had to do was to access the second floor, and from there on he could reach the secret exit.

With silent steps, he reached the second floor. It was usually reserved for newbie interns so the whole floor was dark and void of life at midnight. Peter touched the walls to make his way through the hallway and found the one that opened to another staircase leading down and started descending without wasting time.

At last, there was a final door he had to get through at the end of another hallway. Dim security lights lead the way straight to the door.

A smile of accomplishment graced his lips.

He was about to get out.

As he reached the midpoint, a prickling sensation at the back of his neck hinted at someone watching him. His legs stopped on instinct, his mind confused.

The sound of a voice, too close to home, echoed in his ears.

“Who the hell are you?”

Peter felt as if he was splashed over with cold water, he had forgotten to blink as he turned around. At the start of the hallway, the dim light illuminated a painfully familiar figure. The voice was just a confirmation.

He knew who that was.

He knew too damn well.

Therefore, he had to resolve this situation rapidly. Or else, it would bite him in the ass.

His breath hitched for a second in his throat as the figure stepped forward, causing Peter to stumble backward. As Peter stumbled backward, his heart pounded against his chest like a trapped bird. The figure's features slowly became clearer in the dim light, revealing a face etched with weariness and a gaze that seemed to pierce through him.

Caught between fear and curiosity, Peter fought to steady himself, his mind racing with possible scenarios that could play out.

What he didn’t and couldn’t expect was the man calling him by his name with a tone of recognition.

“Peter?”

The syllables hung in the air, laden with a weight that seemed to press against Peter's chest. His eyes widened in disbelief, struggling to comprehend how this was even possible.

But curiosity, mingled with a hint of dread, held him captive in the moment.

Finally, summoning every ounce of courage he possessed, Peter took a tentative step forward. His voice trembled as he spoke, barely audible above the pounding of his own heart.

"How... how do you know my name?"

Peter searched the depths of the man's eyes, hoping to find a clue, anything that might unravel the mystery. But all he found mirrored his own confusion. The man's gaze was clouded with uncertainty, mirroring Peter's own tumultuous thoughts.

The echoes of their conversation hung in the air.

“What do you mean ‘how’?” the man answered, his tone reflected a state of confusion.

Peter, once again, took another step back. His hope transformed into horror at the implications. He shook his head from side to side.

“No...This shouldn’t be happening.”

He took another step back, getting closer to the exit door. The man stretched out his hands towards him, as though attempting to halt his departure. However, the distance between them rendered the gesture futile.

“Stop moving, Peter!”

Peter stopped, but he didn’t talk.

“I have so many questions, do you have any idea what I went through? And now I see you here trying to sneak out!”

“I got no answers...”

“They were lying...” the man said as if he was talking to himself. His gaze appeared hazy, as if obscured by a fog of uncertainty. Suddenly, he lifted his head, locking eyes with Peter, and pointed directly at him.

"You're not going anywhere until I get some answers," he declared firmly, his voice carrying a tone of authority that allowed no argument.

Peter's pulse quickened at the ominous warning, a chill coursing through him as he readied himself to accept the situation.

The man began to advance, and Peter remained rooted in place. He understood the futility of attempting to flee.

As he sensed the hand on his shoulder, Peter summoned the courage to lift his head and meet the gaze of his mentor, who had inexplicably returned from the dead.

Peter’s voice was weak when he spoke.

“Mr.Stark, this is a bad idea.”

“Can’t be worse than this nightmare I’m living in.”

“Please.” He tried to appeal.

“Please what, Peter? Do you really expect me to let you go in this situation?”

He lowered his head in defeat, his brows met together in a frown.

“C’mon,” Mr.Stark said, giving him a slight push away from the door “Let’s talk.”

Peter wanted to resist, dig his heels to the ground, and scream like a little child to get what he wanted. But he knew Mr.Stark, he knew it wouldn’t work on him.

In the end, he reluctantly followed Mr. Stark, his mind spinning with a whirlwind of emotions.

He let out a sigh.

Whatever was meant to occur was destined to unfold regardless.

