#PeterParkerProtectionSquad

Rhodey finds out about Spider-Man’s age completely by accident. He’s wandering around the tower, wishing his wheelchair was less clunky and humming to himself. He wheels up a corridor, past one of the meeting rooms. Happy and Tony are conferring about something.

“Kid won’t stop texting me,” says Happy. He’s obviously tired. “Tones, he’s so young. Are you sure–“

“He’s fifteen. Of course he’s texting you,” says Tony, dismissively.

“Exactly,” continues Happy. “He’s fifteen. Are you sure it’s safe for him to be doing his Spidery stuff without our help?”

Rhodey starts. Spider-Man is fifteen? There is no way that’s safe. Or legal. He stares at Tony, waiting for his reply. Maybe Tony is–? He shakes it off. There’s not really any acceptable explanation for this.

“He’ll be fine,” Tony insists.

“But–“ Happy is obviously distressed– “shouldn’t we at least be training him?”

Oh, God. They’re not even training him.

“What the hell, Tony,” says Rhodey, because he’s got to say something. “What the hell?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. Happy starts, and looks apologetic.

“You brought a minor to Berlin? To fight against several enhanced individuals who don’t know he’s a minor? You know that’s kidnapping, right? Like, actually. Also, not training him? What?”

Tony has the good grace to look ashamed, but says nothing. Rhodey can feel himself bubbling over with anger that has been present ever since the fight in Berlin.

“This isn’t even the worst thing you’ve done in the past year, Tony. You’ve been doing awful thing after awful thing. What happens if he does something bigger? Has he signed the Accords? ‘Cause if he has, he’s breaking them. Hard. Will he end up on the Raft? It’s bad enough to do that to adults, Tony, but a kid?”

Happy looks shocked; he obviously hasn’t considered this before.

“He’ll be fine,” says Tony. It’s unconvincing. Rhodey stares at him.

“I saw his newest video,” he says. “He stopped a car chase. Caught some guy with a gun. They shot him, Tony, and he’s a kid. You’ve given him a suit. You’re enabling this. I bet his guardian doesn’t know. Do they?”

Tony says nothing, which is all the answer Rhodey needs. He crosses his arms. “Oh, my God. Are you even making sure he’s safe?”

“He has Happy’s number.”

Rhodey raises both eyebrows. “Are you responding to his messages?”

Happy pulls a sheepish face. Rhodey stares, before backing out of the room.

“Rhodey!” calls Happy, before Tony murmurs something.

He can’t believe this. Except he can. Wasn’t Tony the one who exposed Clint’s family with no regard for their safety? Wasn’t he the one who tried to kill Bucky Barnes for something he had no control over? Rhodey realises, suddenly, that he’s been making excuses for Tony’s self-centered behaviour for years. Not even Loki exposed Clint’s family, and he had access to the entirety of his brain. Almost all their teammates are in hiding because of a stupid fight over a stupid set of Accords that Tony has broken countless times despite putting his teammates in jail for doing the same.  When did Rhodey start ignoring this?

The realisation makes him sick. “Oh,” he says, “God.”

He wants accountability. He really, really does. But the Accords have done nothing to introduce it, really. He’s seen Tony doing his Iron Man business, ignoring the Accords, while he put Sam and Clint and Wanda and even that guy Scott into jail for the same. A super-weird superhero jail with electrifying collars and no trials. But he’s treating this kid as an asset. Not as a kid.

Rhodey won’t let this kid be a weapon the way Wanda was. He won’t let him be thrown away like that.

Fuck, he needs to talk to Steve.

Steve picks up after the third call. “What, Rhodes?” he says.

“It’s Spider-Man.”

“What about him?” Steve asks. He’s obviously tired. Rhodey faintly hears the voice of someone asking him What’s up? It sounds like Sam.

Rhodey winces. “He’s fifteen.”

Steve spends several moments swearing. Then he says, “Did you know?”

“No. I just found out. It’s just–he brought him to Berlin, man. You know that’s legally kidnapping, right? If his guardian didn’t know, which, let’s face it, they probably didn’t. Or at least, they didn’t know the reason. And you guys didn’t know, did you?”

“We were fighting a minor?” Several voices seem to inquire at this point, and Rhodey hears Steve explain. There’s a lot of cursing involved.

“What do I do, man?” he says into the phone. “I have to find him, make sure he’s safe. I can’t stop him from doing it, probably, but–Cap, nobody’s even training him. Tony, he’s–they’re not even answering his calls. Cap, what if something bad happens? They won’t know.”

Steve exhales, deep in though. “You need to find him. He’s from Queens, I think. He said–that, after I dropped a whole–God, what are those things called. The things that let you get on planes?–Anyway, I dropped one of those on him. God, I dropped one of those on him.”

“I can’t search the whole of Queens. And I can’t tail him. I’m–I’m paralysed, remember.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, softly, “I remember. And I’m so sorry, Rhodey.”

