“You may be gone from my sight but you are never gone from my heart” -unknown
--
May had always told Peter that his parents loved him. That they would have loved the man he grew up to be. May would tell Peter stories about his parents, and Peter listened with wonder. He was so young when they died, he barely remembered them. All he had were a couple of memories and a couple of pictures.
He remembered their eyes. Both his mom and his dad had bright blue eyes.
After his parents died, Peter would look at himself in the mirror and try to find blue in his eyes. He leaned in, but still, all he saw were brown eyes staring back at him. Peter always wondered why his eyes never matched his parents. But May would always dismiss it. She said sometimes that happens. They were still his parents. May had shown her pictures of his mom when she was pregnant, so Peter never questioned anything.
That was, until today.
Peter sat in his biology class, listening to the teacher talk on and on about recessive and dominant genes.
“So, if two parents have the recessive genes, can their children have the dominate trait?” The teacher asked the class.
“No,” Flash called out. “Because they don’t carry the dominate trait at all.”
“Can anyone give me an example?”
Betty’s hand shot up.
“Blue eyes. Blue-eyed parents can’t have a brown-eyed child.”
Peter’s head perked up. That couldn’t be true. His parents had blue eyes but they had him. Brown-eyed Peter.
“That is a perfect example.” The teacher nodded in approval. “This is the classic, textbook example. Any child with brown eyes but has two blue-eyed parents is likely adopted.”
“Or the dad is secretly the mailman!” Flash joked, and his friends high-fived him.
“Flash, please be appropriate, this is high school.”
Flash ducked his head, embarrassed for being called out.
Peter tuned out the rest of the class. In a state of utter confusion, he thought about what this all meant for him.
So his parents might not really be his parents? Well, his mom had to be his mom, because he saw the pictures of her pregnant. But was his dad not really his dad?
Who was his father?
When the bell finally rang, Peter scrambled to get up and pack his books into his old, ripped backpack. As he scrambled down the hall, narrowly avoiding Flash’s spitball, he saw Ned.
“Ned!” Peter ran to catch up to his friend.
“Hey Peter, how was biology?”
“Eh, weird.”
“How so?”
“I just… gotta do some more studying.” Peter didn’t want to lie to his friend, but he really did want to do more research before he shared his hypothesis with his best friend.
“I feel that.” Ned nodded. “If I ever want to get into Stark Industries, I have so much studying to do.”
“I know you will man, you’re like the smartest kid here.”
“You and I both know that’s not how it works,” Ned sighed.
Peter did know. If you weren’t already a part of the Stark Industries empire, it was impossible to get a job with them. If you didn’t work for Stark Industries or were a part of the Stark Industries conglomerate, you were poor. Dirt poor. But if you were fortunate enough to be somehow connected to SI, you were ungodly rich. Stark Industries owned 95% of the world’s wealth. And that wasn’t an exaggeration. Even the cooks and servants were well taken care of. Everyone wanted their part, but only a few got in. And even fewer got close to the genius who started it all.
Tony Stark. The genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Just before Peter was born, he was becoming infamously wealthy. His genius helped him grow beyond just building weapons. By the time Peter was two, he basically ruled the world with the tech he created. Tony Stark built the modern world, and he had complete control over it all. He had an ungodly amount of money and fame and people who would do anything for him. He had everything he wanted.
Unbeknownst to the world, there was one thing he desperately wanted.
His son. The son that was stolen from him.
--
After school ended, Peter took the subway home. Peter arrived at their apartment in Queens to find May gone with a note.
‘Took an extra hospital shift. Gotta eat somehow, with that appetite of yours I need all the shifts I can get. See you after 8PM.’
-May
Peter sighed. Guess he couldn’t ask May questions about his parents until later.
Peter went into his room and dug up the photo album of his parents. There wasn’t much, but he looked through the few photos of him with his parents. The more he looked, the more he noticed he didn’t look anything like Richard Parker. He had his mother’s head shape. But that was it. He sighed and closed the photo album.
Instead, he turned to his laptop. And tried to find anything on his parents online. Nothing came up. Maybe his parents struggled with infertility and used a sperm donor? Or did his mother cheat on Richard?
After spending hours researching with nothing to show for his efforts, he slammed his laptop closed. Huffing in annoyance, he stood and grabbed his Spiderman suit. Since it was a little chillier out than usual, he put the suit on over some sweats and a long sleeve shirt. The shirt had a periodic table on it, which was his birthday present from May when he turned 15 a few months ago. He was such a nerd for loving it.
Every time he went out as Spiderman, he could forget all his problems. He could forget how poor he was. He could forget how hungry he was. He could forget how his father probably wasn’t really his father.
