Chapter 75 - An Opportunity Comes At A Price

Pete's world had been turned on its head. Everything around him was changing so quickly and so thoroughly, he had a hard time trying to keep up with it all. His life had been going off the rails before, sure, but he was hard-pressed to try and pick what was more bizarre: waking up with his enhanced abilities out of the blue or waking up at Stark Tower in Tony Stark's own penthouse every morning, having breakfast with him and his... girlfriend? fiancé? With Pepper.

Both scenarios seemed just as far fetched for a regular kid from Queens and there was no doubt that he was still struggling to accept that he wasn't a regular kid from Queens anymore, in more than one way.

With most of his physical wounds healed and the purple marks on his neck fading more and more quickly, Pete was starting to ponder the real-life consequences that lay ahead of him. Living in Manhattan with a man that wasn't just a billionaire and an Avenger but... but his own blood relative. His father.

It had almost been a week now but it wasn't like he had seen much of Mr. Stark over that past days. It wasn't often that Pete had wandered down to the lab where Mr. Stark had spent most of his time working on legal strategies and things Pete wasn't supposed to see. He knew he wasn't because any time he had made his way down there, Mr. Stark's workbench was empty, the files and plans FRIDAY would usually be projecting all around the lab would disappear whenever the elevator doors opened to admit him into the room.

"You don't have to ask when you want to come down here, kid," Mr. Stark had said as he pressed a hot chocolate into his hands on the first morning Pete had made the descend. "You have clearance like before. Bit more really..." The smile on his face was a little stiff. Maybe he didn't realize that Pete could tell how things weren't at all like they had been before. Maybe he just didn't want to draw any attention to it. "I wouldn't keep my favorite lab partner out, hm?"

Pete had nodded, the steam of the hot beverage soothing on the skin of his face in contrast to the cooler air-conditioned climate of the lab. It had become a bit of a pattern with Mr. Stark ever since that night he had first asked Pete to not call him that any longer. Enough of a pattern for Pete to notice, the way he talked, repeatedly mentioned how things were still sort of the same like it would make Pete forget about everything that wasn't. Everything that had happened. He wasn't an intern any longer. He was at the Tower because they were related because Mr. Stark was his father and felt responsible for what would happen to him.

Before, whenever Pete had shown up at the lab – intern-days or not - Mr. Stark wouldn't have even looked up from what he was doing. He'd just holler a short greeting and ask him to grab a coffee or a tool or deal with Dum-E when he'd had enough of the chaotic bot. Now, there were no tools on the workbench in front of Mr. Stark, no schematics projected he would study, teeth gnawing on his lip. Instead, he would usher Pete in, have him take a seat, and bring him something hot to drink. Then they would talk. A thorough analysis of whatever movie they had watched the previous night or whether Pete had been texting with his friends - which he wasn't really - or chatting with Pepper. Enthusiastically, Mr. Stark would jump on every little detail he could that made it sound like things were still the same.

But they weren't.

Mr. Stark wasn't working on any tech for SI. He wasn't even really working on any of his Iron Man equipment either. His mind was so clearly focused on the trial. Not May's trial, of course, though they didn't really talk about that either. Barnes and Rogers.

And Pete wasn't welcome for that.

It wasn't a hard one to figure out. The clean look of the lab, all the documents, and projections vanishing when Pete had found his way down there on the day after their hospital visit... all of it was a clear sign. Another broad hint was a box that had appeared in front of his bedroom door on the morning of the next day. A quick glance up and down the hallway and Pete bent down, rummaging through the interior. It contained a selection of random electrical parts and once more, Pete's eyes searched for any clue whether this was for him.

After a moment of hesitation, he placed the box back on the ground where he had found it and instead shuffled towards the alluring smell of breakfast. At the table, Pepper slid a plate filled with eggs, bacon, and a fancy side salad - of which Pete only recognized the chopped tomatoes - in front of him. A hand on the back of his head and a soft "eat, darling" encouraged him to dig in while he was still trying to figure out if all the different small leaves and little flowers were food or decoration.

"Seems like the honeymoon period is over..."

Pete frowned but looked up at Mr. Stark who sat across the table from him. "What do you mean?"

"The greenery."

His lower lip caught between his teeth, Pete shot a glance over his shoulder but Pepper and her phone had vanished in her office on the far side of the floor. "What is it," he whispered anyway.

"Fancy green stuff." His fork pushed the leafy greens back and forth on his plate then skewered one of the orange flowers holding it up in front of him. "Nasturtium. I think. Monk's cress." Mr. Stark shrugged and speared up one after the other anyway. "She'll phase out the bacon soon enough. We'll have to stick together if we want to have a fighting chance."

