Chapter 12
Peter’s first day of work was smooth. He couldn’t have asked for anything better, actually.
At his father’s heart lay an electrical engineer: Tony had gone to MIT at the ripe age of 15 to get his degree in engineering. Peter’s scientific pursuits were elsewhere, more along the lines of physics, but he enjoyed seeing some of the research being done. Despite their differences, Tony had a specific project already picked for Peter, computer modeling of astrophysical phenomena in a new program Tony made, which was suspiciously more along the lines of Peter’s field of interest.
It started off slow, but the work gradually ramped up and Peter found himself both challenged and intrigued by the position. As the summer weeks flew by and Peter spent more time with his father, he’d realized that this was a good arrangement. He was happy.
Of course, he wasn’t so pleased when he was Spiderman having to sneak around on patrols and keep looking behind his back to make sure nothing was following him, but the sacrifice wasn’t too terrible.
Tony and Peter were growing closer and they had a great routine. On Wednesdays, Peter would stay at the towers for dinner after work. Tony and Steve would have a drink and they would eat dinner and watch a movie before Peter went home. Sometimes Peter would come over on Saturdays. He’d further avoided any other sleepovers after the strep throat debacle with these weekly dinners, so that was a win.
Laying low as Spiderman was becoming even more difficult. There’d been a particularly close call when Peter had run into Thor and Steve following some trail of destruction that Loki created, and was able to get away at the last second. Although, he was pretty sure Steve saw him and maybe made the decision not to pursue. Other than that, things were good.
August 10th rolled around, Peter’s eighteenth birthday, and much to his dismay Tony had discovered the date and practically harassed Peter until he agreed to a nice dinner in the towers. Tony even wanted him to invite his friends, but he set a hard line on that one. It was a Thursday, blazing hot outside, when Tony led Peter up to the penthouse and had a whole six course meal waiting for him. Steve sat at the table, eyes bright and smiling, present piled high on the ground next to him.
“Dad,” Peter blushed, averting his gaze to Steve and then down to the ground. “Steve. Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”
“Well, you only turn eighteen once! You’re lucky Steve talked me out of buying you the Rolls Royce I had my eye on.” Tony laughed at the look on his son’s face. Peter opened presents, including a new phone, new headphones, another new laptop -- that Peter did not need, he reminded Tony--, and the offer of a trip to Europe. Then they sat down to eat dinner.
JARVIS interrupted soon after.
“Sir, I’ve acquired new intel on Spiderman. From the information your drones have collected I’ve pinpointed a radius of one mile where he might reside. There are approximately 80,000 people in this area that I will begin to background search and investigate.” Peter froze in his chair, a strangled choke barely making its way out of his throat.
“Very well, then.” Tony commented, not even looking up from his dinner plate.
Nausea swirled in Peter’s stomach at the thought, an uncomfortable but familiar fluttering enveloping his entire torso.
“Still on that, Tony?” Steve murmured, half of his attention on Tony and Spiderman and the other on taking a sip of his glass of wine.
“Of course I am.” Tony snapped, making Peter’s spine straighten even further. “Because of him, a mass murderer is still in this city.” The smell of the salmon and mashed potatoes hit Peter harder and made his stomach twist even more unpleasantly.
“I think he’s mostly misunderstood.” Steve added in, the casual cadence of his voice startling Peter. If they just knew that it was their son they were talking about, scrutinizing, this conversation would be very different. Or at least Peter really hoped it would.
Pure raw panic gripped Peter’s chest, ripping at his heart.
“I most certainly do not misunderstand.” Tony hissed in contempt, his fork clattering onto his plate. “You know how I feel about this.” Tony’s side-eyed Steve who was sitting beside him.
Steve waved Tony’s attitude off.
“He’s obviously a young boy, confused about what was happening. You’re taking this too far, you don’t need to ruin him for it.” Steve’s voice was bored, almost apathetic, as they quite literally were talking about Peter and his future.
“I’ll ruin whoever I wish.” Peter for sure lost all of his color at the words coming out of Tony’s mouth. This sounded like a conversation they’d had before, multiple times, according to how Steve was acting. It was eerily similar to how Steve had talked to Tony about Peter when they first met.
Peter tried to open his mouth, say something, investigate what exactly Tony was going to do, but he found his lips locked shut. Locked from anxiety or sheer terror he did not know, but he decided quite quickly when he felt saliva pool in his mouth.
Not now. The queasiness intensified while Peter desperately tried to abate it.
Steve and Tony were oblivious to just how green Peter had become during the conversation.
“So dramatic.” Steve remarked while trying to change the topic, but Tony was already off on a tangent.
“That kid is no more than a common criminal. It’s cowardly to hide your identity like that when you have such a big influence on the city.” Tony took a second to pick up his glass of wine and take a gulp. He looked at Peter for a second, doing a quick double take, before setting his glass back down and continuing.
“This no-kill thing of his is dangerous. Dangerous, and stupid if you ask me. You have to kill to protect innocent people. And now, that Goblin is still out there killing and killing all because of Spiderman. You could basically call the kid a murderer.”
