Chapter Text
“The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives… but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word "vigilantes." What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders to inflict their will wherever they choose? And who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind? For the past four years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution. The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries… it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only if and when that panel deems it necessary.”
——
“I have an equation. In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate. There may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict… breeds catastrophe. Oversight… oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”
——
“There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check. Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations— if we're boundary-less— then we're no better than the bad guys.”
“Tony, if someone dies on your watch, you don't give up.”
“Who said we're giving up?”
“We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame.”
“Steve, that— that is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the World Security Council, it's not SHIELD, it's not HYDRA.”
“No, but it's run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”
“That's good. That's why I'm here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”
“Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don't let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”
“If we don't do this now, it's gonna be done to us later. That's the fact. That won't be pretty.”
“Maybe Tony’s right. If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off…”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Tony’s POV
Tony was having a decidedly bad day. A bad week, really. A bad month. The split of the Avengers, his best friend being paralyzed, Rogers hiding the fact that his brainwashed best friend had murdered Tony’s parents— well, the list was endless.
So the cherry on top, really, was the letter he received in the mail this morning from the aforementioned super-soldier. (Who the hell even mailed things anymore anyways?) He stared at the closed envelope, debating the merits of whether he should even bother to open it.
Part of him wanted to throw the old-fashioned letter into an old-fashioned fireplace and watch it burn to ashes (like he wanted to do with Rogers’ old-fashioned ass). The only hitch in his plan— he didn’t have a fireplace. Because who actually had those these days? It would mess up his whole futuristic vibe.
Also, unfortunately— he was curious. Thank god he wasn’t a cat.
He opened the letter.
Tony, I'm glad you're back at the compound. I don't like the idea of you rattling around a mansion by yourself. We all need family. The Avengers are yours, maybe more so than mine.
Tony would have laughed at that intro, if he didn’t think that Steve actually believed what he was saying. The Avengers had been his family, sure— despite his best efforts to avoid it— but he hadn’t been theirs, not really. He could tell as much, based on who stayed on his side of the Accords. Romanoff, who had betrayed him eventually (surprise, surprise). The new king of Wakanda, who had a vested interest in getting revenge for his father. Rhodey, Tony’s best friend since college. An enhanced Spider-Kid that practically worshipped the ground he walked on. And a sentient android that had been based off of the AI that had been his companion for the better part of four decades.
What a lineup.
Granted, the only opposition that had truly stung— by virtue of choosing Cap’s side— had been Barton. And Cap himself. Tony didn’t really know much of the other team members. Except that Barnes had apparently killed his parents. And no, he definitely wasn’t bitter about the fact that it had apparently been fine for Wanda to hold a grudge against him for inadvertently killing her parents (regardless of the fact that those weapons had been from Obie selling under the table, not him), but apparently it wasn’t okay for him to be pissed at the assassin who killed his parents.
His eyes flit back down to the paper. He really wasn’t sure why he was still reading it, not when he could still envision the look on Rogers’ face the moment he brought the shield down on Tony’s chest— but apparently the man had a way of making people listen, even through a mere letter.
I've been on my own since I was 18. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the army. My faith's in people, I guess. Individuals. And I'm happy to say that, for the most part, they haven't let me down. Which is why I can't let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn't. I know I hurt you, Tony. I guess I thought by not telling you about your parents I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I'm sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand. I wish we agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you're doing what you believe in, and that's all any of us can do. That's all any of us should do.
Tony ground his teeth together. Really, he wished Steve wasn’t as earnest as he was. Because now Tony felt like the one in the wrong for getting pissed about being lied to over his parents’ death. Couldn’t he ruminate in his bitterness for at least a few more days without Cap over here issuing genuine apologies? He’d never claimed not to be a selfish man (he had his flaws, he knew) but he felt like this at least was something he had the right to sulk over for a little while.
FRIDAY spoke up, interrupting Tony’s thoughts. “Priority call from Secretary Ross. There's been a breach at the Raft prison.”
Rogers, you stubborn son of a bitch.
“Yeah, put him through,” Tony waved his hand dismissively. He had no intention of actually doing anything about the situation— he’d just gone toe-to-toe with Rogers once, and he had no interest in doing it again so soon. Plus, he didn’t particularly care what the other Rogues were up to, so long as they weren’t in his face. And he certainly had no interest in helping Ross.
“Tony, we have a problem,” Ross barked. Ugh . Who gave the man permission to call him Tony?
“Ah, please hold,” Tony responded, in a tone that dripped with fake cheer.
“No, don't—” the man didn’t manage to complete his sentence before he was cut off. Tony looked back down at the letter Rogers had sent him in the mail.
So, no matter what. I promise you, if you need us, if you need me, I'll be there.
And, along with the stupid sincere apology note, was an honest-to-god flip phone. Tony debated throwing it halfway across the room purely because it was an insult to modern-day technology, but he managed to refrain. He sighed, running a hand down his face before dropping the flip phone in the drawer. He still had a black eye, for fuck’s sake, from Cap’s little murder-friend. This was all too soon to even be considering accepting an apology.
What if it were Rhodey? Wouldn’t you have done the same ? His traitorous mind whispered— which, rude. He wasn’t supposed to be feeling sympathy . He firmly pushed the thought away, unwilling to entertain it at the moment. Unfortunately, his mind had a habit of taking the things he didn’t want to think about and displaying them front and center with a bright neon sign flashing ‘LOOK HERE!’.
Dropping his forehead on the desk with a dull thunk, he let out a rough breath.
The phone rang again, interrupting his silence. He groaned. “FRIDAY, who is it?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“Secretary Ross.” She sounded apologetic. Tony brought his head up again with a long-suffering sigh, debating the merits of continually avoiding the man. Deciding it would be better to nip it in the bud, he signaled to FRIDAY to open the phone line.
“Stark,” Ross snapped. Oh, goody. Tony always loved it when the politicians reverted to the last name. Meant they were pissed. “The Rogues have escaped from the Raft.”
