9) Never Ask For Help. Nobody Cares

 

 

Peter winced and let out a pained whimper as the sound of shouting from downstairs grew louder and louder. He threw his hands over his ears and tried to bury himself in his covers, tears leaking from his eyes.

Mommy and Daddy were fighting.

Again.

He didn't like it when they fought. They were loud. And they got angry. It was scary.

The four-year-old tried to ignore it as he pulled the covers tighter over his head. Cracking open his eyes, he could just make out the light brown fur of his teddy bear tucked further under the covers. Reaching out a small, shaky hand, the toddler grasped onto the matted fur of the stuffed animal and pressed it close to his chest.

His fingers brushed up against one of the many different stitches along the toy's lining from where his Mommy had had to fix him up and make him all better.

His Mommy could make anything better.

Another shout rose up from the floor, causing a panicked wince to sound from the boy as he curled up even tighter, scrunching his eyes closed as he buried his face in his bear.

Eventually, the shouting died down before trickling off into nothing, but Peter didn't look up. He simply continued to rock himself back and forth. He didn't even move when the door to his room slowly let out a familiar squeak, the tell-tale sign of a new presence in his room.

It wasn't until he felt someone gently wrap their arms around him that he finally opened his eyes. Mary gingerly rearranged the child until he was now sitting in her lap, his head resting against her chest as she gently swayed him back and forth. Peter made no sound as he curled his fingers into his mother's shirt.

"Fighting?"

"No. No more fighting." Her voice was soft, but it still carried in the otherwise silent room. She grabbed one of his little hands and began to draw little circles with the tip of her finger on the back, something that always seemed to calm him down.

Peter blinked up at her, fresh tears still coating his eyelashes. "Is Daddy mad again?"

Mary stared down at the child in her lap, taking in his quivering lip and shaking hands before letting a small smile form on her face. She gently cupped her's son's cheeks in her hands. "No. He's not mad anymore. Mommy and Daddy were just talking about some grown-up things," she murmured with a smile. Peter, however - despite his young age - was not as oblivious as his mother thought he was, for he still caught the way she hastily wiped at her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

Mommy was sad again.

Peter felt more tears welling up in his eyes as he buried his face back into his mother's shirt. He didn't like this. Mommy and Daddy were always fighting now. He was always mad. She was always sad. He didn't understand.

The four-year-old peeked out at the room, his eyes catching sight of the bookshelf lined up next to his bed. On the bottom shelf (the only one he could reach) there were numerous picture books, each with colorful illustrations and happy characters.

Why weren't things like his stories? Why wasn't there some big strong hero to beat back the bad guy? Was there a bad guy?

There had to be. He just needed a hero to beat up the monster making his Daddy mad and his Mommy sad. He knew they were out there. His stories were full of heroes. One of them had to be coming soon, right?

Peter cracked open his eyes again, peeked his little head away from his mother's arms, and gazed out at the room. Despite the darkness that shrouded the walls, the little boy wasn't afraid. He couldn't be, not while he was safely tucked in his mother's embrace.

Still...

"Is Daddy gone?"

Mary seemed surprised by the question. She said nothing for a moment, cast a small glance towards the door before combing a hand through her boy's curls. "Daddy just...stepped outside for a bit to calm down. He'll come back soon."

Peter curled himself back into his mother's arms, glanced down at the bear still clutched tightly to his chest.

"What if he doesn't?"

"...what?"

He lifted his eyes and stared back at her. "What if Daddy doesn't come back?"

"I...baby-"

Peter curled his head down again, kept fiddling with the stitching on his bear. "Are you gonna leave too?"

He felt his mother shift, felt her tense. For a moment, the boy feared he'd somehow made her mad, prepared for more yelling, for more anger. But instead, he felt his mother's arms curl tighter around him as she sucked in a shaky breath. He furrowed his brows and lifted his head, caught sight of his Mommy's eyes, big and watery as she gave him a gentle smile.

"Baby...Peter, listen to me, honey. Mommy isn't going anywhere."

His face pinched slightly and he glanced away. "Daddy-"

"Hey." She cupped his cheek and guided his eyes back towards her own. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? Mommy and Daddy are working some things out, some grown-up things, and we may get a little loud sometimes, but Mommy isn't going anywhere, alright? I'm not going anywhere."

Peter hesitated for a moment, perhaps to let the words truly sink in before he was lifting his little head once again, bright brown eyes meeting his mother's. He blinked up at her before letting out a little sniffle.

"Promise?"

Mary smiled, ran a hand through his hair one more time before lifting up her hand and extending a pinkie.

"Would I ever break a pinkie promise?"

Peter grinned and excitedly looped his finger with hers, the woman shaking her hand up and down, dragging his little fist along with her. He giggled and let out a loud squeal as Mary wrapped him in a bear hug and began to assault his face with a wash of kisses, the toddler's laughs echoing off the walls of the otherwise silent house.

 

---

 

Friday - March 11, 2016

Parker Residence - Sub-Level Labs

05:26 a.m.

Peter grunted as he was forcefully slammed into the wall, head hitting the hard surface painfully before he fell down to the ground with a thud.

He clenched his fists and let out an irritated sigh. Lifting his head back up, the teen narrowed his eyes and watched as the Lizard swished his long tail back and forth. His tongue flickered out of his mouth before disappearing once again, dark black eyes blinking down at him as he lunged.

Muscles coiling, Peter rolled to the side and leapt back up to his feet as the monster collided with the wall. Rushing forward, Peter pulled himself up onto the creature's back before slamming his elbow hard down on the reptile's head.

The monster roared out in pain before Peter felt a heavy tail slam into his side, sending him flying back down to the floor. Before he could raise himself up again, he felt a large claw slam down on his chest as the Lizard crouched over him.

The teen screamed out in pain as he felt long talons dig into his shoulder and chest, kicking out blindly with his back leg. The hit was enough to knock the Lizard off balance, which allowed the teen to ram a fist in the monster's face, sending him flying backward.

Taking a second to catch his breath, Peter placed a tentative hand on his chest, wincing as he felt warm liquid come off of his fingers. He groaned in frustration. Can we please wrap this up? I'm gonna be late for school...

Sliding his feet back into a defensive position, Peter clenched his fists as the reptile let out a loud hiss, crouching down on the floor as it readied to pounce once again.

The Lizard shot forward, snapping his teeth loudly. Peter reared back and send a kick towards the monster, his foot slamming into the creature's head. The Lizard staggered back at the blow before countering with one of his own, slashing a claw towards the teen. Peter ducked underneath the attack before sliding across the floor in between the reptile's legs.

Jumping back up to his feet, Peter curled his hands around the monster's tail and pulled back. The monster hissed as it lost its grip on the floor, falling to his stomach as Peter used all of his strength to hurl him clear across the room.

The reptile slammed painfully against the training room walls, the white surface rippling as it absorbed the shock of the impact. Peter let out a strangled breath as he placed his hands on his knees, fighting to drag in a breath as he huffed. Peter didn't know how long they'd been going at it, but he knew he was running out of steam.

He could only hope his father was feeling merciful today and would call it soon.

The teen stole a glance back at the one-way mirror on the wall before turning forward once again. Doubt it.

Before he could take in another breath, the Lizard reared back up once again, a loud roar tearing its way through his throat. Peter flipped out of the way as a large claw slammed down into the ground where he'd once been standing. However, as his feet came to land on the floor once more, the creature's long tail whipped through the air, hitting him in the side once again.

The force sent him flying into the side wall for around the sixteenth time in the past ten minutes.

If he were being honest, it was really starting to get old.

The boy struggled to rise up to his once again, only for a large scaly claw to wrap around his throat, hoisting him up into the air before slamming him into the wall.

The teen lifted his hands as he fought to pry the claw from his neck while he tried to land a solid kick, only for the reptile to squeeze harder. A strangled gasp filtered out of Peter's mouth as he struggled to drag in another breath of air.

The Lizard let out a loud hiss as he raised his other hand, poised to strike his claws down.

"Enough."

Both heads swiveled towards the back wall as a large door slowly materialized from the white surface. Richard calmly stepped into the room, Max standing next to him with a clipboard and a stopwatch in his hands.

