Chapter Text
Peter walks into school on Monday morning feeling good about life. As he should, right? With the Avengers back in town, everything’s going well.
He sits down at his desk, greeting MJ and Ned with way more enthusiasm than is normal, and hums along to the morning announcements as he pulls his chemistry book out of his bag.
Flash shoving past him, forcing all his books to the floor and off his desk, all while muttering slurs and insults under his breath doesn’t even break his mood.
Peter smiles wide and bright, ready to get on with another day of learning.
It’s Chemistry first thing, which is always fun - Mr Harrington’s one of his favourite teachers, and Peter enjoys having him every Monday morning.
Mr Harrington arrives late, looking oddly excited.
“Hello, class!” he says cheerfully. Usually he’s much more subdued than this.
Something’s off, thinks Peter. It might be his spidey sense telling him this or just his common sense, but Mr Harrington’s acting different than usual and it’s silently freaking Peter out.
“Guess what?” says Mr Harrington. Woah- Mr Harrington normally hates rhetorical questions. “We’ve got a field trip booked at the end of this week!”
Oh. Well, that’s… not that big of a deal.
Peter’s actually pretty wary of field trips. So far, post-Spider-bite, Peter has yet to experience a joyful field trip. There was Oscorp… then Washington… so yeah, he has reason to be cautious.
Of course, his classmates are delighted. Everyone’s interrogating Mr Harrington. They all want to know where they’ll be going.
Peter sinks into his seat. His joy has officially been wiped from his soul. Maybe there’s a chance this field trip will be better than most?
Yeah, who knows…
“It’s to Stark Industries!” exclaims Mr Harrington, and Peter feels like crying.
Flash turns on him with a wide, manic grin.
“Did you hear that, Parker?” he says, “We’re going to your workplace. Shouldn’t you be excited?”
Peter groans and buries his face into his hands.
Of course, this isn’t a good thing. If Peter were anyone else, it sure would be, because that’s one hell of a field trip! But he’s Peter, and his Parker luck just had to come in to boot every inch of happiness out of his life.
“Mr Parker!” Mr Harrington calls suddenly, startling Peter.
“Er, yes?”
“Can I talk to you after class?” says Mr Harrington.
His luck just can’t get any worse, thinks Peter. He’s totally doomed. There’s no way Mr Harrington wants to just talk about his brilliant grades, or anything good like that.
After class, Peter lags behind, waiting until the rest of his classmates have filed out of the room, Ned promising to save him a spoonful of halo-halo from his nana’s lunch box.
“So, Peter,” begins Mr Harrington. “What’s really going on?”
Peter frowns. “Uh, I don’t think I understand, sir,” he says.
“Peter,” admonishes Mr Harrington. “Is the internship real?”
“Of course it is!” says Peter. (It isn’t. It’s a cover-up.) “It’s one hundred percent legit, sir!”
Mr Harrington’s brows furrow. “I hope that’s the truth,” he says, and Peter feels his heart drop into his stomach, “But… there have been rumours…”
“They’re just rumours sir,” says Peter, quick to interrupt. “I’m not lying. I swear.”
Mr Harrington doesn’t look convinced.
“I want to believe you, I really do,” says Mr Harrington, “But there’s no way this deal is real.”
“I didn’t know you had a kid,” says Steve on a sunny afternoon.
He’s got his legs slung over Barnes’ lap, relaxing in the sunlight that pours through the windows. It’s ridiculously domestic, and Tony feels faintly sick from just watching the pair.
“Kid?” repeats Tony, lazily sketching out a design for an electric engine for one of his older, gassier cars on the kitchen table.
“Yeah, he said his name was Peter.”
Tony chokes back a laugh. So they met Petey, then. His little Spidey-son. The kid he treasures more than most, the one who he doesn’t deserve. It’s sappy to think of, but it’s all true.
“Peter’s a good kid,” he says, only realising the implications of his words once they’ve come out of his mouth.
Steve thinks Peter’s his biological kid, doesn’t he?