Notes:

I still don't remember the plot but hopefully starting again will guide me T_T

This chapter will definitely be edited as I'm not even closely satisfied with it 😅

Chapter 4: Unraveling

Mr.Stark led Peter back the way he came in and gently pushed him into the elevator, all hope about leaving without causing trouble left Peter’s mind as the doors closed with a faint thud. The man’s hand, still on his shoulder, felt cool.

He was looking at the ground, thinking of ways to get himself out of this whole situation, but his supposed-to-be-dead mentor’s rough voice pulled his attention away from fruitless thoughts.

“Do you have a fever or am I tripping?” the man asked, his tone had an inkling of surprise.

“Yes.” Peter simply replied.

A moment of silence passed.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Mr.Stark started again. “You’re supposed to be invulnerable to cold.”

Peter simply chose to remain silent, though this man acted like the usual Tony Stark he and everyone knew of, he figured it was safer to not say anything.

“It’s also creepy how you’re being silent. Your mouth is supposed to run a mile a minute.”

“Uhh...” Peter tried to think of a reasonable answer to that.

“It’s okay, I know it’s the fever.”

Once again, Peter chose silence.

The door opened, and Peter expected the scent of the sterile med bay to waft through. Instead, a homely smell filled his nostrils, and he whipped his head up in alarm.

“Wait--” Peter protested as he pushed back against the hand on his shoulder. “Why are we here?”

Mr.Stark pushed him out of the elevator, and into the penthouse entrance anyway.

“What do you mean? Where was I supposed to take you?” he replied, bemused.

“The med bay?”

“Why would I take you to med bay?”

“Are you serious?” Peter looked the man in the eyes for the first time, bewildered. “I have a fever.”

“Nothing we can’t take care of here,” came the response.

Incredulous, he simply stared at the determined eyes looking back at him. While he was technically right, that didn’t mean Peter would be okay with it.

He was torn between trying to convince the man to take him to the med bay and just going with the flow, given how stubborn Mr. Stark was being.

Unfortunately, he didn’t even have time to ponder on a plan. Right at that moment, Pepper rushed into the living quarters in her pajamas that consisted of an oversized t-shirt and shorts.

“Tony! Where the hell have you disappeared to—” She stopped mid-sentence, her hands tangled in her strawberry blonde hair in an attempt to fix her bedhead. Her eyebrows pulled together in puzzlement, and her eyes darted between Mr. Stark and Peter. She slowly lowered her hands from her head, approaching Peter slowly.

“Uh, hi there sweety.” She turned her gaze to Mr.Stark “Tony, who is this child?” she questioned.

Stillness filled the atmosphere anew. The moment Mr. Stark retracted his hand, Peter took a single step back and grimaced. He looked completely stumped, his brow furrowed in a way that mirrored Pepper’s.

“Are you hard of seeing?” Mr. Stark replied, his voice more perplexed than agitated.

Peter flinched at the harshness. The fact that Tony Stark-who adored his wife-would speak to him this way...it filled Peter with an unexplainable sadness.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, a sign she was losing her composure.

“I see you brought a child -who, by the way, looks like he doesn’t want to be here-into our house for some reason,” she said, her face stern and arms crossed.

“A child?” Mr.Stark pressed. “He is not just any child! He is Peter Parker,” he claimed, as if that were supposed to make everything clearer to Pepper.

And to no one’s surprise, she shook her head quickly from side to side and threw her hands in the air.

“Okay, you’re being crazy again. I can’t—“ she floundered.

“I’m being crazy?” Tony shot back, pointing at himself with wide, incredulous eyes. “You say you don’t know Peter? And I’m crazy?!” His tone was sharp, almost mocking.

Pepper tightly closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, a sigh left her mouth.

“Okay, okay...” she repeated to herself, taking a deep breath and letting it out steadily. She then slowly opened her eyes and focused on Peter this time. “Dear, let’s get you back home. It’s after midnight — your parents will worry if they can’t find you.”