“Oh no,” Tony responded, voice monotone. “I’m shocked.”
“This isn’t a game, Stark.” Ross’s irritation was evident even with just a few words. “The computer and monitoring systems failed, and someone was able to break all of the Rogues out. The Accords committee is calling an emergency meeting to discuss next steps, and your presence is mandatory.”
As he was speaking, his irritation seemed to morph to anger— likely because he had somehow let an entire group of enhanced people break out of the Raft under his watch. It wasn’t a good image for him, and politicians all cared a lot about their image. Before Tony could say something that would perhaps get him thrown into prison as well, the phone hung up with a click.
“FRIDAY?” he sighed.
“Yes, Boss?” she responded, and in that moment, Tony was sure he regretted giving his AIs such human-like capabilities, because she sounded exactly like a smug teenager.
“Next time you pull something like that, maybe consider not doing it in a way that forces me to go to another one of those damned council meetings.” His voice came out more exhausted than reprimanding, already mentally debating how much Ibuprofen he could afford to take.
He knew that FRIDAY had to have had some role in taking down the computer monitoring systems at the exact moment Rogers was breaking the Rogues out. He had programmed her to learn based on his own emotions, and, while he undoubtedly held a grudge against Rogers for Siberia, he (and by extension, all of his creations) hated Ross even more. And what better way to piss off the man than to make him look like a fool?
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She sounded far too chipper given the headache she’d just induced, and Tony closed his eyes in exasperation. He spared half a mind to ask how she’d even gotten access to the system in the first place, but ultimately decided to save his breath. After all, he had gone to the Raft just a few days prior in his suit– and by extension, with her. And she was one nosy AI.
“Right.” Better to not ask any more questions, actually. He debated the legalities of being prosecuted based on a decision his AI made, and spent all of two seconds considering it before deciding that he didn’t have the mental bandwidth for it.
Sighing, he stood up from the desk and resigned himself to his fate.
“In that case, get one of my cars ready. I have a meeting to attend.”
—
Tony was bored out of his goddamn mind.
At this point, he felt like his own apology to Steve was suffering through these meetings as a result of the Rogue’s actions. The only minor blessing was that Ross was unable to attend this meeting— off doing damage control in some other way. Tony didn’t really know and he didn’t care to ask, either.
“Moving on… we also intend to expand the Accords to include vigilantes and other enhanced individuals who are not part of the Avengers.”
Suddenly Tony was wide awake.
“Mr. Stark, I understand you brought the vigilante known as… Spider-Man along with your team,” a council member continued. “He would be an example of an enhanced individual who needs to be held accountable under the Accords, and others like him.”
Oh hell fucking no. He was not dragging a fourteen (or was he fifteen?) year old into this whole legal mess. (He pointedly ignored the fact that he had , in fact, already brought the fourteen year old into this mess). As a vigilante, he would have been included in the Accords eventually anyways— whether Tony had recruited him or not— but being on Tony’s team did unfortunately draw more immediate attention to his gangly spandex-wearing self.
“It doesn’t make sense to include superheroes such as Spider-Man in this area of the Accords,” Tony argued, feeling a headache building at his temples. “He doesn’t operate on an international or even national level. He’s focused on street-level crime and protecting the citizens of New York City.” He left out the fact that, if given the chance, Peter would definitely stick his nose in big-battle stuff. They really didn’t need to know that.
“He still needs to be held accountable, as do all enhanced vigilantes.” A member of the committee— a balding man in his 40s or 50s— argued back in a snide tone of voice. “Otherwise there would be no point to the Accords, if any super could claim that they don’t operate at the national level. What’s to stop them from acting on it?”
Tony wanted to smash his head into the desk. Were people really this dense?
“Enhanced individuals are still American citizens with rights,” a lawyer on Tony’s side argued, her slick-back brown ponytail swishing slightly as she turned her head to fix her gaze on the man. “It’s unconstitutional to force them to give up their identity and submit to governmental regulation.”
“Well, we don’t actually know that they’re American citizens if they have a secret identity, do we?” the balding man asked with a sneer and disdain dripping from his tone. Great , Tony thought sarcastically. We’ve got a border warrior now too.
“The large majority of them are,” Tony’s lawyer (he was pretty sure her name started with a C— Clarisse, maybe? No. Clara? Eh, close enough) argued back, eyes flashing but tone calm and level. “And last I checked, we make rules based on the majority, not the exceptions. They still have the same constitutional rights that regular American citizens have.”
“They don’t have to use their powers,” someone else in the committee argued back. “That’s a choice, and they have to submit to regulation for it.”
“By arguing that, you’re essentially forcing them to hide an unchangeable part of themselves. That’s like saying gay marriage shouldn’t be allowed because they can ‘just ignore it,’” Clara snapped just as quickly.
“Last I checked, gay people didn’t have the ability to stop a bus with their bare hands,” someone else argued back.
Tony started to zone out as they went back and forth with their usual squabbling, tones rising in agitation. Until—
“They can’t just roam free , they need someone to watch over them, and nobody in their right mind would do that, so it’s up to the government to—”
“I’ll watch over him,” Tony interrupted, causing silence to fall over the room. Thank god . He was met with blank stares, and he saw someone else on the committee opening their mouth to argue. He barrelled on before they could speak, wanting to hold onto the blissful silence for a few more moments. “The point is accountability, right? What if I, a signing member of the Accords, agree to take responsibility for a lower-level vigilante and their corresponding actions?” He paused. “I’m referring to Spider-Man, here, to be clear,” he added dryly. He thought that implication was pretty clear, but politicians had shown him time and time again just how dense they could be. Like, supermassive black hole dense. He could not manage more than one spandex-wearing teenager at a time. He didn’t know if he could even handle one, to be honest.
