Bitter Notes
It had been an uncomfortably warm night in Queens. Actually, the warmth wasn’t even the problem – it was the humidity. The June air was thick and cloying, even in those calm moments where Peter could afford to pull his mask up to his nose and take a few clear breaths without any fabric in the way. He hadn’t even intended to patrol so late, but the rising heat in his apartment block had left his scant loft feeling like a furnace even with the window opened as far as it would go. Peter had taken to sleeping on the roof, but the restlessness he had found there prompted him to pack up his suit and head down the fire escape, heading off in search of a decent alleyway to change in.
A couple of hours later, sleep was starting to pull at his eyes, even in spite of the uncomfortable atmosphere. Still, he’d done some good work; freed a squirrel that got caught in a mesh fence, helped a couple drunk people make their way home – a group of students had even bought him a slice of pizza for reuniting them with a friend who had wandered off. The night wasn’t still or quiet by any means, but it certainly felt calmer now that Peter had been able to work off some of his agitation. With that, he decided now was the right time to start heading back.
Wait.
Something was wrong. Peter bolted upright, eyes on a swivel and posture alert.
Huh?
His spider-sense faded as quickly as it had come on. Whatever threat he’d detected somehow wasn’t there anymore. Still, Peter didn’t trust it.
The route he took home had been circuitous. When he attempted sleep, he found himself even more restless than before.
“-Kid, you with me?”
Peter blinked, only just registering that Happy had been trying to get his attention. “Oh sorry, I was just thinking about… uh, what were you saying?”
Happy – to his credit – only seemed mildly annoyed by Peter’s inattentiveness. “I said do you see your friends?” the man repeated, jerking his chin in the direction of the park as the car slowed to a stop beside it. It only took Peter a second of scanning to locate Ned and MJ, sat on a bench and pouring over some notes they’d rested atop one of their bags.
“Yeah, I see ‘em,” Peter replied, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Thanks for the lift, Happy.”
“We’re out of here in an hour,” was the man’s gruff reply. “I’m gonna circle the block – if I call, pick up, and if you sense trouble you run.”
Peter would have chuckled if Happy hadn’t exuded severity with every word. “Got it – and thanks.” As he stepped onto the sidewalk, Peter smirked at Happy’s reluctant ‘Don’t mention it’ right as the car door shut.
He waited where he was as Happy drove off – even going as far as to give the man a cheerful wave goodbye. From what he could tell, Ned and MJ hadn’t seen him; they were completely engrossed in their notes. It was because of this that Peter felt safe enough to breathe for a moment, and savour the sensation of the city as it washed over him. This was the first time he’d been out and (somewhat) alone for a while (at least by his standards), and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t liberating.
Still, he took a brief moment to let his thoughts drift back to that stuffy summer night in Queens, and the others like it.
With his powers out in the open, he was speaking more candidly about his abilities than he ever imagined he’d be able to. Everyone now knew what he was capable of, and even though tensions were running high (and threats lingered), the general notion that Peter was at all fragile seemed to fade with his injuries. This was the first time he was by himself since the fire, and he was on instructions to ‘run if he sensed trouble’, since they were now aware of his spider-sense.
Peter worried, though, that maybe they overestimated his sense’s accuracy. Make no mistake, it was pretty reliable at sensing danger, but it also came with a great-deal of false positives, too. Take that warm night in Queens – nothing had happened, he’d faced no threat, but his senses reacted anyway. So, either they weren’t 100% accurate and it was therefore possible that dangers could slip through the gaps, or there had been a threat, he just never found out what it was. Neither seemed like a helpful outcome. His… alerts… they were pretty up to interpretation when imminent, bomb-about-to-explode type threats weren’t involved. Would they be enough to help him as a civilian, and with someone apparently out to get him?
Maybe he should bring that up with Tony when he got the chance.
