Didn't Leave Nobody But The Baby
"Spider-Man and Spy Girl?" Peter could tell that Tony was vacillating between amused and concerned as Morgan bounced on her feet excitedly. Peter kept tapping the bracelet, inwardly praying to Thor himself that his coding had survived Strange's spell. He assumed it had, since Morgan (1) still had the bracelet, and (2) it apparently allowed her to find him without tipping Friday off last night. And if Morgan's bracelet was working, that meant that Natasha's was as well. And Peter could only hope that Nat would be wearing it, thinking it was something Morgan gave her one day.
Peter was operating under a lot of assumptions (including the one that somewhere in Natasha's super-secret-spy brain she remembered the codes they worked out), but he was also operating under a time crunch. It seemed to be the story of his life, really. Ever since the spider bite, time seemed to be running out. And Peter was just so bone-achingly tired. His trauma had trauma and the only thing he wanted to do he wasn't allowed to do because all his attempts had been thwarted by his enhancements (and his dreams and some weird side-effect of magic that for some reason kept him alive despite his very best efforts). Which was the point of this whole ill-fated project in the first place. Figure out a way to get rid of the enhancements—figure out a way to get rid of Peter. Easy-peasy. With an added bonus of curing incurable diseases for those who actually deserved to live. This was a no-brainer for Peter.
So of course—of course—it would all go to shit. Because Peter wasn't capable of making choices that kept people safe. Even in doing his damnedest to stay away, he was destined to trap his loved ones in his web of horrors.
"..njamin. Kid. Over here." Peter flinched as Tony snapped his fingers in front of his face. He seemed wary. "There you are. Would you like to share with the class?" He raised his eyebrow as he put his hand on Morgan's shoulder. "Because if you haven't noticed, we're kind of in a situation here."
"Yeah, I'm not stupid." Keep your distance, annoy him, get them safe, then get away. If there was one thing Peter knew well, it was Tony. And he was positive he'd be able to push enough of his buttons that as soon as they were rescued, he'd be allow to slip away. Tony may be stubborn, but the thing about sharing a lot of the same wounds, is Peter knew exactly which ones to touch in order to make his escape. The last thing Peter wanted to do was cause more pain—but if it kept his family safe in the end—it didn't matter. Nothing except their safety mattered.
"I never said you were. But if you're going to involve my daughter in whatever this is, I'm going to need some answers. Ones preferably not tainted with alcohol." Tony plucked the newly-filled glass from Peter's hand (how do they keep appearing like that?) and threw it away. Peter rolled his eyes and sat down on a rolling chair. He looked at Morgan instead of Tony.
“Ok, Momo. I just sent a secret transmission to another spider,” “IS IT AUNT NAT??” “and she is going to meet you at a super-secret location as soon as she can.”
“You’re in touch with Natasha?” “What location?” “You aren’t going anywhere right now Morgan.” Rhodey, Happy, and Tony spoke at the same time. Morgan glared at them. “Shhhhhh. Fitz is telling me the plan. You,” she pointed at the three adults, “are not spy girls or Spider-Man. You’re lucky we’re letting you listen.” This last part was said with the same gravitas her mother had when leading a board room, and for a moment, the four men in the room stilled as they were reminded of Pepper.
Peter high-fived her. “Exactly.” He gave Morgan back her bracelet and rolled his chair over to the computer. He started undoing the tower, separating out the CPU and the hard drive. He unplugged the power supply and started fiddling with the motherboard. As he worked, he glanced up at the others. “Listen, I know you don’t trust me,” he heard Happy say no shit in Rhodey’s ear, “but Abnormal Osborn and his merry band of murderers aren’t playing. I’m kind of your only choice.”
“That’s not how this works, kid.” Tony snorted, “Rhodey and I are literal geniuses. And as much as you like to brag, Barney Gumble, you don’t have the greatest track record for,” he mimed drinking a beer bottle, “clear thinking.”
For a moment, Peter and Tony stared at each other. Keep your distance, annoy him, get them safe, then get away. Peter couldn’t afford another panic attack. His secrets were already on shaky ground and as much as Tony sounded annoyed, there was a very unwelcome tone of concern he kept weaving into their conversations. It almost reminded Peter of the Before, and he was getting worried at how quickly Tony seemed to warm to him as soon as he realized he was Spider-Man. Peter wasn’t exactly sure what memories of his alter-ego stayed and which ones left, but he knew Tony had spent awhile searching for him after…it. There was obviously some sort of goodwill preserved—goodwill that Peter desperately wanted to destroy before they all found out the truth. (Which, honestly, shouldn’t be possible and if wizards had Yelp, Stephen would totally be getting zero stars.)
Because Peter was nothing but trouble. Peter was nothing but danger. Peter was nothing but death. Peter was nothing.
He handed Tony some computer parts and walked back over to Morgan. “Norman is unstable. He wants two things. The JACCASS,” — “YES. I told you it was a good name.”—”And me. We can give him both. We just need to make him think the first works long enough for you to get away. I can handle the second. But we need to get Morgan to 7-Eleven.” Peter could tell from their faces that that was the last thing they expected him to say.
“I love their cherry slurpees!” “I know, Mo.” Tony looked helplessly at Rhodey, who walked over to Peter and plucked the drink from his hand (seriously. was it a new superpower? he didn’t even remember picking another one up). “If this is just a game to you, so help me—”
“Am I interrupting something?” They looked up and found Osborn leaning against the doorway. He had a chicken drumstick in his hand and lazily waved it in front of him. “Lunch is ready. Don’t leave the house. I’ll be back in an hour to see how much progress you made.”
Before they could stop her, Morgan ran up to him. “Can I get a slurpee?”
“What?”
“Can I get a slurpee? Please?? You said I could use the swimming pool but Uncle Happy and I always get slurpees before swimming. It’s tradition! There’s a gas station right outside the gate. I saw it before we came here and Dad promised me. Please? It’s almost Christmas. Please, Mr. Norman, sir.”
“Morgan…” Tony hissed, picking her up.
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Tony. I’ll get her a slurpee. I’m generous like that. I’ll have someone bring it to you, Miss Stark.”
“But it’ll melt if someone brings it. I HAVE to get it, please. I won’t get out of the car. I promise.” Peter held his breath. Morgan didn’t falter, but kept looking at Osborn hopefully.
“Fine. But the rest of your family stays. And if you try to leave that car or make any trouble for my men, I will shoot your dad in the head. And I’m pretty sure you can’t afford to lose another parent.” Morgan wiggled out of Tony’s arms and walked towards Osborn. As Tony went to grab her again, Osborn signaled for one of his men to take Morgan out as the others had their guns trained on the rest of the group. “Calm down, Stark. She’ll be back.” He smirked and walked out.
Tony turned to Peter, but Happy got to him first. It took everything in his power not to flinch at the fist to his face, and his overactive senses (which had been ratcheting up steadily since that morning) flared at Rhodey’s and Tony’s shouts. “HAP. Stop!”
“Wow, dude. Did Snow White teach you to hit like that?” Peter rubbed his jaw. Happy grabbed his shirt, shaking him slowly. “You’re such a little shit. How dare you put something like that into her head. What is your problem? She’s 8.” Rhodey didn’t look too sympathetic to Peter’s blossoming bruises. Tony didn’t look at all. He was still watching the door where Morgan had just been. After two long minutes, he turned and looked at Peter. “If she doesn’t come back, that’s on you.”
They left the room as Peter sank down on the couch. Once he was sure they had left, Peter let out a strangled sob and something that sounded like, “it always will be.”