“May, seriously, it’s fine, stop apologizing,” Tony reassures for what feels like at least the fourth time, and looks at her stressed-out face, “why do you think a month with the brat would be a burden somehow?”
When May’s mother suddenly got sick, her boss had been kind enough to offer her a longer time off work so she could travel to Italy and take care of her. But taking Peter with her in the middle of school wasn’t an option, and leaving him alone for that long wasn’t an option to her. Hence, Tony.
“I don’t-” May sighs and runs a hand through her hair. “It might be longer than a month, I don’t know. And you seem tired.”
Tony laughs, shaking his head.
“Me? Tired? You sure? Think who you’re talking about here,” he counters May’s incredulous stare and relents, “Tired is a default setting for me. Look, if anything, kid’s gonna team up with Pepper and drag me to bed at 10 o’clock. May, it’s fine, I wouldn’t take him if I didn’t want him. It’s not a big deal.”
“I can make it 9 o’clock,” Peter says as he comes out of his room with a stuffed up duffle bag and a backpack with a Stark Industries logo on the back of it.
(“Mr Stark, I- I can’t accept this,” he’d stammered when Tony tossed him a backpack after he’d lost the 9th one that May bought him, “Also aren’t these, like, company-only?”
“Kid, I’ve got a warehouse full of these somewhere,” Tony had rolled his eyes, “And yeah, all employees get them, but you’re an intern so from where I’m standing it’s all fair. But why don’t you just come and leave your bag here before going on patrol? Then you won’t lose it.”)
“No, you can’t,” Tony says with a pointed look when Peter gives May a hug, and he grins at Tony over her shoulder.
“I’ve got my ways.”
Peter would be a fool to miss that May had a point. Of course, Tony is great. The longest Peter has stayed at the Tower before has been a week, and right now he’s only been here for three days (“I can’t believe you’re living with Tony Stark for a month,” Ned hyperventilated, his voice resembling a slowly deflating balloon.) but clicked into the rhythm immediately.
He gets up at 6:30, Tony’s already up - groggy but making breakfast, or, when he’s lucky, groggy and watching Pepper make breakfast (Peter’s told Tony several times he doesn’t have to get up and see him off in the mornings but so far no dice, and Peter’s stopped attempting long ago). Then Happy takes him to school, he’s at school, Happy picks him up from school, he goes on patrol for a few hours, by that time Tony’s usually off whatever meetings he might have had scheduled, so Peter goes back and convinces him (“Pep, he bullies me into eating-” “He just looks at you with sad eyes, Tony.”) into having a proper meal with him before they go to Tony’s lab, Peter doing his homework first while Tony does his own things.
And Peter’s the one who does most of the talking because there’s always a tension in Tony’s shoulders after the meetings he has with Thaddeus Ross, a sharpness in his movements that lingers for a while before Peter’s managed to get him to breathe a little easier - not that he’d ever mention that this is partly what the constant chatter is trying to achieve, but he’s learned that it helps Tony relax.
And even then, though Tony doesn’t answer with much more than acknowledging hums or one-word replies sometimes for even an hour, Peter can see he’s still listening, paying attention to whatever Peter’s talking about.
Tony’s stressed as much as he’s tired.
“You’re talking with Secretary Ross, right?” Peter asks on Saturday.
“Do you see him anywhere?” Tony asks with a curious raise of his eyebrow. Peter rolls his eyes.
“No, I meant generally. That’s who you’re having meetings with, right?”
Tony lets out a long breath and nods.
“Yeah, him.”
“About the Accords?”
Peter knows that Tony’s been continuously been working with the government on improving the Sokovia Accords, and that he’s already managed to get through a lot of changes for the better that leave the Avengers with a lot more freedom to act. That had been the point, Tony had explained to him one time.
“Collectively refusing to sign wouldn’t have made them just toss it down the garbage chute, that’s not how they work. But if we sign, we prove we’re willing to cooperate, and then it’s likely they’re willing to make amendments, then we can start improving it.”
Tony even got them off Peter’s case for the time being, Peter can’t even fathom how, but he doesn’t have to sign and reveal his identity to the UN until he’s 21. (They’d also made it very clear to Tony that until then Spider-Man is solely his responsibility and that if he proves to be a threat, Tony will be held accountable as well.)