For now, Peter tugged his coat tighter around his slim frame and headed over to his friends. Both were still sat in silence, enraptured in their separate work; feeling bold, Peter called out to them as he neared.
“Hey guys!” Two faces snapped up – Ned’s spread into a wide grin, whereas MJ simply offered him a nod before returning to her notes.
“Peter! So cool you could make it!” Ned replied excitedly as Peter took his seat on the opposite side of the bench. “Want some hot chocolate?” Ned offered, producing a tartan thermos from his backpack.
Peter returned his friend’s excited smile with surprising ease. “Oh hell yeah.”
It didn’t take long for him to settle in. Over steaming plastic mugs, Ned talked Peter through the lecture they’d been given on heavy ion fusion, and the notes they were revising with for their upcoming test. Following his offer, Peter was given a deck of flashcards, which he then used to test Ned on his memory. MJ tried to keep her focus centred on the book in her lap, but that competitive flare rose to the surface every time Ned hesitated on a question, and she would chime in with the answer and a poorly concealed smirk.
It lasted until MJ’s phone buzzed, instantly calling her attention. She picked it up and read her messages with intent, something Peter would have politely ignored if it wasn’t for the perplexing reaction it triggered in Ned.
“Another one, really?” He moaned in disgust. Peter frowned, absolutely clueless as to what was going on.
“It’s fine,” MJ insisted with one of her trademark eyerolls as she typed out a message.
Rather than let the matter drop, Ned pressed, “No, it’s not, it’s bad news.”
“What is it?” Peter cut in.
When Ned spoke, it was with all the appearance of a younger sibling snitching to a parent. “MJ’s getting indoctrinated.”
Peter balked; MJ scoffed. “I’m not, oh my God, Ned-“
“Okay I definitely need more context,” said Peter, eyes darting between the two.
MJ responded immediately, before Ned had a chance (something that was definitely on purpose). “It’s just this activist group,” she explained dismissively, “They reached out to me after they saw what happened at that Hammer Tech protest, and now they’re inviting me to their group meets.”
“Indoctrination,” Ned chimed.
“They’re seminars.”
“Seminars where people plan to commit crimes? Yeah, that sounds totally innocent.”
“Uh, protest is a constitutional right, and even if it wasn’t, ‘Everyone has the right to freedom of peaceful assembly and association’ - article 20 of the human rights act, bitch, read ‘em and weep.”
“Do you have those memorised?”
This had gone on for long enough. “I feel like this is getting slightly out of hand, guys,” Peter said, trying his best to be diplomatic.
Ned seemed to ease off, but MJ kept trying to explain. “Look, they don’t plan to commit crimes. Some of them can be a little intense-“
“Scary.”
“-But we need radicals. If we all just sit around and do nothing, bad people will make our decisions for us.” She let that moment sit; Ned managed to look somewhat chastened, and Peter… well, he knew exactly where she was coming from.
Taking action against injustices he perceived was something he never had to question with his powers – any fears he had about how safe people were, or about whether there was any good left in the world, he could assuage on patrol as he did what he could to protect people, or even just lend them a hand. He’d never had to question what his moral compass might look like if he never had his powers. Would he feel helpless? Would he turn a blind eye from the harder questions and try and focus on cheerier things? Or would he be like MJ, and fight for good anyway and ignore the risks of speaking out?
In the time he took to ask himself these questions, MJ had relaxed her shoulders, sighed, and shot Ned an apologetic look. “I’m not doing anything dangerous, I promise. I’m just gonna go to the next meet, see what it’s all about, then head home. If I see anything shady, I’ll make an excuse.” Ned didn’t seem convinced, so she levelled with him. “I’ll be safe, I promise.”
At last, he nodded resolutely. “I know you will.” MJ smiled, until he quickly tacked on, “Because I’m coming with you.”
MJ paled. “I’m sorry, you’re what?”
