Peter hurried out of Stark Industries with his backpack half-zipped, hoodie pulled tight against the morning wind. The lobby doors hissed shut behind him, and he rubbed sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hand. Tony had stayed up too late tinkering, and Peter had stayed up too late hovering nearby, pretending he wasn’t just watching him work.

He shifted his backpack higher and started down the steps toward the subway. He didn’t notice the camera at first-just the click, too sharp for morning traffic. When he did glance over, the reporter was already leaning forward like she’d spotted a rare bird.

“Kid! Over here- how long have you been staying with Tony Stark?”

Peter blinked, confused, then startled, then annoyed at how his voice squeaked when he muttered, “I-I’m just going to school.”

Another camera flash. He flinched. The woman’s smile stretched wider, predatory.

“How long have you known him? Does he plan on acknowledging you publicly?”

“What? I’m-I don’t-”

But she was already talking over him, thanking him like he’d given her something valuable, brushing past him with a triumphant little hum. Peter stood there for a second, thrown off-balance, then escaped down the stairs two at a time, heart thumping stupidly fast. The train screeched into the station as he jumped in, chest tight, backpack clutched to him like he’d been mugged.

He tried to shake it off on the ride. People took random photos of Stark Tower all the time. Maybe she thought he was an intern. Maybe it didn’t mean anything.

But halfway to Queens, he checked his phone out of habit and froze.

TONY STARK’S SECRET SON?
Exclusive: Mystery Teen Leaving Stark Industries at Dawn

Peter stared at the headline until his vision blurred, then scrolled just enough to see the photo.

Him.

Slipping out of the lobby with bed hair and a Stark hoodie.
The Stark hoodie Tony had tossed at him that morning with a casual, “Don’t freeze, kid.”

Peter’s stomach dropped straight through the floor of the train car. Sweat prickled under his collar. His fingers hovered above the article, then retreated. He couldn’t read it. He couldn’t breathe if he read it.

By the time he reached Midtown, his nerves felt scraped raw. He kept his head down, hoping no one had seen it yet.

They had.

Before he even reached his locker, three freshmen whispered loudly enough that he heard every word.

“That’s him.”
“No way.”
“Look at the picture! He’s literally wearing Stark’s clothes.”

Peter shoved his binder inside before it could slip out of his shaking hands. His throat was tight. Hot. Embarrassing.

Someone laughed down the hall. “Dude, Stark’s kid goes to public school?”

He flinched like it was personal, even though he told himself not to. His chest burned. May was going to kill him. Or worse-May was going to worry herself sick. And Tony-

Peter swallowed hard.

Was Tony seeing this? Did Pepper have to deal with this? Did Morgan-

He slammed the locker shut harder than intended. The clang echoed.

MJ found him first between classes. She slipped her hand into his without asking, and he let her, because his fingers wouldn’t stop trembling.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah,” he lied.

She didn’t push. She never did when he sounded like that.

Ned arrived a second later, practically vibrating. “Dude. Dude. Have you seen-”

“Yes,” Peter said quickly. Too quickly. He braced for Ned’s excitement, but Ned’s face softened instead, worry crowding out the usual sparkle.

“Okay. Then… we’re here. Just so you know.”

Peter nodded, jaw tight. Something bitter lodged behind his ribs. None of this was their fault. It was his. He should’ve taken the back exit. He should’ve changed clothes. He should’ve- he didn’t even know.

He spent the whole day tense, waiting for his phone to buzz with a message from Tony demanding to know why he’d made a mess. But the phone stayed silent, except for MJ’s gentle squeeze of his hand and Ned’s attempts at distracting him with bad science jokes.

The silence hurt anyway.

And by last period, the ache had curled in on itself, whispering things he wouldn’t say out loud. Things like:

He must be so embarrassed.
Everyone thinks I’m his kid.
He didn’t sign up for this. I messed everything up.

When the final bell rang, he trudged toward the subway with the article burned into the back of his eyelids.

He didn’t notice his phone buzzing with Tony’s first missed call

—————

By the next morning, Midtown felt different. Not louder exactly, just crowded in a way that made Peter’s skin feel a size too small. He slipped through the doors with his hood up, hoping the simmering whispers were not about him.