Steve watches him, brows furrowed, fiddling with Bucky’s fingers in his lap and humming a strange tune, so old it’s practically foreign.
Tony’s about to confess - he really is. It’d be the right thing to do - no more secrets, right? The Rogue Avengers have only just returned; he can’t afford to mess things up now, can he?
But then… a brilliant little idea forms in his mind. The perfect prank (not really). He could pretend - and hear him out on this - to be Peter’s biological father. He could easily get away with the ‘I slept around a lot and Peter’s the result’ trope, even with Nat breathing down his neck.
It’d be easy!
So, Tony turns to Steve, and says: “Peter’s the best son I could ever wish for.”
Steve’s face softens. He smiles warmly at Tony, saying, “That’s real sweet, Tones,”
Barnes nods along, face blank.
Over the weekend, Tony finally got the go-ahead to call the Rogue Avengers back to the USA as free, innocent citizens. The Rogues returned to the Tower early on Saturday morning.
At some point along the way, they must’ve found Tony’s small spidery child running around bossing FRIDAY about.
Tony can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of fatherhood towards the boy. Peter’s like his own, and ever since the kid’s aunt died, he’s been living in the Tower full-time, scoffing his face with more food than a God (and Tony would know, he’s experienced it before) and crawling around on the ceilings like a fiend.
It’s a sort of domestic bliss Tony never really expected in his life. He knew he might have to settle down at some point - maybe have a kid or two - but he didn’t really want to. And then all of a sudden, Peter barges in, and Tony’s ready to be a dad.
It’s weird. Totally unexpected, and Tony can see why the Rogues might be doubtful of the new changes.
Barnes and Steve stay lounging on the couch a little longer. Tony eventually gets bored of his sketches, deciding he wants to put his drawings into motion, and leaves for the lab.
His lab is directly under the penthouse, one floor above the Avengers’ personal floor. The Tower had been designed for safety first: therefore anything dangerous is higher up to prevent fire spread, or whatever. Schematics. All Tony’s interested in is making shit, blowing shit up, and rebuilding it from scratch all over again. Maybe just to prove a point.
So, when Peter comes home, Tony’s in his lab, having the time of his life, blasting Sweet Child O’ Mine to the heavens and fixing up one of Clint’s bows that he managed to break on the first day back at business.
(It’s honestly impressive how klutzy a super secret spy can be. If Tony didn’t know any better, he’d laugh and scoff at the very idea of Clint being a master assassin.)
Tony’s expecting his cute spider-son to be happy and cheery as per usual, and is surprised to find Peter traipsing in, miserable and solemn about life.
“What’s wrong?” asks Tony.
Peter glances up with a start, looking like a deer caught in headlights.
“Er- nothing, Mr Stark!” he squeaks out.
Well. Something’s definitely very wrong. The kid never calls him ‘Mr Stark’ anymore. It’s always ‘Tony’ and, on one very rare occasion where Peter was delirious and bleeding out after a patrol-gone-wrong, ‘Dad’.
Tony goes over a quick mental list. What could be wrong? Maybe the kid got in a fight and lost- wait, no, Peter isn’t that type of kid. That’s the sort of thing Tony used to do, and he’s the worst role model ever.
Besides, if Peter got in a fight, he’d end up in detention, and then he’d probably cry. Wait- is that it? Has Peter been given detention?
“Did you get in a fight?” is what comes out of Tony’s mouth.
“No,” mumbles Peter, finally giving in. “I- uh- the science classes of Midtown High are taking a field trip to Stark Industries,” he admits, staring at his shoes and shuffling on his feet nervously.
“Why’s that a bad thing?”
“Because, Mr Stark, it’s the end of the world! None of them believe me about my internship-”
“Woah, woah, calm down. And what’s with ‘Mr Stark’?” says Tony. Why is Peter so bothered about some dumb internship? It’s not even a real one anyway, it’s just a cover-up, right?
“Why does the internship matter so much?” he asks, which, in hindsight, is probably not the best way to word the question.