The head of the committee raised his eyebrows, seemingly the only one left with the ability to speak. Huh. Maybe that was why he was the head of the committee. “You… do understand the implications of that, Mr. Stark? If Spider-Man steps out of line, you’d be risking your own professional reputation. You trust him that much?”
“I do,” Tony responded, ignoring the looks of shock. He knew it was probably an unwise decision to commit to this without thinking it through for a teenager he barely knew, especially with how many times he’d been stabbed in the back, but he couldn’t help but think of Peter’s oozing desperation and earnestness. How much he’d wanted to keep Spider-Man a secret, even from his aunt. How he was doing it out of a sense of responsibility and not ego or revenge (like Tony himself).
And okay, maybe Tony was a little bit biased. He knew what being a teenager in the media was like, and he didn’t want Peter to have to go through that, even though he barely knew the kid. Not to mention it was bound to be even worse for a known enhanced individual. He wanted to keep the kid’s innocence intact for as long as he could. Not that he would ever admit that out loud. He had a reputation to protect, after all.
The members of the committee exchanged glances, but they weren’t arguing back immediately, so Tony took that as a sign that they were seriously considering his proposition. Tony knew it was likely only because it meant that it was one more way that they could manipulate Iron Man for their own use, if either he or Peter stepped out of line. How decidedly pleasant of them.
“So say you agree to be Spider-Man’s… sponsor.” The head of the committee spoke with a certain disdain in his tone. Tony refrained from mentioning that he’d already given the kid a new suit, so for all intents and purposes, he already was a sponsor. Handing out new super-suits on a whim was probably not the best look for him.
“Well, I would prefer the term ‘mentor,’ if we’re being honest. Unless I mistook this for an AA meeting,” he quipped, interrupting the man. The committee head looked unimpressed, and displeased that he’d been interrupted. Tony figured he should probably know the name of the guy, but he couldn’t be bothered to remember. Bob seemed like a good enough fit, though. Generic, bland, far from memorable. Perfectly fitting.
“Mentor, sponsor, it makes no difference.” Bob sounded even more irritable now. Tony wanted to interrupt with another snide remark but figured it probably wouldn’t go over well. Not that he cared about that, but he was trying to make a bargain here, after all. “We would have to lay down a set of ground rules.”
Jeez, this was starting to sound like a damn PTA meeting.
Tony thought rapidly for a few seconds. He wished he’d thought this through thoroughly before blurting it out, because he hardly had time to come up with all the conditions he might want in the future, but thinking things through had never really been his style. Not that he was going to let the committee catch wind of that.
“Alright. But his identity remains a secret.” Tony kept his tone firm. That one, at least, was nonnegotiable.
Some of the committee members looked displeased at his words, but it came as no surprise, given that Tony had been arguing over it since walking into the room. Frankly, he hadn’t even really had time to come up with some other conditions because he’d been so focused on that one. Rookie move on his part. He would probably regret that in the future. Ah, well. What else was new.
The council members leaned together and started murmuring like a group of cliquey teenagers. Tony leaned back in his chair, pretending to be bored and unbothered, but in reality, his mind was racing, thinking of any other things he should try and throw in before they came to a decision. After all, this was the prime negotiation time. Anything he wanted to add in the future would be a hell of a lot more difficult to amend in the rules rather than just adding it in the first place.
He didn’t come up with anything else during the time that they were muttering amongst themselves. He couldn’t tell whether that was a good or a bad thing.
“The council has come up with their own set of conditions.”
No, really, I thought you were gossiping about what to have for lunch . Tony thought wryly.
Bob continued speaking, unaware of Tony’s hilarious internal monologue (if he did say so himself). “Spider-Man will be restrained to New York City and the surrounding areas; if he needs to go out of state he will need council approval.”
Tony elected not to tell them that he already had an alert that told him if the kid went out of city or state bounds. He was sure Peter probably wouldn’t be happy having that as an explicitly stated rule, but at the very least, Tony couldn’t think of a scenario where he would even need to go out of state for Spider-Man business. He didn’t object, and the councilman continued.
“He will work with the New York City police, not against them.”
Tony narrowed his eyes at that. “You might have more trouble convincing the police to accept that rule rather than Spider-Man,” he said dryly. From what he’d seen, Peter already tried to work with the police in a few scenarios, but they didn’t tend to take kindly to a scrawny pre-pubescent kid in a red sweatsuit and goggles telling them what to do. Not that Tony could really blame them on that front. He hoped that having a higher-tech Stark suit would get people to take the kid more seriously. Though maybe he was out of luck with that until his voice dropped.
Bob scowled at that. “They will have their orders.” He sounded bitterly displeased with the very premise, and Tony shrugged. He didn’t see much issue with that. At the very least, the police and Peter had a common goal: to save civilians. He was confident the kid would work it out.
“If you have reason to believe that the enhanced individual becomes a danger to society, you have a responsibility to warn the council immediately.”
Tony almost laughed aloud at that. Really, he barely even knew Peter Parker, but the thought of him being a ‘danger to society’ was a laughable topic. Seriously, did none of the council members see that most of his day-to-day activities involved rescuing cats from trees and helping old ladies with their groceries? FRIDAY had to go through a ridiculous amount of footage to find videos where he was actually doing larger-scale work, like catching a bus or car.
“In the same vein, if the enhanced individual you are sponsoring breaks the rules in any fashion, you will be benched until it can be determined if you were aware beforehand. If you were, you may be removed from the team or persecuted under the law, depending on what the infraction was. If either of you violate your benching, you will immediately be imprisoned in line with the Accords.”
“Sounds like a party. You all sure know how to have fun.” The comment dripped with sarcasm. He didn’t get any laughs, which was really quite disappointing; at least when he did press conferences, there were civilians to laugh along. During political meetings, all he could really do was try and piss off the head politician to the best of his capabilities. Which he was doing a great job of so far, actually.
“And, lastly: You have to spend at least five hours every week with the enhanced individual you agree to sponsor.” Bob shot him a mild glare.