They were.

Someone nearby whispered, “He looks just like him.”
Another voice answered, “His eyes, dude. Same shape.”
A third chimed in, “He must be loaded.”

Peter kept walking. He focused on the tiles under his shoes, counting them one by one until he reached his locker. He opened it and immediately felt half a dozen eyes on him like lasers. He loaded his textbooks mechanically, feeling like he was floating a few inches outside his own body.

A teacher approached him with a bright smile. Too bright.

“Peter! I would love to have you join the robotics club this semester. It would be a wonderful experience for you. And perhaps Mr. Stark might be willing to visit for a demonstration.”

Peter blinked at her. She had never spoken to him for more than ten seconds before today.

“I… have other clubs,” he said softly.

Her smile twitched. “Well, if you change your mind, we would be thrilled. Truly.”

She walked off. A group of sophomores watched her go, then watched him. Phones angled toward him when they thought he was not looking.

He shut his locker. The clang sounded like a warning.

By lunch, the cafeteria felt like a pressure cooker. Every table Peter walked past fell into a hush. Some kids grinned at him, waving him over as if they had been friends for years. Others whispered behind hands, darting glances at him the second his back turned.

MJ moved her tray to sit beside his before he could retreat to a corner. She nudged his shoulder lightly. He leaned into her just enough to show he was okay. Or trying to be.

“You know most of this school has never seen a famous person up close,” she said quietly.

He stared at his food and poked it with a fork. “I’m not famous.”

MJ gave him a look that made him squirm. “You know what I mean.”

Peter nodded, but the knot in his stomach stayed tight. He could feel the room watching him breathe.

Harley showed up the next morning.

Peter spotted him slouched against his locker before first period, one boot crossed over the other like he’d been there for hours. His hair was longer, sticking out under a cap he definitely stole from Tony, and his jacket was the same worn canvas one he’d had since Tennessee. The sight hit Peter hard in a way he hadn’t prepared for.

Harley’s grin stretched across his face, slow and lopsided. “Hey, trouble. You look taller.”

Peter’s breath caught. He swallowed, trying to get his voice to work. “Harley? What… what are you doing here?”

“Transferring,” Harley said, casual as a weather report. “Transferring. My ma's fine and Tennessee was boring. I was already planning on moving out here, but I decided to come a little early. Heard you needed backup. Plus, I figured New York needed my good looks.”

Peter huffed something like a laugh, but it tripped over the tightness in his chest.

Harley nudged his arm. “Also heard you were having a time. Thought you could use a familiar face before you lost what’s left of your sanity.”

He said it lightly, but there was something steady underneath the words - the kind of steady that Peter hadn’t realized he was desperate for until it walked into the hallway.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Peter said, but it came out softer than he meant.

Harley shrugged, pushing off the locker. “Sure, I did. Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you. And Tony can’t be at school babysitting every five minutes.”

Peter stared at him for a second longer than he meant to. Relief spread warm in his chest, loosening something that had been wound too tight for weeks.

Harley noticed. Of course he did. His voice dropped just a little, enough for only Peter to hear. “You good?”

Peter nodded once, small and honest. “Better.”

“Good,” Harley said. “Because I’m not letting Flash breathe near you today.”

Peter snorted. “You can’t threaten the students.”

“Try and stop me,” Harley said, and slung an arm around Peter’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

For the first time since the article, Peter didn’t feel like the hallway was closing in on him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket again. He already knew whose name was on the screen.

He did not check it.

Classes felt worse now that everyone had confirmation that the article was not going away. Someone posted a rumor that Pepper Potts was coming to speak at the school’s fundraiser. Another claimed Peter’s backpack cost more than their rent. By afternoon, a junior in chemistry tried to sit with him and asked loudly if he could introduce him to Stark interns.

Peter said nothing. He felt his pulse thudding in his throat. He hated how easy it was for people to grab at him now, like he was a ticket to something better.

Flash took it even further.

Flash slammed a poster on the wall across from Peter’s locker. It was the tabloid photo of Peter leaving Stark Industries, printed huge and grainy. Flash tapped the image with the back of his pen.

“Look at this. You really expect anyone to believe Tony Stark sends you off to school like a good little heir? Please. You snuck into SI for the photo. Pathetic.”