"23 minutes, 17 seconds." The dark-skinned man reported before writing something down on the clipboard. "8.5 times longer than the control group." He murmured.

Richard gave a nod that was something akin to approval as the Lizard haphazardly dropped the teen in his grasp. Peter collapsed onto the ground as he wrapped a hand around his throat and coughed harshly. Through the pained tears in his eyes, Peter could just make out the Lizard stepping back slightly as his green skin and long tail slowly disappeared into the usual pale complexion of Curt Conners, minus one amputated right arm. The man sneered down at the boy by his feet before going over to stand by the other two.

Max silently handed the man his prosthetic, the three men conversing quietly as Curt re-attached his limb, but Peter he wasn't really paying attention anymore. Instead, the teen was just focusing on taking in deep, steady breaths as he struggled to get his heart back under control. His muscles screamed at him in protest as his body shifted and the whining in his ears slowly faded away.

But the teen didn't have much time to process before he was roughly hauled to his feet. "Let's go," Max muttered as he tossed him towards the door. Peter steadied himself before he could faceplant on the floor, hastily walking out the door before they could change their minds and decide to go another round.

Stepping out of the room, Peter couldn't help the queasy feeling that built up in his gut as his eyes scanned over the large room he'd grown to hate with all his might.

The Station...

It wasn't even a room at all. In fact, as the name suggested, it had once been an active subway platform, long since abandoned. But of course, his father had found a way to repurpose it.

Huge, domed, vaulted ceilings stretched high over their heads, faded brickwork and tiling all that remained of what the room had once been. Now the crumbling brick walls were juxtaposed by the sleek metal tables and high-tech machines lining the edges. Cables looped overhead, wires trailed the floor, weapons of varying shapes, sizes and models covered one wall. Stairs both leading up a level and further down into the station sat against the far end of the room, and the long black empty subway tunnel created a gaping maw along the back of the Station.

With how the room was structured, the domed ceilings created a haunting echo that left Peter's ears constantly filled with the distant sounds of life and danger, leaving his nerves on edge each and every time he entered the lab.

Peter followed Max and his father across the Station, trying hard not to make much eye contact with the few stragglers milling around the room. It was rare for the teen to come down to the lab and find it empty. There were always a few bodies keeping it full. Whether they were men in long lab coats, grizzled looking thugs, or sometimes even sharply dressed business folk, Peter never paid them much mind. It wasn't like they mattered.

Curt, who had broken away to converse with two men holding a couple of clipboards, noticed their approach and motioned them over. "We got the results back on the Vercillium samples. They're testing at a much more volatile rate than we were expecting."

Richard took the clipboard from his hands and glanced down at the papers, flipping through a few before his lips pulled into a firm frown. Peter watched with little interest, knew his father's work wasn't something for him to be listening to anyway.

The man grunted before turning towards the other two strangers Peter couldn't be bothered to scrutinize closely. "Take the boy down to the testing site and prep him for batch C31."

"C31, sir?"

"I need to see how it reacts to mutated genes and I'm tired of waiting for willing volunteers to test it out."

Peter didn't look up as his father spoke. He didn't do much of anything, really, just watched a trail of ants marching silently along the ground, disappearing underneath the cracks in the floor.

The two strangers nodded and made towards the stairs leading further down into the Station. Richard turned to Max.

"Oversee."

"Right."

Peter didn't wait for a shove as he began to follow the other two across the Station, the lab fairly quiet this early in the morning. They marched silently towards the stairs, four individual sets of footsteps. Peter might not have bothered to mark the two researchers' faces, but he filed away their footsteps: soft, hesitant, faint shuffles, light tread.

The walls got darker and darker the further down they went, the lights flickering pathetically as they struggled to push back the shadows creeping along every surface. Faded graffiti letters dripping dark colors lined the wall, the faint ingrained smell of chemicals making Peter's nose twitch.

The four of them finally entered in upon another large, vaulted room with domed ceilings and crumbling tile walls. But this room was much smaller than the first, with a line of hard metal cots and various tables lined with sterilized syringes, knives, scalpels, and anything else they used for their experiments. Monitors, medical equipment, and long strings of wires stretched along the walls, the high-tech modernism a stark contrast to the faded brickwork of the past.

Peter sat up atop one of the metal cots while Max folded his arms and leaned up against one of the back walls, looking genuinely disinterested as the other two workers began to mill about the room, prepping various syringes and vials. The teen felt his fingers curling into the metal surface of the cot, listening to the faint creaking as his fingers carefully began to dent the metal.

His face remained neutral. He was used to this.

One of the workers, a woman, approached. She held an empty syringe in one hand and a sterilized cotton ball in the other. Peter lifted his arm, let her rub the cold alcohol against his skin. The smell was pungent and strong, but he didn't flinch, not even as she slid the needle into the crook of his elbow and began to draw his blood.

Her technique was at least adequate, for it barely pinched as she slid the needle back out. For a second, as he glanced up, Peter almost thought he saw her try to smile at him. But the teen was turning away before he could really judge it, probably just a trick of the light. He didn't smile back. Instead, he just wiped at the little dot of blood bubbling onto his skin as she walked off with the freshly-drawn sample.

Peter glanced down at his finger, at the smear of blood now coating the tip. He rubbed it against his thumb until it was gone, nothing more than a blush of color against his pale complexion.

It didn't always use to be like this.

He remembered when this wasn't normal, when this wasn't nothing more than a daily part of his routine, when the Cons weren't a part of his life and his father...was different.

He couldn't remember the first time his father started the tests, but he remembered what the man used to say.

("It's for your own good, Peter. So I can protect you. So you can protect yourself.")

He couldn't remember his first meeting with the Cons, but he remembered the cold feeling of the floor underneath his bed, quivering fingers and shaking cheek pressing into the wood.

("Come on out, Petey! You can't hide forever, not when we have a game to finish!")

He couldn't remember which spider it was that bit him, but he remembered the feeling of the glass breaking against his back as he was thrown into their enclosure, the small, inconsequential bite lost to him among the sea of shards that had sliced his skin that night.

("Maybe next time you'll remember to clean the goddamn lab when I tell you to. Now sweep up this glass and round up those spiders. That experiment was a failure anyway.")

He couldn't remember the exact day it had all changed, maybe there hadn't been a single day. Maybe it was gradual, a slope of change.

But what he did remember was waking up one day and realizing he didn't want to.

The other researcher, the male, approached him this time, wheeling a smaller table with him. On the sides, there were multiple thick leather straps attached to the steel surface. Peter placed his arm down onto the table without a word, ignoring the cold bite of the steel even as the man began to pull the straps over the teen's arm, one going across his wrist while the other looped around just underneath the bend in his arm, leaving the underside of his forearm completely exposed.

Peter tried not to look at the long, old, ugly scar that already ran up the skin, pink and faded but everpresent. He tried not to look as the man began to strap on a pair of surgical gloves and turned towards the woman, who handed him another syringe, this one filled with a miscellaneous greenish liquid. And he tried not to look at the faint look of sympathy the woman shot his way.

He tried not to get angry at it. Somehow, that was harder than anything else.

In hindsight, Peter had to admit he was fairly lucky. The Cons' power acquisition had been much more gruesome from what he'd heard, more so than his two-day stretch of nausea, hallucinations, and near-fatal fevers.

But that's what they'd signed up for.

At least they'd had a choice.

The man picked up a scalpel from the table and began to inspect the tip as the woman grabbed the worn leather bar sitting to the side. They didn't like it when he made too much noise. As per procedure, Peter opened his mouth and the woman gently placed the bar in between his teeth, the teen biting down on it as he swallowed down his thoughts.

Now was not the time for them. No time at all.

"Serum C31. Trial 1"

("We'll make you better. We'll make them all better.")

 

---

 

Friday - March 11, 2016

Parker Residence - Third Floor

06:35 a.m.

The cold water splashing against his face made a shiver shoot down his spine, the now wet strands of hair clinging to his face as he lifted his head to stare at himself in the mirror.

