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Things had been going… good. For Tony.
Great, actually. In the quieter moments, he might even say that he's better than he's ever been. The Accords, while still breathing down his neck regularly, had been mostly sorted out. The Avengers were back at the tower together like they used to be, and even if they weren't quite on the same wavelength as before, they were on their way to becoming a family again. Steve had actually sat Tony down and admitted that he'd been wrong. And that had meant a lot. Even if they don't make Hallmark cards for “I'm sorry I left you for dead in Siberia,” it was good to know that Steve understood. He’d made up as well as he could with the rest of them. They all, even Bucky, had been trying to play nice with him, and with each other.
Then there was Peter.
Okay, Tony might not have a sentimental bone in his body, but Peter was the light of his life. He'd been, well, maybe not at his worst. But he wasn't doing well, when Peter had basically crash landed into his life with a long conversation with one May Parker and about 7 positive paternity tests. The rogues were on the run, Rhodey was still recovering, Agent fucking Ross let himself into the Tower whenever it pleased him, and Tony was hanging on by a thread so thin that even the combined force of Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy struggled to hold onto.
Then he met May Parker.
Pepper, his angel, had been the one to talk some sense into him about it. And even if it was the scariest thing he'd ever done in his life, he had agreed to meet Peter Parker.
And thank God his son was raised by a much better person than Tony, because Peter was good. He was smart and eager to help in his lab. (And that was putting it mildly on all fronts. The kid was a genius.) He was unbelievably kind and humble and all the things Tony never could be. He was good.
He was also Spider-Man. But that horrifying forty-eight hours where Tony had to internalize both that his son was a mutant who had been keeping that fact from him for months, and said son had been swinging around New York City, stopping busses with his bare hands, in a suit that was made of an old hoodie and modified safety goggles, was an ordeal Tony would rather forget. There was a lot of shouting. Mostly at May, who hadn't thought to mention that particular fact through all of their sordid child support negotiations.
It took awhile, but eventually his little family settled into a routine, so by the time the Rogues showed back up in his life, Tony had already put himself back together (mostly).
Still, looking at the life he'd built for himself. His family and all his friends under one roof (for the most part, Peter went to May’s on weekends). He could get used to this.
For now though, Peter had convinced the team to all come together for Steve and Bucky’s first time watching the Lord of the Rings movies (“Dad, you don't get it, it has to be the extended editions!” “Fine, but only one movie per week. Your old man can't stay up that late like he used to.”) It was the first week of summer vacation, so the two of them had spent the whole afternoon in the lab. Peter had a few ideas for improving heat distribution that Tony honestly might add to his Iron Man suits.
It was early evening when the whole team piled into the living room on the common floor. Steve was in the kitchen making stovetop popcorn (“it's the right way to do it” “it takes way longer” “the world is too caught up in convenience these days”) while Bucky pulled last-minute cookies out of the oven.
Clint was piling an ungodly amount of marshmallows onto two mugs of hot chocolate. Peter was the only other living being who’d want hot chocolate while New York City was pushing June, and that was because the kid could get cold in the Sahara. Tony’s stolen hoodies could attest to that. Clint had no excuse for such heathenism.
The rest of them were piled on the living room couches, content with not helping. Nat, Sam, and Bruce were curled up on their phones while they waited. Thor was already asleep on a beanbag.
Tony, for himself, had called dibs on the recliner as soon as he could, before one of the supersoldiers could claim it. Peter always went for a beanbag, so Tony had dragged one in front of his seat for him.
“Good to go!” Peter shouted as he came out of the kitchen with a truly impressive tray of snacks. Thor bolted awake at the sound. Peter immediately had their undivided attention, and Tony had to smile at how evident everyone’s excitement was.
It was because of Peter. Easy question. Tony had eased into the background of their team awhile ago. The Accords had… taken a lot out of him. He was a lot more content to let others take the lead on nights like this than he could ever remember.
