Chapter Text
The Tower felt wrong, and quite frankly so did Peter.
His Dad was pacing around in the living room, mumbling stuff to himself, his face a bit pale. The room felt like an interrogation chamber at this point.
Harley was still holding a bag of chips, sitting next to Peter but he didn't even dare himself to take a bite.
Tony kept running a hand through his hair, muttering half cursed words under his breath, the kind that only actually came out when he was truly pissed off.
Peter sat stiffly on the couch, dread building inside his stomach even more, Harley beside him like a reluctant emotional support gremlin.
Then their Dad stopped, turned his head, and pointed right at Peter.
"You," he said, voice cracking like a whip. "start talking."
Peter opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and then closed it again. No sound came out, his brain was soup.
The teen saw how his dad's eye twitched, he took a deep breath and bit down on his lip.
"Oh, good. Great, this is just amazing! The child, my child, my fucking son, nonetheless who has been apparently jumping off buildings, sneaking out during night, getting hurt, fighting men twice his age for gods sake has nothing- absolutely nothing to say."
Harley winced, Peter's throat burned but he stayed quiet while the other boy tried to speak out. "Dad, how about you calm down? Maybe Peter'll-"
Tony spun his head, looking at Harley now. "Don't even get me started on you, Harley Edward Stark."
Harley flinched and looked down. "You're the older one of you two, the responsible one. You're supposed to have a functioning brain! Did it not ever occur to you, that maybe, just maybe, it would've been smart to tell your father that your younger brother has been sneaking off and getting hurt!"
"He convinced me, okay!" Harley shot back, looking clearly mad. "And I panicked! What was I supposed to do, dad? You have your own fucking problems to deal with as well, did you forget what Steve did to you? I knew you wouldn't have handled it well! Did you seriously expect me to walk into your lab, and tell you that your son- that you have been neglecting is fucking Spider-Man!"
"Yes!" Their Dad barked. "That would have been great, Harley! What if Peter died out there, huh? What if he got shot at, stabbed? Not to mention the reckless thing he did today!"
Peter sank lower into the couch cushions.
Wrong move.
Tony snapped his gaze back to him like a missile locking onto a target.
"And you." He started, voice dropping dangerously. "Peter James Stark."
Oh no.
He used the middle name.
"If I find one more fucking surprise in your life, I swear to god I will.."
Peter's chest tightened. "I..I was just, I was just trying to help.."
"Help?" Tony's voice went firm, mixed with disbelief obviously. "Help? Peter you're fifteen years old. Fifteen."
"I'm not a baby!"
"You're a child."
"I'm not helpless, Dad!"
"You were almost cut in half today, Peter. If I didn't realize that something was wrong during our call, you would have, maybe, died."
"I saved people!" Peter tried to say, ignoring the look Harley gave him after he heard the last sentence that came out of Tony's mouth.
"You almost died! Do you understand that, Peter? You almost died!"
It went quiet for one second, until Peter yelled back.
"You do it every day!"
Peter snapped, very loudly, and he regretted it as quickly as he said it.
Silence slammed into the room.
His Dad went still, too still.
When he spoke up again, his voice was low and cold.
"I'm not losing you, Peter." Tony took a deep breath. "I don't care, if you see me as the bad guy now. You.. you're not doing this again."
Peter froze.
For a second, he couldn't really process the words.
He doesn't even know why he's surprised, he saw this coming.
"..What?"
Tony's voice was final, no cracks and no room for any arguments. "You heard me. I'm shutting this down, I was planning to shut this down before I even saw your face behind that mask, because of the ferry, but this? This is final. No more Spider-Man. You're done."
Peters heart went straight to the floor.
"But Dad.."
"No," Tony cut in. Sharply. "No suit. No webs. No vigilante crap. No more sneaking off. No more almost dying. As of today, Spider-Man's dead. It's over."
Harley visibly winced, like he watched someone get punched in slow motion.
"Dad.." The older boy started, testing the waters. "Maybe that's a little.."
"This isn't up for debate." The man snapped.
Harley closed his mouth with an audible clink, and grimaced side eyeing his brother worryingly. Clearly not in favor of the decision. Also very clearly not able to challenge Tony when he was nuclear war level mad.
But Peter, er..
He couldn't just sit there, could he?
"It's not fair," he said, voice trembling. "You can't just, you can't just take it from me! I'm helping people!"
Tony turned his head towards him so fast, Harley almost jumped.
"You are a child, Peter! My child! My responsibility! And I won't watch you get killed or die! I'm not, so this discussion is over."
Peter flinched. "I won't die, I didn't die and I haven't so far.."
"That's not a defense! And it's clearly, so obviously not helping your case." Tony shouted, pacing around again. "Peter everything about, everything about this is fucking reckless and dangerous and terrifying! And you didn't tell me you were enhanced either! You didn't come to me, you didn't trust me with any of this!"
"I was scared you'd take it away, dad!" Peter yelled back, fighting the tears that were starting to well up in his eyes.
"Well, congratulations," Tony told him, his voice cracking. "because that's exactly what I'm doing. I'm not letting you kill yourself, Peter or get yourself send to the fucking raft. And if that makes me a dick of a father so be it, I don't care!"
Peter's breath hitched, anger burning in his eyes.
"You're punishing me for trying to do something good."