“I’m coming with you,” he repeated, sounding uncertain but still managing to speak with a modicum of conviction. “You say you’re not doing anything dangerous, and I’ll believe you, but I’ll feel better knowing you’re not alone if I’m there too.”
“I’m coming too,” Peter added, having quickly made up his mind, only for Ned to shake his head.
“Actually Pete, I might need you to help another way – when’s the meet?” he asked MJ.
She scanned her phone. “Uhh, 9PM Saturday.”
“Okay…” Ned trailed off, a thoughtful look coming across him. “My Lola doesn’t like me out that late, so-“ His eyes focused on Peter, “-Would you mind covering for me?”
“Uhh…” This definitely wasn’t how Peter expected this hangout to go.
Ned must’ve mistaken Peter’s hesitation for confusion, as he was quick to elaborate. “Well, if I have a friend round for a sleepover, she won’t bother us. We’ll have pizza, stick a film on, I’ll slip out, attend the meet, and make it back before the film’s over – you won’t have to be by yourself for long.”
“Why can’t I come too?” Peter asked with a frown.
“’Cause if she does check on us and finds an empty room, she’ll freak out. If you’re there, I’ll still get in trouble, but at least you can explain where I am before she calls the police or something.”
Peter winced. He didn’t like the thought of letting an old woman worry, but there was no way he was going to stay behind when he’d be a lot more use to them nearby if something bad did go down. Not that he’d tell Ned that. “Yeah, uh… I’ll ask tonight if I can come. They’re all about me making friends, so they’ll probably say yes.” Hopefully they wouldn’t insist on casing the perimeter first.
“I’m sorry, Iron Man wants you to be friends with us??” Ned clarified, his eyes all but bulging out of his head.
“Not him specifically… but also yes. But it’s not like he’s Iron Man all the time.” Even if he was, watching Iron Man, sleep deprived, repeatedly burning his tongue on too-hot coffee was one hell of a way to crumple that untouchable hero image.
Unfortunately, this was not something Ned had ever witnessed. “You’re right, the rest of the time he’s Tony Stark – that’s cooler!” He countered excitedly.
“Alright, alright, calm it down there fanboy,” MJ eased with a wave. “If you’re gonna come with me, you’ve gotta be chill – especially about the Avengers. From what I hear, these guys are all sceptics.”
“I can be chill,” Ned protested, in a way that confirmed he definitely could not be chill.
“Although,” she mused, turning to Peter with her trademark scrutiny, “You haven’t actually told us much about what it’s like living in Stark tower.”
Peter shrugged. “What’s there to tell?”
“Uh, everything!” came Ned’s incredulous objection. “Like, what does he do when he’s not kicking ass? Have you met the Avengers? You said you were at that gala, you must’ve seen them – are they nice? Do they get along or do they argue all the time? What does Tony Stark eat for breakfast-“
“I think what Ned’s trying to say,” MJ cut in, “Is that your living situation is more curious than ever, and if you're comfortable talking about it, it’d be cool to know more.”
She made it sound so casual, and Peter trusted them. Plus, opening up had felt good the last time – well, once he got past the fear aspect. Besides, he already knew about how Ned and MJ lived (Ned with his Lola and her cat Makisig, MJ with her mom and step-dad), had heard plenty little anecdotes about their homelives over internship lunches, or late night group-chat rants about familial arguments – maybe it was time he started extending that same level of transparency, rather than hiding away like he was used to.
His mouth quirked into a mischievous smile. “You promise you won’t sell my story to the Bugle?”
MJ only rolled her eyes. “Get over yourself,” she muttered with a smirk, before adding (a little more seriously this time), “I think I can just about manage to keep this to myself, and no one would believe Ned anyway.”
Their friend nodded. “Harsh, but true.”
“In that case,” Peter said with a slight sigh of preparation, “What would you like to know?”
*
He’d gone around the block 5 times.
That was a feat in itself, but he still needed to be sure. After so many near-misses, there was no way he’d risk it now.
