*slides in* I'm back baby!
I have missed all you guys and hearing from you every week, (can you believe it's been three months!?) so I am psyched to get back into the swing of things!
Disclaimer- I do not own any of the main characters.
Enjoy the first chapter (of many to come) of Refound Happiness!
Refound Happiness; Chapter 1:
Spidey swung forward with a 'thwip' of his wrist, twisting his body to the side so that he rolled through the slowly darkening sky. The teen let out a whoop of excitement as he flew high above the street and the many people bustling below.
The wind that blew against his spandex covered skin was warm and washed over his body as he rolled on top of a rooftop, coming to a stop on the ledge in his famous crouch. The sun was slowly setting and most people were rushing to get home. But Spidey was just getting started.
Peter blew out a breath. Letting his legs slide from under him so that they could dangle off the side of the building. Crime had slowed up ever so slightly, and Peter was feeling a bit bored.
Was that terrible?
Yeah, it was terrible.
Peter was terrible.
He had a lot of time on his hands as of late. So, he was patrolling quite a bit more than usual and his hard work was paying off, so yeah, Peter was a bit bored at the moment. But he would be starting some college classes soon, so that would liven things back up.
The teenager was still working on getting his high school diploma, but he didn't see any harm in taking a few classes while he did that. Okay, so maybe taking on so much at one time wasn't the smartest thing Peter could do, but Peter thrived under pressure…right?
"Pphhh, pphhh," Spidey's body jerked as someone whispered in his ear. "Peter, you there?" came Clint's voice over Peter's earpiece.
Spidey rolled his eyes at the Archer as he began kicking his feet against the hard brick of the building. "What's up Hawk-guy?" he asked. The team (Steve) had insisted that Peter now wear an earpiece while out on patrols just in case he needed backup. Peter hadn't been all that thrilled about it, but Steve said that the alternative was to have someone go with him, so, Peter had picked the lesser of two evils.
Tony said that Cap would lay off after a while, but for right now the team was more on edge due to the whole debacle with Hydra, and in all honesty, Peter couldn't really blame any of the adults, that had not been a fun night.
But the team wasn't supposed to distract him on the line, not unless there was trouble back at the Tower. Steve had also made that very clear, talking over the comms while Peter was fighting baddies was a big no-no…Clint, however, didn't seem to care.
"Where are you?" the man asked. The back of Spidey's head started buzzing with a familiar tingle, the teen righted himself and began sprinting down the side of the building before launching himself off and flipping through the air.
"Uh, out," Peter said absently, twisting his body so he could avoid being clobbered by a moving crane (again). Not one of Spidey's finer moments. "Why?"
Clint huffed over the line, "I'm bored," the man said, causing Peter to snort a laugh.
"And that is my problem how?" the teen retorted, executing a front flip and landing on a far up fire escape, looking down on three large men cornering a smaller man in a darkened alleyway.
"Peter!" Clint hissed, making the teen cringe. "You should have told me you were going out on patrol, I would have tagged along."
Peter rolled his eyes and then his whole body; landing on one guy's shoulders and making the man crumple with an 'oomph'. "Ever think that maybe that's the reason I didn't tell you? -" Peter asked with a huff, punching a baddie with a huge nose in the gut before spinning around and kicking out at another.
"-This is my me time Hawk-dude, and quite honestly I don't think you could keep up with me." Peter yelped as his elbow was hit with a pipe the vibration snaking up his arm and making his body tingle; the teen spun around, yanking the rusted metal away from the large man with a unibrow before he broke it in half and threw the two pieces to the rooftop with a clatter.
Peter pointed a gloved finger at Unibrow and in a scolding tone grumbled, "rude." Before promptly punching the guy in the face.
Peter's arm hurt okay, and now Unibrow's face hurt,
Clint let an indignant squawk out at Peter, making the teen wince yet again. (There has got to be a way to turn the volume down on this thing) "I'll have you know Spider-Brat, I could kick your butt any day!" the archer said vehemently.
Peter snickered, webbing the baddies together and turning to the shocked man still clutching his briefcase to his chest in the back corner of the alley. "Call the police, tell them to pick these guys up," he told the older short man.