Neither of them say anything for a while. Then Steve says, “I guess one of us could try to help? We’d have to stay out of sight, though.”

Someone says something on the other line. Steve replies. “No, Wanda, that’s way too dangerous. Where would you stay? What would you–yeah.” He returns to the conversation on his phone. “Listen, Rhodes, hang tight. I can send someone out there, if you want. But you can’t–“ He pauses. The words Tell Tony hang unspoken between them. “I’ll get back to you?”

“Just so you know,” says Rhodey, “I’m still with the Accords. But they were flawed. And I’m sorry.”

Steve barks a laugh. “I know. I’m sorry, too. This is just one giant mess.”

“Yeah. I guess neither of us were in the right completely,” says Rhodey, thoughtfully. “Don’t tell Sam, but I kinda miss you guys.”

Steve laughs. They hang up.

Rhodey lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling. He thinks about Spider-Man, who’s a kid, and Iron Man, who isn’t, but acts like one, sometimes. The former is obviously a good kid. He’s trying his best, or at least it seems that way. In a few ways, Tony’s helped him. He’s given him the suit, which keeps him safe, to a degree. But he also took him to a German airport to fight a bunch of highly trained enhanced individuals and/or spies and/or Ant-Men. He also endangered him: the kid had been injured before Rhodey had gone down, so much so that Tony had told him to stop fighting. The whole situation with the Accords was not one that children should be involved with, end of story. But Tony brought him. Tony flew him halfway across the world to get him to fight those people who could have hurt him. Who did hurt him. But he must have known how old the kid was. He knew how to find him.

Happy knocks on his door when he comes  to check on him.

“Just wanted to know you were okay,” he says. “Glad you’ve not run off, or whatever.”

“That would be a bit difficult,” says Rhodey. He doesn’t mean for it to come off harsh, but it does. Happy winces.

“About the kid–“ he begins.

“Can you get me a meeting with him? He can wear his mask if he wants. I don’t wanna… invade his privacy. Just make sure he’s…okay.”

Happy smiles. “That would be good. I hate ignoring him, but we haven’t got anything to tell him to do. He’s really keen, I guess. He leaves me voicemails about the stuff he does every day. It’s kinda sweet.”

“I’ll get him trained up,” says Rhodey. “Kid’s got no idea how to fight.”

“I won’t tell Tony,” offers Happy.

“That would probably be for the best.”

The kid shows up, masked, to the coffee shop when Happy tells him to. People are already pointing at Rhodey, but once Spider-Man shows up all hell breaks loose.

Rhodey says, “Hey, kid. Thanks for meeting me here.”

“Mr. War Machine, sir! It’s no problem… Is there? A problem?”

“Oh, a little,” says Rhodey, shrugging. He chucks a tip on his table and leads the kid out of the cafe. He bounces along besides him.

“Really? What is it.”

Rhodey shrugs again. “Your Mr. Stark isn’t training you.”

“Yeah, but I’m fine. Completely. Mr. Stark’s doing his best. He’s super busy, and stuff.”

“No offence, kid, but you're not fine. You could really use some training.”

“That’s–hey! I’m helping people. I’m doing good.”

“I’m not denying that. You're good at saving people.” Rhodey tries to make his voice as soothing as possible. “I just want to make sure you’re the best you can be. Nobody's amazing when they start out.”

The kid stops. He cocks his head at Rhodey as though studying him. “Does Mr. Stark know about this?”

“What Mr. Stark doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

There’s a long pause. The kid surveys him, up and down. Even with the mask his emotions are easy to read. Finally, he says, “You’re Mr. Stark’s buddy. That’s good enough for me, I guess.”

Rhodey smiles. “You’re a good kid.”

He leads him up the street as Spider-Man begins to question him excitedly about the functionality of his wheelchair. The streets are fairly crowded, but not too crowded. He hopes the location they chose for his training will be discreet enough to hide them from any passing civilians.

At the sight of the Rogue Avengers’ car, Spider-Man stares at him.

“This situation,” he says, “is really, really dodgy. MJ would tell me to run the other way. But then again, MJ totally hates Mr. Stark, so..?”

“Kid,” says Rhodey, “do you know anything about what you were fighting for, in Berlin?”

“About the Accords? I know, uh, a little? My friend MJ is totally against them, but I don’t know much. Which is ironic because I fought over them, I guess. I don’t know. Mr. Stark said he was right, and he’s, like, my idol, so…”

Rhodey struggles for a way to word it. “The thing is,” he begins, “it’s not really so cut and dry.”

The kid stares at him. “Are you, uh, saying what I think you’re saying? Have you recruited me to go fight against the Accords? Because I am not down with that.”

“Have you signed them?”

“No,” says the kid, carefully. “Mr. Stark says I’m too young. And they don’t apply to me, so long as I don’t… do anything big, without him there.”