This day was a good one for Spiderman. He stopped a guy from stealing from a street vendor. That felt good. He stopped three muggings in a row. That felt even better.
The fourth mugging didn’t go so well.
When Peter spotted two men in an ally by the dumpster, he thought it would be a piece of cake. One guy held the woman in a chokehold and demanded her purse. The other was looking down the street as a lookout. Peter thought it would be simple. He couldn’t possibly get hurt.
Little did he know.
“Hey, Mr. Criminals!” Peter leaped down and shoved the men away from the woman. She took off with her purse.
“Oh, it’s that spider.” The one who had been holding the woman said. “You know you really shouldn’t get involved in these kinds of things.”
“And you really shouldn’t steal people’s things,” Peter shrugged.
“You got a lot of nerve,” The other man spoke, “I ain’t so forgiving.”
“I’m sure the cops will forgive you. But probably not,” Peter taunted.
Peter should have reacted faster. He knew better. But when his spider-sense screamed for him to jump, he didn’t.
And that’s how peter ended up with a knife stuck in the side of his stomach.
“What the hell man!” Peter screamed, hunching over from the pain. He had been stabbed before, but not in the stomach. And not this deep. He could feel the blood seeping out, covering his shirt underneath.
“I take it easy on targets. But you think I’m that dumb to not carry a knife?”
Peter grunted, the pain becoming almost unbearable. Peter focused on his breathing, trying not to topple over. In the distance, the faintest sounds of sirens could be heard.
“Common man, I hear the cops, we gotta go.” And with that, the men took off.
The sirens were quiet, but starting to get louder.
There was no way Peter was going to be able to get away fast enough from the cops. He could hardly stand. But he couldn’t let them discover he was Spiderman.
The sirens were louder. They were getting close.
So Peter acted as fast as he could. He hobbled over to the dumpster and ripped his mask, web-shooters, and pants off, revealing his clothing underneath. Carefully he peeled off the top of his homemade spider suit, carefully avoiding moving the knife.
All Peter could hear were the sirens screaming at him. Screaming at him to move faster.
After he shoved everything under the dumpster, he could hardly stand. He toppled to his knees, his palms hitting the dirt.
The last thing Peter heard before he passed out was the slam of a car door and boots running towards him.
--
If Tony was being honest, he loved his power. He drank it in like a fine wine. He loved how people would do anything and everything for him. Owning the most powerful company in the world, which owned the majority of the world’s wealth, had huge perks. He had the nicest cars, the nicest clothes, and accessories, the nicest vacation homes. He could buy anything.
As he sat on his balcony at the top of Stark Tower, he looked out on the horizon of New York City. He had the best view, a sweeping 360-degree view, from the top of the tallest building. He could see everything in his favorite city.
But there was one thing he never got to see. The one thing he really wished he could do.
His son.
All those years ago, just before Stark Industries became as incredibly powerful as it currently was, Tony slept around with lots of different people. He never really thought much of the countless women he was with until one of them took his breath away.
Mary Fitzpatrick.
She was stunning. She was smart, witty, beautiful. She was everything Tony wanted. The sex was amazing, and Tony sure as hell took advantage of that. Tony thought he was maybe falling in love with the girl of his dreams. She was perfect.
She was also married. And a spy on a mission to gather intel on Tony.
When Tony found out, he was furious. But his best friend Rhodey talked him out of hiring a hitman to kill her. Because, as he said, ‘that’s exactly what they want you to do, then they can shut us down.’
So, despite Tony’s darkest fantasies, Tony did not kill his former lover. But he watched her. Watched her like a hawk from afar.
He hacked into lots of databases to find out what she was doing. When he found her pregnancy results from her OBGYN, he lost it.
She was pregnant just two months after they had been together. Tony knew, he just knew, that it was his kid. But he wanted proof. No, he needed proof. At the time, he didn’t know why he needed the proof. Was it to destroy her relationship with her husband Richard? Was it to ruin her career as a spy? He didn’t know.
So he invited Mary back over. Mary was none the wiser, not knowing Tony had discovered her career and baby. Tony was slick, he worked his magic and just as fast as she arrived at his penthouse, they were chatting like old friends again.
When Tony offered Mary water, she thought nothing of it. She didn’t notice the water was drugged until she was on the verge of unconsciousness.
While asleep, Tony called in Bruce Banner. Bruce ran the paternity test, and confirmed the baby was in fact Tony’s.
Tony never forgot the moment.
“Do you know how unethical this is?” Bruce asked as he carefully extracted the DNA sample from the baby. It was a newer method that Bruce and his team were developing, but was effective.