The guy nodded but didn't make any indication that he was going to do so. Peter sighed, rubbing at his temple before replying to Clint, "you're on, training room tomorrow you are going down!"
Briefcase man looked like he was about to pee his pants whimpering a choked sound from where he was crouched down, Peter wondered why for a moment (because there was nothing wrong anymore the bad guys were all webbed up), before it donned on him that the man thought that last statement was directed at him. Spidey started waving his hands around frantically saying "No, not you, I wasn't talking to you-"
But it was too late, briefcase man ran off with a yip, nearly tripping over the webbed baddies as he dodged Spidey. Peter could hear the man yelling as he ran away "run! Run for your lives! Spiderman is attacking!"
Peter cupped his hands around his masked mouth, "I WASN'T TALKING TO YOU! WAIT, COME BACK!" Spidey groaned loudly, smacking a hand to his face in exasperation, he would not be surprised to find this in Daily Bugle tomorrow. (Darn it)
Clint sniggered in his ear, "if I wasn't already, I'd be deaf right now," he told Peter flatly.
"Shut up," Spidey grunted.
"I did'n say nothin'," Big-Nose grumbled from his place on the ground, blinking up at Spiderman.
Peter threw his hands up in the air, frustrated, "I WASN'T TALKING TO YOU EITHER!" the teen shouted at Big-Nose.
The guys face scrunched up, his fist like nose wrinkling in his confusion. "Ya talk'n to yourself?" he asked, wiggling uncomfortable in his webbed restraints, "ya crazy or somethin'?"
Peter groaned, refraining from dragging his hand down his face in a display of irritation. "I am not crazy." (But he was surrounded by idiots)
Clint hummed in his ear, "I don't know Peter, I think the guys got a point."
"You be quiet, you,"
"I still did'n say nothin'," Big-Nose grumbled at Peter.
Spidey didn't feel any remorse as he webbed Big-Nose's mouth shut.
Spidey flung himself onto the side of the Avengers Tower, flying upward like a ball out of a cannon, allowing his arms and legs to catch in the wind before abruptly slamming against the glass and climbing up to his floor. The teenager knocked on the window after a moment. "Hey, J, could'ya let me in?" Spidey called softly.
A moment later the window slid up and Peter was able to jump inside with a dull 'thump'. "Thanks, JARVIS," the teen whispered to the ceiling, he didn't really know why he was whispering since he had his own floor, but old habits die hard, huh?
"You are most welcome Peter," JARVIS whispered back, Peter found himself smiling at the A.I for matching his tone. "How was tonight's patrol?" the robotic butler asked.
Peter slipped out of his mask, his hair puffing out wildly, and throwing it on his coffee table haphazardly before he began peeling the rest of his suit off. Is this what it feels like when a lizard sheds its skin? Peter thinks so. He'll have to ask Dr. Connors next time he sees him… (joking, not joking)
"Good," Peter answered, "nothing too big, just a few muggings and drug dealers. Made friends with a prostitute." Her name was Patricia and Peter still has no idea how she was able to walk around in those high heels, he helped her to a women's shelter, and her life story made Peter feel sad.
Patricia is Peter's hero...
She cried when he told her that…
"I'm sure that Sir will be most proud to hear this," JARVIS responded flatly. Peter smirked to himself, he figured that JARVIS always told Tony or at least Steve (maybe even Sam, Peter wouldn't doubt it) about his nightly activities, but his suspicions hadn't been confirmed until this very moment.
"I'm sure Steve will lecture me about it tomorrow," Peter sighed, (but he was still smiling) as he peeled his tights off, walking to his room in nothing but his underwear and falling face first on the bed with a drawn-out moan. Awe, fuzzy blanket, his one true love.
"Indeed sir." JARVIS sounded cheeky, can an A.I be cheeky?
Peter knew that he needed a shower, he smelled like sweat and dirt and a bit of Patricia's perfume (cotton candy apparently). But he was drained, and in all honesty, he didn't really care at the moment.
Plus, if he took a bath or shower he might fall asleep again…And Natasha had been pretty mad at him the last time he fell asleep in the bath…so that was a no go, an angry Nat was a scary Nat…well scarier…she was always scary…but in a weird 'I don't want to disappoint her' kind of way…it was confusing,
Peter was confused,
when wasn't Peter confused...?
