The way we talk to our children becomes their inner voice.
-Unknown
There was no book for when one becomes the sudden parent of a teenager. Nor any sort of instruction sheet to follow for the care for said teenager. Though he should be thanking any deity that will listen that the teenager he came to care for was so well mannered. Peter Parker had lost so much in his young life and yet he was still one of the kindest people he knew.
Unlike the teenagers he'd seen from way back in his clinical days, there was no complaining when he was ill and needed medicine, there was no backtalk when he was told to do something, and homework was never complained about and done diligently in the library. May Parker had done wonders in raising her nephew, even after the devastating loss of her husband, she had maintained the household and instilled the manners that today's youth seemed to lack naturally.
Stephen Strange knew that the moment he signed his name on the dotted line, secondary to Tony Stark and Pepper Potts (Stark) that his life would change with it. Peter spent just as much time at the Sanctum as he did at the tower or compound.
Among the artifacts and their dusty books was the knick-knacks he brought with him; an action figure had taken residence on the edge of the shelf that held some ancient Aztec masks. In the kitchen; a certificate of achievement and decathlon schedule hung on the refrigerator with colored themed magnets. Sneakers sat among the boots and other shoes, a few sizes bigger then them, near the door. Three jackets hung in the closet with Wong's favorite coat. There was pictures scattered around the Sanctum of varying scenes; one of Peter and Ned from a comic-con adventure they'd taken last year, the cloak searching for the boy (Peter was sticking to the ceiling above) playing a game of hide and seek, Wong had captured one of the pair of them sleeping on the couch (Peter had finally convinced him to watch the Twilight Zone with him),various pictures of various people with one common capture.
Strange had never wanted kids, he'd made the decision in medical school, his life was too hectic, too busy, for the time needed in rearing a child. They were too messy and too needy. Loud and obnoxious. There was no way a child would survive in the life he lived.
That being said, he never failed to include orange slices and grapes for lunch, and knew that strawberry jelly was the go-to for packed sandwiches, he swore up and down that it meant nothing. Common knowledge. The kid practically made his own lunch.
Wong didn't believe him.
You can learn MANY things from children... How much PATIENCE you have, for instance!
-Franklin P. Jones
"Wong!" the doctor's voice echoed through the Sanctum from somewhere deep within at the insistent ringing of the phone, "Get the phone!", the librarian muttered under his breath at the command, closing the book he'd been reading through again without marking his page, and set it on the table. The ringing was loud and obnoxious, and didn't happen very often, though he knew now why having a landline phone was something they hadn't gotten until they took in the fifteen year old spider child.
Picking up the cordless receiver, he raised an eyebrow at the contact on the ID, "Hello?"
'Hello, is this Mr. Strange?'
"No. This is Wong. Can I help?"
There was a shuffling on the other end, and someone pressed a hand to the phone as they spoke to someone on the other end, a familiar voice answered in with a biting remark and the other eyebrow joined its brother.
'Hello Mr. Wong, this is Lacey Smythe, I'm the secretary at Midtown High.'
"I know. The name came up on ID."
'Oh! Of course! We have Peter here and need Mr. Strange to come get him. He's been suspended.'
He turned at the footsteps making their way down the stairs, Stephen raised an eyebrow, a question on his lips. He was adjusting the sleeve of his sweater, rolling it up to about midway, and motioned to the phone with his free hand.
"He's been suspended? For what?"
Strange crossed his arms, both eyebrows raising now, and leaned forward.
'Fighting I'm afraid. Will Mr. Strange be able to make it. He was listed as Secondary contact.'
The doctor nodded, turning towards the door without a word, the cloak wanted to go but was shewed away at the last moment, before it managed to sneak out the front before him. Peter was in trouble at school, for fighting no less, "Yes, he is on his way."
.^.
Peter was slumped in the chair outside the office, shoulders hunched, glaring heatedly at the floor. Blood dripped lightly from his nose, it tickled his chin and he swiped at it stiffly, they'd called and told on him, and he hadn't even started it. Flash was sitting across from him, they'd been kept separate, still whining about his sore eye and his headache.
