Somebody To Love
“Pull every traffic cam in Midtown,” Tony barked. “I don’t care if it’s public access, ATM, satellite, NYPD drone—I want eyes on him.”
Pepper stood behind him at the console, arms folded tightly across her chest, eyes scanning the feed lines without really seeing them. FRIDAY’s voice came calmly through the room.
“Cross-referenced street-level surveillance, license plate footage, and subway entry data within a five-mile radius. No matches for Peter Parker or facial pattern. No unusual travel spikes. No known associates traced.”
Tony narrowed his eyes. “No JARVIS. No phone. No trail.”
Bruce turned from a secondary screen. “Then we’re missing something. Either he found a blind spot in the grid, or—”
“Or he created one,” Tony said.
Pepper blinked. “You think he built this? This cover-up?”
Tony gestured toward the screen. “The camera loops. The wiped trackers. The scrubbed system logs. He either had help or he did it himself.”
Ben looked up. “From where?”
Tony didn’t even hesitate. “His laptop.”
Ned’s breath hitched so quietly he didn’t think anyone would hear.
Tony kept going. “His old one from Midtown was fried. But the new one—the one I gave him for his birthday? It’s got a Stark-OS base layer. Hidden sandbox environment. If he used that to access the Tower grid and masked it—FRIDAY wouldn’t even detect the breach.”
FRIDAY chimed in helpfully. “Confirmed: Peter’s laptop last accessed the Tower network at 2:12 AM from a private guest server. Activity wiped. Logs overwritten.”
Tony let out a slow, low whistle. “He covered his tracks.”
“No,” Ned said too quickly. “He—he wouldn’t—he was too upset. I don’t think he even had the laptop.”
All eyes turned to him.
Ben raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”
“I mean... pretty sure,” Ned stammered. “We were both in the medbay that whole time. He was asleep the whole time. Pepper and May would’ve seen it.”
Tony didn’t break eye contact. “Unless he stashed it before anyone came in.”
May stepped in then, quiet but firm. “Even if he did… what matters is why. Why would he go through all of this just to get away from us?”
Pepper looked like she’d been holding her breath for an hour. “Because we hurt him. All of us.”
Tony turned back to the screens. “FRIDAY, I want a full packet on the girl on the pictures on his phone. You have only a hand to go by, but you can do it. Name. Surname. School records. Address. Family status. Anyone she’s connected to.”
Ned’s blood ran cold.
He had about thirty seconds to stop this.
✉️ Text from Ned → MJ
Ned (6:40 AM):
They saw your hand on Peter's phone. They're going to look for you, and your school file and everything else. I can’t stop it. Tell him they’re close.
MJ (6:41 AM):
How close is “close”?
Ned:
Tony Stark is about to go full Ironman, or IronDad, I guess.
FRIDAY’s voice echoed through the room.
“No matches for Peter Parker within camera coverage of the tower or the streets surrounding it. No matches in transit logs. No access cards used. No facial recognition pings. I have nothing on the girl on his pictures yet, either, since we only have a hand to go by”
Pepper was already pale. Now she looked like someone had yanked the breath from her lungs.
“Nothing?” she said, almost a whisper.
“Not even a blur,” Bruce confirmed. “It’s like he never left or reached her apartment.”
“Which is impossible,” Tony said, pacing. “Because he’s not here.”
FRIDAY’s soft, precise voice continued:
“No activity on Peter’s phone since 11:30 PM. Last access from Tower’s internal network at 3:12 AM—via a private user login. Logs indicate data was manually scrubbed.”
Ben folded his arms across his chest. “Could he have... I don’t know. Gone analog? Put on Rhodey's hoodie and walked out through the loading dock?”
“Possible,” Tony said, though his tone made it clear he didn’t believe it.
Pepper rubbed her temples. “But even then, FRIDAY would’ve picked up thermal, biometric... something.”
Tony’s hands clenched at his sides.
“Unless someone took him,” he said, voice low.
The room froze.
May’s eyes snapped to his. “Don’t.”
“He’s been taken before,” Tony said, sharp now. “You know what happened. And you remember what happened with Skip.”
“We would’ve seen something,” Bruce argued. “An alert. A breach.”
“Not if they knew how to avoid them.” Tony’s voice was trembling under the steel. “Not if they’ve been planning this.”
Ned sat bolt upright.
This wasn’t the narrative. This wasn’t the plan.
“He’s not—” Ned started, then cut himself off, too fast.
Too obvious.
Everyone turned to look at him.