Mr.Stark quickly grabbed Peter’s shoulder and pulled him to his side in a defensive manner.

“We have some talking to do. You go to sleep.” he stated.

Mouth agape from sheer shock, Pepper could only gawk at the man.

“How the hell am I supposed to go to sleep like this?” she inquired, her voice low and annoyed.

“I don’t know,” he said, gesturing with a hand waving around the air, “go do some yoga or whatever it is you do.”

“Umm...” Peter intercepted their argument. “I can go if you want.”

“No,” Mr. Stark said, as a matter of fact.

“We can talk another time, Mr. Stark,” Peter tried his luck again.

“I said no!”

Pepper slapped the man on the shoulder. “Why are you yelling at him? He’s right!”

“Doesn’t matter! He’s not leaving until I understand what the hell is going on around here! It’s like I’m in some nightmare parallel universe! How do you expect me to just accept that you’re my wife, that I have a child named Morgan, when I remember none of it? None! And now I find the one thing I do remember-” he pointed at Peter “-and you want me to let him go? Have you lost it?!”

Both Pepper and Peter stared at him in shock. Mr. Stark’s rapid breathing and bulging veins said enough. The fist clenched at his side was trembling-Peter only hoped it wasn’t from anger.

“That’s what I thought,” he concluded.

Peter felt Mr. Stark’s hand-still resting on his shoulder-guiding him away from Pepper, who remained frozen in the middle of the living room, still reeling from shock.

Then it was just the two of them.

He expected to be taken to the kitchen. Instead, he found himself sitting in a surprisingly comfortable chair in a spacious study that looked like it had seen frequent use lately.

Mr.Stark let out a deep breath.

“Stay right there.”

The loud thud of the door slamming shut startled Peter, his shoulders tensing instinctively. He stayed seated just as he was instructed, not like he had any other choice. He was still in the tower. On top of that, in the penthouse of it. So trying to leave would definitely alert FRIDAY, and in conjunction Mr.Stark.

After what felt like an hour, but in reality 10 minutes later-according to the digital clock above the door-Mr.Stark returned with a tray in his hand, he closed the door with his foot while being careful with the tray. He placed it on a side table right next to Peter, then moved it in front of him.

On the tray was a freshly made sandwich on a plate, water, hot chocolate, and a single pale-yellow pill. Peter fixed his stare on it.

“What is this?”

“Antipyretic. Take it after eating that sandwich, I don’t want you hurting your stomach.” He instructed as he pulled a chair across Peter’s and sat down on it rather unceremoniously.

Peter slowly reached and grabbed the sandwich, only then realizing he was trembling because of his low blood sugar. When was the last time he’d even eaten?

He took the first bite, and the rest was downhill all the way. Only after getting the last bite in and breathing in with satisfaction did he realize just how quiet Mr.Stark was being. He glanced at the man to see the undecipherable expression on his face, it became clear after he spoke.

“Kid, did you even breathe? Is May not feeding you or something?”

That did it.

He choked on the last bite as he tried swallowing it, his eyes watering from both the pain of not being able to breathe and the anguish.

Mr.Stark quickly handed him tissues that seemed to appear out of nowhere, Peter covered his whole face with the tissue he clumsily pulled out and pressed it to his eyes to catch the tears before Mr.Stark could see.

By some miracle, it took only a moment for him to calm down. The crumpled tissue was thrown to the tray, onto the empty plate. He then gulped down the glass of water with the pill he was given.

“Peter,” Mr.Stark started, his tone serious and low, “I’m warning you, do not lie to me.”

Peter felt like he couldn’t open his mouth to speak, it was like some invisible hand was clasping it shut and wouldn’t let go. This was the first time he'd heard this threatening tone from someone who used to speak so gently to him. The man continued regardless.

“By now, I’m sure you know what I’ve been through up until this point. So I can’t, for the life of me, handle you lying to me. I don’t care if it’s about something as stupid as the damn weather. Do not lie. Got it?”

The only response he could muster was a shaky nod, so he gave one.

“Good, let’s get straight into it.”