The bruise was morbidly pleasing to stare at when he looked up at his long time bully.
Of course they only get parents involved now that precious little Flash had been struck back. It was fine when he was the one dealing it out, but for him to be on the receiving end, that was apparently unacceptable.
Because his parents had money.
Down the hall, the doors opened, he knew who it was immediately, no enhanced hearing was needed. Flash peered up, probably thinking that it was some sort of foster parent, and frowned at the well dressed man that walked down the hall towards them. Penis Parker had no one, he was an orphan, so why this man was glaring in his direction was a mystery to him.
He watched as the man stopped, giving him a quick glance over, and turned to the other boy completely. Penis Parker mumbled something to the tall man, under his breath, so much so that neither could make it out. The Principle opened the office door and invited them in, "Thank you for coming Mr. Strange."
"Doctor."
Morita blushed amber, "My apologies, Doctor Strange, would you and the boys please join us. Eugene's parents arrived a few minutes ago."
Doctor Strange nodded, the fingers of his left hand curling around Peter's shoulder as both man and boy stepped into the principles office, the other child following after them. They sat side by side, Strange on Parker's right, and Flash between his parents.
"I want this boy expelled!", Mr. Thompson shouted immediately upon the door being closed behind Morita and him taking his seat behind the desk, turning to glare at the other boy with something akin to disgust, "He attacked my son unprovoked!"
"Oh please!"
Peter fell silent at the squeeze to his shoulder and the deep hum that came from the doctor's throat next to him, Stephen shook his head when he turned to look, "I dare say that seems a bit much."
Mrs. Thompson simpered, "You would, probably just as barbaric as your delinquent, we could press charges for assault."
Morita looked for a loss of words as they three parents turned to glare at one another, and raised his hands in an attempt to gain control back, "Please, please, can we all settle down now. Lets allow the boys to explain themselves."
Flash cut in before Peter could get a word out, "I was just minding my own business Mr. Morita! I haven't spoken to Parker in weeks and he just came up to me all heated and attacked me! He was being all crazy! I was scared that he'd totally flip!"
Strange shot the boy at his side a stern glance when he heard him snort in anger, Peter ducked under the gaze and fell silent again, glaring under his fringe of curls at his school mate. Morita nodded at the boy's story, Mr. Thompson jumped in before he could get a word in, "See! This boy is a threat! He shouldn't be allowed to remain here, where he may harm another student, no matter the charity it may be to allow it!"
"Peter, what happened?"
"Why are you asking him?" Flash's mom sniffed at the other teenager with disdain, as if he were something lesser, Stephen had to remind himself that sending people to the dark dimension was against the rules, "Surely the evidence points to the truth. He would surely lie to keep himself from trouble. He wouldn't want to be banned from the school for the betters."
Morita silenced her with a placating hand, though his backbone was completely nonexistent, and nodded for the other boy to continue.
Peter looked up at his guardian, waiting for his nod, and turned back to his principle, "I was at my locker, with my friend, Ned, getting my lunch and Flash started making fun of me. Which is fine (Stephen frowned to himself) I can deal with that, but then he started talking about my aunt, he said that he doesn't think that the drunk driver hit her, that she swerved into it because my parents and uncle had the right idea in leaving me. So I punched him."
"Ha! He admits it! Attacking my boy!"
"Liar! My Eugene is a kind boy!"
He could see that the spiderchild was about to lose his temper again, before it snapped, "Your kid is a jerk! Just like his parents! He's going to grow up a failure because he won't know how the real world is! He's going to be alone! He has no one, no friends, he has followers! He deserved what he got!"
"Peter.", it was unusual, the affect such a tone had on the angered teenager. Strange didn't so much as raise his voice, it remained at the same slightly stern, slightly fond, deep baritone that it usually did, and it was enough to bring him to a complete halt, "That's enough."