"I'll keep it in mind," Pete smirked.

Mr. Stark's eyes went back to his phone, eyebrows closely pulled together. "You find my box?"

That made him look up. "I... I did."

"Good," Mr. Stark nodded without glancing up himself. "I'm curious to see what you'll make of it. Show and tell tonight before the movie?"

His face fell but Mr. Stark was still busy with his phone. It was an exclusion from spending the day with him in the lab that couldn't be clearer. Only if he had outright told Pete to stay away could he have been any directer. "Y-yeah. That's... erm. Okay. Th-thanks," he mumbled.

As his cutlery hit the plate with a clang, Mr. Stark flashed a smile, a bright one that didn't quite reach either his eyes or Pete's direction. "Enjoy, kid."

Pete was left with only silence in the penthouse as the doors of the elevator closed behind Mr. Stark. He tried to keep his mind blank, not to think about how useless he felt sitting there on his own. The least he could do was clear the table before he wandered back to his room. All of a sudden, that little box did seem like a lifeline. At least he could keep his hands occupied so he wouldn't need to think about everything that was going sideways.

He had been about an hour into studying and sorting all the single pieces when the door to this room was pushed open. It took him by surprise. His eyes wide, he jumped up from the chair pushing one of the small screwdrivers off the desk in the process.

"Hey, sorry..." Pepper was still holding onto the handle of the door. "I should have knocked. Didn't want to startle you."

"You... you didn't. I just..." His cheeks grew a little warm as his eyes searched the floor for the lost tool.

Gracefully Pepper bent down and picked it up from where it had come to a stop just in front of her. She squinted at it as her fingers traced the smooth seamless titanium surface. "These are just like Tony's."

Pete gave a wonky nod.

"When did he even get you these?" She stepped a little closer to him, still clutching the tool tightly. After a second of hesitation, she held it out to him.

"Erm..." The heat in his cheeks only increasing, Pete took it out of her hand and placed it back into the case. "For my birthday. My... my fake birthday."

Her gaze was focused on the tool kit, lips pulled into a crooked smirk. With a small shake, she drew her eyes away from them back at Pete. The weight of her hand softly rubbing his shoulder and the soft look on her face, told him more than anything she could have said. Tony Stark didn't just go out and got birthday presents for anyone, did he? And he had gotten this for him, for Peter.

"I, erm..." She quickly blinked, eyes darting away from him. "I actually wanted to... to thank you for taking care of everything in the kitchen."

"That's okay," Pete mumbled. "I got the time. I know you... you're busy."

"Hm." She stepped a little closer to his desk. Tilting the box towards her, her eyes roamed over what was left inside, then all the parts that were spread out on the tabletop. "Where did you get all this?"

"Well, you know..." He shrugged.

Pepper frowned and shot a side-way glance at him. "No, not really... Is this from the... the Queens apartment?"

"Erm, it's..." The lump in his throat was thick, making his voice a little raspy. "Mr.—erm... He... he left it at the... outside the door."

The grimace on his face wasn't lost on Pepper. "Hm." Her frown deepened before the hand on his shoulder stilled. "Tony got this for you?"

"Yeah," Pete breathed, his gaze low. "He did. It's..." Clearing his throat didn't help. "It's a speaker. I think. Once it's done."

She huffed out a sigh. "He said something to you, didn't he?"

"Hm?" His hand reached for that screwdriver again, eager to hide his nervous energy, feigning ignorance.

"Tony. He said something to you. Hey..." The hold on his shoulder tightened, making him change his posture so he would face her. "Darling, can you..." She blew out another breath as Pete turned his eyes up to her. "It's okay," she said, the soft smile back on her face. "He's asked you to call him 'Tony' now, didn't he?"

"No, it..." That wasn't what Mr. Stark had asked and Pete knew why. "It's not a problem. Really."

It had been the night before the last when Mr. Stark had asked him not to call him 'Mr. Stark' anymore. To 'transition away from it' was how he had put it. It didn't matter that he had backtracked right away, his intention had been clear enough and Pete had tried to comply. Had kept the man's name out of his mouth as best as he could. As long as he was just talking to him, that was easy enough. Talking about him though or trying to get his attention, that was tricky.

With a heavy sigh, Pepper didn't try to discuss it any further. In fact, she changed the subject quite abruptly, questioning him for his preferences for lunch and dinner, then asked again if he needed anything.

"You can tell me or just tell FRIDAY. Did you order anything yet? Some clothes? Or I don't know... shampoo?" Her eyebrows moved up, head tilted a little towards him, she added "Shaving cream?"