“I’d do it for you,” Tony offered.
“You don’t know how,” Bruce rolled his eyes.
“No, but I would pay for it.”
“Well gee thanks, I don’t think I need to drug any of my ex’s to DNA test their unborn baby anytime soon, but I’ll let you know.”
“You know, I really don’t appreciate the sarcasm,” Tony huffed but was met with silence.
“Banner?” Tony asked.
“Tony,” Bruce paused. “It’s yours.”
“What?”
“That’s your kid. 99.9% match.”
“Shit.”
“And it’s a boy from the looks of it.”
“Really?”
“What do you want to do boss?”
Tony never forgot his response. To this day, the memory lives on in his brain, etched deep in his soul.
“That’s my kid. Mine. I’ll do everything in my power to keep my kid.”
“What about Mary?” Bruce nodded towards the woman passed out on Tony’s couch.
“The hell with her. I’m taking my kid.”
When Mary had woken up, Tony stared at her for a long time. She narrowed her eyes under his intense glare. She could see the coldness and anger in his eyes.
Mary realized he knew.
Tony gave her an ultimatum. Come back to him, raise the baby with him, be one happy little family, or he would make her life a living hell. He was willing to do anything for his son, including killing everyone Mary ever loved.
So she stayed.
The day Peter was born was the greatest day of Tony’s life. Holding his son for the first time was exhilarating. He had never felt such a deep love before. Tony knew that his son was his everything the day he was born.
It was also Mary’s biggest nightmare. Mary feared what would happen to her after her son was born. She was no longer needed in Tony’s eyes. She had the kid, and now she was disposable. She knew that Tony would get rid of her the first chance he had.
Which is why the second Tony went to talk to the doctor, Mary took her son and ran.
Ran as fast and as far away as she could.
Tony came back into the hospital room minutes later to find an empty bed and an empty crib. The sheets were still warm, but Mary was long gone.
Tony never saw another trace of Mary Fitzpatrick again.
He never gave up though. He never stopped looking. He did everything in his power to find her, but more importantly, his son. He hacked every intelligence database in the world looking for her, and still nothing. No location, no name change, no death certificate. And most importantly, no birth certificate. She had done an incredible job disappearing. If Tony wasn’t so frustrated, he would be impressed.
Tony had no idea what his son looked like. It killed him. As he became more powerful in the world, his resources to find his son grew. The lost son fueled Tony’s fire. It fueled him to gain power and expand his search. He had agents around the world looking for Mary, Avengers searching through their networks and offered a cash reward for finding his son. He even had his DNA tested against every boy brought into a hospital or police station, which he called the Peter protocol. He was grasping at straws, but it was better than doing nothing.
He could have had another kid with another woman. Anyone would’ve been willing to give him a child for the money. But deep down, he knew that his kid, the one that was made from true love (as corny as that sounds) was the only kid he wanted.
Tony sighed at the thought. There had been no leads in 15 years. Nothing.
“Sir,” Jarvis, Tony’s AI, interrupted. “Queen's memorial hospital is on the line.”
“Ugh what do they want, a donation?”
“No sir,” Jarvis paused, “it seems the Peter protocol has been triggered.”
“What?” Tony shot to his feet. “Give me everything you have.”
“It seems a young boy by the name of Peter Parker was transported to the hospital after being jumped in an alleyway in Queens. He is currently in stable condition. As required by you, since Peter fit the potential description you gave all hospitals, they tested his blood against yours and it is a 99.9% match.”
“Have them run it again. No, have them run it 10 more times. Call Happy and have him meet me there.”
“As you wish sir.”
“I’m on my way,” Tony announced the Ironman armor wrapping around him.
--
When Tony arrived at the hospital, multiple doctors were waiting for him.
“Mr. Stark,” The one in the front called out, “I’m Dr. Simmons, head physician here. We performed the DNA results 10 additional times as requested, and it is a match.”
Dr. Simmons had been a doctor here for years. She had run these tests before, never having a match. Never did she expect to find anything from these tests. Nor did she expect to find something even more interesting about the kid’s DNA. He was mutated. So she prescribed stronger dosages for all his meds quietly and made sure to give him a soundproof room for him to rest in. But just because Tony Stark was the father, didn’t mean she had to disclose that to him.
So she didn’t.
“That’s my kid,” Tony said, pushing the doctors aside and heading for the door his son was in.
“Yes Mr. Stark,” Dr. Simmons said, “but sir there’s protocol for this, CPS will need to be contacted.”
Tony had never turned around faster in his life.
“If you so much as touch the phone and call anyone about this, I will make sure you and all the other doctors here never see the light of day again. You’re not keeping me from my kid any longer, do you understand?”