Mr and Mrs Thompson were back to their argument about how much of a threat he was, and the principle looked as though he was moments from conceding to their demands for expulsion, Stephen raised his own hand.
"If I may?", they all turned to look at him, "It seems prudent in my opinion to point out that your boy is fine, a bloody nose and a bruised eye, the bleeding will stop once he stops poking at it and the bruises will fade within a day, while my boy has a split lip, a crack in his temple, and blood dripping from his left nostril.", Peter stared at him as the doctor leveled a steady glare on the Thompson's for a brief moment and then turned to glare at Morita, "This would not be the first time that my boy has come home injured from this establishment, and it is concerning that this has been a reoccurring issue that no one seems to take care to notice, I understand that this child's parents have funds out the back-end, however, I do believe it would be in this schools best interest to take better care of all its students, despite financial means, rather then it would be to continue to ignore it.", a pointed look to the principle had him paling, "I am taking Peter with me. He will serve your ridiculous suspension. And when he returns he will receive an apology from this boy for the treatment he's been dealing with for the past year. Or you will find that our lawyers far surpass yours.", a scarred hand settled over his soft brown curls, "Peter get your bag."
.^.
They hadn't talked about it since leaving the principles office, gathering his bag and gym clothes to be washed, and promising Ned that yes he was still allowed to come over this weekend. Peter was still fuming, the heat from such anger was almost palpable in the air around him, it burned and simmered just under the surface. As soon as they had turned the corner a block from the school, Stephen pulled him into a alley way and opened a portal for them to step through, on the other end Wong and Cloak met them. Peter shoved passed them both, tossing his bag down by the stairs, and stomped all the way up until the sound of his door slamming signaled the fall into tempered silence.
The Cloak slumped, floating to sulk in some dark corner, and Wong offered him a mug of tea.
"What happened?"
"Stark would be better off homeschooling him."
Peter stayed in his room until dinner, and his stomach finally convinced him that it was time to get food, and Wong's voice traveled up the stairs to say that the pasta was done. He slunk into the seat on Stephen's left, picking at his noodles with his fork, glaring at it as though it had offended him in some way, "I'm sorry", they turned to look at the boy, it being the first time he'd spoken since he'd come home for the day. The Cloak shifted closer hopefully. And then he finally turned to look up at them.
At Strange.
"I shouldn't have hit him."
"No.", Stephen set his fork down, resting his elbows on the table, "You shouldn't have. You could have caused him serious harm. And for that you are grounded.", if anything that seemed to make him feel worse, "But I understand why you did. He should not have talked about your aunt like that. I meant what I said too."
"About the apology?"
He nodded, "Yes."
Peter smiled, it was small and shy, but it was a smile and a step in the right direction, "And about me being your boy?", a giggle escaped him when Wong choked on his sip of tea, Stephen sent him a glare and then turned it back to the kid, though it lacked any real venom, "Oh, just eat your noodles kid!"
The best thing that you give your children is Time.
-JD Ghai
They had let him go to Europe on the promise that he called once a day to check in and that he stick with his class this time, they were most certainly not going to have a repeat of what happened in DC, and though Strange had not been there at the time, had not known them all back then, he sure knew now. The address and phone number for the London Sanctum was put in his phone, and double checked, twice, bags were packed, and to the airport they had gone.
None of them were big on the warming, over-dramatic goodbyes, but Peter had given the lot of them another hug before him, Ned, and MJ handed over their tickets and boarded their plane.
The flight was a long one, seven hours and 5 minutes (give or take) and the movie had just started, when Ned had tapped him on the arm, "Dude, I think your bag just moved.", Peter felt his heart rate speed up when he looked down, and his bag did in fact move. Checking to make sure that the others directly in front and behind them were sleeping or otherwise distracted, he reached down for his backpack, it jostled in his hand, and he unzipped it like he was pulling a band-aid off.
Red.
"Cloak?"
Stephen was going to kill him. And then kill the cloak. Ned leaned over to see and he gasped out loud, "Is that?"
"Doctor Strange's trusty Cloak? Yes."