It was too late for this.
Peter was exhausted and couldn't think right now.
The teenager told his brain to shut up, so he could go to sleep.
Peter felt the air whoosh out of his lungs as he was slammed to the floor. The teen stayed on the blue mat for a moment, his face pressed to its sticky surface as he lay sprawled on the ground panting like the loser he was…loser…
"Ha!" Clint chanted somewhere over Peter, "Had enough yet?" he taunted. Peter felt like flipping the man off, but that would require movement, something Peter was incapable of doing at this very moment.
"I hate you so much," Peter grumbled into the mat. Clint woke him up at stupid-o-clock in the morning and then forced Peter to come spar with him like they had agreed on last night. But Peter didn't remember saying anything about waking up at stupid-o-clock and he was still a bit irritated about being tackled awake out of his blissful slumber. (How old is Clint?! Seriously)
Clint had then said it was hand to hand combat only and that their feet were to stay on the ground at all times and Peter didn't remember agreeing to those rules either…But he hadn't disagreed, so here Peter was; getting the stupid beaten out of him at stupid-o-clock by a stupid-bird-man… (Peter didn't have enough brain power to think of any other words to express himself right now)
"Awe, I love you too!" Clint cooed at Peter before plopping down and lying next to the teenager, the blond unsurprisingly used Peter's back as a pillow, his legs crossed in front of him as he hummed to himself in a sure to be mocking way.
Peter was not a morning person.
Clint evidently was.
Or maybe it was just because Clint was a spy and he was predisposed to this kind of thing, he could wake up at any time and be functional. Honestly, Peter didn't really care. He just wanted to go back to bed, maybe he would sleep right here on this mat…it was comfortable enough…
"Your stance was all off; you don't fight as well when you're tired and cranky," Clint said seriously, his eyes gazing up at the white ceiling.
Peter rolled his head to the side so that his cheek was pressed to the cool mat. "You don't say," he snarked back, "how'd you figure that Sherlock?" he asked, his tone a bit biting.
Clint pinched the teen's side causing Peter to yelp more in surprise than pain. "An attack could come at any time and you need to be on your feet and ready, baddies aren't going to stop because you need your beauty sleep- which you clearly aren't getting enough of, I mean have you looked in the mirror lately, Pete? Nasty."
Peter pinched the Archer back in retaliation, blowing out a heavy sigh. "I know Clint," the teen said, knowing that there was more to that simple statement.
They all knew that Peter could function without sleep, it was whether or not he could fight while sleep deprived and without his web-shooters, (which Peter did for months while homeless) but he hadn't gone up against any Major Villains (thank god) so his hand to hand wasn't all that great. (It wasn't like Peter had training or anything, he was pretty much just throwing punches where he could and dodging while relying on his spider-sense) there was no technique to it, and apparently, it showed.
When the team found out about Peter's apparent lack of skill, they decided to rectify the problem, hence the required training.
So, hand to hand was what Peter was working on as of late, and it was a bit humiliating. (Getting his butt handed to him wasn't something Peter was overly eager to do) "I was going easy on you, old man," Peter informed Clint, "didn't want to hurt your pride or self-confidence, we all know you're lacking."
Clint smacked the top of Peter's head before springing up to a standing position his hands clenched into fists, in a perfect fighting stance. "Oh yeah?" he challenged, sounding amused, "let's go again, kid, but this time neither of us will hold back."
Peter looked at the older man incredulously, squinting at him and holding back the petulant pout that wanted to form on his lips. "You were holding back?" he asked, his voice verging on a whine.
Clint's smirk was evil and mocking. "Just a bit," he hummed, winking at Peter before saying in a low voice, "I was just getting warmed up."
Peter felt his chest deflate, he was in for it now. "Did I mention how much I hate you right now?"
"Up and at'em."
"So much hate, so much."
Peter crawled onto the couch next to Sam, his hair wet from his shower and his body sore from an overly aggressive Clint Barton. (I mean c'mon, can't Clint be nice to Peter every once and a while? It was morning time, people shouldn't be forced to function in the early hours of the day; let alone having to get their butts kicked) Peter pressed his face into the soft cushion letting out a groan of utter despair.