Dr. Simmons and the other doctors shrunk back.
“O-Of course sir. My apologies.”
“Damn straight,” Tony grunted, opening the door to his son’s room and closing it behind him.
Tony sucked in a breath of air he didn’t realize he so desperately needed. When he let out his breath, he turned and looked down at the bed. He grinned.
It was definitely his son.
He could see a few of Mary’s features. But he saw so much of himself in his son’s face it was uncanny. The messy brown hair, the nose, hell, the kid even had the same hands. He was the mirror image of Tony when Tony went off to MIT.
Tony huffed out a laugh and walked closer to his son.
Tony could tell he was in rough shape. A black eye, an IV attached to his hand, a heart monitor that showed his steady pulse. Tony gently lifted the covers up to see the damage done to his kid’s stomach. The bandages covered everything.
Tony made a mental note to find out who hurt his kid, and how he was going to make sure their death was as painful as possible.
Tony ran a hand through his son’s hair. It was soft. Perfect.
The gentle touch pulled Peter from his dreams.
“Mmm, May I’m tired,” Peter muttered and tried to roll over when pain shot down his side. He groaned.
“Might want to be careful there kiddo,” Tony said.
Peter’s eyes shot open at the unfamiliar voice. He scanned the room, confused until his eyes landed on the source of the voice. Familiar brown eyes stared down at him. Extremely familiar. Like staring in a mirror. It took him less than a second to realize who it was.
“Mr. Stark?” Peter asked with bewilderment. “Wha- what -where -wait – whaaa-”
“You’re in the hospital, you got stabbed in an alley – which believes me won’t happen again – and I’m here to take you home.”
Peter stared at him blankly.
“What?”
“What was the last thing you remember?” Tony asked.
“Umm…” Peter thought, then it came back to him. The muggers. The knife. “I was stabbed.”
“Uh huh, and now you’re in this crappy hospital, but not for long, because we’re going home.”
“Oh, umm, It’s really nice that you’re offering to take me home, but my Aunt-“
“No no, none of that,” Tony waved him off, “don’t worry, I gotcha.”
“What?”
“You ask that a lot huh?”
“I can’t just leave here right?”
“Well look who you’re talking to. I am Tony Stark after all.”
“Um, don’t I need to be discharged?”
“Right,” Tony nodded, and briskly walked over to the door and swung it open, only to find Dr. Simmons waiting right there. “Discharge him, now. My car is waiting out front.”
“He’s not quite ready-“ the doctor started, but stopped when he looked into Tony Stark’s dark and threatening eyes. “I’ll have my assistant gather his things.”
“Good,” Tony huffed, “you had me worried there for a second.”
The doctor scurried off, running to grab prescriptions and a wheelchair to discharge him.
And as quickly as he arrived, Tony left with his kid in tow.
When Happy pulled around the corner in the flashy Audi, Peter glanced at Tony in wonder. He had always heard Tony was rich. But he had no idea what it was like to be rich. As Peter got into the car with the help of Tony – freaking – Stark, he wondered when he was going to wake up from this crazy dream.
“Kid, this is my driver, Happy.”
“Why do they call you Happy?” Peter asked groggily.
“Cause I’m not happy.”
“Oh,” Peter nodded as he yawned. “I’m Peter.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“What do you mean by finally?” Peter asked. He was still so confused, ever since he ‘woke up’ in the hospital, he felt almost loopy. And still, so so tired. This was a weird dream.
“I’ll explain when we are home.”
Peter nodded.
“Take a nap kid, you tired?” Tony asked, and Peter just nodded.
He was out before his head hit the headrest.
--
Tony watched the kid – his kid - the entire ride home. His soft puffs of air that escaped his lips amazed him. His son was with him. And he would never be without his child again.
When they rolled into the garage of Stark Tower, Peter’s head had slipped so that it was resting on Tony’s shoulder.
Tony couldn’t be happier.
“We’re here boss,” Happy announced as he parked.
“Shhhh,” Tony shushed. “You’re going to wake him up.”
“So you just want him to sleep in the car forever?”
“Maybe…. Okay no, I don’t.”
“Want me to get help?” Happy offered.
“No, I can carry him without waking him.”
Tony gently moved Peter’s head so it no longer rested on him. He quietly got out of the car, rounded it, and quietly opened the door to Peter’s side. Gently, Tony unbuckled him and lifted him out of the car, careful not to bump his head or to touch his stab wound.
Holding him bridal style, Tony carried him all the way upstairs. Carried him all the way home.
--
When Peter rolled over, he felt the softest sheets ever. His hands glided over the soft fabric, and he gripped it lightly. He sighed, relaxing further into the comfy mattress.