Tony zeroed in. “Ned.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Ned said, voice cracking. “He just needed space. That’s all. He didn’t get kidnapped.”
“Then where is he?” Pepper snapped, eyes wide and red. “Why is he gone? Why didn’t he tell us? Why did he wipe the logs and leave his phone and vanish?”
Ned’s throat was dry.
Ben looked over at May. She had gone white.
“If someone took him...” May whispered. “If someone figured out who he really is—who his parents are—”
“Don’t,” Pepper said. “Don’t even say it.”
Bruce’s fingers danced over the keyboard. “I’m running external security logs now. We’ll cross-reference every face that entered or left this building in the last twenty-four hours.”
Tony was already moving.
“FRIDAY. Put an alert on every traffic cam in a fifty-mile radius. Facial recognition priority: Peter Parker. Secondary priority: extraction vehicles, unknown license plates, slow-moving SUVs, anything flagged suspicious.”
“Protocol initialized, sir.”
Ned couldn’t breathe. He had tried. He had tried to buy Peter more time. But now they weren’t just scared. They were about to mobilize a full-scale rescue op. He looked at the phone in his lap.
MJ’s text was still open.
MJ (6:36 AM):
Is it getting bad?
Ned (6:42 AM):
They think he’s been taken. If we don’t tell them soon, they’ll call in SHIELD.
MJ (6:43 AM):
He’s still asleep. I don’t want to wake him.
Ned (6:43 AM):
You have ten minutes. If you don’t tell them, I have to.
Bruce’s fingers tapped a staccato rhythm over the keyboard, feeding more commands into the system. “Still no facial matches. I’ve got three untagged vehicles idling near the side entrance around 3:20 AM, but none of them are a match for Peter.”
“Pull them anyway,” Tony said. “Run plates. FRIDAY, flag them. Alert level: priority red.”
“Understood, sir.”
Pepper had gone quiet now, sitting with her hand on her chest, her breath shallow. Her voice came in a whisper, to no one in particular.
“If someone hurt him again… if someone got to him, and we didn’t notice…”
“Don’t,” May snapped. “Don’t do that. Don’t say it out loud unless you know.”
“But we don’t know anything,” Ben said.
Tony was already pulling open a SHIELD contact window.
Ned stood.
“Wait.”
Everyone turned to him.
He was pale. His hands were shaking.
“Don’t call them,” he said, voice shaking. “Don’t bring SHIELD into this. You don’t have to.”
Tony froze.
“What do you mean?” Pepper asked, narrowing her eyes. “Ned, what do you know?”
Ned swallowed hard. His throat burned. His legs felt unsteady. “I lied,” he said. “I’ve been lying since this morning.”
May’s eyebrows furrowed. “Ned—”
“It wasn’t Peter who wiped the logs,” Ned said, stepping forward. “It was me.” The silence was instant. “I looped the hallway cameras. I deleted his tracker data. I disabled FRIDAY. I made it look like he disappeared.”
Bruce looked like he’d forgotten how to blink. Pepper stood slowly, like she wasn’t sure if she was going to collapse or slap someone.
“You did what?” Tony’s voice was quiet. Cold.
Ned took a breath. “He asked me not to say anything. He needed space. And I—he didn’t know what to do, okay? He didn’t run away. He didn’t get taken. He just… couldn’t breathe in here. After everything.”
Ben stepped forward now, his expression unreadable. “So where is he?”
“I’m not giving an address,” Ned said quickly. “Not unless MJ says it’s okay.”
“MJ?” Tony repeated, voice flat.
Ned nodded. “Michelle Jones. His girlfriend. The only person he could face after everything happened. She’s safe. She’s smart. And she’s been protecting him better than any of you did.”
Pepper sat back down like the words had knocked the wind out of her.
Tony’s eyes narrowed. “And why the hell didn’t you tell us this hours ago?”
“Because he wasn’t ready,” Ned said, voice rising. “Because he didn’t want to be found by the people who made him feel like his whole life was a lie.” No one spoke. “I kept quiet because he asked me to,” Ned said, softer now. “Because he needed time to feel like a person again. Not a weapon. Not a project. Not a Stark.”
Tony flinched.
“He’s safe,” Ned added. “He’s with someone who gets it. Someone who knows how to hold the broken parts without pushing.” He looked up, almost defiant. “And the only reason I’m telling you now is because you were about to make it worse.”
Ned’s words were still hanging in the air, thick as smoke. “He’s with someone who gets it. Someone who knows how to hold the broken parts without pushing.”