Peter’s left at a loss for words. He glances once or twice at Tony, never making eye contact, and opens and closes his mouth like a fish gaping for air out of water.
“Are you alright, kiddo?” asks Tony.
Peter seems to deflate. He shrugs, saying, “Oh, yeah, you’re right, it’ll be fine,” but now Tony’s really worried.
Something’s wrong, says Tony’s fatherly instincts that he definitely doesn’t have.
Peter leaves, dragging his feet across the floor, and Tony turns back to Clint’s bow with a frown.
What could be wrong? There’s clearly something bothering his kid, but what?
That night, after Peter’s gone to bed early and Tony’s sitting there at the dining table thinking what could be wrong when Clint suddenly - and rudely - interrupts his thoughts.
“You’re acting funny, Stark,” says the oversized Dodo man. “What’s wrong?”
Without really thinking about it, Tony replies, “I think my son’s trying to hide something from me.”
Because, well, he does. There’s no other explanation, right? Peter’s gotta be hiding something- oh, wait. His ‘son’.
The entire table is staring at him now.
He fiddles with his fork, not usually one to be nervous.
“You have a son?” says Clint. “You’re kidding me.”
“Er-” says Tony, only to be cut off by Natasha.
“Of course he does,” says Nat, a strange glint in her eyes. “Haven’t you met Peter?”
How does she know his name?
The shock of Tony having a son lasts surprisingly long. Throughout dinner he’s hounded by questions, all while he tries to nibble away at his pho.
“How old is he?” asks Steve, finally able to ask the questions he wants.
“Does he live here?” asks Ant-man, who really shouldn’t be at the Tower right now, but no one’s saying anything and Tony can’t be bothered to bring the touchy subject up.
Wanda’s burning holes into the side of his skull, her curious eyes staring him down as she holds back a barrage of her own questions.
“Hey now,” says Rhodey, batting away the unnecessary and frankly very intrusive questions. “Give the man some space.”
Silence settles over the table.
It’s awkward, but it gives Tony a break from the prying, so he’s happy to slurp up his noodles while everyone stares at him.
Once he’s done, Bruce - his saviour, his grace - finally breaks the silence. “You said you think he’s hiding something?” he prompts, and the floodgates break.
“Oh my God,” groans Tony, “He’s been acting so off and I just don’t know what to think - is this normal? Beetle guy, you’ve got a kid, right? You too, Hawkman? Is this normal for kids?”
Ant man (Tony thinks his name is Scar, or Stan or something) shrugs, “My kid’s still a little baby.” he says.
“Same here,” says Clint.
Great. They’re useless.
“Why don’t you try to smooth things over?” offers Bruce, “Or maybe just… confront him flat-out?”
“No!” Tony says quickly. No, that’s the worst idea. “He’ll just run away. Peter’s- he’s not good with emotional confrontations. He’ll get spooked, like- like a bunny.”
And then flee the scene.
“Holy shmoly, man,” says Ant man slowly. “You actually care about him, don’t you.”
“Er, duh?” Tony narrows his eyes. He looks around. The Avengers look… surprised. “Wait, did you think I didn’t care about my own kid?”
“Of course they didn’t,” says Nat, rolling her eyes; “They think Peter’s the result of a one-night-stand, conceived by accident and kept for… well, whatever reason imaginable.”
“Ouch,” mutters Tony, because yeah, that hurts - none of them thought he’d actually give a damn about his own kid, and that’s kinda upsetting to think about, but oh well. He’ll live.
Anyway, Tony’s got a situation. And it needs solving. Because this is Tony’s real-life child. It’s his kid. He cares.
See, initially, the whole ‘field trip home’ concept hadn’t actually been that bad. But… Peter thinks. A lot. Maybe he’s an overthinker, maybe not - but either way, he lets his own downfall play in his head over and over until he’s just about ready to jump out of Happy’s limousine on the way to school.
Happy glances at him over the rear-view mirror. “You OK, kid?” he asks.