He wasn't dumb enough to admit this to any of the former rogues, but a small part of him still flinched whenever he was the center of their attention.
Peter, however, had them wrapped around his pinkie finger. They were all more excited for his summer break than he was. It was embarrassingly domestic, but he pushed that thought out of his mind. They had a movie to watch.
The opening monologue began just as everyone settled in, and Tony spent the first act stealing handfuls of his son’s popcorn and watching Bucky and Steve’s looks of confusion and awe at some of the visual effects.
He would never admit how much he jumped when FRIDAY's voice cut into the room.
“Boss, May Parker is attempting to contact you.”
Peter quickly leaned up from his beanbag, concerned.
Tony scrambled to get his silenced phone out of his pocket. May had already texted him seven times. Given Peter’s look, there was no way she didn't know what they were up to tonight, so he just prayed it wasn't anything world-endingly urgent.
“Don't pause the movie. I'll be right back.”
Peter made to follow him as he got out of his chair, but Tony quickly waved him off.
He took up a post in the kitchen, scrolling quickly through May’s messages. They'd all been sent in quick succession two minutes ago, so he wasn't too out of the loop at least.
“Mary was just here. She was looking for Peter. I had to tell her that he was with you. She’s pissed. Lots of shouting. She left in a hurry, but I think she's heading for the tower. Incoming.”
“I'll be there as soon as I can.”
“Tell Peter, carefully.”
“Actually, if I get there first, let me tell him.”
“Tell him to go to his room. I don't think he should see Mary like this. We’ll find him once we sort this out.”
“Sorry about all this. I tried to handle it.”
“Try not to go full Iron Man on her.”
Cursing to himself, Tony thought about sneaking away to call her, but Peter would be able to hear their conversation no matter where he went on this floor. He decided to text back instead.
“Got it.”
He thought about saying more, but this was already a clusterfuck of a situation and he didn't way to put May more on edge.
“FRIDAY, ETA on May?”
“May Parker will arrive in approximately 12 minutes.”
Tony went back to the common room, only to find the movie paused and all eyes on him.
“Dad, what's going on?”
Peter was standing next to his chair, remote in hand. Tony put his phone away, and decided that there was really no delicate way to put this.
“Your mother is on her way here.”
“What?”
Peter looked like he'd been slapped, flinching away from Tony like he had anything to do with this.
“Isn't that a good thing?”
It was Clint that spoke up from the corner. Bucky hit him, because even he could read the room.
Tony swallowed, then addressed the group, “movie night’s over. You guys should probably head upstairs.”
“Can you explain what’s going on? Or is it a Starks-only situation,” Bruce asked.
“Anything that upsets the son of Stark should be dealt with as a team, should it not?”
Peter seemed to rally himself at that moment, “Sorry, Thor, I don't think my mom is that kind of enemy.”
“But she is an enemy?”
Peter's shoulders slumped, “something like that.”
Tony walked behind Peter and put a hand on his back, gently leading him away from his teammates. Peter wouldn't talk about his feelings with his heros at the best of times, and it was clear by the way his eyes were shining that this situation was a giant pile of “I don't want to talk about it.”
“May thinks it's best if you wait in your room, so you don't have to see her.”
Peter didn't even put up a fight.
Over his son’s shoulder, Tony addressed the rest of them, “Not to let my family business make you unwelcome in your own home, but—”
“Scram,” Clint interrupted, "got it.”
Tony smiled at them, even as his own stomach was beginning to sink. Peter was shrinking into himself under his hand, and seemed a little too eager to get out of the room.
Thor still looked pretty confused, but followed the rest of the team as they all split off to find something else to occupy them for the night.
Once the team was out of earshot, Peter spoke up again.
“What the hell is she even doing here?”
Honesty was probably the best policy here. Peter had more than earned his seat at the grown-ups table.
“I don't know, kiddo, and you know how much I don't like not knowing.”
“God, last I talked to her she was in Munich! And that was months ago. Why does she have to show up now?”