It caught him off guard enough to bark out a laugh, the heat returning to his cheeks but for a warmer, pleasant form of embarrassment. "I don't shave!"

Pepper cupped his face with one hand and as her lips pulled into an easy, genuine smile. He couldn't help but lean into the touch, his eyes falling shut for just a moment.

"I can help you if you want? Order somethings with you." She still stayed close, her voice gentle. "Or I can just have someone send a bunch of stuff and you can just pick whatever you like?"

Pete nodded along, his eyes fluttering open. What did it matter? It didn't seem like he was going to leave the house anytime soon.

They left it at that. Pepper didn't even try to ask him about the situation with Mr. Stark again. For most of the remaining day, Pete had thought that he had dodged that bullet. He'd just need a little time to figure out what to do about it. But his relief had come too soon for when he sat down with Mr. Stark for their nightly movie, it became quite clear that she must have talked to him. Must have told him something about the whole names-thing because while Mr. Stark praised his progress on what had definitely turned out to be a speaker that Pete was assembling, he was a little quieter, sat a little bit further off than he had the days before. It wasn't until the very end of the film that Mr. Stark cleared his throat and shot a proper glance at him.

"You know, about what we talked about the other day..."

Pete swallowed hard. He had a very good idea, what he meant.

"The... the thing about..." Mr. Stark shuffled in his seat, turned a bit further, looking straight at him, and no longer beat around the bush. "I don't care, kid. You just call me whatever you want, okay? I just... I don't want to push you into anything that you think you're not ready for or—" He stopped, his head sharply turning to the side. "This should so, so not be on the list of things that you worry about, okay? Anything goes. You can call me 'Tony' or you can stick with that 'Mr. Stark' of yours. I'm... It's fine, either way."

"Stop, you..." Pete's hands were clasped tightly, deep breaths. "You don't have to say that."

"I'm not..." Mr. Stark frowned at him. "I'm not just saying that. I mean it, kid."

Pete's eyes were darting back towards his room. There was no point in having this conversation. Neither of them even wanted to talk about this, so why couldn't they just move on?

But Mr. Stark seemed reluctant to let it go. "Tell me why that freaks you out, Pete."

"It... it doesn't..." Pete pressed out a little too agitated. "I'm not freaked out."

His eyes moved towards Mr. Stark who pushed out an almost amused huff. "No fibbing now, hm?"

"I'm not the one—" He said it quietly, hotly, but bit his tongue as soon as the words rolled off his tongue. When he risked a glance up to at Mr. Stark he knew it hadn't been soon enough.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he looked genuinely confused.

"Nothing," Pete mumbled.

Pete's memories of that day were hazy at best. The pain had been subdued by the drugs and his senses had been all over the place, but he did remember that part. Waking up in that familiar room at the Tower after his mentor turned guardian and father had rescued him from a situation that had been threatening to reveal everything. His head had still been buzzing, eyes too sensible to blink even against the dimly lit room, but he had heard them. Pepper and Mr. Stark, how they had argued in hushed voices about secrets and about Mr. Stark's son. Him.

It hadn't been until Mr. Stark had brought this up again a few days earlier, had asked him not to call him that - 'Mr. Stark' - any longer, that this particular conversation had come back to Pete. The memory had put things into perspective. Had underlined how much these names and which one Pete would use did matter to him, whatever he wanted to claim now. It mattered that he wasn't 'Tony' to Pete, but his dad. Pete didn't even blame him for that. For the hope, Mr. Stark was so clearly harboring. The hope that Pete could just fill that hole that he had been left with, like he should.

"Pete, come on..." Mr. Stark shook his head, shifting a little more towards him. "Talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about," he hissed, harsher than he had intended. "It... it's fine. I get it."

Again, he shook his head, this time a little more determined. "Get what?"

"Don't." He pressed his eyes shut. His voice came out low and rugged even to his own ears. "It's fine, you don't have to... to pretend like... I understand, okay?"

When he looked back up, Mr. Stark's forehead was rippled with a frown, his eyes shifting back and forth not focusing on anything in particular. "Listen buddy, I... I'm not sure what you think you heard but—"

"You told her. Pepper. I..." Pete's legs twitched, wanting to get up, to pace, but he forced himself to stay put. "I heard you. I heard you say it but I just..." He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The knot in his stomach loosened, allowing the words to roll off his tongue before he had even time to think. "I get that you don't want it to be 'Tony' but I just don't know how to call you like 'Dad' or something. It's... it doesn't feel right. I'm sorry—"

"Woah, kid, that..." His eyes were wide, the color draining out of his face for good. He held himself bend a little forward like he had suffered a shot to the gut. "That's not... not at all what I..." He groaned into his hands as he rubbed both of them across his face. When they fell away, the rings under his eyes stood out a little more. "Buddy, you don't... you don't need to worry about that, alright?"