Peter waited for the first question, his heart pounding in his ears loudly. His fever didn’t make the whole thing easier.

He expected the question to be hard, but what came was complete opposite of what Peter expected.

“Kid, what happened to you?”

The question, unlike the prior warning, was soft and delicate.

“Huh?” Peter tilted his head in mystification, “Do you mean what happened to you?”

The man shook his head no.

“I meant you. Did you even look in the mirror recently? You look half-dead, your hair is messy, you got scars on your face, and on top of all that, you’re sick. I’m not even talking about how your scars should have healed by the time I got back from the kitchen but they are still there. So, spill.”

Peter considered lying, but the odds weren’t in his favor.

Mr.Stark was a connoisseur of human nature. He would catch him in his lie right away. But if he told the truth, that he’d lost his powers and he was homeless, Mr.Stark wouldn’t let him leave at all.

But he couldn’t have that. He had a curse.

However, as fate would have it, lying would make him end up in the same predicament with a possibly angrier version of the man who was currently leaned forward in vigilance.

Hence the simple and straightforward answer Peter gave was the only viable option.

“May is dead, and I’m homeless.”

Mr.Stark’s gaze fell to the ground in between them in deep thought, he nodded as his eyes looked but didn’t see.

“And no one remembers you...” he mumbled, so hushed Peter almost missed it.

“Yeah...”

Suddenly, Mr. Stark raised his gaze and met Peter’s eyes.

“Are you telling me, that you’ve been on the streets, barely living by this whole time?”

Peter nodded solemnly.

“And your scars, why aren’t they healing?”

“I...” his voice cracked, prompting a cough, “I lost my powers...Well, not everything. I can still feel danger to some extent and run fast but...that’s all.”

Mr.Stark slumped back in his seat, his arms dangling from the armrests of the chair. He closed his eyes and brought a hand to his face, Peter felt a weak prickle on his neck.

“Uhm, Mr.Stark?”

“Hm?”

“Aren’t you supposed to ask about your own situation?.” He nervously asked.

The man opened his eyes and gazed back through his fingers, his hand now rubbing his temple.

“How would you know anything about it? You said you were on streets.”

“Right...”

“What I actually want to know is,” Mr.Stark started, “why no one remembers you. And judging by the way you look like a guilty puppy right now, I have a feeling you have the answer.”

With no other alternatives or a way out, he poured his heart out to Mr.Stark.

Peter described the circumstances that led to his current situation, including how, after his identity was revealed, he went to Doctor Strange for assistance in order to cast a spell that would make everyone forget he was Spider-Man.

But his constant demands to keep some people out of the spell made it unstable, unintentionally shattering the multiverse and letting bad guys from other worlds into theirs. He also talked about how the other Spider-Men collaborated to heal the villains in an effort to restore order, but the damage had already been done.

Peter made the painful choice to have Strange cast a spell that would cause everyone to forget who he was, realizing that the only way to stop the multiversal incursions was to erase his own existence from everyone's memory.

That only meant that he would be forgotten, even by his closest friends and allies. Peter was left all alone after the spell was cast, and nobody remembered who he was or the ties they had shared. As if losing his powers wasn’t devastating enough, he had also lost his place in the world.

“So, it’s like that...” Peter trailed off, his stare never leaving the hands he clasped together nervously.

The tension he felt right at the moment was off the roofs. The prickle on his neck flared once more, this time with more urgency. He knew it didn’t mean the man who stared emptily at him would hurt Peter, no.

It just meant Mr.Stark was simply, utterly, and extremely furious.

Enraged even.

And Peter was afraid.

Notes:

I still don't remember the plot, but anyways -,-

(She says as if it hadn't been more than a year since the last update.)

Chapter 5: Guarding

Notes:

A little wordy and uneventful, but still important~

His eyes didn’t, or more like couldn’t, leave the man’s.

Peter was expecting him to fly off the handle any moment now. His body language indicated the moment wasn’t too far into the future, with how the man leaned forward, covering his face with his hands as he let out a harsh breath in between them.