“That too,” Tony shrugs, fiddling with his fork, “but that’s going, honestly, better than I expected it to. Ross, he’s not impossible to try to compromise with, just immensely irritating. But he can’t completely ignore what I’m saying.”
“But he’s the Secretary of State,” Peter frowns.
“And I’m Tony Stark,” Tony smirks, clinking his fork on the edge of Peter’s plate, “Eat your omelette, kid.”
Peter shoves a forkful of egg into his mouth.
“Actually I’m trying to get Steve and Co. off the naughty list,” Tony offhandedly continues, dragging a hand over his face, and Peter’s eyes widen.
“Really?”
Suddenly it makes sense why Tony’s so on edge after these meetings.
“They’re not much use to anyone when they’re in exile and underground, are they? And I think almost two years is a long enough vacation,” he says, brushing it off, and Peter doesn’t push it.
He knows there was a falling out. But no matter what Tony says, Peter knows he’s most likely moving heaven and earth to get the Rogue Avengers pardoned.
Tony’s figure is hunched over on the stool, elbows on knees and head resting on his hands, and Peter feels a wave of childish anger at the Rogues for being war criminals, at the government for being stubborn, at them all for adding to Tony Stark’s already overflowing pool of stress.
“Goin’ that bad?” Rhodey asks, taking a seat in the armchair opposite from him, and a heavy sigh escapes Tony, accompanied by a joyless chuckle.
“No. Not that bad,” he murmurs, ignoring the pounding in his head and pressing the heels of his palms over his eyes, “Actually getting somewhere.”
“Then why do you look like someone ran over your puppy?” Rhodey hums, and puts a bottle of painkillers and a bottled water on the floor between Tony’s feet, tapping his knuckles against the man’s knee to alert him of their presence. Tony twists the small jar open and takes two pills.
“Because there’s a direct correlation between getting closer to pardoning that bunch of know-it-alls and Ross cranking up his this-is-how-irritating-I-am-today meter. I get closer, he gets more infuriating,” he says and pops the painkillers into his mouth, taking a swig from the bottle and grimacing, “Ew, sparkling water? Was this a plan to murder me all along?”
“Don’t whine,” Rhodey smirks.
“Ugh. Anyways, if I walk out of that meeting wanting to jump off the Empire State Building then it means I’ve made progress.”
Rhodey stands and pats his shoulder, and Tony’s elbows find his knees again.
“Well, if you’re gonna jump somewhere, try into your bed, Tones. You look awful,” he says, walking towards the door, but looks back from the door frame. “Seriously, no pulling 4AM today, or I’ll sic the Spiderkid on you.”
“Yeah, dear. You and Pepper,” Tony says with a small smile tugging at his lips, and Rhodey leaves with a ‘damn right’.
Peter gnaws on his grilled cheese for a few moments, really considering giving Tony his space. Really.
But he looks so… worn. Spent.
Peter pushes the plate aside and comes up behind Tony, keeping his steps light so as not to accidentally aggravate his headache. He leans on his back, wrapping his arms loosely around Tony’s neck, and rests his chin on his right shoulder. The front of his body is flush against Tony’s spine, and Peter can feel the muscles on his back tense further for a second, before relaxing considerably.
“I don’t think this is what Rhodey meant by sicking you on me,” he says, a fond sparkle in his eyes, and Peter shrugs.
“You don’t know that for certain.”
“Hm. That’s true.”
There’s a momentary lull in conversation and Peter can feel the body under him move slightly as Tony breathes.
“You know, I could jump off the Empire State Building, as Spider-Man. I could do a back flip. I could do a back flip off the Empire State Building,” he whispers next to Tony’s ear, and doesn’t need to see the mortified look - mortified, but more alive, less tired - to know it’s there.
“Just for that you are forbidden to go anywhere near the Empire State Building,” Tony says with horrified voice, and Peter laughs.
“Okay, that’s fair.”
He gets Tony to sleep by 9PM that evening.
“How in the world did you do that?” Pepper asks when she walks in and sees the man asleep on the couch, with a yellow fleece covering his body and tucked in under his side.
“He was tired. Have you noticed how he doesn’t ever move when I fall asleep on him?”
A light of understanding ignites in Pepper’s eyes as Peter gives him a gleeful grin.
“I just had to lean on him and pretend to be asleep, and then he was forced to be in one place. He was out cold in 10 minutes.”