"So cool!"
It pulled itself out of his bag and spread over them like a blanket, Peter sighed and rubbed a hand over the thick red fabric, "I'm so not taking the fall when he finds out that you snuck out.", Ned laughed at him when the Cloak smacked his leg with an edge and he yelped. There was no use fretting about it now, no taking it back home again, so they settled in for their movie.
They made sure to get the Cloak back into his bag upon landing (they'd let it back out once they reached the hotel) and told MJ about their companion during the bus ride to the hotel the class was staying at, they were so going to enjoy their trip, and make sure that the cloak did too.
The trip hadn't even made it into its third week when shit hit the fan.
He called himself Mysterio. Loser wearing some sort of costume and a fishbowl on his head.
Spiderman made his debut as Spider Supreme with his best Cloak friend.
'Peter, shall I contact the London Sanctum Master?'
"Um yea Karen. I think my phone was ruined."
He was soaked. Of course his phone was ruined. It wasn't water proof. He had so many cool pictures on there too.
Damn.
'Peter the London Master is on the line. She would like to know what's going on. And why the Cloak of Levitation is in London.'
"Levi? I have no idea. Patch me through to Doctor Strange too."
'On it Peter, Doctor Strange has been patched in.'
'Kid what the hell is going on? And why is the Cloak in London?'
"I have no idea what you're talking about. Though I do have a question."
'Sure. And I'll pretend that I believe that. What is your question?'
"So...Hypothetically. If by chance I come across an hypothetical evil wizard guy during my trip, do you have any advice on how to take him down?"
There was a bout of silence on the other end and he feared that Stephen had hung up, 'Well, for one, you do the SMART thing and run the other way, then call me or Wong. Why do you ask?'
Peter grit his teeth, jumping away as a boulder was hurled his way, screams broke out as he nearly fell back into the Thames.
"OH NO REASON!"
More silence on the line.
'I'll be right there.'
Mysterio really didn't stand a chance, though the five minute wait had been a hard one, and taunting the villain that the Sorcerer Supreme was coming and he was beating up said Sorcerer Supreme's kid and that aforementioned Sorcerer Supreme was sooo gonna kick his ass, was perhaps not a good idea.
But there's no take-backsies.
Both him and Cloak could have done without the scolding that came with him though. That was less then pleasant. Peter had apologized and the Cloak had pouted (as best as the Cloak could) and Strange eventually relented, letting the Cloak stay, while he went to have a word with the London Master about allowing artifacts to get lost in a place as large as London.
The quickest was for a parent to get a child's attention is to sit down and look comfortable.
-Lane Olinghouse
"The image fits you."
Stephen looked up from his book, turning a page with a wave of his finger, and met Wong's gaze head on. The librarian motioned for his lap and he didn't so much as spare the child there a glance. Peter had come in some time ago, complaining about his head hurting, the onset of a sensory overload, he'd put him to sleep right after. And not a word had been said when he'd rested his head on the doctors lap and a hand had made its way to his curls.
"What does?"
Wong gave him a knowing look, "Parenting."
"I am not 'parenting'" he could deny it all he wanted, "It helps him to sleep through it."
"Sure. And what's the benefit of that particular position?"
"Oh shut up."
He turned back to his book, ignoring his so called friend's chuckling, and continued massaging his fingers through the boy's curls with his other hand. He was not a parent. He was the guardian. And the secondary one at that.
Stephen Strange was not parental material.
Children see magic because they look for it.
-Christopher Moore
Sometimes when they went on long missions, the avengers and such, Peter would sneak from his room and down two doors into the doctors. It had started after a particular mission where everyone had come back but him, and they hadn't heard a sound from him in over a month, he'd scared a lot of people by just disappearing.
Natasha had been the one who found him; curled up in his favorite hello kitty pajama pants and a goofy t'shirt, under the soft blankets on Strange's bed, clutching the man's favorite green sweater to his chest. He'd been asleep as the time, and hadn't noticed her entrance, though apparently he did stir slightly when she'd snapped a picture of it.