The teen heard Sam chuckle before he felt the man begin to ruffle his hair. "Fun times with Clint?" Sam asked.
Peter squinted up at the man with one eye. "Not fun. Never fun." Full on coherent sentences were out of Peter's grasp as of now. He was pretty sure that Clint had knocked out a few brain cells, and Peter only got three hours of sleep, the teenager was starting to regret his decision to stay out on a longer patrol now. (Darn him and his need to help people)
Sam chuckled, his fingers playing with Peter's damp puffy hair. "How much sleep did you get Peter?" he asked.
The teen hummed, running a hand over Sam's casted leg that was carefully propped up by a stack of pillows. The cast still had all those silly pictures on it, the same ones that the team had drawn a few weeks ago. But it would have to be re-casted soon, maybe they would just decorate it again?
"Mmm, not enough. Never enough," the teen responded. Bruce said that his body was still trying to catch up on all the sleep he had been deprived of the last few years. (and really, the eight months that he was homeless) but Peter didn't understand how his body could possibly still need rest, he had slept a ton while in Greenland.
But Bruce said that his body needed to work off the trauma he had endured (or whatever) and that Peter was still not sleeping as much as his body required. Bruce had suggested that he take a break from patrolling so that his body could fully recover. But that was ridiculous, Peter was fine physically, there was no need for him to start slacking on his responsibilities to New York.
"Maybe you should go back to bed," Sam suggested, "what do you have to do today?" he asked, his hands still running through Peter's damp hair.
The teenager hummed in thought, "uh, just school stuff. Oh!" Peter cut himself off remembering that he did, in fact, have something to do later on today. "And Tony wanted to talk to me about the whole adoption thingy-ma-bob."
Yeah, that was right, Tony had asked Peter if he would allow Tony to adopt him. Peter was kind of surprised that he had agreed so fast. But it seemed like the only good option that Peter had at his disposal, and it wasn't like Peter wanted to go anywhere else. This was his home now.
And honestly, it wasn't as if it was going to change anything. Tony would always be Tony. And Peter didn't need parents he was nearly seventeen. The adoption was just so Peter could live with the Avengers legally and to get Child Protective Services off of the teenager's back.
It was no big deal, just paperwork…right?
When they had informed the team, there had been shouts of excitement and Peter had found himself in the middle of a massive group hug, and then a moment later, on top of Thor's shoulders, being marched off for a 'feast'. They had celebrated with root beer floats and a movie marathon.
Peter didn't regret his decision whatsoever.
But there was still the prospect of unmasking himself. Now that, that Peter was still a bit uncertain of. Tony had agreed that he would take the adoption papers to his lawyer beforehand and see if he was approved for guardianship without Peter outing his secret identity. But Tony had also made it clear that that was most likely not going to happen. A Judge would have to be crazy (or bribed) into letting Tony Stark take in a 'helpless' child.
It would have been nice if Peter and Tony could have fibbed and said that Tony knew the Parkers or that he was an old family friend. But clearly, that wasn't the case. C.P.S had gone through all of Peter's long-lost relatives and old friends, only to come out empty handed all those months ago when Aunt May had died.
It would be very suspicious that Tony Stark of all people randomly popped up almost nine months later, (especially since Peter was filed under as a missing child) it just wouldn't pan out.
So, in the likelihood that Tony does get denied guardianship, they will have to go to plan B and Peter will have to unmask himself as Spiderman. It wasn't the best plan, but Tony would most likely be approved for adoption of Peter if the world knew that he wasn't some defenseless kid. Tony had also pointed out that with the press and people putting pressure on the case the Judge would most likely cave much sooner. It wasn't the most honest way to get what they wanted, but it should work.
Sam hummed, patting Peter's head before shifting so he could grab his crutches and get up. "Have you eaten breakfast yet?" he asked as he headed over to the Tower's shared kitchen.
Peter flopped over so that he was laying on his back. "Uh, does an apple count?" he asked back, staring up at the white ceiling. Could JARVIS see him from this angle? Were there cameras that Peter couldn't see? Probably, this was Tony he was talking about after all.