The frantic beat of Mr. Stark's heart was ringing in his ears. His lip caught between his teeth, Pete couldn't help but feel a deep sense of sadness when he took in the look that flickered across Mr. Stark's face. His father's face. Not sadness, it was guilt Pete felt. He was his father. Had been his dad at some point and could still be that again. It was just a word and after everything he had done for him, was it really too much to ask that he'd acknowledge that? To give him that at least when Pete couldn't give him much else? When so much had been taken from his father already. "You know what, I can... I can totally try. I mean, I can do it. It's okay. It's just— might be weird for a day or so, right? And then I would just be used to it. It's fine. It's not a big deal. Really, it—"

Mr. Stark had shifted close enough to pull Pete into his arms. His hands held Pete so tightly that he couldn't help but let his eyes fall shut. "You keep trying to do this thing..." Mr. Stark's words were quietly mumbled against him, his hand tangled in Pete's hair. "This thing where you want to protect me. But we can't keep doing that, okay? All I want is for you to be safe and happy. I don't need you... calling me things you think I want to hear. We won't do that."

He pulled back just far enough that he could talk. "But Mr.— I... I mean... but—" Pete groaned and buried his face back against the fabric of Mr. Stark's shirt.

"Tony." His voice was steady, a strong contrast to his still racing heart. "Alright? Or 'hey you' if that's easier? I'm fine with that. I'm fine with anything that's not weird for you."

"But that's not what you said," Pete whispered.

"Well, I'm saying it now!" His arms still held him close. "I mean it now."

They sat there in the living room, for how long, Pete wasn't sure. He only knew that it felt good. Mr. Stark stayed up there with him longer that evening than any other evening of the week.

Even on the next day when Mr. Stark and Pepper were working out a way for May to video call him, Mr. Stark had hovered just next to him, had studied him closely. Just a couple of days after their initial visit at the hospital, Pete had found himself seated at the head of the kitchen table, a bandage once again wrapped around his throat this time not to ease his injury but to hide how his skin was starting to pale where before the Winter Soldier's handprints had stood in blue and purple shapes against his throat. Pepper was sitting next to him, but just out of view of the webcam he was looking at. Mr. Stark was in the room, too, but he didn't sit. His back was turned, arms crossed as he stood at the floor to ceiling windows, his eyes roaming over the city. The strong, elevated pounding of his heart made Pete's palms sweat.

"Are you eating, honey? You look a little scrawny," May frowned a couple of minutes into the call.

"Course... course, I'm eating." Pete had to force himself to keep staring ahead at the laptop but there was little he could do about the way his shoulder's twitched at the huffed mumbles coming from Pepper, too low for even him to understand.

"Do you want me to send something? Something real to eat? From SriPraPhai maybe?" May continued. "I know how much you love their Pad Gra-Prow. Extra sticky rice, okay? And you can just order anytime and put it on my tab. Those classy gourmet portions might look good at a gala but for a growing boy it—"

"I'm fine, May." At last his eyes darted over to Pepper who had her arms crossed in front of her, lips pressed tightly shut. "I promise, I'm eating all the time."

Just two nights ago actually, the table had been stacked with what had looked like the entire menu of SriPraPhai's materialized in the penthouse. With the food Pepper kept ordering for dinner, Pete had wondered more than once if one of the things Mr. Stark had picked up from the apartment had been the takeaway menus pinned on the fridge. The apartment, that had been another sore spot.

"I did talk to Taylor, honey. He can get you anything you need from the apartment. Your clothes and maybe that blanket you like, hm?"

The thought that May's boss would be in their apartment, shuffling through his stuff gave Pete the creeps. "Actually, I erm... someone already went. It's... I got everything I need."

"Someone was in our apartment?" Her tone wasn't outright hostile but close enough.

The inside of his lip was caught between his teeth, lightly biting down again and again as he silently cursed himself for saying too much.

"It was part of the guardian privileges the court granted, Mrs. Parker," the lawyer, Brian, explained off-camera on May's end of the call. "Last week, Mr. Stark went to pick up Pete's belongings, with the NYPD present of course since they do still regard your apartment as a crime scene in an active investigation."

Head turned to the side, staring daggers at the lawyer, her voice deteriorated to a growl. "He went into my apartment?"

"Yes. The judge granted him access to pick up his son's belongings."