He brought his bike to a stop right behind a tree, and peered around it. It was tricky business, stopping so close, but the kid didn’t look up – didn’t notice him at all.
Just kept talking. Laughing, even, with those two other teens.
Didn’t look like the kid was moving any time soon.
He got back on his bike, ready to circle the block a sixth time.
*
“-And the water went everywhere! Miss Alverez was furious, staring him down, screaming- I swear, he looked so scared I thought he was gonna pass out!” Ned giggled, finishing off his story.
“Did he get detention?” asked Peter, fully engrossed.
MJ came in with a scoff. “Hardly. His dad practically owns the school – he got off with a warning.” Peter grimaced, so she added, “But people did call him ‘Flash-flood’ for like a month,” and smiled when this made Peter laugh.
They were stood at the curb, the streets noticeably darker than when they’d arrived. It had been a few minutes since Peter had texted Happy requesting a pick-up, and Ned and MJ had kindly offered to wait with him until the man arrived. Unfortunately, rush-hour traffic made the usually congested streets of Manhattan turn into a full grid-lock, and when Peter’s phone buzzed with a message from Happy telling him he’d be a few minutes late, he wasn’t at all surprised.
He relayed the message to his friends, and took a meaningful look at the greying sky. “Why don’t you guys head home? I’d hate for to be stuck walking in the dark because of me.”
“You sure you’ll be alright waiting alone?” Ned asked in concern, eliciting a small smile from Peter.
“I’m sure.”
“Okay… and you’ll ask about Saturday?”
“I’ll text as soon as I know.”
“Okay… and-“
“C’mon Ned, he’s fine,” MJ insisted with a roll of her eyes. “Nice seeing ya, Pete.” Never one to stand on ceremony, MJ proceeded to grab Ned by the elbow and pull him in the direction they needed to walk. Peter giggled as he watched Ned stumble, still trying to wave goodbye; he kept watching until his friends disappeared around a street corner, and he was left alone with a warm feeling in his stomach.
It was this feeling Peter would later blame for his being distracted, for he received no warning from his spider-sense of an oncoming collision before he was knocked over by a man on a bicycle.
The two of them landed on the ground in a heap, with the bike ending up directly on top of both of them, its wheels still spinning. It took a minute for them to detangle themselves from the mess of limbs and bike-parts, and it seemed like no pedestrians were even interested to stop and watch the commotion, let alone try to help either of them up (thanks, New York) – it took a while, but eventually they both made it to their feet, and Peter could finally make out the man in front of him.
He was about Peter’s height, with shaggy auburn hair tied up in a knot. There was nothing remarkable about his features – no scars, no birthmarks, nothing to separate him from anyone else. But there was something… trustworthy about him? Peter thought for a moment he recognised the stranger, but he couldn’t call to mind where he’d seen the face – or if he’d seen it before at all.
Either way, his senses weren’t alerting him, so he shrugged off the familiarity. After all, he was Spider-Man; he met strangers all the time. Plus, there were the man’s eyes – up close, he could see they were a very particular shade of green, one he would be bound to remember if he’d seen it before.
“Sorry,” the man huffed with a pained wince, as he tried to regain his breath. “God, I gotta start looking where I’m going.”
“Don’t worry about it, man,” Peter replied, mimicking a similar response to the fall. After everything, this was barely a dent on him, but this random civilian didn’t know that, so it would be weird if he didn’t seem a little winded at least. “No harm, no foul.”
The man chuckled and shook his head. “No really, I swear I’m gonna cause some serious damage if I’m not careful.” He wrenched his bike off the ground and checked it over; the chain had slipped from the gears, and he stared at it for a moment as if figuring out what to do with it, before Peter leant down and slipped it back into place with ease. The man made an appreciative noise. “Huh… thanks. You got a name, kid?”
“Peter.”
“Well, nice to meet you Peter,” he said, climbing back atop the bike. “Sorry for the assassination attempt.”