"One apple for a growing teenage boy, no. One apple for a growing teenage boy with a crazy fast metabolism, double no," Sam teased, the man reached into the fridge rummaging around before asking "waffles?" his voice muffled by the fridge doors.
Peter's head popped up from behind the couch, his hair fluffy and unruly were Sam had huffed it, sticking up at odd ends and making Peter look younger. "Like, are you making waffles or are there some already in there?" he asked.
Sam hobbled his way over to a cupboard pulling out a large mixing bowl before answering, "nah, just gonna make some."
Peter sprung over the back of the couch (like Steve had told him not too) before stretching and yawning loudly, "I'll help," he offered, his bare feet padding into the kitchen. The tiled floor felt cold on his skin causing the teen to curl his toes against it.
Sam raised an amused eyebrow at Peter. "Really? You wanna help me make waffles?" he asked, and Peter could swear he heard a slight snicker in the other's voice.
"That was one time, Sam!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation.
"You set the kitchen on fire, kid."
Peter groaned, "well I might not be the best chef or-or baker or whatever, but you are a helpless cripple and I can't stand by and-and watch you flail around the kitchen dis-disabled, in your time of need."
Sam hit Peter in the leg with one of his crutches, "I'll show you disabled," he chuckled at Peter's indignant huff. "Uh, fine, you can help, but I don't want you near anything that could catch fire-"
"One time, man, one time!"
"-so you are on fruit duty." Sam finished, ignoring Peter.
Peter's nose scrunched up in confusion. "Fruit duty?" he repeated, his head cocking to the side.
"Just grab some fruit, wash it and slice it up, but if you chop off a finger I'm kicking you out of here."
Peter put a hand to his forehead in a mock salute "yes sir, boss man sir."
Peter's head was going to fall off.
Or maybe his brain was just melting.
But nonetheless, the teenager was done with homework for the day. Peter had sort of flew through Math and Science…Which left him the less interesting subjects…and by 'less interesting' Peter meant completely kill him with a rusty knife boring. If he had to learn anything to do with American history one more time he was going to burn down a library or something reckless like that…yeah that would show'em.
The teenager was taking a few classes online and down at the college so that he could get the rest of his high school credits and have that over and done with. Peter was hoping that he could get it all finished quickly so that he could move on to a University, and start learning about things he cared for and was passionate about.
Actually, in all honesty, Peter didn't need to get his high school diploma or even go to college (which had been pointed out to him multiple times, thank you Clint/Tony) he was doing it because he truly liked learning. Now Peter knew that maybe that was a bit weird for someone his age, to want to go to college simply to go. But Peter never claimed to be normal, so…
But that still didn't mean he enjoyed History or English. Unfortunately for Peter, though, if he wanted to pass his tests he would have to know more than just Math and Science.
So, that would be why Peter's brain was currently melting out of his skull. (English, yuck) He needed a break, and he was pretty sure he knew exactly what would stretch his muscles and take his mind off of grammar and proper punctuation.
The teenager twisted out of his chair and webbed his suit to himself (he never took his shooters off, not after being without them for so long. Sam said it was normal, that having his shooters might just be a security thing, like little kids with a stuffed bear or something) (Clint had then pointed out that Peter's blue fuzzy blanket could also be considered a security blanket, (in a very literal way) and then Sam had hit Clint and Peter had just wrapped the blanket around himself tighter. So, take that you meanie Archer!)
Peter began flinging his clothes off in an excited rush, trying to put his suit on instead. But somehow, in his hyped-up hurry, he ended up with one leg on the ceiling and the other on his window in the process.
Was it weird that he couldn't seem to get dressed without being at least horizontal?
Yeah, it was weird.
Peter was weird.
"Uh, kid?" a very confused voice sounded from Peter's doorway.
The teenager gave a start at the voice and promptly fell off the ceiling and onto the floor. "What the heck happened to knocking?!" he squawked at Tony. Pulling himself off the ground and glaring at the man.
Tony just looked rather amused and not a single bit remorseful for startling Peter. "My Tower, me no knocky," he answered a quirk to his brow. "You headed out on a patrol?" he asked.
Peter nodded before realizing that Tony and he were supposed to talk about the whole adoption debacle. "Uh I was, I forgot that we were supposed to talk this afternoon, though."