Peter stares at his clenched fists. No, he’s not okay. “I’m fine,” he mumbles.
He should really say something. Tell someone. Tony, Happy, Pepper, hell, even one of the Avengers that he’s only known for three days!
But how? How is he supposed to explain that oh, yeah, he’s getting bullied for having a supposedly fake internship at Stark Industries? How can he say that without worrying Tony? He loves Tony, he really does - almost like a father - but over the time he’s known him, it’s become obvious that Tony has a tendency to be… overprotective.
And yeah, Peter got away with it last night (mostly), but now Tony’s on his case.
That’s okay, he tells himself, he can deal with this.
“We’re here, kid,” Happy says, flicking the child safety lock off.
Peter looks up at his school. A thick, nauseous pit of something upsetting dwells in his stomach. He is so not prepared for this.
Taking a deep breath, Peter opens the door and, with very little finesse, drags himself out of the limo.
“Have a good one,” Happy calls over his shoulder, zooming away as soon as the door is shut behind Peter.
Happy at least has the decency to park behind the school building to, you know, prevent anyone from seeing the entire limousine Peter takes to school. So Peter wanders around the building, taking his sweet time and arriving in the school buildings only seconds before the bell rings.
It at least squashes the amount of time Flash’ll get to be a nightmare.
“Oi, Parker!” speak of the devil and he shall appear, thinks Peter.
Flash saunters down the hallway, a huge grin on his face. His cronies trail behind him, sniggering and laughing at Peter as they approach.
Oh, shit.
As soon as he’s within reaching distance, Peter gets slammed into the row of lockers behind him. It’s done with such force that it’s sure to leave a dent.
“Hey, Flash,” he says.
Flash smirks. “Waddup, Parker?” he sneers, “Excited for Friday?”
Friday. The day of the field trip. The day Peter’s been dreading ever since it was announced - yesterday.
“Sure,” says Peter.
“Are you excited for your secret to be exposed?” asks Flash. They both know it’s not a question. It’s more of a dare: fight me, if you think you can.
Peter chooses to ignore it. He shoves Flash away, shouldering his backpack back over one shoulder and trudging off to Math.
Unfortunately, Flash won’t let him go.
“Come back here,” he hollers, his voice echoing through the hallway.
Peter freezes. He isn’t scared of Flash. He’s literally Spiderman. Why would he be scared of some stupid high school bully?
All it is is name calling. And a little bit of shoving- some pushes, some insults, some playful banter. That’s all the school sees.
All they see is the boy with the fake internship and the rich kid with parents who own a fortune. Peter is nothing compared to Flash Thompson.
So, Flash is a little bit more than a high school bully. He’s got the upper hand.
Peter can’t fight back without risking his secret identity.
Flash slings an arm around his shoulder.
“Hey Parker,” he says, his breath hitting Peter’s ear. Gross, thinks Peter, he can practically hear Flash’s inner thoughts now that they’re so close together. “Whaddya have next?”
“Math,” whispers Peter - so quietly that only Flash can hear it.
A teacher passes them by. She doesn’t so much as blink at the scene, walking by as if everything’s perfectly okay.
“No one likes Math,” Flash whispers back, guiding Peter out of the hallway.
Uh-oh. They’re headed for the boys’ restrooms.
“I’m sure you won’t mind skipping,” says Flash, and Peter begins to pray.
One shoe dropped down the toilet later and Peter is limping, soggy and miserable, down the hallway to his Physics class.
Math was a bust: he had to completely skip it to try and dry his shoe under the hand-dryers in the restrooms. He didn’t have any luck, but most of the loose water got flushed away, so at least he’s not walking on what feels like puddles anymore.
Mr Warren is the Physics teacher. Out of all his teachers, Mr Harrington - his Chemistry teacher - is probably Peter’s favourite. And his least favourite? Well, that’d have to go to Mr Warren.
Mr Warren eyes Peter’s shoes as he trudges in. He doesn’t say anything outright, and Peter nearly manages to get to his seat without a worry.