There was one time, when the team had gone to space to help the Guardians with something, and Shuri had joined him. They'd stayed there for the entire night, him clutching Stephen's sweater and his Iron Man plushie and Shuri cuddled close to a stuffed panther she'd named after her brother. Wong would check on them (or just him if he were alone) periodically through the night but never said a word against the camp out. Peter always made sure to return to his room before the next morning, he didn't want to be overstepping and Stephen get mad at him for sneaking into his room, but he had his routine and there was nothing he wanted to change about it.
So as long as his secret remained a secret there was nothing to be concerned about.
He should have known that it was impossible to keep secrets from a Wizard though.
Granted he never verbally spilled the beans.
Peter sniffled at the hand that curled around his shoulder, pushing him over slightly, and the lifting of the blankets from the right side of the bed that let the cold in. The Sanctum had heating, sure, but New York was not known for its mild and kind winters. He shivered at the brief moment of winter chill and curled into himself tighter, he hated winter, it was always too cold. The hand returned, it was warm, it shook softly as the fingers curled over his shoulder again and tugged him around. The teenager snuffled and turned, scooting closer to the warm body next to him.
He pressed his ear to the person's chest and listened to the familiar heart beat, the familiar ba boom ba boom ba boom ba boom, that had been his constant through that first night after losing May.
God he missed her.
"Sorry."
A shaking hand brushed over his curls.
"Don't be."
They never actually spoke about his escapades during those nights, not even if the sorcerer returned home early and found his bed occupied already, a word was never uttered on the matter. He just sighed, take a shower and change into something more comfortable to rest in, and climb in beside him, then Peter fell back to sleep in the comfort that he was back and safe to the ba boom ba boom ba boom of his heart.
There is no such thing as a perfect parent, So just be a real one.
-Sue Atkins
"But why do I have to come?"
Peter knew at this point, walking down the street towards the coffee shop that whining was not going to get him any other results, at this point it was just entertaining. Stephen could try as much as he wanted to be annoyed by it but he knew that the man was amused.
He could tell.
The doctor spared him a look, a soft smile playing at his lips, "Because, the last time you were left alone at the tower, you and Shuri nearly blew up the entire 72nd floor, through a video chat of all things. We are not dumb enough to allow you try it again."
"It was for the vine!"
Peter grinned at the doctors eyebrow of doom, "Peter I swear to-"
"For science?"
He shook his head and opened the coffee shop door, motioning for the teenage to step in ahead of him, "Can I at least have my phone back?", oh he knew there was no chance but it never hurt to try.
"Sure. Once they get the 72nd floor completely finished."
Peter giggled softly to himself, it had been worth losing his phone over, and leaned into the doctors left arm. Fingers brushed over his wrist and he pointed in the direction of the table in the back, a woman sat sipping at a steaming mug, reading something in front of her on the table. Peter stepped around chairs and patrons, Stephen behind him a step, and smiled at the woman as she looked up at them.
"Stephen!"
She jumped from her seat, a smile breaking over her features, and they hugged for a brief moment. Peter looked around as they did, tapping at his leg awkwardly, and then he coughed. She blushed at the sound and Stephen rolled his eyes at him.
It was all in good humor.
Really.
"Hello", she side glanced the doctor next to her, "Stephen I know that we haven't talked much recently but I swear last time I saw you that you didn't have a kid."
Peter held out his hand, grinning cheekily at the doctor over her shoulder, "Hello ma'am, I'm Peter, I just found out he was my dad a month ago. It was great! Like from a movie!"
She blinked, eyes going wide, "Stephen!", and smacked the older doctor in the chest softly with the back of her hand. Stephen grunted and shook his head, glaring playfully at the boy.
"He did not!", oh he was so going to get it later, "He's my...ward (two could play at that game). I'm the secondary Guardian. Peter, this is Christine Palmer, we worked together."