Peter closed his locker carefully. If he slammed it, Flash would think he got to him. His chest still burned.

Harley heard the last part. He stepped between them with a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Funny thing, Flash. Some of us don’t need to fake our connections.”

Flash glared. “Stay out of this, grease monkey.”

Harley laughed once, very quietly. “Make me.”

MJ appeared behind Peter. Ned stuck close on his other side. Even so, Peter felt alone in the way he held his breath and wished he could shrink into the wall.

He walked away first. He pretended he didn’t hear Harley curse at Flash under his breath. He pretended he didn’t hear Flash yell after him, “Everyone knows you were lying. If Stark cared, he would’ve said something by now.”

That one hit too close. It lodged deep. Peter felt it like a punch he had not braced for.

After school, he sat on the steps outside for ten minutes before going home. He took out his phone. The screen lit up with:

12 Missed Calls: IronDad
3 New Voicemails
7 Unread Texts

His chest tightened like something was breaking open from the inside. He locked the phone without listening to any of them.

Aunt May noticed him lingering in the doorway when he came in.

“You okay, honey?” she asked, wiping down the counter.

He nodded, but his voice cracked on the word, and she looked at him like she did when he was little and tried to pretend he was not sick.

“May… people think… things.”
“What things?”
“Things that aren’t true. Things that complicate your life. And Tony’s.”

She set the rag down slowly. “Peter. Did Tony say that?”

Peter stared at his shoes.

He did not answer.

She sighed softly and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You should talk to him.”

He nodded again but did not move. The guilt pressed into him like a lead blanket.

He went to his room and lay on his back, staring at his ceiling long after the sun set.

His phone buzzed once more.

He turned it over so he would not see the name.

—————

The rumor refused to die. It stretched into the next week, then the next, popping up in whispers between lockers and underlined in bold across social media feeds. Every time someone mentioned Stark Industries, heads turned toward Peter. Every time someone mentioned the article, he felt the air shrink around him.

He reacted by shrinking first.

He left early in the mornings so May did not have to see how tense his shoulders were. He stayed late at school pretending he needed lab time. He walked the long way home and avoided the tower like the plague. Anything to look unavailable if someone tried to snap a photo of him.

Anything to make it look like he had nothing to do with Tony Stark.

He kept his phone on silent. It still buzzed against his leg, insistent. He never checked the screen. He knew what name he would see.

The thought alone made the back of his throat ache.

The first week, kids followed him through the halls like he was some kind of celebrity. The second week, they watched him like he had done something wrong. They whispered louder now, confident.

“If Stark actually knew him, he’d say so.”

“He definitely faked something.”

“Why else isn’t he saying anything?”

Peter walked faster each day. His footsteps got sharper. His jaw stayed locked.

Flash always found him. He was good at that.

“You hear anything from your old man?” Flash asked one morning, leaning back with his arms spread like he wanted a crowd. “Oh wait. Right. He’s not your old man.”

Peter closed his locker softly, even though he wanted to slam it. His fingers trembled anyway. Harley stepped forward immediately, voice low and sharp in a way Peter almost did not recognize.

“Back off.”

Flash rolled his eyes. “Relax. I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

Peter walked away before he heard Harley’s reply. He was not sure he could stand there long enough to find out.

During lunch, he sat with MJ and Ned, but the silence around their table felt heavier than the chatter everywhere else. MJ bumped her shoulder against his.

“Talk to him,” she murmured.

Peter stabbed a grape with his fork and kept his eyes on his tray. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

MJ tilted her head slightly, like she was trying to see under his expression. “You don’t believe that.”

He did not answer. He chewed the grape even though it tasted like nothing.

Harley tried too. He showed up in the library after school one afternoon, backpack slung over one shoulder, hands shoved into his pockets.

“You know he’s worried, right?”

Peter’s chest tightened. He kept his eyes on his homework, but the words on the page blurred.

“He probably…” Peter swallowed. His tongue felt thick. “He probably just wants to clear things up.”

Harley frowned. “Clear what up?”

Peter tapped his pencil twice, fast, then closed his notebook with one swift, forced movement. “It doesn’t matter.”