The Tower had never felt this silent. Not even during battles. Not even during funerals.
No alarms. No pings. No keystrokes.
Just the sound of Pepper slowly sinking into her chair like the grief had finally found a physical weight. Her hands trembled in her lap. Her nails dug into her palms. Her shoulders shook—barely, like she was fighting every muscle in her body not to cry. But her breath hitched. Once. Then again. And then she broke.
Not loudly. Not violently. Just... utterly. Her hand came up to her mouth as her composure shattered like thin glass. A soft sound slipped out—something between a gasp and a sob. She turned away from the others, like she was ashamed of it, like she couldn’t bear for them to see. “I thought—” she choked out. “I thought I was doing what was best.”
Ben moved like he wanted to reach for her but didn’t know how. Bruce stepped back. Rhodey looked away.
“I told myself it was love,” she whispered. “That letting him call me Aunt Pep instead of Mom was protection. That staying close but not too close was safety. That if he never knew, he’d never be a target.” Her hands clutched the edge of the table. “But I wasn’t protecting him. I was protecting me. Because if I told him the truth and he hated me for it—” She shook her head, breath sharp and short. “I couldn’t bear it.”
May was quiet for a long moment. Her eyes were wet, but she wasn’t crying—not the way Pepper was. She looked tired. Ancient. Then she turned to Ned. And smiled. Soft. Heartbreaking. Grateful.
“Thank you, both you and MJ,” she said, her voice hoarse. “You protected him. You did what the rest of us should’ve done.”
Ned blinked, stunned. “But I— I lied. I kept it from you. I made you all think—”
“You two gave him peace,” May said gently. “Even if only for a little while.” She walked over to him and cupped his shoulder. “Don’t carry the weight of our mistakes. You did what you could with the tools you had. And you didn’t let him disappear alone.”
Ned’s lip trembled, but he nodded.
Then Tony spoke. Quiet. Flat. The kind of voice you use when you're already at the edge. “How do we fix it?” No one answered. He turned his head, eyes bloodshot, jaw tight. “How do we make this right?”
Still silence.
Because there was no fix. No tech solution. No rescue op. No press release or apology or perfect sentence that could unburn the lie. Bruce looked down.Rhodey crossed his arms over his chest, gaze distant. Ben sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands. May pressed her hand over her heart, as if holding something inside it together. Pepper was still crying softly, head turned away, fingers pressed to her lips.
And Ned—Ned was the only one who answered. Not with certainty. Not with hope.
Just honesty.
“You wait,” he said. “You wait until he wants to come back.”
Tony sat down slowly, like his knees had finally given out.
And he nodded.
Once.
Because that’s all they could do.
MJ’s apartment was quiet.
Soft golden light filtered through the windows, catching dust motes in the still air. The room smelled like chamomile tea and the faint cotton-clean scent of Peter’s hoodie—draped now over his sleeping form, curled against her side. He was still breathing evenly. One hand fisted loosely in the hem of her shirt. His curls were pressed against her collarbone, cheek warm from sleep. He looked younger like this.
Softer. Like the boy he’d been before the world cracked open and showed him the truth underneath. Her phone buzzed once—barely more than a whisper on the nightstand. She didn’t reach for it at first. She just stared at Peter. Tucked under her arm like something fragile. Something salvageable. The most stubborn, brilliant, broken thing she had ever loved. The buzz came again. She sighed, gently detangling one arm from around his shoulders. His fingers tightened reflexively on her shirt, and she stilled, heart catching. But after a second, his grip relaxed again. She slid out from beneath him with the care of someone defusing a bomb.Picked up the phone.
Ned (6:51 AM):
They know. I told them. You’ve got time, but not much.
MJ (6:52 AM):
Thanks. We’re okay.
She set the phone down. Exhaled. Then walked to the kitchen. Put on a pot of coffee. She moved quietly, preparing. Not like a girlfriend. Not like a teenager. Like a shield.
She set out a clean shirt for him. Folded the hoodie neatly. Pulled two mugs from the cupboard. And then she walked back. Peter was still asleep. Still curled into the warm dent in the couch. She knelt beside him and ran her fingers through his hair once, slow and careful.
“Hey,” she whispered, voice soft. “Peter?” He didn’t wake. But his nose twitched, brows pulling slightly. She leaned in closer. “They’re coming.”
His breathing hitched just slightly. But he didn’t move. MJ waited a beat, then pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
“Five more minutes,” she murmured. “Just breathe.”