That moment, however, never came.

Mr.Stark lowered his hands in a sudden movement, locking eyes with Peter.

“Okay, not gonna lose it yet.” He said.

Peter let out the breath he was unconsciously holding up until that moment but, knowing the other party had more to say, still remained silent.

“I don’t even know what to say at this point, got my priorities all messed up. Just give me a moment to process this.”

“Okay...” Peter whispered on an exhale.

After several minutes of silence, during which Peter gnawed at his lower lip, Mr. Stark stood up quickly, pushing his chair back with a screech. He motioned for Peter to follow him as well.

“Get up,” he said, hurriedly leaving the room.

“Where are we going?” Peter asked as he tried catching up to the brisk walk the man had.

“First of all, we’re gonna have Bruce take a look at you.” He said without looking back.

“Uhh...he already did, I was in med bay.”

“No, not like that. I meant a full blood panel and stuff like that.”

Hearing that, Peter sped up and stood in front of the fretting man, blocking his path by opening his arms as wide as he could.

“I don’t need that.” He protested.

Mr.Stark gave him an unimpressed look.

“What, Parker? Still afraid of needles?”

“Tha-that’s not the reason!” Peter stuttered.

“What is, then?” he shot back, one eyebrow raised slightly higher.

“I mean, shouldn’t you be worrying about yourself? Because, you know...” he trailed off.

“I know, I came back from the dead. Big deal.”

Peter’s eyes went wide in bewilderment.

“It is a big deal!”

“Whatever you say,” the man rolled his eyes and grabbed Peter’s arm, dragging him towards the elevator. “Bruce already gave me a checkup, and now it’s your turn.”

After getting in, Mr. Stark pressed the button for the med bay floor. He let go of Peter’s arm and took a quick look at his watch.

“Wow. It’s 3 in the morning, the results will probably be out by the time you’re awake tomorrow.”

“How are you gonna find me for the results?” Peter asked, genuinely confused.

Mr.Stark mirrored his perplexity.

“What do you mean? I don’t think it will be that hard to find the guest room in my own house.”

The elevator doors opened, and Mr.Stark stepped out. But Peter was too stupefied to leave the elevator as well. The man stuck his arm out to prevent the doors from closing while he looked at Peter with the same confused look.

“What are you doing, kid? Get off, we’re here.”

Peter ignored the instruction.

“I’m staying here?”

Mr.Stark looked even more confused, if that was even possible, maybe even a little bit frustrated.

“Where would you stay if not here? You said you didn’t have a home.”

“Well...”

He lowered his gaze to his feet, not sure if he could talk about his curse. Mr.Stark wouldn’t believe him, that was for sure. But how would he go about convincing the man to let him leave? It would be hard to pull off even under normal circumstances, but in this situation? Close to impossible.

Thanks to a firm grip on his upper arm, Peter’s thoughts harshly slammed back to reality. His once dead mentor dragged him through the long hallway, all the way to the med bay, wordlessly.

They were both surprised to see Bruce already there, as was Bruce.

“Peter? Tony? Why-what...uhh?”

“Not the time to gape, Bruce. I want a full blood panel on this kid,” Mr. Stark said, pushing Peter not too gently into Bruce’s arms.

Bruce simply caught him, his extremely puzzled eyes never leaving Mr.Stark’s.

“You know Peter?” he asked.

“That should be my question. How do you know him? You said you didn’t remember him!” Mr.Stark shot back, throwing his hands up, wearing his familiar frustrated expression.

“We-we found him in the streets? He was passed out, so we took him with us. And he said he wasn’t Peter Parker.”

Now two men had fixed their gazes on Peter, and he could only look to the side under the pressure, revealing to both what he had done.

Mr.Stark inhaled a large breath and let it out.

“Just take his blood.” Then he added, “Do it gently.”

 

After the whole ordeal, Peter was taken to a guest room. And not just any guest room, it was the one next to the bedroom Mr.Stark slept in when he was late and didn’t want to wake Pepper up after a late lab session with Peter.