Peter manages to keep his giggle on the down low when Pepper gives him a high five.
The Rogue Avengers are pardoned.
“Thank god, you can finally stop working yourself to death over this,” Pepper sighs and kisses Tony’s forehead when he tells her.
“You know me, Pep, I’ll just find something else,” Tony says, and the corner of his mouth twitches. “Anyways, it’s not all over yet. Ross still wants them to sign.”
“So they’re coming back to New York?” Peter asks, and Tony gives him a look.
“We’ll see,” he says, pulls an old-looking flip phone out of his pocket and tosses it in the air a couple times before setting it on the table.
“The government doesn’t know where they are because they’re amateurs, so they can’t summon them. I haven’t kept tabs on them, but if I were them I’d probably go to Wakanda, and Cap’s not a complete idiot, so either they’re in Wakanda or they’ve at least visited at some point. The public announcement of the pardon will probably be today on the evening news, but it was put on record in the government about half an hour ago, which means by now T’Challa has probably found out about it. And if he knows, I think it’s rather safe to assume he’d contact Cap and Friends, which means this absolute disgrace to technology should start ringing somewhere around real soon because I’m definitely petty enough not to call him first-”
The phone on the table starts ringing. Tony flashes Peter a grin at the boy’s amazed expression.
They’re not all coming back at the same time, at first just Captain America comes. Peter supposes he’s kind of like an ambassador.
Tony has to go upstate, and since Peter’s mid winter break is just about to start, Peter pushes himself along.
“Seriously, kiddo, it’s hopefully just a few days, you’d be better off staying here,” Tony tries to tell him, but Peter doesn’t budge. Especially since Tony doesn’t outright tell him he can’t go, only tries to convince him to change his mind, so Peter takes it as equal to the man really not minding him coming along and just talking out of some weird noble attempt to shield Peter from it all.
But Peter wants to be there. If this should get far enough to affect Tony as badly as the negotiations so far had, especially now that Cap will be there in person (and Peter knows there’s some bad blood), someone needs to shield Tony too.
When Steve enters, Tony wonders if he should stand up, before realizing that he already did.
The man’s resolute eyes turn hesitant when they find his, and all Tony can think is what the hell is up with that beard?
“Tony,” Steve says, nodding towards him as a greeting, “It’s good to see you.”
“Cap,” he responds, none of his sudden discomfort showing on his face.
“You remember Mr Secretary?” Tony nods towards Thaddeus Ross over by the window, “He’s got some interesting things to say that you might wanna listen.”
He can already feel the headache forming because of what’ll be at least the next two hours of an unfortunate combination of people.
“So, we’ll still have to sign the Accords,” Steve states after Ross leaves, turning to Tony with a look that suggests he’s not happy at all. “Nothing has changed in that aspect.”
“The Accords have changed. Before you run off playing hooky again, maybe actually read them through this time,” Tony groans, rolling his eyes so hard he swears he could see the back of his head.
“They’re not the same. We’ve made a lot of improvements to them while you were gone. Sure, they’re not perfect, but they’re well past just acceptable at this point, and I’m not finished with them yet.”
Steve looks mildly taken by surprise at that, and he studies Tony’s face for a moment.
“You?”
“Who the hell else?” Tony snaps, like it should be obvious, and only barely bites back his it’s not like you were trying to find a compromise.
Steve only nods, averting his gaze. He’s not here to pick a fight, though it looks like one is a long time coming sooner or later.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, keeping his voice level as if he were talking to a scared animal. It’s probably best to change the topic.
“What about Barton and Lang?”
“They’re off house arrest. Under observation, like you and your clique when they get here, but free to move. Anything else?”
Steve thinks about everything he’s heard, and a vague sense of wonder hugs him close. The wonder he gets when he thinks about the impossible things that Tony Stark achieves simply because he’s him, and Steve doesn’t mean his money.
“You did all this?”
“You sound surprised,” Tony says with a raise of his eyebrow, emitting a chilly nonchalance before turning his back and walking out the door.
Really, Steve is not surprised at all.
“Tony,” he calls out the next time he sees the man. There’s a kid next to him, one who Tony shoos down the hallway when Steve approaches.
“I just wanted to say. I appreciate everything you’re doing for us, we all do. You know, you taking us in,” Steve says, the look on his face unsure as he hesitantly tries to figure out the right things to say.