Tony raised a single eyebrow. He hadn’t expected that one, if he was being honest. It wasn’t so often politicians were able to get the jump on him in that matter.
“I’m a very busy man, council,” Tony deflected, staring the man down, not showing a single hint of being thrown off-balance. He only got a level stare back.
“You can’t be a sponsor to someone you hardly spend time with. For your word on their character to have meaning, it has to be backed by evidence,” the committee head countered, and Tony pursed his lips, running through his potential argument options and finding that there weren’t really many viable ones. He could try the fact that Spider-Man proved his character enough by helping the little guy, as well as the fact that Tony was even willing to sponsor him in the first place. He couldn’t really use the time constraints of Peter having school and an aunt he had to explain his whereabouts to as arguments. Frankly, he was lucky enough getting as far as he had.
Reluctantly, he nodded. He supposed it wasn’t the worst fate. The kid was… tolerable to spend time with. Five hours was hardly anything. He could probably stick him in the corner of the lab with a few projects and occupy him for plenty of time; minimal talking required.
Honestly, he was surprised that their constraints were somewhat reasonable . He supposed the benefit of blurting out something completely unexpected was that both sides had to come up with conditions on a whim. And they weren’t trying to relegate what Peter could do while he was patrolling inside of the city, which was more than Tony had expected them to try and go for. In fact, there was only one thing left he could think of that hadn’t been addressed.
“And if a world-ending event does occur?” Tony asked. “I trust that he won’t get in trouble for saving people.” He didn’t trust that, actually, which is why he was explicitly asking. Always better to have it in writing. It was the only other thing he could think of that may cause Peter to get in trouble. Because really, if there was an end-of-world event, there would be no way in hell he could get the kid to stand down and not help, even if it meant breaking the law.
Bob’s face twisted in annoyance, like he’d hoped to get away without that line of questioning. The way Tony had phrased it, there was no way to say no without sounding like a massive idiot or a stick in the mud, and the man knew it. Gotcha . Tony thought smugly. He’d had a lifetime of dealing with the smarmy bastards.
“ If it is an event that the other Avengers have been approved and called in on, then he is allowed to join in as temporary assistance, provided he follows all of the same rules as signing members,” the committee head agreed sourly. Tony leaned back in his chair. Bingo . He refrained from grinning in satisfaction. There was still the whole disaster with the Rogue Avengers to sort out (and even the thought of that was worsening his headache), but at the very least, this was one win that Tony could relish in. The kid got to keep his secret identity, would stay away from the big leagues except for world-ending events, and all Tony had to do was spend a few hours a week with the kid and schmooze up with some more politicians. Easy peasy.
He got up, clapping his hands together and making a show of looking at his watch. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, what a pleasure this has been,” he said, faux-cheerfully. “But duty calls, as it often does.”
“We’re not done here, Mr. Stark.” Bob sounded irritable again, and Tony gave him his signature press smile.
“No, but I am.” He gestured to his lawyer. “Send over the papers when they’re ready to sign,” he added with a wink, sliding on his sunglasses and ignoring the annoyed glares he got in response. They knew full well they didn’t have anything else important to argue over, and they couldn’t force him to stay. They would probably have to work out more general rules in case anyone else decided to pull the ‘sponsor’ thing, but Tony didn’t need to be present for that, and he couldn’t even really think of anyone else who would be willing to play the same role.
Spinning on his heel, he turned and made his way out of the committee room, breathing a sigh of relief when he was out of the eyes of all the stuffy politicians. He almost felt bad for leaving his lawyer in there with the sharks, but she was paid handsomely for her efforts. He knew they’d have to write up a draft for this rule, and send it back and forth between the committee and his lawyers until everyone was satisfied with the edits. Politics were fun that way.
For now, he had to find a way to break it to the kid that he had some shiny new government-enforceable rules to follow.
—
He ended up getting to Rhodey first.
“You what ?” Rhodey asked incredulously, and Tony sighed.
“Please don’t.” he said, exhaustion seeping into his tone. He hoped his uncharacteristic use of the word please would get his best friend to back away. “Pep already chewed me out too.” Because go figure, the longest amount of time she’d spoken to him since their ‘break’ (outside of Stark Industries related business) was for that . Apparently his lawyer had sent the papers to her as well, even though she wasn’t an Avenger and really had no reason to receive it. Tony was pretty sure that was favoritism right there (he could hardly blame her, though; he’d choose Pepper over himself any day of the week anyways).
“Tones, you basically just adopted that child.”
“I did not .” Tony said, shooting a glare at his best friend. “I’m sponsoring him so that the Accords committee doesn’t come forward to unmask his scrawny ass. It’s a purely professional relationship. Nothing more.”
“Right.” Rhodey said, tone flat and unimpressed. “Because the government-sanctioned playdates definitely doesn’t scream ‘absent father given a court order to spend time with his child.’”
Tony groaned, leaning his head back. “Don’t call it a playdate, honey bear, you’re making it weird.” he pointedly ignored the father comment as well. “They just want proof that I’m involved and can be held responsible for keeping Spider-Man on the straight and narrow. Shouldn’t be difficult, really, he’s more harmless than a damn puppy dog.” Well, a puppy dog with dangerous enhancements. But really, Tony was hardly putting much at stake here. He doubted the kid was even capable of going off the rails like the government feared. Tony himself was far more likely to do that than Peter was.
Rhodey sighed, and Tony hoped that meant he was giving up the argument. “And how does the kid feel about all this?”
Tony winced at the question. He’d been hoping to avoid that one. Unfortunately for him, Rhodey was well aware of his tells, and he couldn’t smooth talk his way out of this, not with his best friend of over three decades.
“Tony.” Rhodey’s voice mirrored Tony’s own exhausted tone, and was laced with disapproval. “Please tell me you asked Peter before making a decision like this for him.”