The sight didn't shock him. It merely made a tired sigh flutter out of his mouth.

There were dark purple bags hanging underneath his eyes, which were red and bloodshot. His skin was pale and pasty, making the harsh red scars marring his face all the more prominent. His hair was messy and unkempt and the small cut on his bottom lip stung as he exhaled.

Running a hand across his wet face, Peter grabbed one of the last clean towels and wiped his face. His eyes drifted down to the mound of blood-soaked towels and wipes that littered the floor before he turned away, crouching down as he opened up the sink cabinet.

Pulling out a large roll of gauze, Peter stepped over the bloodied cloth and sat down on the closed toilet seat. He hissed in pain as he jostled his arm while resting it on his knee. He hesitantly scanned his eyes over the injury, which was still bleeding slightly. As usual, the scalpel had cut over the same scar line that had run along the arm before.

Even with his powers, Peter knew that scar would never heal. Not anymore.

He fought to keep his arm still, knowing that if the skin flaps jostled slightly and parted to reveal the muscle and bone underneath, he would just lose it. Still, the wound always closed quickly, too quickly to bother with stitches.

Gently, the teen placed the gauze packet in his mouth before pulling on the flap with his fingers, the packaging opening to release the soft, white material inside.

He winced as the gauze gently grazed the slash before he began to fiddle with the wrap near his feet. The teen took a steely breath before firmly pressing the end of the wrap on his arm. Biting back a scream, Peter began to tightly wrap the limb, careful not to cut off the blood flow as he finished off the wrap and pinned it to the cloth.

Letting out a ragged breath of relief, Peter slowly rose back up to his feet. Cautious in his movements and careful not to move his arm too much, the boy removed his blood-stained shirt and tossed it into the bloody pile in the corner.

He'd have to remember to do laundry tomorrow.

Wincing as he noticed the new scars and bruises littering his body courtesy of his training with Curt, the teen made his way over towards the medicine cabinet. He grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen and released ten pills into his hand. He knew it would barely make a dent in the pain, but it would at least be enough to take the edge off for a while. Quickly downing the caplets, the teen exited the bathroom before making his over towards his dresser.

Carefully dressing in his usual loose-fitting clothes and baggy jackets, the boy checked to make sure everything he needed was in his backpack before making his way over towards the door.

Even before he opened it, he knew the Cons were in a bad mood. Just by the way their angry voices carried up through the floors was indicator enough. Peter let out a tired groan as he pressed his back against his door.

I so cannot deal with them today... He murmured to himself.

Testing had dragged on for longer than usual that morning, not to mention the added poking and prodding courtesy of their new serum. He did not need to add mixing with the Cons to his morning.

Biting his lip, the teen cast one more wary glance towards the door before narrowing his eyes. Walking back into the room, Peter grabbed his backpack as he walked past before making his way over towards the glass doors. Walking out onto the balcony, the teen cast one more glance behind him before activating his web-shooters, firing a web towards the neighboring building.

He swung off the railing and propelled himself onto the roof of the next building. His arm shrieked in protest, but he was too relieved to care. He'd worry about the Cons and his father's wrath later.

For the time being, for the rarest of moments, he didn't think about them.

 

---

 

Friday - March 11, 2016

Midtown School of Science and Tech - Cafeteria

12:14 p.m.

"Come on, Peter! Spill it! Open that big brain of yours and give me the good stuff!"

"That sounds...strangely creepy."

"Ignore it."

Peter let out a snort as he lowered his head and glanced back down at the homework they'd just been assigned last class. "Dude, I already pretty much told you everything. There's only so many times I can go through this story again before I go insane." He stole a side glance down their lunch table and added in a hushed tone, "And maybe keep your voice down this time."

Abe, Charles, Sally, and Cindy, the other Decathlon members, all sat a little ways away, talking and chattering amongst themselves. Even though Peter had grown a bit more comfortable with the group, it still didn't mean he wanted to blab his entire social life to them. (Not like they'd believe it anyway.)

The sounds of loud laughter, noisy chewing, and bellowing voices of the cafeteria did little to drown out Ned's excitement (and lack of guilt) as he bounced in his seat. "Oh, come on! You've been feeding me nothing but bread crumbs, dude. I need a meal here!"

"I don't know what that means."

"Tell me more!"

"Maybe if he'd stop trying to dodge your questions, we'd actually hear something concrete and not just backhanded wish-wash."

Both boys turned to Michelle, who didn't look up from her sketchbook. "Is there any particular reason why you seem so hesitant to share with us?"

Peter shifted slightly in his seat. He'd always hated how perceptive Michelle was, so much so that sometimes it made him wonder why he'd thought making friends with her was even remotely a good idea.

Still, her words held some truth. It wasn't that Peter didn't want to tell them about the internship. It's just that he was having a hard time understand it himself at times. So how could he possibly explain it to his friends?

Still, that did little to deter them.

MJ turned away from her book and rested her elbow on the lunch table. "For starters, you still haven't told us about Stark yet."

Peter fiddled with the corner of his notebook as he stared down at the words, which seemed to grow harder and harder to read as they continued to speak. "What about him?" He asked, still not looking up.

Ned didn't seem to notice the uncomfortable aura around his friend as he nearly began to bounce in his seat. "What's he like? Is he as cool as everyone thinks he is, or is he mean? I don't think he'd be mean, cause he's like...a superhero. Superheroes can't be mean, right? What's the point of being a hero is you're just gonna be a jerk about it? I guess you could be a jerk before falling into a vat of toxic waste and just come out of it a mean superhero but at that point, I feel like it's more of a supervillain origin story than a hero's. Cause, I mean, it's like-"

MJ slapped her hand over the boy's mouth with a roll of her eyes before glancing back over towards Peter. "Well..."

Peter let out a small sigh as he closed his book, knowing he wasn't going to be able to refocus back on it anytime soon. For a moment, he didn't say anything and not because of reluctance, but from the sheer simple fact that he didn't know what to say. What was Mr. Stark like?"

"He's...nice?"

Michelle raised a brow at the teen's words, hand not leaving Ned's face as the boy continued to stare excitedly. "He's...nice?" She repeated. "Him? Tony Stark? Infamous playboy douchebag? The media's favorite puppet? He's nice?"

Peter didn't know why that rubbed him the wrong way. "Didn't think you were one to judge someone by their cover."

MJ narrowed her eyes. "I'm one to judge someone by their pages. And his read like an issue of Playboy magazine," she muttered. "He's like the poster child of narcissistic rich white guys with way too much power and too little brains. Or in his case, modesty," she sniffed with a roll of her eyes, finally removing her hand from Ned's mouth.

Said boy gaped at her with wide eyes. "Seriously?" he breathed. "This is the same guy who literally saved the city from not just an alien invasion, but also flew a frikkin nuke through a wormhole!" he huffed indignantly.

MJ seemed unphased. "He's also the same guy who supplied over a million weapons and guns to overseas forces just to bolster up his company name. He was a literal war mongerer for the sake of lining his pockets. Not to mention the fact that he's probably given a fair share of reporters 'exclusive pieces' on him." She scoffed and rolled his eyes. "His whole persona screams asshole, through and through."

"Oh come on! That's-"

"He wasn't like that."

Both Ned and Michelle were disrupted from their argument at Peter's soft voice. The teen was fiddling with his forearm, eyes hard. "What?" MJ asked as she turned towards him. Peter let out a sigh before turning to face them. "He...he wasn't like that," he repeated. "Not with me."

The girl rested a cheek on her fist and cocked a brow. "No offense, Peter, but you've literally only spent like...three days with the guy."

He narrowed his eyes. "That's three more days than you."

They stared at each other, eyes hard and faces tense. Ned flicked his gaze back and forth between them, eyes shifting uncomfortably as he scrunched his face in confusion at the sudden tension that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Peter broke his gaze first, turning away with a sigh. "Look, I don't really know what I was expecting when I agreed to this internship thing. I just thought I would be doing work around the Tower, and since Mr. Stark's always so busy, I didn't really think we'd even cross paths," he confessed.

"But on Monday...I...it was...different. He showed me around, talked to me. And...and I actually...talked back." He breathed.