Harley watched him walk off. Peter felt the weight of that stare between his shoulder blades.

The longer he avoided Tony, the more the rumor twisted. People stopped whispering in excitement and started smirking.

“Guess Stark figured it out.”

“He’s embarrassed. Who wouldn’t be?”

“He probably told the kid to knock it off.”

Peter heard every word. He kept walking. His chest kept burning.

It was worse at night.

He lay in bed, staring at the dark, listening to his phone vibrate. One buzz. Then another. Then a third.

He rolled onto his stomach and shoved the pillow over his head until the noise faded. His heartbeat did not.

He kept telling himself he was doing the right thing. If he stayed away, the story might get replaced by something else. If he made it clear he was not around Tony anymore, people would stop looking at him like they expected something.

He told himself that Tony’s calls were probably about that. About the article. About clearing things up. About setting boundaries.

He knew Tony cared. He did. But this was different. This was public. This was messy. This was something Tony had not signed up for.

And if Tony called to straighten everything out, Peter was not sure he could hear it. Not out loud. Not from him.

He turned his phone facedown on his nightstand and forced himself to look away.

Somewhere deep in his chest, guilt coiled tight, thick and heavy.

If Tony needed space, Peter would give it to him.

If Tony wanted distance, Peter would not cling.

If Tony called to say he was not his kid, Peter did not know what would happen after that. He was not sure he wanted to know.

He curled onto his side and pulled the blanket up to his chin.

Another buzz lit the room.

He closed his eyes until the glow faded

—————

Physics had settled into the usual lull of low voices and pencil tapping when a shout cut straight through the hallway.

“Take me to my kid. Now.”

The classroom went dead silent.

Peter froze. His heart stopped, then slammed hard enough to make him lightheaded.

The secretary’s voice followed, strained and high. “Sir, I can’t escort you unless you’re listed as an official guardian.”

“I am listed,” Tony shot back. “May added me last month. What kind of school loses a single form.”

Chairs scraped. Someone whispered oh my god.

Peter was already moving.

He bolted out the door, ignoring the teacher’s startled call after him. Students spilled out of classrooms behind him. A few teachers too. Flash’s gasp echoed down the hall. Harley muttered something that sounded like finally. MJ and Ned whispered rapidly behind Peter, but he didn’t slow down.

He sprinted toward the main office.

He skidded to a stop at the doorway just as the secretary tried blocking someone from stepping forward.

Then Tony appeared behind her.

Peter’s breath caught.

Tony looked sharp at a distance. Perfect suit. Clean lines. Steady posture. But Peter knew better. He saw the faint redness around Tony’s eyes, the crease in his brow, the too-tight set of his jaw. He saw the slightly crooked tie knot that meant Tony had tied it too fast. He saw the tension in his prosthetic fingers, the subtle flex Tony only did when he was anxious.

He looked like he hadn’t slept. At all.

“Tony,” Peter said, voice cracking.

Tony turned instantly.

He stepped around the secretary like she wasn’t there.

“Bambino.” His face eased in a way that hit Peter so hard he had to grip the doorframe for balance. Tony gave him a once-over, slow and deliberate, and the sarcasm came out quiet and warm. “What took you so long? I’ve been yelling loud enough to register on seismographs.”

Peter almost laughed. Or cried. He wasn’t sure which.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered.

Tony blinked, confused. “I figured that was obvious.” He turned his head and shot the secretary a glare that could have cut concrete. “I’m here for my kids.”

Behind Peter, someone choked. Flash sounded like he swallowed his own tongue. Harley let out a satisfied little “knew it.” MJ whispered told you so and Ned whispered dude, this is history happening.

Tony turned back to Peter, all sarcasm gone.

“I’ve been calling you,” Tony said. “I thought you were mad at me. Because of the article.”

Peter’s stomach flipped painfully. “Mad at you? No. I wasn’t mad. I just thought you were calling because you didn’t want to deal with all the attention, and I know I caused it, and I shouldn’t have been at SI that morning, and everyone’s saying I only went there to fake something, and I didn’t want to make your life look messy, and I thought you’d want me to stop coming over, and I didn’t want to hear you say I wasn’t-”

“Peter,” Tony said softly.