Tony threw up his hands in the air, meeting his best friend’s eyes. “No, I didn’t, okay?” he snapped. Rhodey looked unperturbed, used to Tony’s outbursts. “I was cramped on time, the committee wanted to make it mandatory to unmask all enhanced individuals, and I blurted out the first offer that came to mind, which so happened to be me taking responsibility for him. I couldn’t exactly be like ‘Hey, let me just call him real quick, make sure he’s okay with it. Might interrupt his Spanish class or something, but I’m sure he’d pick up.’” he said, tone arid by the end of his spiel.
The annoying thing was that he was sure that Peter would have actually picked up, if he called. He sighed, tone dropping into one that was less dry. “Look, the kid was very insistent on not having his identity revealed, even to his strangely attractive aunt. I’m sure he would have chosen this option anyways, especially when all it means is that he has to spend some government-sanctioned time hanging out with Tony Stark, and a few ground rules that he was basically already following. He’ll probably be delighted by that.” he muttered the last part.
Rhodey looked at him critically, silent for a few moments, and Tony really hoped that meant he’d won this argument. Or at the very least made it sound reasonable enough. When his best friend opened his mouth to speak again, though, he made a comment that threw Tony for a loop.
“You know that he has Spanish class?” he asked, sounding amused. Tony groaned, shooting another glare in his direction.
“Shut up, platypus, I saw his school schedule when figuring out what Spidey’s poorly hidden secret identity was.” he muttered, leaving out the fact that yes , he knew the kid’s schedule. And what extracurriculars he was in. It was part of the whole mentor schtick, that was all. He had a vested interest in the promising futures of the youth.
Rhodey was looking far too amused for Tony’s liking. He scowled, getting up from his chair. “I have to go explain this all to the kid.” he muttered, making his way to the door and distinctly avoiding looking at his friend. He could practically see Rhodey’s shit-eating grin, even with his back turned.
“Have fun explaining your government sanctioned playdate time!” he called out as Tony made his way out the door, flipping his friend off as he went.
“I told you not to call them that!” He called back with a scowl.
~ ~ ~
Tony was positive that the energy Peter Parker was emitting was more than enough to power an entire city for a few hours. Really, who even needed arc reactor technology? If he could bottle up this teenage energy he’d be set for life.
“Is it another mission?” Peter asked excitedly, bouncing in with far too much energy for eleven in the morning. Tony sighed internally and pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the incoming headache. He knew it wasn’t the kid’s fault he was snappy after spending all of the day before with fucking politicians, but really, he did not have the energy to deal with this at the moment.
“Ah, no.” he said, pulling his hand away from his face to focus on the teenager in front of him. Jesus, the kid really had a baby face. Maybe this was a terrible idea. It was a little bit too late for second thoughts, though, considering he’d already proposed the idea to the committee board. Damn him and his continual lack of a brain-to-mouth-filter. “How much do you know about the Sokovia Accords?” he asked, peering at the teenager in front of him, who blessedly stopped bouncing around long enough for Tony to actually focus his weary eyes on him.
“Err… not much.” Peter admitted, blinking. “We started a unit on them in school, but I wasn’t paying too much attention,” he said sheepishly. Tony resisted the urge to close his eyes and bang his head against the wall. School . Right. Because he was talking to a high schooler.
He sighed. On second thought, he really probably should have had this discussion before taking Peter to Germany to fight on behalf of laws he apparently didn’t know anything about, but that was irrelevant at this point. Germany had come and gone, Rogers and the Rogues were in the wind, and he had an overly-excitable Spider-teenager to deal with. And he couldn’t even hand the kid off to Happy— which had been his original plan— because of the five hour requirement. He pushed the thoughts away and ran a hand down his face, realizing Peter was still waiting for him to say something.
“Right. You, uh, might want to read up on those.” he said, wincing when he realized he had indeed basically just made a legal decision on behalf of a 15-year-old kid that he was not the guardian of. Pepper and Rhodey yelling at him made a lot more sense now.
He supposed the only saving grace was that while Tony himself had to sign the Accords agreeing to sponsor Spider-Man, Peter didn’t have to sign it, since he was remaining anonymous and Spider-Man’s signature wouldn’t have held any weight; not without a legal government identity to back it. So it wasn’t like he was forcing a teenager to sign his life away or anything like that (in fact, that was what he was trying to avoid). Still, he had gotten himself into much deeper shit than he originally realized in that council room.
Peter was still staring at him with that guileless trust in his gaze, and Tony felt slightly sick all of a sudden at the thought of that fading from the kid’s eyes when he realized just what Tony had signed him up for. It was still the best choice for him, far better than having to unmask himself and deal with the retributions, but the fact of the matter was that Tony had still done it without his— and worse, without his aunt’s— approval. He sighed again, figuring there was no good way to get around this; he just had to come out and say it.
“I had a meeting with the council yesterday.” he started. “They wanted to make it required to unmask all enhanced individuals and register them with the government.” Peter stiffened in front of him, but Tony continued. “I proposed an alternative, that I would act as your sponsor, mentor, whatever— basically, since I’m a signing member of the Accords, I would take full responsibility for you, in return for you keeping your identity a secret and not having to sign. There’s a set of conditions, but it basically ensures you get to operate close to how you already have been, under the condition that I take responsibility if something goes wrong.” he managed to get out, preparing himself for the barrage of questions. The kid had proven that he was able to ask countless questions with only a single breath. But he was quiet, and somehow that was worse. Tony braced himself for the worst— an explosion of anger, perhaps, at a teenager being told what to do, of having choices made for him. It was certainly how Tony would have reacted as a teenager. Hell, it was still how he acted as an adult.
But yet again, Peter Parker surprised him.
“You… put your reputation on the line? For me?” Peter sounded incredulous, and now it was Tony’s time to blink in surprise at him. Out of all the things to focus on… that’s what the kid got from this?