And just there, Brian had said the magic words. 'His son.'

It was the elephant in the room they didn't talk about, May and Pete that was. The subject of his father was so clearly off limits, May would immediately change the subject as soon as they would touch on anything involving Mr. Stark and Pete was not going to bring it up again either, not with Mr. Stark stood there, listening to his every word. Instead, they talked about how May was doing and Pete would try to lie about how his injuries hadn't healed as well yet as they clearly had. He had promised them not to tell her about the Cradle and there was no way now that he would bring up his healing factor.

"I love you, honey," May whispered at the end of the call, her eyes glistening with tears.

"I love you, too," he whispered back, his cheeks fiery red.

Not that it was a lie. Of course he loved her, but with Mr. Stark and Pepper so close by, he couldn't deny that a strong sense of guilt made him lower his eyes and pick at his fingers. Guilt, when he thought of all these years he had lived with May when they had mourned that little boy they had lost.

It had been a long week. With every day they got closer to Barnes and Rogers' trial, the atmosphere at the Tower grew tenser and tenser. They all tried to pretend differently of course. Mr. Stark would still sit through the nightly movie with him. Rhodey had even come up to the penthouse one afternoon after hours in the lab with Mr. Stark. The two of them had played another round of Poker until he was out of change once again, while Mr. Stark wouldn't leave the lab until it was time for their movie. It was the night before the trial that Pete decided he couldn't sit by idly any longer.

Like every other night, he had sat down in the living room with Mr. Stark, this time watching as Mark Watney planted some potatoes on Mars and scienced the shit out of the little he had to work with. Well, Pete had been watching. For the most part. Mr. Stark might have had his eyes on the screen but they were staring, unfocused. Sometimes the corners of his mouth would twitch but Pete doubted that it was in reaction to the film.

As soon as the credits started to roll, Mr. Stark was on his feet. His hand swiftly rubbed through Pete's hair and he was calling for the elevator before Pete had even gathered his thoughts enough to stand up. The last days, he had at least stayed and asked Pete what he thought of the film, if he liked it. The Martian had been Pete's suggestion after a week of old movies about space. Apollo 13, A Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy, Armageddon. It wasn't like he hadn't already seen most of those as well but Mr. Stark seemed to enjoy showing him and Pete couldn't bring himself to let him down.

Pete had thought that this one might turn things around a bit, remind Mr. Stark of what they had before. Pathfinder and Sojourner, his little sidekick. Little maybe, but still damn helpful.

He had been helpful before. In Germany and... and for Queens. He wanted to get back to that. Be of some use again other than assembling a stereo that he was pretty sure Mr. Stark had taken apart in the first place with the sole purpose that Pete could put it back together. Occupational therapy, nothing more.

The living room was quiet as the elevator stopped moving. When Pete closed his eyes and concentrated he could hear the faint clacking of Pepper's keyboard. She had kept her distance more often as the days went by, at least whenever Mr. Stark was up in the penthouse. More than once, Pete had heard them argue from his room. Faint whispers of lawyers and their legal approach, of time and timely responses, and Mr. Stark's involvement.

His thoughts shuffled back to that movie. Pathfinder and Sojourner. Pathfinder couldn't function without its little sidekick. It was their teamwork that had made them so successful. It had been something Mr. Stark had told him that first time, months ago, when he had lectured him about the work they were dedicated to. How it was the team that got things done. How nobody could do it alone. Not even Iron Man.

Slowly, Pete rose from his seat on the couch and shuffled towards the elevator.

"Hey, FRIDAY?"

He didn't have to say more than that and the doors opened for him. His knees were a little weak as he shuffled in and the doors closed. Mr. Stark had never outright forbidden him to go down to the lab. In fact, he had said Pete didn't even need to ask, that he was always welcome and—

His heart skipped a beat as the elevator opened. Mr. Stark was in the middle of working alright, just not on the project Pete had been expecting. Maybe he wasn't the only one that had taken a little walk down memory lane being reminded of Pathfinder and his little sidekick.

His mouth hanging slightly ajar, Pete couldn't keep his eyes from the workbench, from what Mr. Stark was working on. That suit that had been his. "What... what are you doing?"

At first, Mr. Stark didn't react at all, just stood there, eyes a little unfocused. Then he shook off the trance and cleared his throat. "Just making sure everything's in order. Running some diagnostics."

The beat of Pete's heart had to be loud enough to echo through the entire lab. Diagnostics. Making sure everything was in order. That... did that mean—

"For storage," Mr. Stark added quickly. "You know, don't want anything shorting. Best to..." He cleared his throat again. "Best to make sure, that there are no issues."