Peter kept going anyway. His voice was shaking. “I didn’t want you to tell me I wasn’t your k- I couldn’t handle that, I just thought if I stayed away then it would all die down and you wouldn’t have to deal with it, and-”

“Bambino.”

Peter’s words died instantly.

Tony stepped closer, eyes soft, but heavy with concern in a way that made Peter’s chest ache.

“You are my kid.”

Peter’s breath caught hard. His eyes stung. His fingers tightened on the hem of his shirt.

Tony saw all of it.

“Come on,” Tony murmured. “We’re not doing this in a hallway.”

He rested a hand on Peter’s shoulder. Peter leaned into it without thinking, drawn to the warmth he had been missing for weeks.

They walked away together while the hallway buzzed with stunned whispers.

Peter didn’t look back.

He only focused on Tony’s hand, steady and familiar, guiding him forward.

For the first time since the article came out, Peter felt the tight ache in his chest begin to loosen.

—————

Tony closed the empty classroom door behind them. The noise of Midtown High faded away until there was nothing left but the soft hum of the overhead lights and the quiet thud of Peter’s heartbeat in his ears.

Peter sat because his knees wouldn’t hold him. His fingers twisted the fabric of his sleeve in tight, uneven knots. He didn’t know where to look. Every inch of him felt exposed.

Tony took the chair across from him and pulled it closer, scraping it softly against the floor. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, watching Peter with a tension that made Peter’s stomach twist.

“Alright, Bambino,” Tony said. “Why were you avoiding me.”

Peter stared at his hands. “I thought… I thought you were upset.”

Tony’s brows drew together. “With you.”

The way he said it made Peter shrink without meaning to. He nodded once, barely.

Tony’s voice softened. “Talk to me.”

Peter swallowed. His throat burned. “The article caused chaos. Everyone was talking about you. Pepper. Morgan. SI. Me. It was everywhere. And I figured you’d… want distance.” He forced himself to look up for a second. “I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Tony blinked at him, slow and stunned. “You thought I wanted distance.”

Peter’s breath shook out of him. “If someone pushed you on it, I thought you’d have to say I wasn’t…” He couldn’t finish. His chest tightened around the words.

Tony read the silence instantly. His eyes softened, but the edges of his expression cracked, like he was holding back something fierce and hurting.

“You really thought I’d deny you.”

Peter’s voice broke. “I didn’t want to hear it out loud.”

Tony let out a breath that wasn’t steady. “Kid. I’ve been sitting in the tower, locked in my lab, wondering why you suddenly didn’t want me anymore.”

Peter’s head snapped up. “What? No.”

Tony shook his head, disbelief coloring every word. “For two months, I thought you were embarrassed. Or mad at me. Or that you didn’t want people assuming we were family. I kept thinking I messed something up.”

Peter stared at him, stunned and aching.

“I never stopped wanting you,” Peter whispered. “I just didn’t want you dealing with the fallout. I didn’t want you stuck in a corner because of me.”

Tony leaned in. “I wasn’t stuck. I was lost. There’s a big difference.”

Peter’s face crumpled.

Tony saw the doubt still lingering under Peter’s skin and sighed, a soft sound of affection and frustration mingled together. “Alright. Clearly I have to spell it out. And I swear to God, I can’t believe you don’t already know this.”

Peter blinked, confused and scared and hopeful all at once.

Tony asked quietly, “Do you know what actually happened before the second snap.”

Peter swallowed. “What everyone else thinks. You discovered time travel and went to save the world.”

Tony stared at him like someone had switched his coffee with battery acid. “Absolutely not.”

Peter’s breath caught.

Tony leaned closer. His voice dropped, honest and raw. “When Steve asked, I messed around with the math once. Then I dropped it. I didn’t look at that tech again. Not for weeks.”

Peter frowned, lost. “Why not.”

“Because of Morgan,” Tony answered. “I finally had her. A life. A chance to breathe. I wasn’t risking that. Not for anything.”

Peter’s chest tightened. It made sense. It hurt anyway.

Tony continued, steady as a heartbeat. “But then I kept thinking about you.”

Peter inhaled sharply.

“I wasn’t supposed to,” Tony said. “I told myself I’d made peace with everything. But every night I’d sit on the porch and the only thing I’d see was you disappearing on that battlefield. I’d hear you calling my name. And it tore me up.”