Tony placed a hand over his arc reactor and gave a gasp, "am I that forgettable?" he asked in mock insult.
Peter rolled his eyes at the man, running a thumb over the fabric of his mask. "My brain is kind of fried after studying. I was just going to swing around to get my mind cleared," he told the other.
Tony nodded, placing his hands in his pockets before turning to the window. It was a clear day today, the sun shining over the tops of skyscrapers and making the sky look a deeper shade of blue. Peter could just make out a flock of pigeons jumping off a rooftop and diving towards the ground before abruptly swooping back up and letting the wind carry them forward. Peter was honestly, maybe a bit ridiculously, jealous of the birds.
"You mind if I join you?"
Tony's voice brought Peter out of his thoughts. "Huh?"
Tony twisted to look at Peter giving a small shrug. "How would you feel if Iron Man and Spiderman had a team up?" he asked.
Peter felt a slow smile creep onto his face.
"Ah ha!" Spidey cackled as he punched the Trapster in the face. The baddie grunted, pulling away as he tried to spray Peter with a shot of tacky white glue, Spidey sprang to the side, laughing "I'm rubber, you're glue, what bounces off me sticks to you!" he called, his spider-sense telling him where to jump in order to avoid the glue.
"Oh, my god," Tony said into the comm, "you didn't," his tone was flat and unimpressed, Spidey wasn't sure how Tony's voice could be that monotone when Iron Man was currently fighting against the Sandman, but Tony's disappointment was still very prevalent.
The Trapster growled, lifting up his large gun-glue-thingys and shooting them off at Spiderman, who was still flipping and twisting as not to get stuck. "What?" Peter asked as he swung towards the Trapster, trying to kick the man, but missing as the baddie leaped sideways at the last second. "I'm just bonding with Trapster here," he snickered to himself.
Man, he was a riot.
"Quit with the stupid jokes bug brain!" Trapster yelled at the teenager as he spun in a circle, spraying glue everywhere. A woman screamed from inside of her car, now stuck within its metal confines, ugh, Peter would have to get her out later.
"What?" Spiderman said as he ran across the side of a building, flipping off and narrowly missing one of Sandman fists aimed for the spider. "Are my jokes too tacky for you? You can tell me, I'm not attached to them or anything." Ah, Peter could do this all day, if only Clint were here, he would totally join in on the fun.
"You know what Spidey," Sandman yelled as he slammed the teenager into a wall, "I'm startin' to get sick'n tired of'ya," he said as his face formed in front of the teenager's mask.
Peter grunted, his face scrunching in discomfort as he shifted against the other man's grip. "My quips too gritty for'ya? They rub you the wrong way, Sandy?" he asked. Which earned the teenager a punch to the gut. Okay, so maybe Peter wasn't the brightest, it was basic superhero 1-0-1 that you should not antagonize a villain while in their grip, but Spidey had always been a rule breaker.
Actually, that was a lie.
Peter was in fact not a rule breaker. He very much was the opposite. Once when he was eleven he had accidentally taken two balloons from a grocery store on free balloon day, even though each customer was only permitted one, and he had felt so guilty he ended up running back, paying for both of the balloons, and running back out without a word.
Okay, so yeah, Peter was a dork.
He still looked freakin awesome in red and blue spandex, and not all dorks can pull that off.
"Imma fill your lungs with sand, and let'ya choke to death!" Sandman yelled. Peter wrinkled his nose in distaste at the baddie even though the man couldn't see it.
"Could we not?" Peter asked, his tone that of a bratty child, shifting against the wall and Sandman's fist. "My schedule is packed at the moment, and I'm kinda stuck between a wall and a lard face." At that moment Peter kicked upwards and into Sandman's jaw. "Get it?" Spidey asked, making jazz hands at Sandman as he sprang away. "Lard face? That's you. I just insulted you," Peter clarified, "I wasn't sure if that would go over your head, honestly sometimes I think that noggin of yours is filled with nothing but sand." Spidey knocked on the side of his own head as he said this, making Sandman roar in anger.
"For the love of god Spidey!" Iron Man shouted. Peter cringed at the man's voice, he had kind of forgotten that Tony was here, oopsies.