This wasn’t his bed. This bed was way bigger and softer than his. It was also much nicer than May’s bed.
Where was he?
He sat up and when he looked around, all he knew was he was somewhere super fancy. Everything in the room was, new, sleek and modern. Expensive.
He didn’t have much time to wonder, because the door swung open not 5 seconds after he sat up. Tony Stark stood there, and the memories of being stabbed and in the hospital reminded him of how he must’ve ended up here.
“Mr. Stark?” Peter asked, rubbing his eyes. “This isn’t a dream?”
“No kiddo,” Tony chuckled at the tired eyes looking up at him. “This is real.”
“Where are we?”
“Home.”
“Your home? Why?”
“It’s also your home. As to why, you need to sleep with medical surveillance and the Tower has a whole wing full of the best doctors.”
“But why am I here?” Peter asked. All Peter could guess is that Tony Stark wanted Spiderman to do something for the Stark empire.
“What has Mary told you about your father?” Tony asked.
“Mary?” Peter asked, “you mean my mom? Did you know her?”
“I know her,” Tony said casually, “knew her… wait knew her? As in she’s dead?”
“She’s been dead for years,” Peter shrugged looking away. “She and my dad died in a plane over 10 years ago.”
So that’s why he never found her. Maybe she had someone to help her hide the death certificate. That was unfortunate. He wouldn’t get his revenge. Tony had planned extensively all the things he wanted to do to her when he found her. Tony couldn’t help to be somewhat disappointed. But now, Tony didn’t have to worry about her.
“So who raised you?”
“My aunt, but why do you want to know?”
“Peter, have you ever asked your aunt where you got your brown eyes from?”
“What?”
“Mary had blue eyes. So did that man, Richard.”
Peter stared at Tony, his eyes wide with realization. Tony didn’t know he was Spiderman. Spiderman wasn’t what he was after. He wanted something else. Something to do with his real father.
“You know…. You know that Richard really isn’t my father.”
Tony nodded.
“You…. Do you know…. Are you….” Peter trailed off.
Peter understood. Tony wasn’t looking for Spiderman. He was looking for his son.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
“That’s… no way.”
“I looked for you kid, I’m sorry it took me so long to find you.”
“I – I don’t know what to say. That’s impossible. No, you can’t be right.”
“Common kid, let me show you something,” Tony pulled the covers off of Peter. Peter blankly stared at Tony who maneuvered him out of bed. When it finally kicked in that he needed to get up, Tony already had already hoisted Peter up and out of the room like a toddler.
“I can walk,” Peter grumbled from Tony’s arms.
“Yea, maybe you could. But our doctors want you to avoid physical activity.”
“Walking isn’t that physical,” Peter argued still in Tony’s arms as they went into the elevator.
“We’re not risking it,” Tony explained, the argument ending when the elevator stopped and they stepped out.
The pair went down the hall, to the last door on the left. Tony stood in front of the sleek door until suddenly Peter heard the sound of a lock opening and the door slowly opened.
“How did you do that?” Peter asked.
“My AI.”
It was the only explanation Peter heard before he completely stopped listening to Tony Stark. Peter’s eyes scanned the room. It was shocking. The room was covered in pictures of his mom Mary. There were maps with pinpoints in them. News articles featuring Mary and research papers his mom wrote were scattered around the room.
“What is this place?”
“Mary and I were together for a few months. After a while, she stopped calling. I searched for her, and when I found her, I also found out she was pregnant. With you. Do you see this?” Tony asked, nodding to a piece of paper stuck to the wall. “When I found her, I convinced her to come over so I could run a paternity test. This piece of paper is the results. Do you see what it says? You are my son. I was so excited to be your dad. But shortly after you were born, she ran. I held you the day you were born, then minutes later she swept you away. She kept you from me. She kept me from you, and kept you in the dark, didn’t she? She died and never took responsibility for kidnapping you and keeping you from knowing your father. She lied to you all these years, what kind of mother is that?”
“But, but why would she do that?”
“I always thought it was because she was selfish.”
Peter didn’t know what to think. It was overwhelming.
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Tony reassured holding Peter a little closer, and Peter nodded.
“How did you find me?” Peter wondered.
“I’ve had lots of protocols set up to look for you in all sorts of places.”
“Really?” Peter didn’t even know what to think. It did feel nice to be wanted. But on the other hand, he didn’t really know his biological father. But didn’t he deserve a chance? But what about May?
May.
“Oh shit-” Peter squirmed, and Tony almost dropped him. “I gotta call May, she’s probably worried sick.”
“May? Is she that Aunt of yours?”