“I’ll find out for you, Pete. And I want you to know that you don't have to see her if you don't want to.”
“I don't.”
There was a lot that Tony didn't know about Peter and his mother’s relationship, beyond the fact that she had skipped the country not long after her husband had passed. She'd left Peter with his aunt and uncle with little more than a word. According to May, you could count the times Mary had seen her son in person after that on two hands.
She hadn't even gone to Ben’s funeral.
“Okay. Trust me, kiddo, your aunt and I have it handled. Hell, your aunt will probably handle it all by herself, but I'll be there to limit collateral. In the meantime, why don't you call Ned and see if he's in the mood for a sleepover?”
Getting Pete out of the tower would probably only piss Mary off more, but the kid really didn't look like he wanted to be here. His face was already getting blotchy.
“Ned’s visiting his grandma in Florida.”
“Call him anyway for me, alright.”
“I'm telling him you said his name right.”
Okay, cool, things can't be too bad if Peter was still poking at him. He looked more frustrated now than anything.
“Desperate times and all that.”
Peter opened the door to his room, all the LED lights he had set up turning on at once. It cast a faint blue glow on his face.
“Just… get her to leave, okay?”
“I will, Underoos.”
By the time Peter closed the door, he looked like he'd pulled himself together a bit more. The shock had worn off for the both of them, and now Tony had to actually face the woman he'd had a one-night stand with 15 years ago and tell her to get out of his house and leave their son alone. Easy.
He texted Pepper the details as he went back to the main room. She was in London at the moment, which was probably for the best given the very… unprofessional text she fired back. FRIDAY must've marked the text as urgent to wake her up.
The AI chose that moment to interrupt his thoughts.
“Boss, Mary Parker has arrived in the lobby. She is currently demanding access to the private elevator.”
“Right,” Tony said, running a hand down his face, “once more into the breach. Tell security to let her up, I'd rather have this conversation in private.”
The rest of the Avengers had ended up in Steve and Bucky’s apartment, gathered around their pool table but not actually playing. They were all standing with their arms crossed like this was a mission debrief, in varying states of concern. Nat kept one eye on Bruce, and though he looked pretty frustrated, he wasn't turning green.
They'd already pieced together everything they knew about Peter’s mother, but that hadn't ended up being much. Even Nat hadn't looked too much into her background given her general absence from Peter's life.
Given what Tony was like fifteen years ago, he probably hadn't known much about her either.
“It seems like his aunt has had custody for a while,” Bucky said.
“Since he was six. Mary’s husband, Richard Parker, died about four months before she ceded custody to Richard’s brother and his wife.” Nat had still done some research.
“Was any reason given?”
“She stated that her husband's death had rendered her emotionally unfit for childrearing.”
“So she left a grieving six year old with a couple she knew he wasn't related to and fled to Australia?”
“Then Japan, then Peru, then Scotland. I stopped looking after her sixth or seventh move. She doesn't seem to stay in one place for too long.”
“Where is she getting the money for all that?” Bruce chimed in.
“She and Richard had some connections to Oscorp. Whatever research they'd done back then paid pretty nicely.”
“Do you know what it was?”
“No. Haven't gotten that far.”
She'd only been looking into what she thought was relevant to protecting Peter. Most of that research time had been dedicated to May and Ben Parker’s lives once she'd figured out that Mary was a deadbeat. She should've looked closer, it seemed.
“So, I get why Peter's upset, but none of this explains why she's here now,” Clint said.
“Given that she has no legal authority over Peter, I think she may not have known that he was living with Tony now, unless one of them told her.”
“Or unless she saw Stark Industries announce their first high school intern a few days ago,” Bruce chimed in.
They all paused as that revelation sunk in.
“Shit,” Steve muttered.
“Yeah,” Sam agreed.
Thor had looked mildly confused throughout the conversation, trying to process how Midgardian families worked and why Peter might not be happy at his mother's return.