“Yes?” Tony said, annoyed that Peter had caught him off guard and it came out more like a question. “I mean, nothing has been signed yet, so if you’re planning to break the laws and commit a murder or something, perhaps let me know before I seal it in ink.” he said wryly, trying to save the situation with a joke. Peter’s eyes widened, and he waved his hands rapidly in front of him in the universal ‘no’ gesture.
“No, no! I didn’t mean it that way.” he said, words tumbling out rapidly. Tony furrowed his eyebrows; the teenager switched moods as fast as a jackrabbit. “I just– thank you, sir.” he said earnestly. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Tony felt his stomach recoil at the earnestness. Christ, this kid was better at playing with his feelings than Howard had been. Though he was doing it completely by accident. “I know I didn’t have to.” he said with a haughty sniff. “But really, drop the ‘sir,’ it’s going to make me feel old if you keep calling me that every week.”
“Every… week?” Peter said, looking hopelessly confused. He had the absolute worst poker face Tony had ever seen in his entire life. Every emotion was laid out as clear as day. Suddenly Tony felt far more sure of his decision to not let the kid’s identity be released. He didn’t want the media ripping him to shreds and forcing that sincere earnestness off his face.
He pushed that thought away as quickly as it came— it encroached far too closely in the ‘protective’ category, and he couldn’t cross into that territory with the kid. It wasn’t his position. With another sniff, he turned his head to the side and gripped his left wrist in his hand, massaging it firmly with his right thumb as he tried to figure out how to put this particular requirement into words. For some reason, it was more difficult to explain than the rest of it had been. ( “Absent father given a court order to spend time with his child” his internal Rhodey mocked.)
Shut up, sour patch.
“One of the conditions was that the sponsor has to spend at least five hours a week with the enhanced individual they’re sponsoring.” he finally spoke, not looking at the teenager’s face as he said it. “Making sure we’re a reliable judge of character, or something. So, yes, every week. We’re already using the internship excuse with your aunt, we’ll just expand on that. FRIDAY can keep track of the amount of time Spider-Man visits for… government purposes.”
When the silence stretched on for a moment too long, Tony glanced back at the kid, expecting… well, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. But Peter’s jaw was slack and his eyes were wide.
“I know your whole gimmick is spiders, but I don’t think you actually want to be catching flies.” Tony remarked, watching Peter’s jaw clamp back in place.
“I– sorry– this is—” Peter stumbled over his words. “This is incredible– I mean, wait– sorry, it’s probably not exciting for you, you don’t have to— except the government actually required it so you do—”
Tony was vaguely amused and wondered just how many times the teenager was capable of backtracking and restarting his sentence in one breath, but eventually he took mercy on him and cut him off.
“Relax, kid, it’s only five hours. I don’t mind.” he paused. Gross. That sounded far too genuine for his liking. Not Tony-Stark-like enough. He backtracked slightly. “Besides, they never said we had to talk, just that we had to be around each other for five hours a week. Being in the lab should work well enough.”
That didn’t quite seem to have the desired effect, because Peter somehow looked even more excited. Tony would have been insulted at the implication that the kid didn’t want to talk to him, except he knew for a fact it wasn’t because of that, but rather the implication that he’d be allowed inside of Tony’s lab. Which, really, he was surprised at himself for offering. He’d never allowed any of the Avengers in his lab— only ever Rhodey and Pepper. He told himself it was just because it was the easiest way to keep Peter occupied and quiet for the mandatory five hours (after all, what else was he going to do, watch a movie with the kid?), but he wasn’t really sure he believed it himself.
At that thought, he clapped his hands together before spreading his arms out. “Alright. Speaking of which— time for a lab tour.”
—
Peter’s POV
Peter’s day couldn’t get any better than this.
He’d thought that, after the airport battle when Mr. Stark dropped him off at his apartment, it would be at least a few weeks before the man would call for him again. Though to be fair, he had no idea the frequency at which the Avengers went on missions. He supposed it was probably lower now that the team was effectively disbanded.
Regardless, what he wasn’t expecting was a text from Happy Hogan, informing him that he’d be picking him up at 10 AM on Saturday in order to go to the Tower to meet with Mr. Stark. Peter had been waiting by the curb at 9:45, practically vibrating with excitement. The second Happy pulled up in the car, Peter could see him heave out a massive sigh as he unlocked the doors and Peter slid into the back seat, already firing off questions in rapid succession.
“Is it a mission?” Peter asked. “I brought my–”
“No.” Happy responded flatly, closing the divider in between them without elaborating. Peter frowned slightly, thrown off more by the words themselves than the tone they were spoken in. If this wasn’t a Spider-Man mission, then why would he be called in? He shook the thoughts off as they approached the Tower; maybe Happy just said it to shut him up. Yeah, it was probably that.
As it turned out, it wasn’t a mission, though Peter found that he wasn’t actually that disappointed by the fact— given that he’d received the news that he got to spend five hours a week in Tony Stark’s lab. And he got to keep his secret identity.
The man in question clapped his hands together and spread his arms out. “Alright. Speaking of which— time for a lab tour.”
Peter was going to explode. In a good way, of course. Ned would absolutely freak out if he knew how Peter was spending his Saturday morning. Though, to be fair, Ned would also absolutely freak out if he found out that Peter was Spider-Man and had fought the Avengers.
“Hm.” Mr. Stark mused, spinning in a circle and examining the room. “There’s not much to give a tour on, actually. Mostly parts of projects and a lot of suits.” he waved at the right side of the room, where there was a large metal table with a bootjet placed on top, amidst a pile of screwdrivers and soldering materials. “That’s my desk, don’t touch it.” Peter nodded vigorously, and Mr. Stark pointed at a square-ish table in the middle. “That’s the hologram table, I use it for design schematics. You can use it too, it has a database of Spider-Man stuff, just ask FRI to open it for you. Design to your little nerd heart’s desire.”
Peter trailed after the man as he walked over to it and brought up a holographic screen, wide-eyed as he started to swipe through the different settings.