Peter felt his eyes burn. His lungs stung.

Tony’s voice went quiet. “If you hadn’t been dusted, I would’ve stayed retired forever. I was ready to let the universe stay broken if that meant Morgan stayed safe. But you were gone. And I couldn’t live with that.”

Peter’s breath hitched. He covered his mouth to stop a sob from slipping out, but one still escaped.

Tony kept talking, softer but no less intense. “I told Morgan about you. For all five years. I told her stories about her big brother. About how brave you were. About how much you meant to me. I didn’t have any proof I’d get you back. I didn’t have a plan. I still told her.”

Peter’s tears fell freely now, silent and hot.

Tony reached across the table, placing his hand over Peter’s trembling one. “You weren’t some hypothetical. You were family. Long before time travel. Long before the dust came back. Long before today.”

Peter shook his head helplessly. “I didn’t want to make your life harder. I didn’t want to force you to say something you didn’t want to say.”

Tony squeezed his hand gently. “The only thing that made my life harder was losing you.”

Peter made a broken sound and leaned forward. Tony moved instantly, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him tight against his chest.

Peter clung to him with both hands, shaking. Tony held him like he had been waiting to do this for weeks, one hand on the back of Peter’s head, the other gripping his shoulders, grounding him.

“You’re my kid,” Tony whispered. “You’re my son. Not because of an article. Not because people think it. Because it’s true.”

Peter buried his face in Tony’s shoulder. “I love you.”

Tony kissed his hair, voice warm and steady. “Love you too, Bambino. Always.”

Peter held on tighter.

For the first time since the article dropped, he didn’t feel like a burden.

He felt chosen.

He felt wanted.

He felt at home.

They left the classroom slowly, the door clicking shut behind them. Tony kept one hand on Peter’s shoulder, not gripping, just resting there with enough weight that Peter could feel the steadiness in it. Peter leaned into the touch in tiny, unconscious shifts he hoped Tony didn’t notice.

He noticed.

They walked down the quiet hallway, their footsteps echoing faintly on the tile. Peter’s eyes felt puffy and his chest a little hollow, but lighter too. Like something inside him had been unwound and set down gently.

Tony gave his shoulder a soft squeeze. “You alright?”

Peter nodded, even though he wasn’t sure what word actually fit. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Good,” Tony said. “Because we’re about to walk back into the circus.”

Peter’s stomach clenched. “Oh.”

Tony huffed out something that was halfway to a laugh. “Relax. I’m not letting anyone near you.”

That small promise unknotted something else in Peter’s chest.

They turned the corner toward the main hall, and Peter realized immediately that Tony had not been exaggerating.

Half the school was waiting.

Not intentionally, not gathered in a mob, but in clumps of students hovering by lockers and classroom doors. And all of them went silent when Tony and Peter stepped into view.

Teachers stood with clipboards, but they weren’t looking at them. Kids pretended to drink from fountains as they cut their eyes to the pair walking down the hallway. All of them were clearly waiting to see what happened next.

Peter froze.

Tony didn’t.

He tightened his hand on Peter’s shoulder and kept walking, guiding him forward with zero hesitation, as if he owned the place, as if he had every right to walk his kid down the hallway of a public high school in the middle of Manhattan.

A ripple of whispers started behind them. Peter caught bits and pieces.

“He came for him.”
“Holy crap, that’s Tony Stark.”
“Wait, so… Peter’s really…?”
“No way.”

Peter’s face heated. His steps faltered.

Tony leaned in, voice low and gentle. “Ignore them.”

“Trying to,” Peter whispered.

“Try harder,” Tony said, but the warmth in his tone wrapped around Peter like a shield.

Up ahead, MJ, Ned, Harley, and even Flash stood clustered awkwardly outside the physics classroom. They must have been waiting for him.

Flash’s face went through about ten emotions in three seconds. The final one landed somewhere between horror and betrayal.

Harley saw Peter first. A slow grin spread across his face. “There he is.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at him. “You. I’m mad at you, too.”

Harley snorted. “Yeah, well, get in line.”