This time it was Peter who chucked. “Seriously, don’t sweat it, Mr…”
“Oh, you can call me Skip.”
The name settled like a boulder in Peter’s stomach.
He sucked in a breath that got caught in his throat, and for a moment it took a second to remember where he was or who he was speaking to.
It isn’t- it can’t be-
Because Skip is dead. Peter knows this. Skip is dead and he’ll never have to stare into those cold blue eyes again – and his eyes, this man’s eyes are green and he’s shorter, and he looks nothing like him, sounds nothing like him, it isn’t him-
“…You okay, there?” The man’s voice broke through the haze, bringing Peter back to the present. “You’re looking a little pale.”
“I’m fine.” I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine, “Just uh… realised I’m late for something.”
“Okay, well… you take it easy, Peter,” The man finished with a final look of concern before he peddled off down the street.
The next thing Peter was aware of, Happy was calling his name through the car’s open window, his face set into a deep frown. “Today would be nice, kid.” The window rolled up, and Peter shook himself off and climbed into the backseat, trying his best to ignore the prying eyes that scanned him over through the rearview mirror. “What’s wrong? Was it that… freaky spider thing?” Happy asked uncertainly.
“No- uh, no it’s nothing.” Peter winced at how his voice broke. “I’m just tired, is all,” he added, when he got the sense that Happy wasn’t convinced. Whether or not this was enough to sway the man, he didn’t know, but they started driving all the same. Peter sank down into the leather seat and tried to distract himself by staring out at the passing buildings; Happy didn’t slide up the partition like he usually did (which wasn’t a good sign), so Peter couldn’t afford to drift into painful memories whilst he was under the bodyguard’s watchful gaze.
It wasn’t until later, when Peter was in the familiar borders of his bedroom, that he allowed himself to sink down against the wall and let out some of what was boiling up inside him. He was careful, even as tears slipped down his cheeks and patted onto his shirt, not to let his gasping breaths rise into sobs.
He really didn’t need anyone finding him like this. How could he hope to explain?
*
There was definitely something wrong with the kid.
Not the first time Tony had been confronted with an issue like this, but somehow this seemed different. Peter had assured them he’d had a nice time with his friends, and that there had been no spider-sense flare-ups or threats detected, but that didn’t change the fact that the kid seemed utterly shaken, nor that he had shut himself away in his room since he’d returned.
Part of Tony refused to take the kid’s words at face value. Far too many times had he let things like this slide, only to find out that Peter’s situation was far worse than he’d ever realised. However, he’d been making progress, and they’d come a long way with learning how to share difficult truths. So maybe the kid really was tired, and Tony just needed to leave him be? Or something horrible had happened, but the kid didn’t feel like he could talk about it?
By this time, Tony was starting to realise that cooking dinner was not a good enough distraction, even with Pepper sat at the kitchen island behind him, telling him all the latest office drama over her glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. She must’ve been sensing his distraction, as she came up behind him and placed both her hands on the tense set of his shoulders, forcing him to consciously relax the muscles. He closed his eyes and eased into the comfort she provided.
“Mind if I try it?” she muttered against the skin of his neck, and he would have said yes even if she’d asked to remove his spleen. Pepper reached into the drawer beside them to retrieve a spoon, then dunked it into the pot of sauce in front of them. He tracked the movement of the spoon as it rose to her lips.
“Mm,” she hummed appreciatively. “Could use a little more salt, but it’s pretty much there.”
“It’s been a while – I’m a little rusty.”
“Hm, I did wonder if this was one of Maria’s recipes.” Pepper gave him a pointed look. “Feeling nostalgic?”
“A little,” Tony admitted. “I don’t know… My folks were never the best at celebrating achievements, but there were a couple times – usually when dad wasn’t around – when mom would break out her cookbook, saying that ‘Oh things have just been so pleasant around here recently,’ and that she wanted to mark the occasion. I’m not sure she ever noticed how often things were ‘pleasant’ purely because it was just us two, but… Anyway, that’s not the point. Things have been going well, all things considered, and Pete seems stressed, so I thought maybe this would…” He trailed off, and Pepper gave him a pointed look.