Ned blinked in shock at that. MJ took note of his reaction and narrowed her eyes. "I didn't know why...I still don't actually. It's just that..." He trailed off and gave a small shake of his head. "I don't know, it felt...easy. Talking to him, I mean." Peter glanced down at his hands and gave a small smile. "He didn't seem to mind it, either. So I...kept going."

The teen shrugged his shoulders. "I guess there's your answer. He didn't seem to mind...me. So, yeah. He's nice...at least I think he is."

Ned and Michelle sat in silence for a moment as they took in the teen's words. Finally, MJ lowered her gaze as she glanced down at her sketchbook. "If you say so, loser." She murmured, though both boys knew she held no malice behind the tease.

Peter rolled his eyes with a small smile as Ned turned back towards him. "Well if all that's true, then it must be even better getting to work with someone like Tony Stark." He practically gushed, eyes twinkling in excitement. Peter opened his mouth to reply, only for a snarky voice to cut through the air.

"You're still on about that bullshit?"

All three teens gave a collective sigh as Flash and a few of his friends walked over, a smug smirk plastered onto his face. Peter merely gave him a bored expression. "What do you want, Flash?" he sighed as he fiddled with the fork in his hand, his other coming to rest on his forearm. Why was it hurting so much all of a sudden?

The boy showed a cocky grin. "I wanna know why you're so adamant about trying to convince people of this blatant lie. It's so... how do I put this...?"

He leaned closer, lips curling into a sneer. "Pathetic. Even for you, Penis Parker," he quipped, his friends snickering behind him.

Peter merely rolled his eyes at the comment, but Ned seemed to get annoyed for the both of them as he narrowed his eyes. "It's not a lie, Flash. He really does have an internship at Stark Industries." He growled out. As Peter expected, however, the boy merely scoffed. "Oh god, Leeds! You are so naive! You honestly expect me to believe that someone like Parker could get something like that? Nobody can get an internship with Stark Industries."

"Nobody or just you, Flash? Cause honestly, those are two very different groups." MJ muttered, not even bothering to look up from her book.

Flash threw a glare her way as he clenched his fists, cheeks growing a slight reddish hue.

The bully turned to gaze over at the other Decathlon members. "Come on, you guys. You can't tell me you actually believe Parker's all buddy-buddy with Tony fucking Stark," he huffed. "I mean, seriously?"

("You're a waste of space.")

Peter felt his hands twitch as he continued to fiddle with the fork. He didn't look up. His arm was starting to hurt.

The teens seemed reluctant to join in on the conversation. Whether it was because they just were uncomfortable with it or because of Flash's routine annoyance - most assumed the latter - they didn't say. Nor did they stay silent. Sally rubbed the back of her neck as she fiddled with her fork. "Umm...I...I guess it is a little shocking," she mumbled.

"But Peter's not one to lie," Abe said quickly, shooting a glance over towards the other three teens as he seemed to choose his words carefully. "So...so I don't really have any reason not to believe him."

Charles averted his gaze. "Y-yeah. What...what they said."

They were lying.

("You aren't worth shit.")

He pressed the sharp tips of the utensil against his fingers. He still didn't look up. His arm burned.

However, Flash didn't seem to take their rejection of his idea too hard as the boy was quick to throw an arm around Peter's shoulders. The teen instantly flinched at the touch as a growing uncomfortable shiver ran down his spine, the same feeling that overcame him whenever anyone even attempted to touch him.

(Getoffgetoffgetoffgetoff-)

"So you planning on keeping this up for long, cause we were thinking of starting up a bet to see how long it'll take until you admit this is all fake, and I got to say I have a lot of money riding on your delusions, Parker," he snorted, with an added jeer from the group behind him.

Ned clenched his fists. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that Peter's not making this up?!"

"Uhh...cause Tony Stark's Tony Stark and Penis Parker's..." He paused before another triumphant smirk fell onto his face. "Well, I think the name says it all."

("Nothing but a science experiment we like to keep around to play with.")

He could feel the fork beginning to give in his hand as his grip tightened. He didn't move. His arm was on fire.

Michelle stole a small glance up. "No, it's because that would mean accepting the fact that Peter's better than him at something, and we all know Flash can't have that," she muttered sarcastically as she glared up at him. "Honestly, Flash. Can we not do this right now? I'd really rather not have to deal with you until I need to shoot down your wrong answers at Decathlon practice."

Alright, there were a few well-placed snickers at that.

Flash, however, paid no mind to them as he leaned closer, accidentally tipping over his water bottle, the contents dribbling out onto Peter's shoulder. The teen jumped slightly at the wet feeling, only for Flash to move closer. "Might as well drop the act, Penis," he scoffed. "Cause there's no way in hell someone like Stark would ever waste his time on a nobody like you."

("You will always be nothing.")

SNAP!

Peter shot up from his seat faster than anyone was expecting, including Flash as the broken fork pieces clattered against the table. The teen whipped around to stare the bully straight in the eyes, something that startled Flash, Ned, and even Peter himself. Peter never looked people in the eyes. However, the intensity of the stare alone was enough to make everyone go quiet, and by everyone...it meant everyone. Nobody in the entire cafeteria made a single sound as they all turned to watch the spectacle.

For a moment, everyone held their breaths as they waited for Parker to make a move, to come back with a retort, to do...something. But all he did was reach down, grab his backpack, and shrug his jacket off of his shoulders. "You have a nice day, Flash," he said softly and with complete sincerity before turning and walking out of the cafeteria without another word.

Not one person noticed the small speckles of blood staining the teen's sleeve as he left.

Nobody said anything for a moment before the soft hum of chatter returned to the once silent cafeteria. Flash stood still for a second longer before blinking back into reality, a cocky laugh bubbling out of his throat as he turned back towards his friends, the group slowly walking off. "What a freak," someone muttered, to which the group wholeheartedly agreed.

Ned and Michelle glanced at each other before turning their concerned looks towards the door.

. . . . .

Peter slammed the stall door shut so forcefully, he was lucky he didn't rip it off its hinges right there in the bathroom.

The boy fought to steady his hands as he hastily rolled up his sleeve. But the horrid burning sensation that was currently shooting through the limb was making it just a little hard to concentrate.

The teen blanched as he noticed the bandage wrapped around his arm was nearly soaked with blood, the crimson color contrasting the pale white of his skin...skin that wasn't usually that pale. The teen's eyes, however, remained on his arm as his shaking fingers unsteadily undid the wrap and exposed his forearm.

It was still there.

Why was it still there?

("23 minutes, 17 seconds.")

The wound was still open and bloody, almost as if it'd just happened moments ago. Usually, by now, his powers would have kicked in and the wound would have at least stopped bleeding. At most, it would have already scarred. But not this time. This time, it was acting...normal.

Only he wasn't normal.

So this wasn't, either.

("8.5 times longer than the control group.")

Peter could feel his chest constricting as he fought to remain calm and dropped his backpack onto the floor. Hastily unzipping it, the teen reached in and yanked out another roll of bandages as well as some wipes. The teen hissed in pain as he ran the wipe over the incision.

("I'd hate for someone to...hear something.")

Peter felt a whimper bubble out of his mouth as he watched the blood quickly spill out over the cut once more. His hands began to shake violently as he continued to wipe at the blood, only for more to take its place each time, bubbling out of the incision like magma spilling from cracks in the ground.

("Yes...I suppose you're right.")

As the wipe slowly became saturated with the dark liquid, Peter noticed the crimson pearls soaking onto the tips of his fingers, staining them red.

(BANG!)

His shaking hands accidentally hit against the cut, making the teen cry out sharply before he bit his tongue to silence himself, shutting his eyes tightly He could taste blood in his mouth, but he didn't care. He needed to keep quiet.

( They didn't like it when he made too much noise.)

Throwing the red-soaked wipe to the floor, the boy hastily grabbed another and continued to try to clean the cut, only to freeze as he caught sight of the skin around the incision.

Peter felt his breath catch in his throat as he saw the harsh dark veins snaking underneath his papery-white skin, the burning sensation returning full force as the veins seemed to glow ever so slightly. Oh god. Oh god, what did they do?! He screamed at himself as he began to scratch at the skin, fearful whines filling the stall.