“We can clear off that desk for you, I never use it.” Mr. Stark added, waving his hand to the left in the general direction of a smaller metal table with various tools scattered all over it. Holy shit. He got his own desk in Tony Stark’s personal lab? “Keep everything neat-ish, don’t keep flammable stuff next to an open flame, yada yada. The usual. Don’t need Pepper chewing me out for child endangerment.” he said, and Peter was pretty sure he muttered “ any more than she already has” under his breath, but didn’t have time to dwell on it before the man turned to him and furrowed his brow.
“Speaking of which— you said you manufactured your webbing yourself. I don’t suppose you have a secret lab you’re holding out from me?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. Peter rubbed the back of his neck, a little sheepish.
“Ah… Midtown’s chemistry classroom?” he offered. Mr. Stark blinked.
“The—” he cut himself off. “You’re telling me that you make your very distinguishable Spider-Man webbing out in the open in the middle of your high school chemistry class?”
“No, of course not.” Peter replied, a bit indignantly. Mr. Stark’s pinched expression smoothed out ever so slightly, before— “I hide it in a drawer while I’m mixing it.”
The man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Right,” he said instead. “How have you kept your identity a secret for this long again?”
Peter blinked, furrowing his eyebrows slightly— ignoring the fact that ‘this long’ was only about a year anyways. “ You’re lecturing me on a secret identity?” he asked disbelievingly, before remembering that he wasn’t Spider-Man at the moment, and that he was trying to be polite. Mr. Stark blinked, momentarily thrown, and Peter scrambled to backtrack. He really didn’t want to be “fired” before Day One even started. “I mean, uh—”
Mr. Stark cut him off with a sharp-sounding laugh and a shrug. “Relax,” he said at Peter’s slightly panicked face. “I’m not going to bite your head off. Anyways, questionable decision-making skills aside, you can make your webs here from now on. Just tell FRI what materials you need and it’ll be fully stocked for you.”
“Is this some long-winded ploy to steal my web-fluid formula?” Peter asked, relaxing slightly and testing the waters again with a bit of sarcasm.
Mr. Stark snorted. “Hardly. I could always collect a sample from you swinging around to have FRIDAY analyze the composition if I really wanted to.” he said. Before Peter had time to really process the statement or figure out how he felt about it, the man continued. “Besides, you’ll be around if I ever find myself in dire need of spider webbing.” His face wrinkled slightly at the thought, as if the idea of needing to use webbing was generally distasteful to him. Even so, Peter felt his chest warm a little bit at the thought that Mr. Stark was referring to this — whatever this was— as a long-term thing.
Well. Laws were a pretty long-term thing, so he should have guessed as much— but still.
He didn’t get a chance to figure out a response to that before there was a slight scuffling sound at the door, and Happy poked his head in and surveyed the two of them with an arched eyebrow. At the sight of him, Mr. Stark’s shoulders straightened slightly and he clapped his hands together like he’d just remembered something.
“Ah, forehead of security. Impeccable timing, as usual.” Mr. Stark said grandly, like it was some kind of inside joke. (And judging by Happy’s scowl, it was one at his expense). The billionaire turned back to Peter. “Hap’s no longer your point guy on this, I am.” he said, waving one hand in the air. “Obviously.”
Peter would have been more offended by the relieved look now plastered over Happy’s entire face, except that he was practically vibrating with excitement once more at the thought of Iron Man being his point guy.
“He’ll still drive you to and from the internship.” the billionaire revised (Happy looked distinctly less pleased at that). “Speaking of which— Tuesdays and Thursdays work for you?” he asked, but continued speaking before Peter could rearrange his tongue enough to respond. “Don’t answer that, I know you’re free, I saw your extracurriculars schedule.” he said flippantly. Peter squeaked out something that was adjacent to a ‘yes, I’m free,’ even as the man looked vaguely amused and shoved his hands into his pockets casually.
“Anyways, any questions go to yours truly— you have a phone?” Mr. Stark asked, arching an eyebrow at Peter, who fumbled in his own pocket to yank the aforementioned device out. His earbuds were still connected, and they dangled loosely in between them as he held his phone out with a half-extended arm. Both of Mr. Stark’s eyebrows raised halfway up his forehead at the sight, and a beat of slightly awkward silence passed.
“ That is an insult to modern-day technology.” he sniffed slightly. Peter frowned slightly at his phone, lowering his arm to peer at the screen. He didn’t think it was that bad. “I’m going to pretend like I didn’t even lay my eyes on that. We’ll get you a new Stark Phone, top of the line, all that.” he said, waving his hand. “My phone number will be loaded in it.”
Oh my god, I’m going to have Tony Stark’s phone number .
Just as he had the thought, Mr. Stark pointed sternly at him with one finger. “Do not try and sell it on eBay.” he warned, just as Peter started to sputter out an ‘of course not.’ “I don’t carry a physical phone most of the time anyways, FRI manages all of my calls and voicemails and paraphrases for me. So don’t be surprised if you don’t get an answer; talking on the phone gives me hives. Leave as many voicemails as you want, she’ll tell me of anything important.” he continued.
Peter was getting a little bit of whiplash from the whole conversation; to be honest, he still hadn’t quite recovered from the initial shock of seeing Mr. Stark in his apartment that very first day two or three weeks ago. The man was a whirlwind, constantly moving and talking in such a way that Peter himself hadn’t quite achieved yet, even as Spider-Man. When Tony Stark talked, people stopped and listened. Peter was no exception.
The person in question continued, completely unaware of Peter's internal monologue. “Hap, we’re almost done here, you can go get the car while I finish up talking to the kid.” he said, waving a displeased Happy out of the room. At the mention of his moniker, Peter blinked, dragging himself out of his thoughts.
“This is— thank you, Mr. Stark.” he said earnestly. The billionaire’s face twisted into some sort of mix of amusement and exasperation.
“You can call me Tony, you know.” the man grumbled. “Mr. Stark is what they call me when they’re suing me.”