“Something on your mind?” she asked in a tone that suggested she very much already knew what he was thinking.
Tony huffed out a bewildered laugh. “When did I turn into a parent?” Because that’s what this was, right? He’d refused to let his mind go there before now, but making a family recipe to cheer up the teenager that lived with them? There was absolutely no room left for denial, was there?
Pepper rolled her eyes. “I was wondering when you’d get there.” Perhaps sensing that this left him with a lot of things to unpack, she didn’t say any more on the subject. Pepper simply pressed another kiss to the base of his neck, picked her wine glass back up and went back to talking about her day.
Tony could only hope that she knew this realisation would distract him, because there was no way he could pay her his full attention now. The moment the thought of being ‘parental’ enter his head, Tony was overcome with a surge of protectiveness – that need to fix things, to put things right and stop anyone from getting hurt. It was because of this that he found himself recounting everything he had uncovered about Mac Gargan.
As he had explained to Nat and Bucky the previous night, not a lot was known about where Gargan came from. He simply ‘appeared’ in the system in 2011 when he was arrested for aggravated assault. This landed him in Rykers, where he was placed into protective custody as the request of a ‘benefactor’ – whoever that was; FRIDAY hadn’t been able to find anything else on that front either. His prison sentence seemingly passed quietly, other than a few supervised releases that were listed as ‘community work’ under some prisoner rehabilitation scheme – yet another thing FRIDAY couldn’t dig up more information on. The last thing they had on Gargan was his release date from just over a month ago; there was no address on file, and no known relatives they could contact. There wasn’t even any real evidence that Mac Gargan was his real name.
In short, they had nothing. Just a mugshot of a very normal-looking man and slightly shady rap sheet. There was, at the very least, enough missing information for it to be suspicious, and, given how difficult an institution like Rykers would be to mess with, possibly some cause to suspect Hammer Tech as having an involvement. Afterall, that ‘benefactor’ had to be someone.
He barely even registered that Pepper had put the pasta on to boil until she rested a hand on his arm and told him to fetch Peter.
Right – theories can wait.
Tony would be lying if he said the walk to Peter’s room didn’t make him slightly nervous; both in light of his parental revelation, and also because he had no idea what state he’d find Peter in. Maybe he would deny that anything was wrong. Or maybe he’d be utterly inconsolable – either way, Tony had no idea how he should approach. Then there was also the matter of what exactly had caused Peter to be so rattled in the first place...
By this point Tony had reached Peter’s door and had run out of time for guessing. He knocked tentatively; the small ‘come in,’ he heard from the other side was promising at least.
He found Peter curled up on the floor beside his window, knees tucked under his chin as he stared out at the city of Manhattan. The lights were switched off, meaning the room was illuminated purely by the glow that bled up from the street below, and the multicoloured flashing of billboards. It didn’t escape Tony’s notice that Peter had discretely attempted to brush a tear from his cheek as he approached.
Peter didn’t react as Tony sat down on the floor opposite him, which he supposed was a good sign. Hesitant to disturb the silence, the mechanic took a moment to appreciate the view before speaking.
“Reckon you must miss swinging around out there, huh?”
A beat passed before he heard a response. “Sometimes,” Peter admitted.
Tony raised his brow. “That what has you so down in the mouth?” No response this time beside a faint head shake. “So is this a Spider-Man problem, or a Peter problem?”
Another beat. “A Peter problem,” came the quiet reply.
“Peter problem, got it. And you said the friend meet-up went well?” A nod. “Yeah? MJ and Ted still treating you okay?”
This time he managed to elicit an eyeroll from the kid. “You know he’s called Ned. And yeah… yeah, they’re both great. We had fun.”