“Huh,” is Rhodey’s only response. He tries again. “Look, kid, the thing is, the Avengers–the ones who didn’t sign–they’re not bad people. They were fighting for what they thought was right, and afterwards they were fighting so they could get this guy, because Barnes, he was framed, you know. There was this guy who was trying to do... something to him. But the whole mess with the accords meant we didn't believe them.”

“Oh.” The kid fiddles with his webshooters, watching the city go by. “Are they–okay?”

“Do you want to meet them?”

Spider-Man freezes. “Uh…”

“It’s cool if you don’t. I can just turn this car around. I’m not going to make you meet these guys if you don’t want to, okay, Spider-Man?”

Spider-Man smiles faintly. “Mr. Stark always gets that wrong.”

“What?”

“He calls me Spider-Boy. I hate it. It’s not my name.”

“Well, Spider-Man, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Do you want to come meet my buddies, or do you not?”

Spider-Man turns his head to the side once more. His fingers twist together as he considers. Finally, he says, “You know what? I would. Like to meet them, I mean.”

“It’s not all of them,” says Rhodey. “Just Wanda and Sam. And I think Scott might video-call at some point.”

“Oh! I tied him up. Does he hate me?”

Rhodey laughs. It is impossible not to like this kid. He’s impossibly earnest. “No, of course not, kid.”

Rhodey wheels himself into the warehouse while the kid bounces alongside him. He’s obviously excited, but hangs back at the sight of the Falcon and Scarlet Witch. The latter steps forward to shake his hand.

“Spider-Man, no?” she asks. The lilt of her accent filters through at the vigilante’s name. “I have seen your videos. You are good.”

The kid beams, or at least Rhodey assumes he does. The way he bounces on the balls of his feet seem to imply it. “Ms. Scarlet Witch, ma’am, it’s a pleasure to meet you, uh, properly.”

Wanda laughs. “Am only nineteen. Not Ms. Anything yet.”

Spider-Man laughs awkwardly. “Sorry, uh…”

“Wanda,” she says.

“Okay, Wanda, uh, sorry. And, uh, Mr. Wilson, sir,” he says, turning to the Falcon, who’s leaning against a pillar, sizing him up, “thank you, for not hating me, or vaulting me into the sky, or whatever.”

Sam laughs. “No problem.”

Rhodey settles back in his wheelchair and watches as they begin to walk the kid through the basics of a punch.

They’re there for two hours. Peter vaults across the ceiling as he and Wanda play-fight. Sam and Rhodey talk on the ground. Redwing follows the kids around to make sure they don’t hurt each other, or themselves, but Rhodey tries not to be too invasive. Scott video-called in for a while. Apparently he’d been giving Sam tips on how to behave around kids.

“Cassie’s not very old,” he said, “but the principles are the same. Don’t treat them like they’re stupid, don’t try and undermine their opinions, and don’t tear them down after they achieve something, but don’t puff them up too hard either. And if they make a mistake, try and explain why it happened and how to fix it. Don’t lose it too much, or you lose them.” (Sam had laughed at the wording, but Scott had scolded him, saying, “It’s true, man! I don’t make the parenting rules. I just pass them forward to you.” Rhodey had reminded him that Spider-Man probably had a perfectly capable guardian at home, but Scott said, “Teaching is the same thing, man.” Despite his urges to remind Scott of his non-teacherness, Rhodey stayed quiet. They didn’t know each other very well. Sam took the honour instead.)

Now, they sit passing a bunch of grapes back and forward and watching the occasional bursts of red light Wanda makes. Spider-Man is hooting with laughter as he lands a punch.

Sam stands up. “Now that’s how to do it, kid!”

The kid in question lands in front of them, out of breath but still bouncing on his toes. Wanda appears next to him, grinning. They high-five. Rhodey hadn’t realised people could become so close in such a short time, but he grins.

“You’re doing good, Spider-Man.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mr. Rhodes. I should probably head back, my Aunt’ll be worried, but thank you so much. I feel like I’ve really improved so much in just these few hours. You guys are so cool!”

“Wow,” says Sam, “he’s a talker.”

The kid stops and says, “Sorry.”

“No, no, no, kid, it’s not a bad thing.”

Spider-Man laughs with glee. “Wanda, it was so cool, when you levitated that crate, and it was like, whoosh, and I was all, ahhh!!”

“Not as cool as when you tight-roped across those two columns on your webs! I can’t wait to do this again!”

Spider-Man stops, and stares at Rhodey. “I can–I can come back?”

“Yeah, kid,” says Rhodey. “Just, you probably shouldn’t tell Tony. He’s still, uh…’’

“Butthurt,” offers Sam, which makes Wanda snort. The kid hides his laughter behind his hand. “That man can hold a grudge.”

“Well, yeah,” agrees Rhodey. “Best not to mention it.”

“But I can come back?”

“Yeah. How does the same time next week sound?”

“Uh,” exclaims the kid, “amazing!”