In his panic, the teen didn't even register as his nails raked across the incision, ripping at the skin and tearing at the limb as he fought to stop the burning. God! It hurt so much!

("Serum C31. Trial 1)

(Trial 1)

(Trail 1 of 100)

(Trial 1 of 1,000, 10,000, over and over, it wouldn't stop. It'd never stop.)

Panicked whimpers escaped his throat as the teen continued to tear at the limb, fighting to push and scratch and stop! Why wouldn't it stop! Make it stop! It felt like millions of white-hot needles were piercing his skin, digging underneath muscle and bone to puncture the veins, tearing and stretching them into nothing but shredded ribbons. He couldn't speak. He couldn't think. If he could, he would have told himself that he was just making it worse. He would have told himself to be quiet. He would have told himself that this happened almost every time they tested a new serum.

But he couldn't. So he didn't.

Peter barely felt the tears streaming down his face, dripping down onto the floor below. All he could feel was the burning in his arm...and in his chest. Was he even breathing anymore? That would explain the burning. Despite the alarm bells ringing in his brain, Peter couldn't bring himself to care. All he cared about was the burning. And he had to make it stop.

So the boy never noticed as he began to hyperventilate. He never noticed the pained gasps that forced their way out of his throat. He never felt his body curl in on itself as his back hit the stall door and he wrapped himself into a ball, rocking back and forth as he cradled the limb to his chest. All he knew was that the burning wouldn't stop.

As he panicked, he noticed a growing whine sounding in the back of his head. He could hear the dripping of the faucet outside the stall. He could feel the fabric of his sweater brushing up against his skin, coarse and uncomfortable. He could even smell the blood that was now staining his jacket. All of it bombarding his senses in an overwhelming wave of heat and fire and agony.

It wasn't long before the teen couldn't choke back a sob, resting his forehead on his knees as he hugged his arm close to his body, the overwhelming pain and irritation making him want to curl up and hurl as he cried, steady tears flowing down his cheeks, dripping onto the bloody mess that was his arm.

("We'll make you better.")

It wasn't until the end of lunch that the burning finally ceased, the veins disappeared, and the blood stopped flowing.

19 minutes total. He knew. He'd counted.

He'd have to remember it for his debrief.

 

---

 

Friday - March 11, 2016

Stark Tower - Main Offices

03:12 p.m.

"I want them found and captured."

"Yeah, well I want a coffee machine that doesn't cut me off after four cups but I don't see that happening anytime soon either, so..."

"You're saying you won't help?"

Tony couldn't help the annoyed sigh that bubbled past his lips as Ross' condescending voice filtered out of his earpiece and ingrained itself into his brain. The man felt a headache blossoming as he rubbed his eyes. "I'm saying this isn't my problem." He growled out.

"You signed those Accords, Stark-"

"Uh-huh." The man cut him off. "So until the UN calls to tell me they're setting me up to track those convicts of yours, I don't see why I should care about this." He muttered. "It's not my job to clean up your messes."

There was a pause. "Yes, well...I suppose I can't expect that of you considering you can't even clean up your own."

Tony grit his teeth as he narrowed his eyes. "What the hell do you want, Ross?"

"Ahem..."

"I already told you what I want. I need those fugitives. Meaning I need information, and you're - sadly - my best bet." His angered voice cut through the line. Tony rolled his eyes as he sat back against the edge of his desk. "Hate to break it to you, Ross, but if that's what you're looking for, then you're not gonna get much from me."

"Are you refusing to cooperate?"

Tony scoffed. "You'd just love that, wouldn't you? No, I'm saying I don't know anything."

"Tony..."

It was Ross' turn to scoff. "You honestly expect me to believe that in the four years you knew them, you didn't learn anything about them? Where they might go? Who they might talk with?"

"Tony...!"

The billionaire narrowed his eyes and folded his arms as he glared at nothing. "As shocking as this might be to you, I'm not necessarily the easiest person to get along with. So, no. No, I don't know where they are. I don't know where they're going. Because honestly... I don't know them!" He snarled.

"TONY!"

"WHAT?!"The billionaire shouted, whirling around towards the doorway. He paused as he noticed Pepper standing with her arms folded, obviously the one who had been trying to get his attention, while a shuffling Peter Parker stood next to her. He was fiddling with his fingers again as he stared at the ground.

"Stark? Stark! Are you hearing me ri-"

The man quickly pressed the mute button on the earpiece as he took in the teen's bedraggled form. His hair was extra messy today, at least more so than the last time he'd seen him, and his face seemed sunken and pale save for the dark bags hanging under his eyes. The teen stole a quick glance up before lowering it once again, rubbing his arm nervously. "Um...I..I-I can...g-go if you...uh..."

"No," Tony said much too quickly for his liking. "No, it's...it's fine, Peter. I'm just dealing with a douchebag to end all douchebags," he muttered with a roll of his eyes. Peter simply gave a small nod of his head as he continued to rub at his arm.

Tony's face scrunched in thought as he debated whether to end his call with Ross right then and there. After all, it wasn't like he particularly enjoyed their little chats. But, like it or not, he was still the Secretary of State.

There would always be consequences.

He glanced back over towards Peter. What was he supposed to do with the kid in that time? Just send him on his merry way around the Tower. For some reason, sending an unsupervised kid to mill around a building that housed some of the most expensive tech in the world left a bad taste in Tony's mouth.

His little dilemma was solved, however, as Pepper stepped forward. "Actually, do you think I could borrow Peter for a while? I have some work I need to do and there's a mound of files on my desk I need to sort through," she explained, sending a knowing look Tony's way.

God, what did I do to earn this woman? "Uh...yeah. Yeah, that's fine," he said before glancing back down towards Peter. "Go ahead with Pepper for a while, kid. I'll come and get you when I'm done, 'kay?"

Peter said nothing as he gave another nod.

Pepper tried to place a hand on the teen's shoulder, only to quickly retract it when she noticed the teen flinch away. She glanced back over towards Tony, mouthing a "be quick" before leading the boy out of the room.

Tony watched them go for a moment longer before letting out a small sigh, lifting his hand back up to the earpiece.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm back. Oh, you heard that douchebag comment, huh? Well, that just makes me feel so warm inside."

 

---

 

Friday - March 11, 2016

Stark Tower - Main Offices

03:58 p.m.

"So...how was school today?"

Pepper looked up from her computer when she received no response to the question. Peter was currently sitting at one of the smaller desks lined up against the side of her office, a large stack of yellow files piled next to him.

He was quick in his work, opening one file as he logged the information into the computer before turning to the next. He was fast and efficient, more so than Pepper would expect a teenage boy to be. Not once in the near hour they'd ben there had he said a word. He also made no indication that he'd even heard her.

"Peter?" She called again.

This time, however, his reaction was obvious. He started in his seat as the pages in his hand fell to the desk. He whipped his head around to give the woman a wide-eyed stare before quickly averting his gaze. "Umm..s-sorry. D-did you...need a-anything?" he murmured quietly.

Pepper stared at the teen for a moment before blinking back into reality, clearing her throat as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "I was just asking how school went today," she said in as soft a voice as possible.

Peter regarded her for a moment before giving a small nod and glancing away. "It was fine."

The woman tilted her head as the teen rubbed circles into the back of his hand, something she'd seen him do more than once. Well, he's not much of a talker. She thought to herself.

For a moment, Pepper simply took in the boy's appearance. The bags under his eyes were enough to tell her that he hadn't slept in a while, a fact that made her curious in itself. He also seemed to be favoring one arm over the other, something he did well in hiding.

Probably cause he's had some practice with that... The woman growled internally. Her mind wandered back to the conversation she'd had with Tony and Rhodey earlier that week. This boy was obviously in some sort of trouble. Hell, one of the main reasons he was here was because of that. The stuttering and nervousness only did more to solidify that fact to the woman.

And yet, she couldn't help but linger on something Tony had said before. ("He's...he's a good kid.")