“Yea,” Peter nodded, feeling his pockets. Except he wasn’t wearing his sweats and nerdy shirt. Instead, he was in silk pajamas. “Hey where did my clothes and phone go?”
“Your clothes were covered in blood.”
“Oh.”
“Yea so they got thrown out. Yuck. And that phone – my god was it old and terrible – also gone.”
“What?”
“I’ll give you one of my latest models. Not even released yet.”
“Mr. Stark that’s really nice of you but I can’t accept- ”
“My employees call me Mr. Stark.” Tony looked Peter dead in the eye. “Do not call me that.”
Peter broke the eye contact and looked down at the hem of his shirt. Mr. Stark’s gaze was piercing.
“Don’t act all weird on me now kid, you’re fine. Now, let’s get outta here.” Tony said confidently as if he hadn’t scolded Peter. Tony briskly began walking towards the elevator with Peter still in his arms.
“Mr. St—I mean- uh….. I need to call May.”
“Nonsense, common I’ll show you the penthouse view, you’ll love it.”
“I really should call May and get back-”
“You can see any building in Manhattan from my penthouse. World trade center? Yup. Empire state building? Obviously. Even the Chrysler building, crystal clear view.” Tony rambled, ignoring Peter’s comments.
“I gotta go home, May’s going to be super worried-”
“Look,” Tony said, opening the door to the balcony, “look how far you can see.”
“I need to get going-“
“Enough Peter.” Tony scolded, his voice rising. “Stop talking about leaving because you aren’t!”
“But, Mr- sir, I can’t stay here, I need to go home to Queens.”
“You are home.”
“But-”
“But what?”
“I-I-”
“I am your father. Don’t you get it? I’m your dad, and you’re staying here. Where you belong.”
“But May has custody.”
“Not anymore. The state gave me custody when we found you.” Not entirely true, but Tony had enough money and lawyers to throw around to make it true by tomorrow morning.
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry kid,” Tony rubbed Peter’s back gently as he walked back into the main living room and set Peter down on the couch gently. “We’re going to be just fine.”
“Can I at least call May, and let her know I’m okay?”
Tony’s eyes darkened.
“I don’t want to hear her name out of your mouth again, do you understand me?”
“What?” Peter looked up at Tony who was hovering above him.
“She is not your aunt. She’s not biologically related to me, or even Mary. And if things had gone to plan, you never would have met her.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Tony leaned down to Peter’s eye level.
“You’re my son. Mary kept me from you, lied to you all this time. May probably knew all along too. She let you live in poverty when you could have lived like this.” Tony explained, gesturing to the lavish apartment furniture.
“I don’t think she would’ve lied to me.”
“I disagree. But enough of her now. You have me. So no more talking of May, I won’t allow it.”
Peter sadly nodded and looked down at his hands and shivered ever so slightly.
Tony nodded in satisfaction and walked away. Peter watched him as he returned with a fuzzy blanket and draped it over Peter.
“There you go, nice a warm now huh?”
“Yea, thanks,” Peter felt the cozy fabric and pulled it closer to him. The fear that he wouldn’t talk to May again was starting to sink in, and he was desperate for some comfort, any comfort, from what Mr. Stark was telling him.
“So kid, tell me, what do you like to do for fun?”
“Uh-“ Peter thought. “I read books, build computers.”
Definitely don’t tell him about Spiderman.
“Sure,” Tony nodded, encouraging him to continue.
“I also have been building this Lego death star with my friend, we’re close to finishing.”
“Star Wars fan?”
“Yea have you ever seen those really old movies?”
“Way to make me feel old.” Tony joked.
“Sorry, Mr. Stark.”
“Peter,” Tony sighed, “what did I say?”
“Oh yea, sorry… I don’t know what to call you, Tony sounds kinda weird.”
“Then call me dad,” Tony looked at him expectantly.
“Ok…” Peter whispered. “Dad.”
That felt weird to say.
Tony grinned.
“Good boy.” Tony couldn’t stop smiling. “Now that’s settled, why don’t we watch a movie?”
“Can we watch Empire Strikes Back?” Peter asked.
“You heard the kid, Jarvis, tee it up.”
“Of course sir.”
Tony sat down next to his kid. His son that he hadn’t held since he was a baby.
Tony couldn’t stop himself from glancing over and grinning.
--
A week had passed, and Peter was healed. Nonetheless, Tony was adamant about him staying inactive and not allowing him to so much as go down to another floor. Peter knew he healed way too fast for a normal person, and he didn’t want to tell Tony, but god was he bored.