“Okay, so it wasn’t them… Happy said you were by yourself when he picked you up… so did something happen in that time?” Another nod – ahah! “Mind telling me about it?”
Peter shook his head this time. “It wasn’t a threat thing, it was nothing. Not something you guys need to worry about.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about it.” For the first time since he sat down, Peter’s eyes flicked up to his face. Tony kept his features impassive. “Yeah, I mean you said it wasn’t your freaky danger sense-thing, and I know you’re being honest with us about those, so I’m not worried.”
Peter seemed confused. “Then why…”
It was Tony’s turn to roll his eyes. “’Cause you’re clearly upset. And, as my therapist keeps reminding me, not talking about problems won’t make them go away. Besides, I’m a certified miracle worker, so who’s to say I can’t make the problem disappear?”
In spite of himself, the kid smirked. “You’re good, Tony, but you’re not that good.”
“Try me.”
The air turned tense as Tony could see that Peter was debating with himself about whether or not he should speak. Usually Tony deflected in these moments, broke the silence with sarcasm so that he never had to face anything potentially serious. However, Peter didn’t deserve that; and, if he really was starting to see himself as ‘parental’, then maybe he should start getting into the habit of putting his own impulses second for a change.
Tony averted his eyes back out of the window whilst Peter was thinking, so it almost came as a surprise when he spoke.
“I bumped into someone today – just a random guy on his bike – but he… he had the same name as my last legal guardian.”
Oh. Oh shit.
“That must’ve been really difficult,” Tony acknowledged in a voice barely above a whisper, and Peter nodded in response. Lord knows the way in which Pete’s last foster arrangement came to an end would have been traumatic for anyone, let alone for someone who proceeded to live on the streets for several months. Tony imagined Peter, not even a year ago, coming home to find out he had lost the last person who cared for him in a fire. Then, of course, there was the more recent fire at the kid’s apartment building – Christ, they really needed to discuss getting a therapist for Peter, didn’t they? “I’m really sorry, kid,” Tony continued. “Do you want to talk about him?”
Peter shook his head almost violently.
“Right, right, of course. I mean I know as good as anyone, it’s hard to talk about the people we lose.” Peter’s face was unreadable, but there was definitely something there. Tony assumed it was grief. “You must miss him, huh?”
Peter frowned. “Miss who?”
Uhh… “Your foster parent?”
Even in the dim light of the window, Tony could just about see the colour drain from Peter’s face. When he spoke, there was an unmistakable shake in his voice. “You... you think I'm upset ‘cause I was reminded of someone I'm mourning.” It was somewhere between a question and a statement, but it was said quietly enough that Tony doubted it was even meant for him. Peter’s expression steeled as his fingers tightened against the fabric of his jeans. “I hated him.”
…Huh?
“He was the worst person I’ve ever met,” Peter continued, his eyes going slightly blank as he spoke with surprising resolve. “I’m not grieving, I just- it made me remember that- that- God, I don’t even know what you’d call him, he was-“ Peter cut himself off to take a couple of calming breaths and blink away the tears in his eyes. When he continued, his voice grew soft. “By the time the fire happened, I was barely living there anymore. I only went back to that place for meals, or if it was too cold to sleep outside, and I hate it sometimes, I know I shouldn’t think it- feel it, even, but that fire was the best thing that had happened to me in a while, if only ‘cause I knew he was gone.”
That… was a lot.
“You never said…” was all Tony could bring himself to whisper.
“I never saw a reason to,” Peter muttered. “Look, I… I can’t get into this now, okay? Thanks for checking on me, really, and maybe one day I’ll tell you the full story, but tonight I really just wanna get that man out of my head.”
Tony was quick to take the olive branch, even if he was still reeling from the turn the conversation had taken. “Hey, that’s no problem, buddy,” he assured. “Dinner’s gonna be done in a few if you feel like joining us? We won’t have to talk about this tonight – in fact, Pepper has an amazing story about someone in the finance office getting outed for having an affair that I’ll bet she’s dying to tell you. That sound good?”