Lord knew Tony was never one to associate himself with children. But if the eccentric billionaire could see something like that in a child he'd only met a handful of times, then there had to be something more to this kid. She just had to find it for herself.

Pepper looked up at the clock before turning back down towards her computer. Quickly making up her mind, the woman pushed her chair back and rose up from her seat. The action made Peter jump slightly, his muscles tensing as the woman walked over. "Come on, let's take a break," she called, holding her hand out.

Peter stared at her for a moment before glancing down at her hand. Pepper noticed the wariness his eyes held, as if he were judging whether or not it was a trick or not. The thought made Pepper's heart clench slightly. She leaned down, moving closer as she gave him a warm smile. "It's okay," she coaxed gently.

The teen hesitated for a moment longer before he slowly slid out of his chair. He didn't take her hand though. In fact, he kept his hands carefully tucked close to his chest. Pepper, however, took no offense to the action, simply happy the teen had accepted her offer.

She motioned for the boy to follow her as the pair made their way over towards the elevator. Neither of them said anything as they descended and Pepper led the teen into the cafeteria. Lunchtime had long since passed, something Pepper had been sure to check, seeing as the large room was now mostly empty. "Go sit down, alright, Peter? I'll be right back," she called as she motioned for the boy to take a seat at one of the nearby tables. Peter gave a small nod as she moved off.

The teen quietly sat down, bringing his thumb to rub against the back of his hand, the calming motions of his fingers rubbing against the skin seeming to soothe his jittering nerves as he shut his eyes.

A sudden noise in front of him had him jumping for what felt like the twentieth time in the last few minutes. Opening his eyes, he noticed there was now a salad, a bottle of water and a chocolate chip cookie in front of him. He blinking in surprise at the new meal before glancing back up towards Pepper, who was sitting down with an identical spread set up in front of her.

"I...um..." Peter stuttered, to which Pepper only smiled. "You looked like you hadn't eaten all day, sweetie."

The teen blushed as he lowered his gaze. "Y...y-you didn't have to do that," he whispered softly.

Pepper leaned forward. "It's alright, Peter. I wanted to. It's my treat," she smiled before leaning back, picking up her fork before digging it into her salad. "Besides, you can pick up the next tab," she smirked, giving him a teasing wink.

Peter stared at her for a moment longer before he gave a small grin in return, turning down towards his own meal. Only then did the teen finally begin to realize just how hungry he really was. He hadn't really eaten anything since lunch since Ned had packed him an extra sandwich.

Pepper watched the boy wrap a tense hand around the rim of the plastic bowl as he warily shoved a bite into his mouth. The way his shoulders were hunched as well as the tense coiling of his muscles made it seem like the kid expected the bowl to be ripped away from him at a moment's notice.

The woman had been quick to notice just how small Peter seemed for his age. He was fourteen, yet he barely reached past her shoulders. Not to mention the fact that he also looked like he might blow away if you just glanced at him a certain way. The baggy clothes and loose-fitting sweaters didn't do much to help either.

Hard to imagine there's a superhero hiding in you, sweetie. She thought to herself. Though if she really thought about it, the teen most likely hid some impressive muscles underneath those baggy clothes, which led her to believe that was the reason behind them in the first place.

At least...she hoped that's what he was covering with those clothes.

The thought made her tighten her grip on her fork.

Nevertheless, she hid her unease in her comforting smile as she glanced back over at Peter. "Well, I'm assuming I'm going to be seeing a lot of you around here. So I guess I should probably get to know you, huh?" She grinned.

Peter, however, didn't seem quite as enthusiastic as her as he stared at a piece of lettuce on his fork. "You...don't have to. I'm not much," he murmured softly, so softly that Pepper wondered whether or not she was meant to hear it.

Pepper Potts, however, was nothing if not persistent. She shook her hand dismissively. "I'm sure that's not true. You found yourself on Tony's radar, after all. I'd say that's an accomplishment in itself, Peter."

The teen glanced up at her for a moment before giving a small shrug of his shoulders. "I...I guess so..."

"I know so." She continued. "I've known Tony for years, Peter. And if there's one thing I know about him, it's that he's never one to waste his time on things he thinks aren't worth it." She said with a smirk. "That and his caffeine addiction is through the roof."

Peter gave a small smile at that.

"And in all the time I've known him, he's never once even considered the idea of hiring interns to work around here." She explained, Peter lifting his gaze to stare at her. "But here you are. Not only have you become the first intern to ever work here, but you've also managed to pique the interest of one of the most powerful people in the world."

God she hoped Tony never got wind of this. His head was big enough as it was.

"So I'd say that counts for something." She said with a grin, Peter's large brown eyes boring into her. "Cause you're obviously worth something to him."

For a moment, Peter could only sit in silence as he took in the woman's words. He opened his mouth, but found nothing would come out. His eyes glanced down to flicker across the table, barely catching a hint of Pepper's hand moving to graze against his comfortingly.

("Would I ever break a pinkie promise?")

He jolted out of his seat, the chair falling back at the sudden movement as he whisked his hand away like he'd been burned. Pepper shot up to her feet on instinct.

"Don't!" It was out of his mouth before he could even think about it, the words pouring out on autopilot. "Don't touch me. Don't touch me!"

Pepper blinked in shock. "Peter-"

"Don't ever. D-don't...you can't...y-y-you can't touch me. Don't ever touch me! Ever! You never touch me!"

The woman stared at him, mouth agape and heart pounding as she watched him grab his wrist in a vice-like death grip, face twisted like he was in pain. She wanted to move forward, take a couple steps towards him, but she found herself afraid to.

Peter's eyes stayed locked onto her, watching her as if he expected her to leap at him. And suddenly, like a wave of realization washing over him, Pepper watched the boy's eyes glaze over with a new sense of clarity, a heightened reminder of where he was and who he was talking to and the sheer look of dread that fell onto his face nearly made her stumble.

"...sorry. I...I-I...I didn't mean...sorry. I'm...I-I'm sor..." his voice was weak, the words unable to even be finished before dying right there in his throat. He gazed at her with a fear Pepper wasn't used to seeing pointed at her.

And she hated it.

"Peter-" She took an automatic step forward. Peter took three back.

Quickly thinking up a new tactic, the woman slowly lifted her hands in peace. "It's alright, sweetie." She said as softly and gently as humanly possible. "It's okay. I know you didn't mean to, alright? I just startled you is all. It was my fault, alright. I'm sorry."

Peter eyes her warily as she spoke, but didn't say anything against it, so Pepper continued. For a moment, the woman considered reaching out for him but decided against it as she took in his tense posture and coiled muscles.

She understood now. She understood why the teen barely ever spoke, and when he did, it was like pulling teeth to get him to say anything more than a few words. She understood why he never really looked at her. Why he seemed to curl in on himself, as if he were waiting for an attack that would never come. It was obvious now.

He was afraid of her.

The woman could only stare back at the shivering boy in sorrow, eyes filled with pity as she lowered her hands and let out a small sigh. God, Tony. You really weren't kidding. The woman thought to herself as she slowly lowered herself back into her seat. Peter gazed at her for a moment before hesitantly doing the same.

Pepper glanced down at the salad before her before quickly realizing she'd lost her appetite. Gazing back up at the teen, the woman noticed that the boy was rigid in his seat, hands folded tightly in his lap as he stared down at the table, silent, unmoving.

She bit her lip in thought as she fiddled with her fork, the two falling into a silence that neither knew how to break, if at all. The woman finally let out a deep breath as she reached across the table, slowly pushing the cookie towards the teen.

Peter blinked in slight surprise at the action before taking notice of the baked good. His eyes shifted towards the side in a moment of thought before he slowly reached forward to grab the pastry, lowering his gaze back down to the floor as he popped a small piece into his mouth.

Pepper gave a small nod in satisfaction, deciding that was probably all she would be able to get out of the teen that day.

"Thank you."

The woman lifted her head as the small voice reached her ears.

Peter was currently fiddling with his fingers once again, eyes furrowed in concentration as he spoke. "Y...you didn't….didn't have to do t-this." He stuttered out softly. "But I...and umm…" He rubbed at the back of his neck as his face grew a slightly darker shade of pink. "I'm still not very good at this."