“So she has come here because she does not wish Tony to be present in Peter’s life?”
“Presumably. May did once tell me that Mary hadn't wanted Peter to know about Tony at all. She and Ben only decided to tell him once he was old enough and it was clear that Mary wasn't coming back,” Sam replied.
“But why should a son not know his father?”
“You don't know what Tony’s reputation was like back then,” Bruce said, “and I doubt Mary had the best memories of their time together.”
Nat would have to ask Pepper what she remembered once she got back. She and May were close, so she probably knew the most about Mary of any of them.
Nat opened her mouth to say something when all of their phones went off at once.
Unread message in Avengers (minus Peter).
Tony: "Someone go check on Peter. Can't get Mary to leave."
“Who all should go, then?” Steve asked.
“Bruce and Sam,” Bucky said definitively, “you guys know him best.”
“But—” Clint started.
Bruce spoke up as well, “I don't know that I'm—”
“No debate. We can't all go or we’ll overwhelm him. It should be the people he's most comfortable with.”
Once Bruce had returned to Earth, Peter’s interest in his research had brought them together pretty quickly. Tony was still his go-to mentor in the lab, but the man wasn't a chemistry guy like Bruce was. Between the three of them, it was a miracle the facilities hadn't actually blown up.
And Sam made friends with everyone.
As for the rest of them, he and Clint didn't talk much beyond movie nights, Thor was away most of the time, and Steve and Bucky were edge cases. They didn't know how much Peter knew about Siberia, but it was enough for the kid to mostly keep his distance, even if he was comfortable enough for movie nights and team training. Nat was somewhere in between. She was trying to make it up to Peter, but she was still a rogue.
“Alright,” Sam agreed, “Dream team it is then.”
“Hey!” Clint chimed in again. Sam just smiled.
They took the stairs down to Peter’s room, mostly to avoid the shitshow going down in the common area.
Sam didn't know how he ended up as Team Therapist, but they really needed to put him on the payroll. Peter might get a pass for being an actual teenager, but that does not explain why the brainiac who can turn into the Green Giant pushed him towards Peter’s door like a toddler.
He rolled his eyes, then knocked.
It was dead silent for a moment before FRIDAY's voice startled both of them.
“Mini Boss says the door is unlocked.”
“Thanks, Fri,” Sam said in the general direction of the ceiling, a habit Tony still pokes fun at him for.
The first thing they see is the huge Stark television, playing security footage of the living room.
“You had no right to subject him to this kind of life!”
“I had every right! I had every right! I'm the one who's been there for him this whole time! He's been mine since he was six! You lost your rights the moment you left him at my doorstep!”
“May did what was best for Peter—”
“Tony, don't you dare claim to know what's best for Peter! You don't even know what's best for—”
“FRIDAY, turn this off,” he interrupted. Christ, had Peter been listening to this the entire time?
The two of them looked around the room for a moment before Sam remembered that this was Peter they were talking about and looked up.
There, upside down and tucked into one corner of the ceiling with his arms around his knees was their resident Spider-kid. His eyes were red, but he didn't appear to be crying at that moment.
“Care to come join us, Peter? I'm getting old, my climbing skills aren't what they used to be,” Bruce said.
Peter sniffled once, then silently dropped to the floor.
“My mom wants to take me to Vienna with her.”
Sam sat down on the couch (really, this room was way too big for one teenager) and patted the spot next to him. Peter slinked over and slumped down like it was a chore to stay upright. Bruce stayed standing, pacing around Peter’s room.
“And do you want to go?”
“Hell no.”
“Then there's your answer. She's basically a stranger, she can't make you do anything you don't want to.”
“I don't want her to be here.”
“That, I don't think we can help with, unless she starts throwing hands.”
Peter did actually smile at that.
“If she has visitation rights, she doesn't use them.”
“That’s her loss, Peter, not yours,” Bruce said, “you've got a family here that loves you.”