Peter let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, that sounds great… And I don’t know what you’re cooking, but it smells incredible.” The smile he gave was weak, but as far as Tony could tell, it was genuine, and he'd take any smile he could get from Peter right now.
Tony beamed. “Ah, that’s nonnina Maria’s famous bucatini all’amatriciana. It’s definitely a dish worth getting off the floor for.”
At last, Peter gave a proper laugh, and Tony couldn’t help but feel a small sense of achievement.
*
They made their way to the kitchen after that. Tony had taken a moment to check if it was okay if he filled Pepper in on what they’d talked about, and Peter had given his consent. Still, even in his state of emotional exhaustion, it meant a lot that Tony always asked him before sharing that sort of stuff. Plus, he wouldn’t have to be there when they spoke about it, so he was free to spend the rest of the evening trying to distract himself.
Dinner turned out to taste even better than it smelled; they had been gradually increasing his portion sizes ever since they found out about his metabolism, meaning the helping on his plate was almost comically large. Peter found himself having to blink back tears at the thought that filling meals were now a regular occurrence.
…Yeah, the events of the day had definitely thrown his emotions for a loop.
If Tony and Pepper noticed, however, they didn’t mention it (something he was very grateful for). They kept up their usual bantering conversation throughout the meal, leaving Peter to listen along contentedly as they ate.
It wasn’t until they’d finished eating that Peter was addressed directly. As Tony wiped his mouth with his napkin, he cleared his throat. “Oh, kid, ‘been meaning to say – how do you feel about heading up to the compound tomorrow?”
“Oh, uh, sure!” Peter responded uncertainly.
“Late notice, I know, but I figured if there’s nothing else on, we might as well keep testing those creepy spider powers of yours.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “I’d argue they aren’t any creepier than Captain America’s.”
“Ah-ah, he isn’t sticky.”
“What about Ant-Man?”
“The suit makes him shrink, doesn’t count.”
“Banner, then,” Peter countered firmly.
“Ehh, I’d argue that’s more scary than creepy.”
“Touché.”
“So it’s settled,” Tony decided. “I’ll meet you out here bright and early tomorrow. Let’s say… 11am?”
Pepper groaned audibly, and Peter stifled a laugh. “11 works for me. Oh!” It was then that Peter remembered his discussion with Ned and MJ about the protest meet - now seemed as good a time as any to ask. “Ned invited me to a sleepover on Saturday – would it be fine if I go?”
There was a tense moment, in which Pepper and Tony exchanged silent looks, that made Peter slightly apprehensive over if they’d say yes. Fortunately, they seemed to reach a consensus fairly quickly. “Yeah, of course,” Pepper replied. Peter had to restrain himself from giving a sigh of relief. “You guys going anywhere else, or are you just going to stay at Ned's?”
“Probably just staying at Ned's,” Peter lied. It was something he usually had no problem doing, but this time he couldn’t help but feel guilty – especially since they were being so kind. “He said something about ordering pizza and having a movie night.”
“Well, that sounds lovely,” Pepper beamed. “Just let us know what time you’d like picking up on Sunday.”
It wasn’t much longer, once the table was cleared and the dishes washed, that Peter was able to excuse himself and head back to his room. He sent a message to Ned confirming he would be able make their arrangement, and his phone buzzed with a grateful reply from his friend in under a minute.
When Peter lay down to sleep, it was with a bitter taste in his mouth; he was lying to Tony and Pepper about not going out as Spider-Man, he was lying to Ned and MJ about not going to the protest meet with them, and part of him realised he was lying to himself when he tried to justify his actions.
He wanted to help his friends. The whole point of Spider-Man was helping people, so if he couldn’t do that… what was he doing?
It would work out, he was sure.
It had to.