“I wasn’t aware that the forecast had changed so suddenly,” says Mr Warren, still staring at Peter’s one soaked shoe.
Peter clamps his jaw shut and sits down, grabbing his books out of his bag. Luckily for him, they’d been spared from a flushing.
That evening, Peter joins the Rogues for family dinner. It’s a new, awkward tradition that settles each evening and attendance is mandatory, no exceptions.
Tony extends an invite to Peter. Peter’s reluctant, to begin with.
“I’ll mess up somehow, I always do,” he tells Tony, but Tony’s adamant.
“I’m not believing a word of that,” he says, grabbing a spanner out of DUM-E’s robotic grip. “And you’re coming.”
“But why, Tony?”
Tony thinks for a moment. He… to be honest, he doesn’t want to be left alone. The Rogues scare him in a way that he knows they shouldn’t. But also, there’s something so domestic about bringing the kid to family dinner.
“You’re coming with me,” decides Tony, and it’s no longer up for debate: Peter’s going to family dinner with the Avengers whether he wants to or not.
So, later in the day, when Pepper drags Tony and Peter out of the lab, they head for the Avengers’ floor.
Peter sits at the table, staring at his food and not blinking. He isn’t bored, per-say, just… miserable. Small talk lifts the tension only slightly, and all eyes seem to be on Peter as he picks at his food.
Especially Tony’s. Tony, who is oh so used to watching Peter scoff down family-sized meals in seconds, stares at his kid (yes, his kid) who sits there, glum as a plum, not eating even half of what he usually does.
Tony just wants his kid to be happy. So, he does what he’s been told to do. He asks the big question: he addresses the elephant in the room.
“What’s going on, kiddo?” he asks.
The room goes silent.
Peter shrugs. He probably doesn’t know what to say. Maybe he’s thinking up a lie, or considering what the consequences are of telling the truth.
“Who is it?” asks Nat after a long silence.
Tony frowns. What does she mean? Who is who?
Peter freezes, suddenly on the spot, looking like he’s just killed a man.
“Calm down,” orders Tony, and the tension leaves Peter’s shoulders.
They all watch as Peter excuses himself from the table. Tony waits. Waits until he’s out of earshot. Until he’s off the floor. Then, he turns to Nat, and begins his interrogation.
“What’s going on?” he asks. “What’re you talking about? Who is who?”
“You can only know so much from reading a person’s body language,” Nat begins, “but I’m a top-of-the-world trained spy.” Barnes scoffs, and is given a black look. “I’m experienced,” she says, still glaring at Barnes, “and I know what I saw.”
“The kid’s getting bullied,” Barnes explains.
Out of the two answers, Tony prefers Nat’s. Yes, Barnes was straight to the point, yes, his answer was short and neat, but it didn’t reveal a massive secret. Tony would’ve preferred to be kept in the dark.
Well, he really wouldn’t, because that would mean the bullying would last longer.
Tony’s furious. He wants to storm that shit-ass school, find his kid’s bullies and beat them to a pulp. But, as always, he’s stopped.
Steve holds a firm hand on his arm. Tony realises he’s tried to get up from the table in his anger, and sits back down, feeling the blood rushing in his ears. He’s so angry he can’t even think.
“It’s not the right thing to do,” says Steve.
Yeah, he gets that. But he wants to do it anyway.
It’s the justice that’s deserved. It doesn’t matter that it’s not legal, or maybe not even morally correct.
He’s overprotective: sue him.
“Not now, Tony,” Steve tells him, and for once in his life, Tony listens.
Peter wouldn’t want this, he tells himself.
But he needs to know what’s really going on. And luckily, he’s got an open chance. This field trip… it’s to Stark Industries. To the Avengers’ Tower. To homebase, New York. Right under Tony’s nose. He’ll be able to see everything. And if anything is out of place - even the smallest glance or a teasing nickname - Tony’s going to be down there in a matter of seconds.