The woman gave a comforting smile.

"Just...thank you...for...for this. And for, you know...not freaking out on me." He mumbled, the pink quickly turning a deep shade of red.

Pepper stared at the boy in front of her as she soaked in his words. The genuine gratitude for such a small, trivial act as paying for a lunch made a small grin formed on her face. "It's true, you know," she finally uttered.

Peter glanced up at her in confusion.

"What I said before. About Tony seeing something in you." She paused for a moment before continuing, giving the boy a gentle grin. "I get what he means now."

Peter blinked up at her with wide eyes, slowly opening his mouth to speak once more, only to squeak as a new voice filtered through the air loudly. "There you are!" The pair turned towards the entrance, watching as Tony walked over. "Did you really have to make me search all over the goddamn tower for you?" He mumbled, throwing a small glare Pepper's way.

The woman didn't back down from the challenging stare as she folded her arms. "When you take an hour to finish your work, then I'd say yes I do." She smirked back, Tony giving a roll of his eyes at the woman's comeback.

"Whatever, I want my intern back."

Peter couldn't help the amused grin that fell onto his face as he watched the pair exchange light glares before Tony finally caved, moving over towards the teen. "Come on, Peter. We know when we're not wanted." He grumbled, Pepper letting out a scoff as Peter rose up from his seat.

Following Tony over towards the exit, the teen glanced over his shoulder, giving the woman a small wave.

Pepper couldn't stop the smile that formed on her face as she gave a wave of her own, watching as the teen disappeared.

 

---

 

Friday - March 11, 2016

Stark Tower - Private Lab 1

04:24 p.m.

Tony fought to ignore his throbbing headache as he led Peter down towards the labs. Safe to say, his little chat with Ross had left him a little miffed and annoyed, not to mention he now had a wondrous desire to bludgeon himself to death with a blunt object.

Ever since their escape from the Raft, Ross had been all over Tony's ass, barking at him to track and locate his ex-teammates.

Of course, Tony had no plans in mind to try finding the Rogue Avengers. Cause finding them meant he'd have to see them, and he wasn't about to be doing that anytime soon.

In all honesty, Tony really just wanted to forget about them.

But of course, Ross couldn't have that. So every other day, Tony either had to dodge, ignore or reluctantly indulge the man in his little rants about how those felons deserved to be strung up or shot. He'd also try his hardest to convince Tony to help in the search.

Really, all those conversations did was empty Tony's medicine cabinet of all the migraine medication they had. That and one certain special fridge in the back reaches of the kitchen.

However, Tony had come to realize something in all the conversations he'd held with Ross. Each and every time the man asked him for information, Tony always denied him that pleasure. And even when he did give him something, it was usually more times than not, a lie.

He didn't know why he did it. In all honesty, simply telling the Secretary the truth would most likely be the easiest thing for him. It'd get Ross of his back and he would have the pleasure of dropping this irksome topic from his mind.

So why did he always lie?

The man simply told himself that he didn't want to give Ross the satisfaction of getting to him. Might as well make it a bit of a challenge for him in finding the Rogue Avengers. It couldn't be because he was protecting them.

They didn't deserve that.

No. It was just to screw with Ross. Just that. Nothing else.

It couldn't be anything else.

"Mr. Stark?"

Tony blinked back to reality as the small voice dragged him from his thoughts. Glancing around, the man noticed they'd arrived at the lab without him even realizing it. He cleared his throat before placing his usual smirk onto his face. "Right, we should probably be doing some actual work, huh?" He glanced down at Peter.

The teen blinked up at him.

"Right…" Tony muttered as he led the boy into the room. "Take a seat," he instructed, the boy instantly obeying as he sat down at one of the workbenches. "I'll be right back."

The man moved away from the teen as he walked further into the lab. Quickly entering the restricted area of his lab, which was cut off from everybody but himself, the man moved over towards the back wall and brushed his fingers over the small keypad installed into the sleek surface.

Punching in the ten-digit code, Tony watched as the wall opened up to reveal a secret room inside the structure. Walking inside, the billionaire rummaged around until he found what he was looking for.

For a moment, Tony stared down at the plans in his hands, debating whether or not he really wanted to go through with this. The man craned his neck out to gaze back out over the lab. His eyes fell on Peter, who was patiently sitting where the billionaire had left him, twiddling his fingers as he sat silently.

Tony let out a sigh as he rolled the plans up. Screw it, why not? He muttered as he exited the secret room, punching in the code once more as he stepped away.

Peter perked as the man fell into his line of sight once again, jumping as Tony slammed a pile of papers down in front of him.

"Wha-"

"You said you wanted to learn. Well no better way than to do it yourself." The man cut him off with a smirk as he pushed the main plans into Peter's hands.

The teen fumbled with the papers for a moment before clearing them in his hands, spreading them so that he could read what they said. It didn't take long for his eyes to widen. "No way…" He breathed before turning towards Tony. "Are these…?"

"Plans for a miniature arc reactor? Yes, I think they are." The billionaire snarked as he moved to sit across from the teen.

Peter blubbered in his seat as he stared wide-eyed at the pages. "B...but I...I-I…"

"You did say you wanted to learn, right?"

"Well, yeah! But this is...and I mean…" He trailed off before turning to stare at the man. "Can I really?" He asked in such a genuinely hopeful voice that Tony almost laughed.

"Like I said, kid. Best way to learn is to do it yourself." He murmured before his eyes widened. "Uh, with my supervision of course. I doubt your father would be very happy if I deliver home a pile of charred skin and burned clothes that was once his son."

Peter gave a small laugh, a welcome substitute for the usual uncomfortableness he displayed whenever Richard was mentioned.

The teen glanced back down at the plans displayed before him before tilting his head back up at the man. "Is this a test?"

"Yep." Tony said without hesitation. "Just think of it as a pop-quiz to earn my respect and reverence."

Peter gave a small smile. "And just how many people have passed that quiz?"

"Very few, actually. So the bar is low."

Tony watched as the teen smiled, a notion that almost made the billionaire do the same. Almost. "Well, why don't you go ahead and get started on that? You can use whatever you need to around here once you finish up with your calculations. Take as much time as you need," he explained as he stood up. "And please do try not to blow yourself up. I'd really hate to-"

The man paused in his long-winded remarks as he caught sight of something on the teen's sleeve. There, on his left forearm, the sweater sleeve seemed to be stained with something that almost resembled-

"Are you bleeding?"

Peter looked up at the man, following his gaze to his forearm. Tony watched as the teen's face quickly morphed into one of dismay and fear as he hastily tried to hide the limb from the man's line of sight. "Uhh...it's...i-it's nothing."

Tony quirked an eyebrow as he moved closer. "Come on, kid. There's A med kid over here." He motioned for the teen to follow him over to the side of the room. The boy must have just accidentally cut himself without realizing.

Peter, however, seemed to have other plans as he gave a nervous smile. "T-that's alright...M-Mr. Stark. I'm okay. Y-you don't n-need...need to worry about it."

Tony shook off the remark as he pulled the red medical bag off of the wall - a device which had been forcefully installed in his lab by the conjoined forces of Pepper and Rhodey in July of last year. Safe to say, there had been many explosions that month.

"It's fine. Just let me check it out so Pepper doesn't chew my head off for letting out bleed out all over my Tower."

The teen shook his head. "Really! I'm...I'm good, Mr. Stark. It's...it's nothing big. J-just a little scratch. It'll...b-be gone in a sec, anyways."

Tony narrowed his eyes. The teen was very adamant in refusing his help. Too adamant. He thought to himself as the teen continued to deflect. Unfortunately for him, Tony was the resident champion of deflecting. So his pathetic attempt only made red flags flare up in the billionaire's mind, red flags that he immediately wanted answers for.

"It's fine, Peter. Come here," he said a little more forcefully.

"Seriously, it's not a b-big deal. I can just-"

"Peter."

Tony didn't miss the way the teen flinched at the harsh tone he'd used, nor did it make him feel very good. Nevertheless, he continued on. "Come here."