“Sorry, Mr. Stark.” Peter said, a little more firmly than he’d thought he was capable of in this scenario. In his defense, the billionaire had a very intimidating aura, and Peter was just… Peter Parker right now. A fifteen year old nerd in Tony Stark’s personal lab. Not Spider-Man. “Aunt May would kill me if I called an adult by their first name.”
Mr. Stark arched an eyebrow at that, and it hit Peter that perhaps that wasn’t the best choice of words if he was trying to get the man to treat him as more mature than a run-of-the-mill teenager. Evidently, that ship had sailed. Luckily, the billionaire didn’t comment on the matter, past a muttered “suit yourself, kid.”
“Boss.” the female AI voice— FRIDAY— piped up before either of them had a chance to continue speaking. “Mr. Hogan would like to inform you that he is displeased about being forced to wait.”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t let him get all worked up about it. Tell him it’s good for character development— patience is a virtue.” the man said, waving his hand, before turning back to Peter. “Alright then, you heard FRIDAY— skedaddle, young buck.” Mr. Stark shooed him off. If Peter weren’t so awestruck by the entire situation, he might have made a wisecrack at the old-man wording of that phrase. As it was, he was still glancing around, trying to soak everything in despite the fact that he’d apparently be here every week. “Pepper will send the official internship papers to your aunt to sign to keep your excuse up. Lab time starts on Tuesday.”
Peter couldn’t help the delighted grin that broke across his face at the statement. Lab time . Lab time and a real internship with Tony Stark. Starting in three days.
Rocking on the balls of his feet, he barely refrained from hopping onto the ceiling out of sheer excitement. Even though Mr. Stark knew he was Spider-Man, that felt like a bad first impression as an employee… intern… thing. Still, he couldn’t help the bounce in his step as he dashed to the doorway, not wanting to keep Happy waiting for too long. (He figured the ship had long since sailed of making a good first impression on the driver, but he was still going to try.)
“Bye, Mr. Stark! See you Tuesday!”
“See you Tuesday, kid.”
~ ~ ~
When Peter woke up the next day, May handed him a package that had been left on their doorstep with his name scrawled on it. He barely made it into his room before tearing the package open; he already knew what it would be, but seeing the Stark Phone— his Stark Phone— sitting in the box made his eyes widen involuntarily.
“Woah .” he breathed out, carefully lifting the phone out of the box and staring at the perfectly smooth screen for a few seconds. He knew he would have to touch it to turn it on, but it felt wrong marring something so perfectly glossy with his fingerprints. Eventually, though, his curiosity got the better of him, and he tapped on the screen, watching delightedly as it lit up. He went through the setup— of course, setting up a phone could never rival the amazement he had when trying on his suit for the first time, but it came in as a close second.
It felt even more special because Mr. Stark didn’t have to give him this. Sure, he didn’t have to give Peter a new Spider-Man suit, either, but that at least had a function . Peter’s old phone worked perfectly fine; Mr. Stark didn’t need to give him a new one. Even if it hadn’t been a big deal to the billionaire, it was a big deal to him. And, more importantly, it was a gift for Peter Parker— not Spider-Man.
Usually, he would patrol most of the day Sunday while May went to work. Today, though, he spent most of the morning fiddling around with the phone until about an hour after May had left. Then he pulled his suit and mask on before ever-so-carefully tucking his new phone into the suit’s hidden pocket. He didn’t particularly like having to bring his phone with him every time he went on patrol, but he didn’t want to freak May out if she tried to call him while he was out and he didn’t answer. Plus, he needed a way to call someone in case of an emergency, and he usually used the police scanner app he’d installed to find things to do.
Just as he clambered out of his window, he heard sirens in the distance, and leapt off the wall to start swinging in that direction. Time to go catch some criminals .
—
There were, in fact, no criminals. The siren had been a false alarm, and there wasn’t much activity in the city after that. He’d stopped one mugging, but it had taken less than five minutes and he’d already been on patrol for hours.
Peter supposed the criminals were all taking Sunday evening off, which was great for the city but not-so-great for his boredom levels. Seriously, does nobody appreciate how long it takes for me to come out here ?
Clambering up one of the buildings whose walls he’d been squatting on, he hopped up onto the edge of a roof and settled down, kicking his legs slightly. Everything had been completely quiet for more than 20 minutes, and he was amazed that he had lasted that long with no distractions. Usually, he tried not to use his phone while he was patrolling, for several reasons. First, he didn’t want to potentially miss anything because he was so absorbed in his phone. Second, things weren’t usually this slow— if anything, he could at least rescue a cat or help an old lady with her groceries. And thirdly— he just didn’t trust himself not to drop it from the top of a building. May already had to buy his replacement backpacks; he doubted she’d be as accommodating if he added his phone to that list.
Points aside— everything was quiet, Peter was bored, and he had a brand-new Stark Phone that he hadn’t fully had time to explore the features yet. Plus, it was known to be far more shatter-proof than his old phone was. Not that he desired to test that theory.
Peter considered it, pulling the phone out and staring at the screen. Opening it, he tapped on the contacts to send Ned a message but hesitated when he saw the contact name he’d labeled “MR. STARK!!!” He knew he’d just seen the man yesterday, and he didn’t have an astoundingly exciting patrol today, but… maybe he should call anyways. Y’know, just to make sure the number was working and everything, and to give a patrol recap like a responsible vigilante. Yeah. That made sense.
Holding his breath slightly, he tapped on the call icon and brought the phone up to his ear, listening as it rang once before:
Yes, this is Tony Stark. Leave a message after the beep. If this is urgent, press 1 for Pepper.
Peter felt a grin stretch across his face at the sound of the accompanying beep .
“Uh, hi Mr. Stark! This is Peter. Peter Parker. I know you said I could leave voicemails, and I was just testing out the new phone to see if it works— I mean, of course it works, you made it, it’s great, thank you sir— uh, just calling to give you my report for tonight! So it started with a…”