“Mr.Stark?”

“If you’re gonna argue with me, you better keep that mouth shut.” He replied without any edge to his voice.

So he did, in fact, keep his mouth shut.

Peter got himself under the covers, feeling the sleep instantly grab at his consciousness, wanting to pull it into the void. A contented breath left his parted lips. This was the first time he could put his back to a soft bed in a long, long time.

Mr.Stark ruffled his hair and let out a breathy laugh. He reached for the bedside lamp and turned it off.

“Sleep tight, kiddo. See you tomorrow.”

“Mhhm,” he said, nodding.

He watched the man walk to the doorway and just stand there hesitantly. He then turned around to look at Peter with the same hesitant look on his face.

“Peter?”

“Yes?”

“I will be locking this door, just to be safe.”

That woke him up.

“Huh?! Why?”

“Bruce says you already tried to escape once before I caught you last time. I don’t know why you wanna do that, but...can’t let that happen while you’re in this state.”

Peter didn’t even attempt to get up from the bed.

“I would say I wouldn’t try again, but you won’t believe me anyway.”

“You know me well, kid. Goodnight.”

The door was shut, the sound of the automated lock clicking in place reached Peter’s ears. Normally, if he were in his prime state, Peter would simply have a word vomit just to convince his mentor to trust him again.

But at the moment, all he wanted to do was just to close his eyes and trade his pain for the nothingness of the emptiness called sleep.

So he gave in.

Predictably, as soon as he fell asleep, the nightmares emerged from the depths of his psyche.

Opening his eyes in the dreamscape, he found himself face to face with May. Her normally smiling, gentle expression was taken over by a disgusted one. She wore the clothes she had died in, bloody and torn. It looked as if she’d crawled out from her grave, just to appear before him in this dream.

He swallowed a lump that kept him from talking. He knew this was a dream, he knew that so goddamn well.

Yet he couldn’t find it in himself to say anything, guilt was overtaking him.

“You’re doing it again,” she said. “Tony doesn’t deserve this.”

Hearing her bitter tone only triggered Peter’s guilt even more, he knew what she meant.

“I know...I know...” Peter repeated as tears started rolling down his cheeks.

“Do you want to get him killed, Peter?” she pressed.

“No! I tried leaving May, I really did! They just wouldn’t let me!” he sobbed, not even bothering to wipe the tears.

May was only a blur, yet he still saw her blotchy outline getting closer to him. When she spoke, her voice was sympathetic.

“Oh, Peter...”

Arms wrapped around him. Cold, and carrying the scent of death. But still, she was May.

“You can do better,” she continued.

“How…?”

A moment of silence passed.

“You know how,” May replied, her voice motherly.

And he knew.

He was just afraid.

Peter wrapped his arms around her, knowing this would be the last time he could for a really long time. He bawled his eyes out until the dream faded into black, leaving him without May.

The feeling of calloused fingers on his face pulled him back to consciousness, and Peter instinctively grabbed the hand. A low chuckle followed.

“A nightmare?” the familiar voice asked.

His eyes opened to see Mr. Stark sitting on the edge of his bed.

“What?” Peter mumbled, still holding the man’s hand.

“You were crying in your sleep. What did you see?”

Realizing he was clutching the hand like a child clings to a parent, Peter quickly let go.

“N-nothing,” he replied nervously.

“Didn’t look like nothing to me,” Mr. Stark shot back.

“It was just a nightmare. I’m okay.”

They held eye contact for a beat, one trying to convince and the other gauging.

“Okay,” the man clapped his hands. “I’ll let it go this time, but you need to get up now. Today will be a long day.”

Peter rubbed his eyes and got up from the bed.

“Why?” he questioned.

“Because your results came back, and you’re pretty much deficient in everything that could be deficient, so we gotta fix that. Now go wash your face; the bathroom is there.” He pointed to the ensuite bathroom.

He entered the bathroom, intending to wash his face. But he noticed a stack of clothes neatly folded on the counter. He grabbed them to take a look. They were new and a size that would fit him perfectly; there was even some underwear. Peter felt slightly embarrassed as he thought about the person who had shopped for them.