“I know, I just… wish she wasn't here to remind me that it wasn't always like that.”
“Hey, I know your aunt was there from the beginning, or else she wouldn't be down there giving Mary hell.”
Peter smiled again, more himself this time, “you should've heard what she said earlier. I think it would make Cap’s head explode.”
Sam snorted.
Before he could ask Peter anything else, Bruce spoke up.
“I haven't seen many of your photos lately.”
He was standing by a gallery wall near the entryway, covered in framed photographs of New York.
Sam raised his eyebrows, “I didn't know you were a photographer.”
“I haven't been doing much with it lately. I've been busy with finals. Dad wants me to submit some to competitions.”
“You certainly could,” Bruce said, not looking away from the photos.
“That feels like… nepotism.”
“I thought your identity wasn't out yet,” Sam replied.
“... Still.”
Bruce was staring at one photo that had been blown up to poster size. Sam got up to go look too, even as Peter stayed sitting.
It was the Tower, shining like a beacon at the end of the street. Tony was hovering in the sky just above, the lights of the city reflecting off the Iron Man suit so that he was the brightest thing in the frame.
“I took that one a couple years ago.”
Sam whistled, “Jesus, kid, you're a prodigy.”
Bruce turned to Peter then, “did you know at the time that Tony was—”
“Yeah, I knew.”
He tried to picture a younger Peter, looking up at the man he knew to be his father without having any real way to contact him. So close and so far, for both of them.
“No wonder he had it printed so big,” Sam said, “I'm surprised he hasn't put it up in Times Square.”
But Peter wasn't looking at them anymore. When Sam turned, the teenager was staring out the window at the city below. The reflection of his room blocked most of the view.
“Ben knew too, the whole time.”
Sam wasn't exactly following the kid’s train of thought, but both he and Bruce turned back to Peter at that change in topic.
“Knew what?”
“That I wasn't blood.”
Bruce took advantage of the fact that Peter was still looking out the window to send Sam a pointed look.
“Peter,” he began, “it's a damn shame that I never met your Uncle Ben, because he had to have been a great man to have raised you. So I'm not going to act like I knew him or what was going on in his head, but I'd bet my life that Ben didn't give a damn that you weren't blood related. You were family anyway. The only person that's forgotten that family doesn't end in blood is your mother.”
“I know, it's just,” Peter’s breath hitched, “it's just hard.”
“It isn't always easy, but it's worth it,” Bruce said, “the only reason this team works is because we're all willing to fight for it. To stick together no matter what. We lost sight of that once, we're not going to let it happen again. Especially not to you.”
Peter sniffled, “thanks guys.”
“Anytime,” Sam smiled.
“Well,” Bruce clapped his hands together, “I don't think anyone is getting any sleep tonight. Peter, do you want to show Sam the new suit we’ve been working on?”
Tony didn't know what time it was when Mary finally stormed off into a cab. So fucking late it was early.
He ran a hand down his face as he walked down to Peter’s room. May had crashed in one of the guest rooms in the common floor, saying that she wasn't really in the right headspace to comfort Peter at the moment but to tell him she’d talk to him in the morning.
Which left Tony.
Bruce had been texting updates on how he and Sam were keeping Peter occupied in the labs. He said the kid was taking it pretty well, all things considered. Still, the only one who could convince Peter that he wasn't going anywhere was Tony.
The trio had split off from the labs about half an hour ago, but he doubted Peter was asleep already.
It wasn't that Mary didn't have a right to be angry, no matter how much May disagreed. Tony’s life up to this point was a shit show at the best of times, and Mary had met him at one of his worst.
The fact that Mary had also, by her standards, made some dumb decisions that night wasn't lost on him, but that argument wouldn't get him anywhere.
Mary had a right to be upset that her son was now in the middle of all this. Even if she didn't know about Spider-Man, the kid was still living with the entire Avengers team, in a shining tower in the center of Manhattan that had been a target for supervillains more than once. Tony and Stark Industries were a whole other beast.