The boy only grinned impishly, "Really? It's so nice to meet you Miss Doctor Palmer! I'm so sorry that you had to work with him. Was he worse after he joined the cult?" and he pointed at Strange as if the man could not see him doing so. They took their seats and she laughed softly at Peter's jokes, nodding along to them, much to Strange's chagrin.
"Oh I like you!"
"It's not a cult and you know this!"
"That's what a cultist would say!"
They joked for a while, and then the adults took over the conversation to catch up while Peter watched something playing on the news near the counter, a waiter came to refill Christine's mug and take their orders.
Peter grinned again, "I'll take a cup of coffee as bitter and dark as my soul."
And without missing a beat, reading through the tea section of the menu, Stephen responded with, "So he'll take a glass of milk.", Peter would have been perfectly content with dying right then and there with him completing the vine so on key. Christine watched them with wide amused eyes, as Strange placed his order, and the waiter stepped away.
She was interrupted again when the teenager tugged on the man's sleeve, "Stephen can I get a muffin too?"
"Half."
He handed the boy a five dollar bill and Peter thanked him before scurrying up to the counter. She watched him go and waited for him to step out of earshot.
"You've changed."
At her remark he merely hummed, dunking the tea bag in the steaming mug of water, and stirring with the spoon on the side. She smiled when he finally looked up at her.
"I never thought I'd see the day but...you've really changed. Its clear as day."
"Is it?"
She smiled as his eyes automatically searched for his kid for a moment before returning to her.
"You seem happier too.", she turned to look at the boy too, "You two seem to really like each other."
"He's not too much of an annoyance."
Christine rolled her eyes and turned back to him, "Oh you so love him. You've gone soft for him."
"But let's keep that to ourselves, hmm, that's the last thing I need a teenager to know that I've grown soft."
Parenting isn't a practice. It's a daily learning experience.
- Unknown
"Just a bit more", the sutures were nearly completed at this point, "You're doing great. Try to hold still for just a bit longer.", it was easier said then done when the prick of the needle felt like a thousand bees stinging you and the gash itself felt as though the limb was about to fall off completely. Peter nodded nevertheless and choked on a breath, his fingers curling into the table underneath him, the wood splintered just a bit.
Super strength and all that jazz.
"Please...Hurts..."
A hum was his response at first, "Tell me what happened again.", it was distraction plain and simple, he'd already told the story four times; once when he called for the help, once when they'd brought him home, once when they'd cleaned out the gash, and once when he began the process of sewing it up.
A bad guy, a group of bad guys, they'd been fighting in the warehouse district down at the docks. He'd been thrown back and had crashed into a rusted edge of an old something and it had torn into his shoulder something fierce.
And he said as such. Again.
"Please!", Peter yelped and nearly pulled away, a hand wrapped around his good shoulder and held him in place, before sliding up to tug comfortingly at his ear, "Doctor Wizard it hurts!"
"I know spiderchild. Just...about...finished."
Knotting the last stitch and cutting the thread, Strange pat his lower back signalling he was done, gaining a sigh of relief from the boy sitting on the library table. Peter tried curling in on himself but he was stayed.
Stephen wrapped some bandages around the boy's shoulder, "Don't curl too tightly or you'll run the risk of pulling them.", and nobody wanted that. The Cloak curled around his shoulders lightly, mindful of his injury, and Peter smiled at his friend, "Thanks buddy!"
"Why in the name of the Vishanti wouldn't you call for help sooner?"
"I didn't think it would be that bad?"
His guardian shook his head in exasperation, "New rule?, if it's more then three men you are to call for back up."
"What! But-!"
Strange held up his hand, "New. Rule.", Peter pouted but relented. It didn't mean he'd follow the dumb new rule. He had that fight tonight, it was a bout of bad luck, and painful stitches. The older man smiled down at him, "Come, lets get you to bed. The more rest you get the sooner your healing factor will mend that.", he let himself be pulled up and led from the room.
There was no questions asked when he was steered further down the hall then his own bedroom was and into the one three doors down.
Some people care too much. I think it's called love.
- A.A. Milne