Peter’s hands flew to his mouth and the next thing he knew, the contents of his stomach were burning up the back of his throat and it took everything within him to swallow it down only to delay it. Abruptly pushing his chair back and standing up, Steve and Tony’s eyes averted to him.
“You okay?” Tony questioned with concern and Peter swiftly turned around and rushed towards the bathroom, unable to stop the inevitable. Tony was up and on Peter’s heels in an instant. Peter barely got the door closed and locked before he was on his knees and retching into the toilet.
“Peter!” Tony exclaimed as the door slammed in his face, one hand pressed firmly against the door while the other tried the door knob. “Are you okay?!” Peter could hear the franticness in Tony’s voice but was unable to stop the bitter fluid being ejected from his stomach.
Peter couldn’t respond with the tears forming in his eyes, threatening to spill over. Couldn’t respond with the shakiness he knew would be in his voice.
“Peter, let me in!” Tony hand banged on the door once while still jiggling at the door knob. Something was nagging the back of Tony’s brain, trying to piece together a puzzle that he had started from the minute he met Peter. He shook it off and tried to focus on his sick son.
“I’m okay!” Peter exclaimed back, voice weak with nausea. “Just… nauseous. Give me a second.”
Peter wretched again, losing more of the dinner he had just been eating, after sucking in an unsteady breath. He stayed over the toilet for a couple more minutes, crossing his legs to double over to make his stomach more comfortable.
“Pete.” Tony pleaded on the other side of the door, wanting nothing more than to comfort his son. Peter stood up on his wobbly legs and splashed some cold water on his face before swishing some around in his mouth. He hated throwing up. The last time had been after Peter and Tony’s altercation, and he desperately wished he didn’t get like this with his anxiety.
Peter opened the door to a very apprehensive Tony. He smiled weakly, trying to break the tension, but Tony just furrowed his eyebrows.
“Have you been sick all day? What happened?” Tony shook his head, grabbing Peter’s arm and practically pulling him over to the couch to rest. Steve had opened the window to let some fresh air in, and Peter was grateful.
“I dunno.” Peter mumbled, rubbing his sweat-covered forehead. “Just got some nausea. Probably nothing.” He pushed it off, knowing the cause of the vomiting episode. He’d always been like this, throwing up when he was anxious. He remembered at school when he was a child throwing up on the floor after a fire drill.
“Does this happen often?” Tony inquired, almost a little suspiciously, and Peter shook his head, telling the truth.
“No. Not often. Just sometimes I get like this. Nothing to worry about.” Peter tried to brush it off, but Tony really examined him. He was still pale, covered in a sheen later of sweat, breaths quick and shallow.
“You don’t look okay. You’re staying here tonight, and I’m going to have you take the day off tomorrow. No way you are working like that.”
“But-”
“No buts, Peter. You’re sick. You just vomited all of your dinner. And you look terrible. All on your eighteenth birthday!” Tony practically scolded him as Peter scowled.
“I’m fine, dad. It happens sometimes. I just have a queasy stomach.”
Tony vehemently shook his head, putting his foot down metaphorically.
“You’re staying here. I’m not arguing. Go take a shower, I’ll grab you a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt to change into.”
After Peter thoroughly washed himself in the hot shower then brushed his teeth, he pulled his phone out to call Wade.
“Whaddup-” Peter cut his boyfriend off.
“Wade.” He breathed out, tears pooling in his eyes again. “I… Tony said some things at dinner about Spiderman that really weren't good.” He heard Wade sigh over the phone.
“Tell me everything.” Peter poured his heart out over the phone, crying about how his own father thinks he’s a murderer, hunting him down with all of his technology to do what with him - throw him in jail? Kill him?
Peter shivered.
“I’ll fucking kill him.” Wade growled, pacing in their apartment.
“I vomited, I was so anxious.” Peter whispered like it was a shameful secret. He heard Wade bring in a breath through his teeth.
“I’m coming to get you. Then, I’m going to take Tony’s metal arm from his suit and stick it so far-” Peter didn’t let him finish that.
“No, no. I’m okay now. I’ll be okay. Just… upset.” Peter sat on the edge of the bathtub, setting his head in his hands. “I feel like we’re finally at such a good place and this is really just… messing me up.” Peter couldn’t find any other words to describe how he was feeling. Wade knew that and kept silent on the other line.
“I feel like we’re father and son. Things have been so good. Work is great. I love having dinner with him and Steve and… I just, I love him, Wade.” Peter finally admitted out loud, to himself. He loved Tony. After nine months of getting to really know his dad, to see him as somebody other than that stupid billionaire or superhero, he’d really come to love him.
“Oh, Pete.” Wade murmured, rubbing his forehead. “I know, baby. We’re gonna figure it out.” Peter sniffled, wiping his nose.
“I have to go back. I’ll see you tomorrow, love you.”
Tony had left the comfiest pair of sweatpants Peter had ever felt along with a soft t-shirt outside of his bedroom door. When he arrived back to the dining room he found the table had already been cleaned and that Steve and Tony were no longer there. He made his way to the living room, finding Steve and Tony on the couch arguing over which movie they should watch.
On the coffee table, Peter spotted two ginger ales, two bottles of water, a bottle of Pepto Bismol, and then a bottle of tylenol. His heart ached even worse.