She would have had a right to be angry, if Peter were still her son in any way that mattered.
God, sometimes Tony imagined what his life would have been if he'd known Peter from the beginning. Would he have given up on the drugs, sex, and alcohol? Would Peter have turned out half the man he was now, with Tony as an example instead of May and Ben?
He probably knew the answers to those questions.
Still, if he’d had all those years of parenting behind him, he might’ve known what he was about to say to Peter.
He bit back another sigh as he stood in front of Peter’s door, and knocked.
“It's unlocked, Dad.”
He creaked the door open.
“How’d you know it was me?”
“Everyone’s heartbeat is unique,” Peter said, and Tony quickly realized that his voice was coming from the ceiling, “and who else would it be.”
Tony paused, “we’ll come back to that heartbeat thing later. How are you holding up?”
He didn't bother telling Peter to come down. He'd told him once that being up high was comforting. That was worth the crick in his neck.
“I heard May tell her to pull the stick out of her ass before she choked on it, so… better.”
The walls were pretty well soundproofed between floors. “Remind me to limit your security clearance.”
“I'll just change it back.”
Peter sounded tired, but there was some of his usual banter in there, so Tony didn't think he had too much cause to worry. He'd have to send Bruce and Sam thank you gifts.
Tony layed down on Peter’s couch, just to make looking up at him easier. His son was fiddling with some piece of tech up there, and Tony chose not to worry about getting it dropped on his face.
“You, me, and May have a debrief scheduled tomorrow morning. Probably won't be the last of Momzilla we see this week.”
Peter didn't say anything.
“I'm sorry about that.”
“I think I want to talk to her,” Peter said, not really looking at Tony.
“Only if you're sure.”
“It's just, she kept talking about the ‘life she wanted for me.’ She should hear what I want for my life. I'm not six anymore. I can make that choice.”
“Damn right.”
“It's not like she had any role in making my life up to this point anyway, other than shoving me on Dad’s–, on Richard’s brother.”
“One, you can call him whatever you want. Two, I don't think you were shoved so much as rescued.”
Peter snorted, “I think May knows that now, but I can't imagine a grieving six-year-old was part of her life plan, let alone Ben’s.”
“Just because something is unexpected doesn't mean it isn't good, but you should probably ask May about that.”
He was definitely pointing May in the direction of this conversation, at least.
Peter just hummed in response, so Tony went on.
“I didn't expect you at all, Pete, but your crash landing was the best thing that's ever happened to me.”
“... Thanks, Dad.”
“Anytime, kiddo.”
Tony watched as Peter crawled over to the center of the ceiling, then dropped to the rug with a dull thud. He didn't even let go of the arc reactor he was holding.
Tony tried not to let it show on his face just how weird that was to witness.
He sat up and leaned against the couch Tony was laying on, “I wish Ben was here.”
There was something different in the way Peter mentioned his uncle these days, like the grief was getting easier to carry.
“Me too,” Tony said as his gaze drifted up to the glow-in-the-dark stars on Peter's ceiling. Ben would probably know how to handle this a lot better than Tony could. He’d tried to balance May out as much as he could in that conversation, present a united front against Mary’s vision of Peter’s future, but this kind of family drama wasn't something he had much experience in.
“He really would have liked hearing May call her a self-obsessed bitch who can't commit to anything except American Airlines.”
“Alright then,” Tony said as he stood up, “time for bed, for both of us. Chop chop.”
“I'm just saying,” Peter said, grinning up at him.
“And I'm just saying that we both need sleep for the conversations that will definitely be happening tomorrow.”
Tony almost felt Peter roll his eyes as he headed for the door. There was a lot more that needed to be said, but they had plenty of time for that. Because no matter what Mary said, his son wasn't going anywhere.
“Goodnight, Pete,” he called behind him.
Peter snickered.
“Goodnight, Dad.”