"Heh, heh, sorry Iron Man, got carried away there for a second," Spidey said into his comm as he jumped away from an overly angry Sandman. (Wonder what pissed him off?)
Tony let out a sigh, the sound crackling over the comm and into Peter's ear. "S'fine Webs, let's just finish off these Neanderthals so we can eat."
"Whoever takes them down first doesn't pay," Peter said as he shot out a web, letting it carry him away from Sandman and towards Iron Man and the Trapster.
The Trapster was aiming for Iron Man's hand repulsors, which wasn't a problem in itself because Tony could just melt the glue off, but the adhesive was starting to get into Iron Man's gears and joint, making it hard for the man to move within the suit.
"You're on," Tony replied as he shot out at the Trapster, but the blast missed as Spiderman swung in and kicked the Trapsterout of Iron Man's range.
Sandman was on Peter's tail, which was what the teen had been working toward. People may think that Peter talks just because he likes the sound of his own voice, but the teenager had learned over the years that distracting baddies with his quips and insults made them easier to defeat, their anger getting the best of them, not allowing them to think clearly.
Peter landed in a crouch on top of a minivan and shot out another web at the Trapster, pulling the baddie towards him. "One," Spidey counted to himself, hearing Sandman rushing towards him in a wave of dust, as he pulled Trapster closer. "Two," Peter grunted, as he grabbed the Trapster in an awkward hug, the teenager's chest pressed to the Trapsters back. "Three!" Spiderman shouted as he punched a hole into the Trapster's backpack glue-contraption-doohickey and threw him into the oncoming form of Sandman.
A moment later the two baddies were stuck together in a grimy paste, wiggling and screaming obscenities at each other as they thrashed about. Spidey hopped off the van and smacked his gloved palms together before pressing his hands to his hips, toeing at the villains with a boot, causing them to shout louder, the spider looked over at Tony a moment later.
"Huh, guess lunch is on you."
Peter hummed to himself as he took his first bite of his second burrito. The sun was shining on him, making his suit feel warm against his skin, it was gradually becoming hotter now that Spring had hit. It was pleasant, Peter was ready for nice weather and longer days, he was tired of the cold of Winter.
A sound caught Peter's attention from the other direction of the rooftop. The teenager swiveled to the side, finding that there was a flock of pigeons nearby, giving him the side-eye, one looked a little scary, it's one eye trained solely on Peter's face…Spidey felt as if that single pigeon could see right through his mask, it stared at the teen determinedly, never blinking. Not wanting to anger it further, Peter tossed a few chips to the birds as a peace offering.
Tony scoffed beside him, the man also sitting on the edge of the roof, but not so relaxed as Spidey was. Peter liked the feeling of his feet dangling over the edge, his spider-sense a light hum in the back of his head telling him not to lean forward. It was a thrill, a tiny thrill, but a thrill nonetheless.
"Don't encourage them," Tony said, his face mask lifted up so that he could eat. Some of the sunlight was glinting off his suit, the glare getting in Peter's eyes the teen resisted the urge to shield his eyes. "I bought this food for you, not for a bunch of birds," Iron Man said, his tone flat, but Peter knew he was teasing.
You wouldn't think it, but Tony Stark was a big fat dork. Not that Peter would ever say that to his face. Peter didn't think anyone could get away with calling Tony a dork. Well, maybe Steve. But Steve might not even know what a dork is…
Just to spite Tony, Peter picked up a few more chips and tossed them over to the pigeons without taking his eyes off of the man in front of him.
Tony scoffed again, placing a garnet hand on his chest and glaring at the teenager, "you ungrateful child," he mock-scolded his tone hushed and slightly wounded.
Peter stuck his tongue out at the billionaire, making sure that he had at least swallowed his food first. God, if you had told Peter he would be this friendly and open with Tony Stark of all people, just a few months ago, he would have laughed in your face. It was amazing what could change in so little time, good and bad.
Tony threw a chip at Peter's exposed nose, his mask being half way lifted up so he could eat. Peter caught the chip in his mouth making a loud obnoxious crunching sound as he bit it before glancing back out at the vast city sitting below his dangling feet.