“Oh, I’m not taking you in per se,” Tony says with a masterfully neutral expression, “You’re just staying here. I won’t be living here, not most of the time. This right now is just temporary because Ross is a dick and wants me to babysit you.”
Steve swallows the exasperation that the bit about Ross stirred up, and gives Tony a confused look.
“Where will you be living then?” he asks.
“Tower. Didn’t sell it,” Tony shrugs and looks like he’d really rather not be standing here talking to him right now.
Perhaps I should leave him alone.
He doesn’t.
“How long will you be staying here?” he asks, and hopes that maybe if he gets Tony to have a normal conversation with him for long enough this gaping gap between them might grow some support posts that they could slowly start building a bridge upon, even if right now it’s awkward and makes his skin crawl.
He knows it’s not that easy.
“Well, hopefully I’ll be gone before Barnes gets here, ‘cause there are a lot of people I’d be delighted to see and he’s not one of them,” Tony says with a tinge of annoyance.
Steve’s eyes harden. Part of him regrets not leaving Tony be when he got the thought, other part knows that this was coming whether he avoided it or not.
“Come on, that? He was brainwashed!” he says with a resolute voice, like a parent telling a misbehaved child to go and apologize.
“I fucking know that,” Tony snaps, sharp anger suddenly flaring in his eyes, and Steve blinks.
“Don’t you dare look at me like I don’t know. The amount of time I’ve spent thinking about what, how, and why Barnes did what he did and how you didn’t tell me could only be rivaled by me thinking about all the possible scenarios an overeager superpowered teenager could get himself killed in Queens. I’m well fucking aware that he was brainwashed, Rogers, and by god, sometimes I wish he wasn’t,” he seethes, “because then I’d have a solid reason for not wanting to look at him, ‘cause apparently seeing a footage of that man’s hands choking my mother to death is not good enough for you! I can barely look at your face.”
“Why’d you get us back then?” Steve counters, trying very hard not to get too heated but failing not to take a step towards him and waving his arm around in a frustrated gesture. It’s a faster motion than he intended, but he doesn’t think anything of it until Tony flinches back, eyes wildly darting between Steve’s arms and slightly raising his own to his chest. He stops the movement almost as soon as it starts, but Steve caught it, and then there’s a sinking feeling in his guts.
“I don’t know, because I’m a goddamn idiot,” Tony replies, responding to Steve’s horrified look with a defensive one.
“Tony, you know I’ll always have your back when you need me,” Steve says, no, asks, carefully, looking at his own hands and then at Tony’s rigid posture, his mind playing him the cruel image of the Siberian landscape, of the panic on the bloodied face as the hands flew up to protect it, of slamming the shield into the suit.
“No, I don’t,” Tony says with a rough voice, putting his hands into his trouser pockets and regarding Steve with a suddenly empty look. “Barnes may have been brainwashed, Cap, but you sure weren’t.”
“Boss, Peter has asked me to tell you he would like your help if you have time,” FRIDAY’s voice announces from above, and Tony turns around.
“I have to go. The building’s remodeled, but your room is still where it used to be so you shouldn’t have trouble finding it. Ask FRI if you get lost.”
And then he’s gone.
“What do you need, kid?” Tony asks, stepping into the common room where Peter sheepishly looks back at him from the armchair.
“I- Well- I, uh, actually don’t need anything,” he starts, the look on his face equal parts guilty and concerned. Tony frowns in confusion and Peter sighs before he can say anything.
“Look, you can’t be mad, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the hallway doors here aren’t very superhearing-proof and I just heard you and Captain America talking,” he says and rubs his neck, “And I know I probably should’ve just gone into my room or somewhere else where it is soundproof but I didn’t and- Anyways, it sounded like, uh, I thought you maybe would like to get away so I told FRIDAY to tell you… Are you mad? I’m sorry.”
Tony is motionless for a moment that feels like an hour to Peter. He pinches the bridge of his nose and an airy laugh escapes him.
God, he- What the hell did I do to deserve this kid?
He can vaguely register Peter anxiously rambling , probably apologies, and shakes his head.
A small oof escapes Peter when he’s pulled into a bone-crushing hug.
Steve meets the kid on the second day.
He’s actually looking for Tony, but finds the boy in the kitchen.