"Oh."

His face must have sunken for Mr. Stark took a step closer to him, his head tilted to the side a bit. "Listen, this whole thing—"

Hands balled into loose fists by his side, Pete shuffled a step away from him. "No, I... I get it. You... I know. I know."

He did, but it didn't mean he liked this any better.

"Pete, you're 13."

That made his eyes sting. So what? He had been the same person all year and he had managed things just fine! Well, mostly at least. When it came to Spider-Man-ing, he had always had things under control! Well, almost... almost always. The majority of the time! Had helped people. He truly had. Had kept them safe and out of harm's way.

"Kid..." Mr. Stark blew out a long breath but didn't make a move to get any closer. "You understand, right? Why you can't go out there. Why I can't let you."

Pete's arms quickly wrapped around himself, his eyes still on the suit. Slowly, he took the last few steps and then stretched out a shaky hand for the suit. The fabric was soft under his fingers. So soft, it seemed counterintuitive to believe that the material was as strong as it was.

"Pete..."

"When?" He whispered. "When will you let me... let me go out again?"

He had been 14 when Mr. Stark had built the suit for him. Well, had thought he was 14. They both had and it had been fine then. He knew now that he wasn't. Wouldn't turn a year older until late February. That was almost 6 months away. He wouldn't make him wait 6 months... right?

"Let's just.. let's talk about this after the trial. When the media circus has calmed down a bit, okay?"

Pete's eyes shot up at him, uncaring that they were likely bloodshot and surely wet. "You'll let me go out again, right? You'll not keep me—"

"Sir, Secretary Ross for you."

Both of them froze. While Pete twisted and turned like Ross would appear right in the lab to arrest him or something, Mr. Stark sprang into action.

"Go back upstairs." He stepped back from the workbench, his eyes flickering up to one of FRIDAY's sensors. "Keep all this out of the frame, FRI."

"Yes, Sir."

"Wait, no!" Pete hadn't moved but he still seemed out of breath.

"Pete, this is not a negotiation." Mr. Stark wasn't looking at him, fiddling on his shirt instead. "Upstairs, now!"

"Or what?"

The line was still ringing, not audibly, but the low blue pulsing frame around FRIDAY's projection seemed aggressive enough, Ross waiting for Mr. Stark to pick up the call.

"Kid, don't do this, okay? Don't make me—"

"Why would you even talk to him? He's evil, he—"

"I don't have the luxury to refuse him right now! Just—" Finally Mr. Stark turned towards him and the look on his face made the hairs of Pete's neck rise in fear. "Leave."

He froze, not just because of the terrifying graveness of Mr. Stark's tone but because he just didn't really know what to do. Then his jaw set and he did leave, but not for the elevator. It only took him a split second to decide, but there was little Mr. Stark could do to stop him and his theory proved perfectly right as Pete stalked past him towards the little kitchenette. His heart still beating fast and loudly in his ears, Pete pressed his back against the wall next to the doorless opening. It didn't help that Mr. Stark was freely and furiously cursing. His knees weak, arms shaking, Pete almost expected him to bust out a suit and remove him from the floor by force but instead, deep breaths through his mouth steadied Mr. Stark's heart rate before he ordered FRIDAY to connect the call.

"Well, finally." Pete pressed his eyes shut as Ross' voice echoed through the lab. "You think it'll help your case if you keep me waiting?"

"I'm here now," Mr. Stark growled. "Am I not?"

"And what a warm welcome it is."

"Drop the chit chat, Ross. What do you want?"

"So hostile. You sound like I was the one who asked for this call."

Pete's mind went blank. His head whipped towards Mr. Stark's direction, stunned.

"Positively begged for it," Ross continued. "That was a bit of a surprise, let me tell you. A pleasant one of course!"

Pete was itching to take a peek but the thought of getting spotted in the back of Mr. Stark's shot made his heart race faster. He crouched down to the floor anyway inching closer and closer to squint out into the lab.

"Just tell me what you want me to do, Ross."

"What makes you think that there's anything you can do, hm?"

With his stomach pressed against the floor, Pete finally got a look at what was happening. Mr. Stark's chest was heaving with every breath he took, his eyes not straying from the projection of Ross' face. "We both know that there is no upside for you if all of us end up with a price on our head or worse, locked up for good. We both know what's out there. You think a couple of fighter jets would stand a chance against these intergalactical slugs? You need us, Ross."

The secretary's face had lost some of its smugness, but there was still a strong vibe of dominance radiating from him. "Do I? What good is a fragmented group of has-been celebrities to me? I've wasted enough of my time cleaning up your bullshit."