"I'm protecting my son," Tony corrected, a bit softer this time. "This doesn't have to be forever, Peter but you are a minor. You're not ready."
"You don't even know what I can do," Peter whispered. "you've never asked."
Tony's mouth opened, then closed and a flicker of guilt washed over his face.
But he didn't change his decision.
"This isn't permanent," His Dad finally told him. "but the day you go out as Spider-Man again, is going to be the day where you're legally allowed to buy alcohol. So until I say otherwise, you are grounded from the suit."
Peter stared at him, glared at him.
"This is the part," Tony added quietly. "where being your dad matters more than me being impressed on what you can do. One day, when you're older, Peter. You'll understand."
Peter felt like he had been hit.
Hard.
Harley sat there, quietly, elbows on knees, eyes darting between the two like he was watching two cats fight each other.
"Pete," Harley murmured, almost apologetically. "Dad's scared, y'know? Maybe, maybe he's right. I mean, you do get hurt a lot and.."
"I'm not scared." His Dad lied, looking offended.
Harley snorted. "Yeah right."
His dad looked exhausted and he ran a hand down his face. "I'm not negotiating over this anymore. Spider-Man is going on a hiatus, a very big hiatus."
Peter swallowed a lump in his throat.
His Dad just took away the only thing that made him feel useful in a while.
Peter doesn't know how to not, how to..
Peter doesn't want to cry.
Crying is a weakness that shows the other that they won.
That's what Ms. Laine always told him.
Peter woke up drenched in sweat, breaths coming in shallow.
He looked at the time, it was night, and quiet.
The boy got up, and walked into the bathroom, it was Summer break and Ned was in Hawaii, his Dad and Pepper were busy with Morgan who was a baby and Harley was at some dumb camp.
He doesn't know when he had gotten the idea.
Peter felt the need to cry when he did the first cut, his vision was blurry as he watched the blood drip to the clean bathroom floor.
Ms. Laine would be so disappointed in him. He could hear her voice clearly in his head.
"Crying makes the other guy think he won, Peter. You don't want that, do you? Trust me when I tell you this, Peter. Never, and I mean never cry in front of anyone. It'll just make them pity you, or worse."
But, it made him feel something.
Something he hadn't felt in a while.
His arm looked funny with the blood dripping, he feels like an idiot when he started smiling.
Peter took a deep breath and-
"Peter?"
Peter blinked, staring at his Dad. "You don't look good, I know you feel bad right now. Go get some sleep."
Peter didn't say anything when he walked to his room.
He didn't have the energy to.
The world felt like it shrank around him, like someone had taken everything bright and cut it in half.
Harley followed him silently, hands shoved in his pockets, chewing the inside of his cheek. He knew not to talk until the door behind them closed shut.
Once they were inside, Peter collapsed on the side of his bed. He didn't bounce, he didn't fidget. He just folded forward, elbows on knees, staring into the ceiling.
Harley sat beside him slowly.
For a long moment no one moved or spoke.
Then:
"You look like shit, dude." Harley spoke softly.
Peter huffed through his nose, not quite a laugh, though a bit closer to sob he refused to let out until he was alone.
"Yeah," Peter mumbled. "Feel like it too."
Harley went quiet.
Peter dragged his hands to his face, fingers pressing into his eyes as if he could hold everything in. "He took everything, Harls." he whispered. "Spider-Man was the one thing I could do without screwing up. The one thing that actually felt right for once."
"He worked with me too, y'know? It was nice, like, like.. he didn't, it wasn't awkward like it was with us without the mask. We, he took me to Germany and he told me I did a great job and everything. He never did that when I wasn't wearing the mask and now thats gone too. Now he just thinks I'm some kid who's a screw up."
Harleys throat bobbed, he thought very carefully before he spoke. "Pete, you are a kid.
Peter didn't answer.
Harley nudged his shoulder. "And you scared the shit out of him too, y'know."
"I scare everyone." Peter muttered.
"Thats not, no." Harley turned fully, forcing Peter to look at him. "That's not what I meant. You scared him because he cares, dude. Because he didn't know. If there was one thing Tony Stark fears more than actually communicating, it's losing the people he loves. I mean he's still depressed about the, well you know, the rogues. They're driving him nuts."
Peter swallowed, eyes glassy.
"You found out too," Peter whispered. "you didn't freak out like he did."
Harley snorted. "Oh I freaked out, I had a full panic attack in my room after you came home with a whole ass stab wound, Peter."
Peter blinked starteled.
"You were bleeding through your suit, Pete. And then I stitched you up, do you get how messed up that is?" Harley ran a hand through his hair, "I'm still working with that metal image in my brain, dude."
Peter gave a tiny hollow laugh. "Sorry about that,"
"It's fine, Pete." Harley told him, ruffling his hair afterwards.
"It sucks, though." Peter admitted, sniffing and staring at his hands.
It went quiet for a moment. "I know, but Dad isn't wrong about all of it either. I mean you could actually die."
"I know, but it's still unfair. It's my choice."
Harley sighed. "Look, I'm exhausted as well, okay? And Dad grounded me too, so can we pause on this topic?"
The quietness filled the room quickly, the only sound being Peter's hitched breathing.
"Yeah, yeah."
Peter'll figure it out, he always does.
It's just a bit harder this time.