Warm water sprayed from the shower head, Peter raised his head to feel it on his face and stood there like that for a minute. He had forgotten how warm water felt on his skin. It pooled around his feet, dark and murky with the dirt on his body. Repulsion bubbled up inside him, making him glad that he didn’t look at the mirror before jumping in the shower.

When he finished the shower, he left it smelling of strawberries.

Mr. Stark was waiting for him in his room; he had a StarkPad in one hand. He gave Peter a once-over and smiled.

“That’s better. Now let’s get to business.” He stood up and walked over to him, putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “First of all, you’re gonna have breakfast and take your supplements. After that, you’re gonna get checked by a dentist as well.”

“A dentist?!” he shrieked.

The man walked out of the room, expecting Peter to follow.

“Yes, a dentist. I have to know everything about your health.”

 

They arrived at the common room. The kitchen area adjacent to it had a counter full of what seemed like medicine boxes and bottles. Peter followed his nagging mentor behind the counter.

“I don’t need it! I took care of my teeth,” Peter protested.

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” he quipped back.

At a loss for words, his mouth hung open.

“I’m not worried; I’m just saying I don’t need it,” he insisted.

“I want you to do it,” Mr.Stark countered.

“And I don’t want to!”

Now both their voices were starting to rise.

“Oh, cry me a river.”

Dumbstruck, Peter stopped replying. It seemed like no line of logic would persuade the man to change his mind about this. Just as he was about to say something else, a woman’s voice pierced the air.

“Tony!”

Both of them swirled around to see the newcomer.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Pepper standing on the other side of the spacious room. She stomped toward them, her anger evident in every step.

When she reached close enough, she grabbed Peter’s shoulders with a supportive hold.

“You’re getting weirder by the day,” she said, albeit frustrated, to Mr.Stark. “I don’t know who this child is, but you can’t force him into things he doesn’t want!”

Mr.Stark slowly approached them until he was within an arm’s reach; his silence was unnerving. He slowly reached for one of Pepper’s hands, grabbed it, and shook it off Peter’s shoulder, then proceeded to do the same to her other hand. He then pulled Peter to his side by the arm and held onto it.

“Don’t butt in. He’s mine to look after,” the man simply said, leaving both Peter and Pepper flabbergasted.

“Yours…?” Pepper whispered. “What is he? Your long-lost kid none of us knew about?”

“Something like that.”

“Wow! No! Hang on a minute!” Peter got himself out of the hold and stood between them, hands raised in a conciliatory manner. “We are not related! You can’t cause misunderstandings like that, Mr.Stark!”

Pepper stared straight at the man, holding his gaze without a shred of fear.

“Tony,” she started calmly, “what are you trying to do?”

“I’m trying to take care of him. Isn’t it obvious?” he said, hand pointed at the counter where the medicine boxes were stacked.

She rubbed her temples and huffed out an annoyed breath.

“This isn’t working out…” she directed her gaze to Peter, her voice tender and understanding. “Peter, Bruce told me about your situation… If you want, we can help you find a good foster home. We know you don’t h—”

A hand severed their connection and pushed Pepper back, then Peter was pulled behind the man. It seemed as if all of it happened within a second.

When he spoke, Mr.Stark’s low voice trembled with fury as he spoke through clenched teeth.

“Stop trying to take him away from me, or there’ll be consequences,” he warned, tone eerily monotone.

Her eyes widened slightly, disbelief flickering across her features. There was a brief flash of hurt, quickly masked by a steely resolve.

“Like what?” she pushed.

Mr.Stark didn’t reply, and Peter couldn’t see his expression from where he stood behind the man. What he could see, however, filled him with horror from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.

Pepper froze, her eyes wide, reflecting the blue glow of Mr.Stark’s arc reactor as it flared brighter, swallowing the shadows around them.

Notes:

I have a Tumblr account too~ I'm also revengewitch on there. Feel free to interact 💙