The teen's face quickly scrunched in nervousness as he ducked his head and slowly crossed the room. Tony motioned for the teen to sit down on the table surface so that he could have good access to the injury, whatever the extent.

However, Tony wasn't expecting to roll up the teen sleeve to find a sloppily-wrapped bandage soaked in blood. His eyes furrowed in confusion as he stared at the wrap. "What the hell…?" he breathed as he moved to unwrap the bandages, taking notice of the slightly panicked look on Peter's face as he did so.

As he finally pulled the bandage away, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open at the sight before him. "Holy shit!"

The teen's arm looked like a mangled piece of meat. The skin was rubbed raw, flaring a bright red color that contrasted against the pale papery white of the teen's natural complexion. Various scratches marred the skin and a deep, harsh slash mark stretched from the teen's wrist up to the base of his elbow. And the blood. Fresh and dried blood mixed together as it coated the teen's limb.

"What the hell is this, Peter?" he shouted, forgetting to mind the volume of his voice as he stared back up at the teen, who winced underneath the man's gaze.

"I..I-I…"

Tony stared at him for a moment longer before moving to grab some of the antiseptic wipes and medical-grade bandages that made the previous ones look like cheap toilet paper.

Peter hissed in pain as the man carefully dragged the cloth along the arm, clearing it of the fresh and dried blood that had covered the limb. As he worked, the man's face held a look of anger and confusion, something Peter did not miss.

"You better start explaining, Parker." Tony growled out, glaring back up at the teen, who looked like he might throw up. "How the hell did this happen? Was it something on patrol?"

Peter hesitated for a moment before giving a small nod of his head.

Tony turned his head away as his eyebrows furrowed in thought. "I didn't get any messages from the suit…" he murmured more to himself than to anyone else. "And shouldn't this have healed by now if it happened on patrol?" he asked the teen harshly, racking his brain to remember the extent of Peter's powers the teen had told him about. Super healing was one of his powers, right?

Peter kept his gaze locked on the ground as his voice shook. "Well, I-I...I haven't really….r-really, umm...gotten much sleep….l-lately and I didn't...eat too much y-yesterday or today s-so….so my...my powers aren't really….really at full strength right...right n-now." He stuttered out, seeming to choke on the words as he spewed them out.

Tony regarded the teen for a moment before he huffed, giving a shake of his head as he went back to working on the teen's arm, eyes hard and frustrated.

It took a moment of deep breaths before he spoke again. "If something like this happens on patrol again, I need to hear about it, alright? Cause Peter Parker may not be my responsibility, but Spider-Man sure as hell is," he snapped before giving a scoff of disbelief. "God, what the hell were you thinking? I mean, this isn't just some little scratch that'll heal in a blip like this." He snapped his fingers, the teen flinched at the noise. "This is an actual, wound, Peter. This is serious!"

The teen took in a shaky breath. "I...I thought I c-could handle it."

"Yeah, well you obviously couldn't!"

He shook his head as he continued to clean the arm, his frustrations that had been building throughout the entire day, the entire week all boiling over. "Christ, how could you be so stupid?" He threw the soiled, blood-stained wipe to the ground before picking up another one.

"You do not keep things like this from me, you understand?" he growled. "I don't need to be wasting my time chasing some kid around the city because he wants to play games and keep secrets from me, cause it's not happening. I don't have time for that shit. And if you ever think of trying to lie to me about something like this again-" He glared up at the teen, only to pause in his rant as he finally took in the sight of the boy before him.

Peter's eyes were shut tightly, his chest heaving slightly as the teen's breath wavered. His shoulders shook as his free hand dug into the metal edge of the table. He literally shivered in the man's grasp, body tense and muscles coiled, ready for a fight, ready to defend himself.

"I'm sorry…"

The words were so broken, whispered so fearfully that Tony stopped working.

The man stared at the shivering teen before him for a moment longer before he let out a dejected sigh, silently going back to work on the boy's arm. After he finished cleaning the blood off, he carefully wrapped the arm in bandages before gently setting it down, Peter quickly whisking it close to his chest as he seemed to curl up defensively, waiting for another onslaught.

Tony said nothing as he silently packed up the bag, placing it back on the hook on the wall before turning back to the teen. For a minute, the man simply stood there, unsure as to what he should do as he shifted his weight between his feet. After a moment, he blew out a breath, sitting down beside the boy as he rubbed at his eyes.

"Why didn't you just tell me in the first place?" he asked in a much softer voice than before, the anger in his chest dwindling into a dull ember now, uncomfortable but manageable.

Peter blinked his eyes as he carefully took in the man before him. After a second, the teen slowly lowered his head as he stared down at the arm in his lap.

"I…I didn't think you'd care."

The billionaire's eyes widened slightly at that. The words shocked him, but not as much as the tone of voice behind them. There was no malice, no hate, no judgment in the words. It was the genuine shock behind them that made Tony rear back. It was almost as if the teen was confused at the man's concern.

"I…" He trailed off, unsure as to how he should even respond. "Of...course I...care, kid," he started, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck as he deliberated how to handle the current situation. After a minute, the man sighed and rested his elbows on his knees as he hunched forward. Peter pulled his knees up onto the table so they were curled against his chest. He rested his arms on top of them.

"Look...I get this is kind of...new for you. To be honest, it's kind of new for the both of us," he confessed. "But I can't have you lying to me, kid. Not about stuff like this, alright? If you get hurt, I need to know about it. I need to know so...so I can help you."

Peter stared back at him. He said nothing.

"I don't know how you handled this stuff before, but things are gonna have to change. I don't want to see you dealing with this crap by yourself anymore, because you don't...you don't have to, alright?" He said, hoping the uncertainty he felt wasn't coming across in his voice

Peter lowered his gaze. "I didn't want to bother you."

Tony blew a breath out. "It's...I'm not gonna lie, it's gonna take some adjusting. But...I'll get used to it. We'll get used to it, kid. Just…" He trailed off for a minute. "Don't be afraid to talk to me, alright? I'll listen. I might not be good at it, but I'll try," he said. And surprisingly, he found he actually...meant it. At least a bit. He continued before he could think too hard on it.

"But no more hiding stuff like this, okay? Spider-Man may be my responsibility, but...considering him and Peter Parker are one in the same..." He paused as he wondered where he was really going with this. What his point was, if he really even had one. He dragged a hand down his tired face. "God, this is so messed up..." He mumbled more to himself than anyone else.

"Look, kid. Like it or not, we're in this together now. And if you get hurt...if you're out there with the suit I made you, fighting criminals I allowed you to fight...and you get hurt..." He hesitated for a moment. "I feel like that's on me."

He lowered his gaze for a moment before clearing his throat. "Next time you get hurt on patrol, be it a...sprained ankle, a dislocated shoulder, or heck even a sore muscle, I need to hear about it."

Peter nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Ah, none of that." Tony muttered. "No, 'sirs'. I already put up with the 'Mr. Stark' nonsense. I do not need to be reminded of my father whenever I'm talking to you, 'kay?"

The teen nodded, Tony giving one of his own. "Good." He breathed out, a wash of relief flowing through him.

For a minute, the two sat in silence, simply taking in the other's presence as they took a moment to relax. Finally, after a second, Tony folded his arms over his chest. "I really can't have this again. Pepper will kill me if I break my new intern. I literally just got you. He glanced down at the tiles below. "Besides, we just got these floors redone."

Peter couldn't help but smile at that. "Yeah...I'd hate to dirty up your pretty floors with my blood."

Tony let out a small breathy laugh at that as he turned towards the teen. "Was that an air of sass I just detected? Are my ears deceiving me?"

Peter grinned and turned away. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he smirked before hopping off the table, Tony quickly doing the same.

"Mm-hmm...just watch yourself, Parker. Don't go getting all cocky. That's my job" Tony muttered with a smirk as he moved over towards his desk, Peter going to sit with the blueprints once more. The teen couldn't help the smile that formed on his face. "And I must say, you do it wonderfully," he whispered out with a grin as he turned towards the prints.

Tony couldn't help but smile at that.

 

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9) Never Ask For Help (Unless Special Circumstances Apply.)