“Hello,” he says with a small smile, and the kid’s eyes widen.
“Captain America sir,” he breathes, and Steve gets the impression he doesn’t know what to do.
“Just Steve is fine,” he says, “You’re Peter, right? I heard that name last night, and there aren’t a lot of people around the building right now.”
“Yeah, Peter,” Peter responds. Some deep-embedded part of him wants to fawn at the idea of Captain America talking to him. The rest of him...
He knows about the Accords. He doesn’t know what happened in Siberia. He knows that when Tony was found and brought back he’d been wheeled right into intensive care because of severe hypothermia and serious injuries, and that his suit looked like it had been through hell.
He also knows there weren’t that many people with Tony in Siberia.
And now he knows what he heard in the hallway.
Peter doesn’t feel very warm towards Captain America.
“He’s almost worked himself sick trying to get you guys pardoned, you know,” he says, and Steve sighs.
“I bet he did,” he responds, not even trying to figure out who this kid even is.
“It was you, right?” Peter asks, stubbornly keeping his voice level despite the dark restless mass in his chest, “It was because of you that he almost died in Siberia. They couldn’t find him for a long time, you know, because his suit was broken so he couldn’t get away and he couldn’t call for help either.”
Steve doesn’t know what’s worse - the fact that Peter’s laying it out like that or the fact that he’s telling it like it’s a story he read in a newspaper and is retelling now.
“I didn’t mean to almost kill him. It’s complicated. That fight- It- It was a series of wrong decisions, some of them made long ago, other ones right there in the spur of the moment. But I never wanted to kill him, and leaving him there like that was a mistake. I regret that whole fight,” he tells the kid, honest, and his chest is uncomfortably tight. Peter looks at him with a gaze that is startlingly similar to Tony’s.
“Is that fight why he’s angry at you? Because I’m pretty angry at you for that.”
“Maybe to a degree,” Steve says with a sad smile, “but I think he’s more angry because I lied to him.”
Peter looks at him critically and Steve feels a weird surge of defensiveness.
“Look, I’d love to move past it all, but I can’t do it if he doesn’t meet me halfway,” he frowns, and then some of the anger Peter’s kept at bay so far shows on his face for a moment.
“Here’s food for thought,” Peter scowls, sliding off the chair and walking towards the exit, “Have you even tried to apologize?”
Tony thanks his luck that he can go home after the third day, before any of the others have arrived. Happy’s driving and he’s on the backseat, because it’s past 11PM and Peter had already fallen asleep on the couch, so Tony carried him to the car (because he couldn’t wait until morning to get out of there) and stayed in the back because the kid’s sleeping figure had leaned on him when he was trying to buckle him in and he might as well. Peter’s therapeutic. Like a puppy.
Rogers had attempted an apology, which was entirely unexpected and also didn’t change anything at all, but it wasn’t unpleasant to hear for starters.
Eventually, Tony thinks, he can move past it. Eventually he’ll be able to have a decent conversation with him and not feel uncomfortable. Eventually he’ll be able to not feel a wave of panic when Cap’s hands get too close to his chest. Eventually he might be able to genuinely feel good around the man again, think of him as a friend, laugh with him.
But he doesn’t think they can ever get back to the way it used to be. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to trust him that much ever again.
His therapist says he has trust issues, and Tony knows better than to argue with that, even if he does sometimes. Being Tony Stark has never been the best base for trusting people. Being Howard Stark's son, being the heir to SI, being one of the youngest people ever to graduate MIT summa cum laude, being the owner of one of the most prestigious companies on the planet, being one of the top influencers in the world, being someone that people’s lives depend upon, having the brilliant brains he has, the money he has - Tony has always known he can't just trust anyone. Because people are vicious, they're like predators, they all want to get something, and if there's one thing his father got through to him it's that.
It got worse after Obadiah. Then it got better. Then it got a hell of a lot worse again after Steve.
He could count the people he unconditionally trusts on one hand and have a finger to spare, but he's fine with that. When Tony thinks about Pepper kissing him good morning, Rhodey telling him off for skipping on sleep three days in a row, Happy putting on an unconvincing but routinely show to groan and grumble each time he tells him to pick up the kid from school, or looks at Peter’s head on his lap, it’s enough for him. Because trust is a luxury, and these four people are more than enough.