"So," Tony began, his tone changing as he set down his soda and turned slightly so he was better facing Peter.
Spidey, feeling the mood change, also turned, pulling one leg up to his chest and letting the other drape off the ledge of the roof. "So," Peter repeated.
"My lawyers got back to me this afternoon," Tony began.
Peter felt himself straighten automatically. "Yeah?" he asked, trying to keep his tone even, not wanting to sound too optimistic or anxious. Peter had told himself not to keep his hopes up, but even so, the teen could feel his nervousness swimming around his gut.
"And," Tony sighed, "I was denied the adoption."
Peter felt something twist in his gut, he looked away quickly, staring down at the cars far below. Biting his lip Peter pulled his one leg tighter to his chest and hugged it to himself. He didn't know why the news left him feeling so raw, he had always known this was a very feasible possibility. Tony hadn't left anything up to the imagination, Peter was fully filled in, and the teenager had stayed up far too long into multiple nights reading the qualifications of an adopting parent, and what traits or qualities would make you an unviable person to adopt a child. Peter knew the ins and outs, or at least he felt he did. But even so, that didn't make hearing this news any easier.
"But we figured that this would happen, remember?" Tony addressed Peter, one of his metal boots toeing at Peter's thigh. "The system accepting my request for adopting was always a long shot."
"Yeah…" Peter agreed absent-mindedly. The teenager pulled a deep breath into his lungs trying to ground himself before he turned back to the billionaire. "What were their reasons?" he couldn't help but ask.
Tony's mouth scrunched to the side, showing his distaste. "Where do I start?" he began with an eye roll, bringing up his metal fingers and counting off as he talked. "I'm not a suitable guardian for a child, because, not only would I bring danger to said child because of my 'work', but I also have a vast history of being a playboy, which means I would bring unsuitable strangers into the child's life. It is also public knowledge that I used to have a drinking problem, which is a big no-no. I travel quite often and would cause an unstable living environment for a 'growing youth'. I could die at any given moment because of my 'medical condition', oh, and I am unstable because of my PTSD. Those among many other things were all pointed out to me." Tony huffed, looking away from Peter and out to the sky. "But really kiddo," he went on in a softer voice, "they thought it was a publicity stunt. It just wasn't in the cards."
Peter nodded, his mask shifting over his nose. The teenager pulled it down a moment later, he wasn't really hungry anymore anyways. "Yeah, just not in the cards," he agreed.
A moment later a large metal hand was placed on Peter's shoulder, making the teen turn so he could look over at Tony. "They did grant me temporary guardianship," Tony assured, something akin to his trademark smirk playing on his features. "And remember, this was just plan A, we've got a pretty bullet proof plan B."
Spidey nodded, unwrapping his arms from around his leg and letting it drop next to his other dangling one, his spider-sense gave a slight hum at the movement. "Plan B," he breathed, "r-right, so, so, when then?" Peter's tongue felt too big for his mouth.
Iron Man took his hand away leaning back on his arms and looking out at the city before them, "I can have a press conference set up with the snap of my fingers, if you wanted, the world could know your name by this time tomorrow. S'all up to you, Webs. Whatever you want."
Peter breathed in deeply through his nose, taking in the smell of pollution and a bit of salt from the nearby bay. His head felt fuzzy in an anxious jittery way, it was the same heady feeling he used to get when he first started web-slinging and fighting crime in nothing more than a pair of tight jeans and a red hoodie, it wasn't necessarily a bad feeling, but it was a bit uncomfortable.
"By this time tomorrow huh?" Peter aske though he wasn't really asking. "I don't know if that gives Clint enough time to get all dolled up for the big'ol event. I'm thinking he might need a bit more notice than that, what about, let's say, Saturday?"
Tony raised an eyebrow in question, though his tone was unemotional, "Saturday?" he asked, making sure that Peter was sure, that he was positive this was the route he wanted to go.
"Saturday," Peter answered.
I am so happy to be back into this story. I missed it a bunch. I binged watched all the Marvel movies, so I could get back into character. *smiles to self* it was a great sacrifice on my part...
Sidenote; Happy Death to 2016 Day! (worst year ever!)
Alright, kiddos, please let me know what you think, and I will see you all next week!