Peter had to say it was kinda weird to live with the richest person in the world. After he fell asleep watching the movie with Tony - his dad - he woke up the next morning to a room full of some of the coolest gadgets and toys that he used to only dream about. He never had money before to get new Legos or video games, but Tony – his dad – got him literally everything.
It was also weird to call him dad. Tony made it clear that calling him Mr. Stark, Tony, or anything other than Dad was unacceptable. Peter knew Tony was technically his dad, but it felt forced. Like all of a sudden, they were supposed to have this deep bond but they didn’t. Peter didn’t really know the man except from what he learned in textbooks back when he went to school. Now his dad wouldn't let him leave the building, even for school. Tony was busy during the entire day working, leaving Peter alone in the penthouse with his bodyguard Happy watching over him. But Happy never said anything so Peter was beginning to die of boredom.
And he missed May. He really fucking missed May. He knew he couldn’t talk about her, but he longed to hug his aunt and for her to tell him it was going to be okay.
His desire to see May is what drove him to lie to Happy.
“Hey Happy,” Peter inquired. The man didn't even look up.
“I’m a little tired, I’m going to take a nap.”
“Whatever kid.” Happy shrugged, not looking up from his phone.
For a man who probably made millions a year on Tony’s payroll, he sure was incompetent.
All the better for Peter.
When he closed and locked his door behind him, he took a deep breath. Thank god Jarvis wasn’t recording his movement from inside the room. For someone so paranoid, Peter was surprised Tony hadn’t put Jarvis in the room immediately. But Tony had mentioned that guest rooms were originally designed to be private, but that he was putting Jarvis in his room over the weekend for Peter’s convenience. Or maybe just to spy on him.
He shuffled over to his closet and quickly changed into black pants and a black hoodie. Peter rushed over to the window and cracked it open just wide enough to fit through. Without his web-shooters, he couldn’t launch off of the building and swing away. But he could climb down the walls.
And that’s exactly what he did.
He made quick work of crawling down the Stark Skyscraper. When he made it low enough, he leaped and stuck to the nearby building. He ran from roof to roof, until he was looking out at the East River. He was discrete about crossing the Queensboro Bridge as a pedestrian. Head down, normal walking pace. Unsuspicious.
When he finally made it to the dumpster where he was stabbed, he looked for his Spiderman suit.
Thank god the trashmen hadn’t looked under the dumpster.
He pulled out his Spiderman suit, web-shooters and all, and put the suit over his clothes. He figured he maybe only had an hour left to be out and would need to be back in the tower before Tony was home.
But at least he had an hour of freedom. An hour as Peter Parker. Just a normal kid from Queens. Well, as normal as Spiderman gets.
Getting to swing around was relieving. Finally, after a week of trying to tiptoe around Tony Stark, he could just do what he loved.
He stopped a grand theft bicycle. And helped a lady cross the street. All on his way to May’s apartment. His real home.
Peter slipped through his window. With everything that happened, he didn’t care if May saw him in his Spiderman suit. He just wanted to see Aunt May.
He just wanted May.
But she wasn’t home. Peter looked around the apartment, but her car keys were gone, and so was all her work stuff.
Peter rested his head against the wall, trying to hold back the tears. His heart ached for his aunt. He just wanted a hug from May. And he wasn’t going to get to. It hurt. It hurt so much more than the stab wound.
Peter tried not to wallow in his sadness. He tried to pull himself together quickly. It was hard, but he somewhat did it.
He found a sticky note and left her a message under her pillow. Simple in case anyone else found it.
“Larb you - P”
After he left, he crouched down on the rooftop across the street and looked back at his apartment. He wondered when he would get back to his real home. If ever. He wondered if May was doing okay. Wondered if she missed him as much as he missed her.
He didn’t have much time to think, because suddenly he heard the familiar clink of titanium alloy landing in the ally below him.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
That was Tony’s voice. Peter’s whole body tensed. Why didn’t his spidey sense go off?
Peter silently crawled over toward the ledge and looked down.
Not only did he recognize Tony, but he recognized the men Tony was talking to. It was the men who stabbed him. Tony wasn't here for him, Tony was here for his attackers.
“Look sir - Mr. Stark, we don’t want any trouble.”
“That so?” Tony quipped, pretending to check his metal hand. “Because I highly doubt it.”
“Really sir.”
“No, see, a week ago you were in the process of robbing someone when you decided to stab a bystander. That upset me.”
“No sir, that’s not true,” Peter could hear both men’s heart rates picking up.
“I don’t even want to hear your fucking excuse,” Tony growled his hand raising, the glow of the repulsors becoming brighter and brighter.
Peter’s eyes widened. His senses flared. He knew what was happening before it happened.