Back at the Tower, the conference room felt more like a waiting room before surgery. No one was talking. Every screen was dark now, the search paused. The confession settled.
They knew where he was. And now they didn’t know what to do with it. Tony stood with both hands flat on the back of a chair, staring down at nothing. Pepper sat a few seats away, legs crossed, eyes focused on the floor. Ben leaned against the wall, arms folded, head bowed. May stood by the door, arms hugging herself like she might come undone if she let go.
No one had spoken in several minutes. Finally, Bruce cleared his throat. “We should talk about what happens next.”
Tony didn’t look up. “We go get him.”
Pepper winced. “And say what, exactly?”
Tony’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know. That we’re sorry? That we screwed up? That we love him?”
May said quietly, “All of which he already knows. And none of which undoes the damage.”
“We can’t just sit here,” Pepper said. “We need to... prepare.”
“Prepare?” Ben echoed. “How do you prepare for facing the kid you spent his whole life lying to?”
Tony finally looked up. “Okay. Then who goes in first?”
Silence. “Not me,” Pepper said immediately. “If he sees me, he might shut down again.”
“He will still want to talk to you,” May said gently. “He always did. Even when he was mad.”
“Yeah,” Pepper muttered. “Because I was Aunt Pep. Not Mom.”
Tony scrubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t be the first one either. He hasn’t looked at me since he fainted.”
Bruce offered, hesitantly, “What if we all... stayed outside? Let someone he’s comfortable with go in first?”
“Like MJ,” Pepper said.
Ben nodded. “She can ease him into it.”
“We’re not making her carry this for us,” May snapped with finality. “She’s a kid. She’s just been holding him together while we’ve all been busy falling apart.”
“She deserves a medal,” Tony muttered.
“She deserves privacy,” May shot back.
Bruce interjected gently. “Let’s agree on this: no ambush. No speeches. No crowding him. Just... honesty. And space.”
Tony nodded slowly. “So... what? We go there. Let MJ tell him we’re here. And wait?”
“Yes,” May said. “And we don’t go in unless he says we can.”
Pepper closed her eyes. “That’s going to kill me.”
May looked at her. “Good. That means it matters.”
Peter stirred. Not with a jolt. Not the way nightmares usually woke him. This was softer. Slower. Like the air in the room had changed temperature and his body recognized it before his brain did. There was weight in his chest. A heaviness that hadn’t lifted since yesterday. Maybe longer. But there was also warmth. Something steady and grounding. Fabric. Skin.
He realized—he was on the couch. Still curled into MJ’s side. His legs tucked underneath him, one hand clutching her shirt. She was tracing slow, gentle circles on his back. One of her hands was buried in his curls.
His fingers twitched.
“Hey,” she said quietly, not moving.
He didn’t lift his head yet. “Still breathing,” he mumbled, voice hoarse.
“I noticed.”
There was a pause. A breath.
Then: “They know.”
Peter’s whole body went still. “They’re on their way,” she added, gentle but firm. “Ned told them this morning.”
He didn’t move. “I told him it was okay,” she said. “Because I trust you. And because I trust me. To keep them away until you’re ready.”
Peter closed his eyes again. His voice was so quiet it was almost a breath: “I’m not.”
MJ’s hand stilled in his hair. “I know.”
Another silence. Then he shifted. Moved his head into her lap, face turned into her thigh, like a kid trying to disappear into a bed of blankets.
“Can you... go first?” he asked. “Talk to them?”
She smiled, small and fierce. “I was planning to.” And with that, Peter closed his eyes again.
The knock was soft. Too soft for a group of world-class adults here to check on a child they all claimed to love. MJ rolled her eyes before she even got to the door.
She didn’t open it immediately. Instead, she stood behind it, took a breath, counted to five, and made a decision. Then she opened it—just a little.
Just enough to let the light from the hallway spill across her face and none of it inside. Four adults stood there like soldiers without weapons.
Pepper. Tony. May. Ben.
All of them looked older usually. Smaller.
MJ stepped out, pulled the door closed behind her until it clicked, and crossed her arms.
No smile.
No greeting.
Just: “He’s asleep.”
May stepped forward first, eyes watery. “Is he—”
“No.”
That one word stopped everything.
Tony opened his mouth to speak.
She didn’t let him.
“He’s not ready. And if you push him, he’ll shatter.”
Pepper looked down. “We just—want to see him. To say something.”
“Cool,” MJ said flatly. “You can say it to me first.”
Ben frowned. “We didn’t come here to argue.”