"You want all the praise and glory? Fine," Mr. Stark hissed. "I don't give a fuck about that. Just tell me what you want me to do."

"What I want..." His head held high, Ross quietly studied Mr. Stark for a moment. "It could be a great opportunity for you as well."

Mr. Stark snorted. "Oh, an opportunity. How generous of you."

"Maybe not just for you." Ross gave a theatrical shrug. "Maybe it'd be a nice chance for you and your boy to earn back a little more... breathing room."

"I'm not here to play your games." But Mr. Stark's stance changed at the threat, his head held a little higher, hands twitching by his side.

"It's not a game when the things at stake are this intimate, is it Tony?"

"Just get to the fucking point!"

"Now, now. I just wanted to remind you since the first day of the trial is so quickly approaching... Accidents happen and with someone as unstable as Barnes, well, you were the one who saw it first hand in Berlin."

Mr. Stark's feet shifted underneath him, his heart rate spiking once again. "I don't even care what you think you're trying to imply—"

"Oh, you know. You know what I'm implying." Ross' eyes were dark, his expression deadly serious. "He's a danger to society. To all of us. Do I really have to lay that out for you? After what he did to your own little boy?"

There was a change in how Mr. Stark was holding himself at that. Not all that obvious unless you knew what to look for and Pete knew exactly what to look for. The tension in his shoulders as he pulled them a bit higher, holding himself tall, his back straight, chin up. "I'm not your little soldier, Ross," Mr. Stark growled, "You want Barnes dead, you better bring more than a couple of guys."

Ross pressed out an insincere laugh. "Come on, don't pretend like I'm not doing you a favor. You want him out of the way just like I do." His eyes narrowed on Mr. Stark. The lines on his face were deepening with every passing moment, every sense of amusement had vanished. "He can't be controlled. Not even Rogers could blame you if it happened while he tried to rip apart a courtroom."

"Fuck you," Mr. Stark spat.

"You want to listen to me, Tony. Think of your little boy. Little Aiden or is it little Peter now?"

"You'll keep my son's name out of your mouth!"

The exasperated sigh Ross blew out gave Pete goosebumps. "You think I don't know you're hiding shit with that kid of yours? I guess it's just a coincidence that Spider-Man hasn't made any appearances ever since you regained official custody of that boy, is it? You really think I'm stupid, don't you?"

Mr. Stark's stance didn't waiver. "Stupid is such a simple word, Ross."

"Well, I received a very intriguing call from Chief Daniel Clarke of the NYPD."

Peter's breath got stuck in his throat, threatening to choke him. He pressed himself flatter against cold tiles of the kitchen floor as Ross' voice rang through the lab.

"You might have gotten away with this initially, you might have public favor on your side right now but what do you think people will say if they find out you experimented on your own child, huh? Hid him in that Tower of yours? Did god-knows-what with him and to what end? To be a little more like your daddy?"

"Shut your face, Ross. I would never do that to my kid." Mr. Stark's pulse was hammering so loudly in Pete's ears, he had to focus not to miss any of Ross' hissed threats that followed.

"We both know that what you would or wouldn't do is inconsequential once the press has painted a nice little picture of what you might have done. How long you might have known where he was and what you made him do."

Mr. Stark's hands were balled into fists, jaw tightly shut, a clear grasp for control.

Ross let out another overplayed heavy sigh. "Tony, I'm not sure why you even try to fight me on this. You have more reason than any of us to despise Barnes. He tried to kill your boy. He's the reason your parents are dead."

Mr. Stark's pulse quickened again at that, his face cracking with anger, but Ross only waved off how Mr. Stark was ringing for control with a quick flick of his hand.

"We questioned Barnes of course. You must be aware of that. Relax... all I'm asking of you is to get yourself some well-deserved justice. The kind of justice a trial will never give you, not in New York. Justice that Rogers will never let you have."

Mr. Stark was quiet then, stoic except for his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

"You'll show up at court tomorrow. The DA will be thrilled to have you testify for the prosecution and when things get a little heated with the cross-examination when you don't say what the defense thought you would, well... Barnes might... crack a little. He might just happen to become uncontrollable with all these nasty triggers of his and we'll be lucky to have a capable Avenger like you in the courtroom to..." Ross cocked his head to the side. "...handle the situation. With Rogers in cuffs and all."

There was a pause. Ross waited for Mr. Stark to say something in response, but instead, his face was hard, teeth gritting in anger.

Ross crossed his arm, eyebrows rising in impatience. "I trust that it won't be a problem for you to get some Super-Soldier handling equipment into that room without detection."