Tony hit the two men that stabbed Peter with the full force of his repulsors. He kept them going, long after they were already dead. He didn’t stop until their bodies turned to ashes.
Peter ducked his head back down and lied flat on his back and held his breath.
Did his dad really just kill those men? Yea, what they did was wrong, but they didn’t need to be killed. That was way too extreme of a punishment.
It made Peter’s entire body shake in fear. His father was terrifying. And Peter knew what would happen next.
Nothing.
The law was beneath Tony Stark. He never got in trouble for doing bad things. Tony Stark always got what he wanted.
The fear Peter felt in his heart was suffocating.
Peter listened to his father’s suit take flight. Peter watched it fly away as if nothing ever happened. As if he hadn’t just incinerated two men.
After Tony Stark was far out of sight, Peter stood on shaky legs. He could barely stand, but he knew he had to.
He didn’t want to leave without calling the cops, but he knew he had to. There was no hope in this dark world for Peter or Spiderman. Justice would never be served.
Peter swung back to Manhattan as fast as he could. He knew Tony Stark – his evil father – would be back, and Peter needed to be in his room before Tony could open his door to find him gone.
Peter had just barely flopped through his window when he heard the elevator doors ding.
“Hey, boss,” Happy greeted as the doors opened.
Peter stood and closed the window.
“Hey Happy, where’s Peter?” Tony asked, strolling in.
Peter yanked the suit off of him and kicked everything under his bed.
“He went to take a nap two hours ago.”
Peter stripped down into just his boxers and tossed the clothes into the hamper.
“He’s been asleep for two hours?” Tony asked, walking over to Peter’s door.
Peter hopped into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin.
“I haven’t heard a peep.”
Peter closed his eyes and willed himself to look like he was asleep for 2 hours.
“I’ll go wake him,” Tony said, his hand gripping the door handle, “don’t let him sleep for that long next time, he won’t sleep that well tonight.”
Peter would chuckle if he had the will. There was no way he was sleeping tonight after what he saw.
Tony attempted to open the door, but he realized it was locked.
“Jarvis unlock it,” Tony whispered.
“As you wish sir,” Jarvis whispered.
Tony’s eyes scanned the dark room and landed on his son. He smiled as he approached his son. His hair was a mess, and he looked a bit sweaty. Tony wondered if he was maybe having a nightmare.
“Peter,” Tony brushed his son’s hair back.
“Mmm,” Peter mumbled, rolling over, pretending to still be asleep.
“Wakey wakey,” Tony taunted, shaking Peter’s shoulders a little.
Peter sighed and sat up. He worried it was somewhat too fast for someone who was apparently asleep for two hours, but he would rather not be touched anymore by a man who murdered two men just minutes ago.
“There he is,” Tony smiled as his son sat up and opened his eyes.
“When did you get back?” Peter asked as if he didn’t know.
“Just a little bit ago, what did you miss me?”
Peter nodded, not trusting himself to lie.
“Good boy, common get up, I have dinner for us. Shawarma. You like shawarma?”
“I thought you only liked that when you won a battle?” Peter asked.
“Hmmm yea,” Tony scratched his beard, thinking about it. He did win a battle. He killed his son’s attackers. On the other hand, he didn’t want to scare his son with that information. “I guess I usually do, but it’s good any other day.”
“True,” Peter nodded, getting out of bed.
“Go get dressed,” Tony ruffled his son’s hair.
“I’m uh, gonna take a shower,” Peter stepped away from his father. Peter looked at him. He really looked at him for the first time.
Peter saw the resemblance. He saw the brown eyes. But what he saw behind those brown eyes was a monster. A controlling, powerful, evil monster.
“Alright kiddo, I’ll be out here when you’re done.” Tony shrugged under Peter’s gaze.
Tony would always be out here. Peter knew that no matter how hard he cried and begged to the gods above, that Tony Stark was always going to be his father.
He had no choice. No hope. No freedom.
Nothing but a father who would do anything and everything to keep him from the people he really loved.
As Peter got in the shower, he made a promise to himself. He would never let Tony find out he was Spiderman. And the day he turned 18, he would disappear just like his mother did.
Little did Peter know that when he went into the shower, Tony's eyes caught a glint of light from under the bed. Tony ducked his head under to look and pulled out the spiderman suit.
Tony looked at what was in his hands, anger beginning to boil over. How could he not have known this about his son? How did he not know his son had powers? How many times did his kid get hurt doing something this reckless? How did he get this pajama suit into the tower?
Tony looked at the bathroom door his son was currently in. Peter was in for a long discussion. And punishment.
Tony took the suit to the dining room, laid it across the table, and waited for his son.