“You came here to do what you always do,” MJ said. “Make yourselves feel better.” Tony flinched. “You want to fix it. Patch the hole. Glue the cracks. Say sorry and expect him to come running. But he’s not some StarkTech prototype you can reprogram. You broke him. You lied to him. And now you’re here asking for access to someone you don’t have a right to anymore.”
Pepper’s eyes welled. “We’re trying.”
“Try quieter.” There was a long pause. And then MJ added, low and ice-cold. “You’ll get one chance. Each of you. If I think for even a second that he’s not safe around you, I will close this door and you will not see him again.”
No one argued. No one could. She held their stares like a blade. Then she stepped back, just a little.
“He’s in there,” she said. “Sleeping. Not because he trusts the world again, but because he trusts me. So you’ll wait. You’ll be soft. And you’ll mean every goddamn word you say.”
She turned, opened the door again—and disappeared inside without looking back.
The door closed with a final, definitive click. The four adults stood frozen, like they’d just been told the building wasn’t safe and they couldn’t go back inside. Because in a way, they had. They had been denied.
Pepper sat first, back against the hallway wall, knees drawn up, eyes blank. Ben followed, slumping into a nearby bench. He rubbed his hands over his face, as if scrubbing off years of silence.
May stood perfectly still, arms crossed tightly, breathing in sharp, quiet pulls. Tony remained standing, fingers flexing and unflexing at his sides. His chest rose and fell like he was gearing up for a fight he wasn’t allowed to throw a punch in. None of them spoke at first. Because what do you say after a fourteen-year-old girl opens the door and tells you—calmly, clearly, without blinking—that she’s the only reason your son is still in one piece?
Peter stirred again.
This time, it wasn’t the shift in air.
It was weight.
Something invisible pressing against the walls of the apartment. Something that told his body they’re here before he even opened his eyes.
He twitched. MJ was already sitting next to him on the edge of the couch, back straight, fingers tangled together in her lap. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.
Peter opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the golden morning light. “...They’re here,” he said, voice gravel and quiet thunder.
“Yeah,” MJ said softly.
He didn’t sit up right away. He just stared at the ceiling. “Did you talk to them?”
“I did.”
He swallowed. “Are they mad?”
“No.”
He turned his head slowly, looked at her with glassy, unreadable eyes. “Are you?”
MJ looked at him for a long moment. Then shook her head. “I’m just tired of being the only one who knew how to hold you without breaking you.”
Peter didn’t respond. He just blinked—and something flickered in his eyes. Gratitude. Shame. Maybe both.
“Do I have to see them?” he asked.
“Not unless you want to,” she said. “They’re sitting in the hallway waiting like kids outside a principal’s office.”
Peter let out a quiet, breathy laugh.
Then: “How bad do I look?”
MJ looked him over. “Like someone who finally got some sleep. And also like you fought a raccoon behind a Waffle House.”
He smirked. Then sobered. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything,” she said. “Just listen. You don’t owe them anything.”
Peter pushed himself up slowly. The blanket fell from his shoulders. His shirt was wrinkled, eyes still a little red. But he was awake. Present. And he nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll see them. One at a time.”
MJ stood. “That’s your call.”
Outside the apartment, the adults were still sitting in silence. It was May who broke it.
“I should go in first.”
Ben looked up sharply. “Why?”
“Because I’m his mother,” she said, quietly but firmly.
“No,” Pepper said suddenly, her voice low but shaking. “You were his Aunt and guardian. I’m his mother.”
Tony looked at both of them, jaw tightening. “Neither of you should go first.” They stared at him. “I should,” he added. “I’m the one he’s most angry at.”
“No,” May said. “That’s exactly why you shouldn’t.”
Pepper ran a hand through her hair. “If we push, he’ll shut down. MJ made that clear.”
“So what, we flip a coin?” Ben muttered. “Guess who he hates the least?”
“No,” Tony said again. This time his voice was... different. Resolved. “We don’t decide.”
The others looked at him. Tony stood, squared his shoulders, and said, “It’s his choice. We’ve taken too many from him already.”
They all fell silent. And then the door opened again. MJ stepped out.
She didn’t speak at first. Just looked at each of them. “He’s ready.”
No one moved. “One at a time. He gets to choose. You wait for me to call you in. You don’t knock. You don’t hover. You don’t push.”
She paused.Then locked eyes with Pepper. “He asked for you first.”
Pepper’s hand flew to her mouth. Her shoulders shook—just once.
Then she stood. MJ didn’t smile. Didn’t soften.
She just stepped aside, let her in, and shut the door behind them.