At last, Mr. Stark sniffed out a low chuckle, his eyes dark. "I see. You want me to murder the guy and then get myself locked up for smuggling weapons into a courtroom?"

Ross rolled his eyes and pressed his lips together tightly in an exaggerated portrayal of wariness. "Of course not, Tony. You'll be the hero, saving the people in that room from an uncontrollable monster. The monster we both know he is."

Mr. Stark didn't move, but even the way his hands were balled up into fists didn't stop them from shaking.

"Just think about it, hm? Think about what's best for you for once... for that son of yours." Ross made a show of checking the time on his watch. "You still have a few hours to sleep on it, if you really need the time to decide what's best for your little family... but I expect to see you at the courthouse, Tony. Nice and early."

He didn't wait for another answer from Mr. Stark. Ross' projection had only just disappeared when Pete pushed himself off the floor and stormed out of the kitchenette, heading for Mr. Stark. His mentor... his father was clinging to the workbench, knuckles white from how strongly he was holding on to it.

Pete's heart beat even faster at the sight. "You can't—"

"Be quiet," he hissed.

"You can't do that! I won't let you do that!"

"Just..." His hands let go of the tabletop and shot up, running through his hair. "I need to think."

Pete tried to reach for him but he turned his back, long strides carrying him to the far side of the lab, but Pete was on his heels. "No, I don't want that! You can't just—"

Mr. Stark spun around. Both of his hands grabbed him by the shoulders. "I said stop!" He gave him a little shake only hard enough that it made Pete stumble a little. "Stop talking."

He was looking right at Pete now, the expression on his face so deadly, it made Pete want to cower away if only he could find it in himself to move. A hot wave of dread rushed into his face, made his cheeks burn first, then his eyes. He bit his lip, desperate to keep the panic at bay. Fast, shallow breaths pulled in through his nose had a limited effect on controlling that rapid fluttering of his heart. Fear, Pete realized. It was fear that vibrated in his chest, crippling his ability to form a coherent thought of what to do next. Fear because all of a sudden he realized that he had no idea how far Tony Stark, how far his father would be really willing to go to protect him.

He wasn't a killer. He wasn't. Pete refused to believe that the same man who had been so gentle with him, so careful and caring when he had been hurt and so scared, would kill someone in cold blood. That his father would be capable of that. A shiver ran down Pete's back, having the hairs on his arms rise in anxious foreboding when the images from that bunker in Siberia flashed in front of his eyes.

Pete shook his head. His father's hands still tightly clasping his arms, it was the only move he dared to make. Siberia had been different. It had all happened so quickly and Mr. Stark had been alone and overwhelmed. He wouldn't, not now...

"Please..." Pete whispered, not surprised by how wrecked his voice sounded. "I'll be fine. I'll be okay, you can't—"

"I said..." Mr. Stark tightened the grip on his shoulders. "...stop talking."

When Pete breathed out a wet gasp, shrinking away under the force of his grip, Mr. Stark let go of him like he had been burnt.

"Please..." he whispered again, not backing away from him as Mr. Stark retreated further and further.

"It's... it's going to be alright." But the way his voice was shaking, Pete didn't believe a single word.

"Mr. Stark, you can't kill him."

"I know that," he barked, then rubbed a hand across his face. "I'll figure it out, okay?"

"You can't go!" Pete's heart was racing, a feeling of lightheaded panic spreading through him. "The trial, you... you can't!"

"Just..." He blew out a shaky break. "Just calm down for me, okay?" Another attempt at a deep breath didn't do anything to lower either of their heart rates. "It's okay. I'll figure it out. I always figure this stuff out."

Pete was close enough to reach for him now, one hand holding tightly onto the sleeve of his shirt. "Promise me!"

"Fine," Mr. Stark pressed out. "I promise."


###


[author's note: First of all, thank you so so much to everyone who commented on the last chapter with your thoughts and also on how you're still follwing this story! It's super sweet and helpful to hear what you guys think. Activity has been a down all around lately when it comes to comments and interactions it seems even though hits and subscriptions are still steady and let me just underline again, that leaving a quick comment (a line or moment you like, that made you feel happy or sad or angry even one you didn't like for whatever reason, just be nice about it ;) ) helps a lot of us to stay motivated to keep writing, especially with a long story like.

A big thank you goes once again to Spagbol99 for her help on this chapter! 3

The pace of the story is picking up a bit again and since I always hate to make any promises about when the next chapter will be up that I won't be able to keep, another reminder that you can check out my Tumblr (MsHermia) where I post how the writing is going, a sneak peek here and there and am happy to answer any asks you might have :) ]