Tony reached over and ruffled Harley’s hair. Harley swatted at his hand, but he didn’t actually move away. Peter watched it happen with a warmth spreading in his chest he couldn’t hide.

MJ stepped closer, eyes flicking between Tony’s hand on Peter’s shoulder and Peter’s red eyes. Her voice softened. “Hey. You good?”

Peter nodded. She kissed his cheek without hesitation in front of everyone.

Ned beamed. “Hi, Mr. Stark. You, uh… caused a whole school-wide panic.”

“Good,” Tony said. “I like to keep my fan base on its toes.”

A few kids snickered nervously. A teacher dropped a stack of papers.

Flash, who had been staring with his mouth open, finally whispered, “No freaking way.”

Tony turned and looked at him. Just looked. Calm. Direct.

Flash immediately straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and bowed his head like a medieval servant. “Mr. Stark, sir.”

Tony’s brow lifted. “Sir. Really.”

Flash nodded aggressively.

Tony looked at Peter, amused. “This one of yours?”

Peter shook his head quickly. “Absolutely not.”

Harley snorted again. MJ hid a laugh behind her hand. Ned wheezed.

Tony waved his free hand in a vague gesture. “Alright, everyone. The show’s over. Get back to learning. Or causing structural damage. Or whatever it is you all do here.”

Kids scattered like pigeons.

But they kept staring.

Peter ducked his head a little, overwhelmed, but Tony squeezed his shoulder and steered him down the hall, unfazed.

They reached the main doors before Peter realized he’d been smiling. Just a small one. Barely there. But Tony noticed.

“You ready to go home?” Tony asked gently.

Peter nodded. “Yeah.”

Tony opened the door for him. “Good. Because Morgan’s been drawing pictures of you all week, and I had to promise her you weren’t kidnapped.”

Peter let out a surprised laugh. “Seriously.”

“Seriously,” Tony said. “She made me text her teacher a code word in case she needed to call the Avengers.”

Peter laughed harder, the sound bubbling up naturally, without force.

Tony smiled at him, soft and proud.

They stepped out into the afternoon light together.

Half the school watched them leave.

But Peter didn’t look back.

For the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel alone.

He felt like Tony’s kid.

The drive to Stark Tower didn’t take long, but it felt like its own quiet bubble suspended above the noise of the city. Tony kept one hand on the wheel and one very deliberately close to Peter, fingers brushing his sleeve now and then. Each light touch sent a warm ache through Peter’s ribs.

Harley sat in the back seat. He kept kicking the back of Peter’s chair in a slow, absent rhythm, pretending he wasn’t checking the rearview mirror every few seconds to make sure Peter was still breathing.

“You cried,” Harley announced suddenly.

Peter whipped around. “No, I didn’t.”

Harley lifted a brow. “You totally did. Your eyes look like burnt tomatoes.”

Tony cut in before Peter could combust. “Harley, this is why we don’t let you comfort people. Ever.”

“Hey, I’m being supportive,” Harley replied. “This is how we do it in Tennessee.”

Tony snorted. “Remind me never to visit Tennessee.”

Despite everything, Peter laughed under his breath.

When the car pulled into the Stark Tower garage, Peter felt something settle inside him. The automatic lights flicked on as they walked through, and the familiar hum of the building felt warmer than it ever had before. Tony’s hand stayed on his shoulder as they took the elevator up. The doors closed, and the comforting voice of Friday greeted them.

Welcome home, Peter. We’ve missed you.

Peter’s chest stuttered at the word home.

The elevator opened, and Pepper was already waiting. Her shoulders dropped the second she saw Peter, relief flooding her face in a way she didn’t even try to hide. Tony barely had time to say hi before she crossed the room and wrapped Peter in a hug.

He froze for half a second, then let himself lean into her. Pepper’s arms were warm and tight and steady in that way she’d perfected from hugging both Stark kids.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Pepper murmured, voice low.

“Yeah,” Peter whispered. “Me too.”

Before he could fully straighten, a small voice shrieked his name.

“Peter!”

Morgan sprinted across the room, pigtails flying, and launched herself at him. Peter caught her midair, wheezing out a soft laugh as she clung to him like a koala.

“You disappeared,” she scolded, poking his cheek. “Daddy said you were busy, but I thought you got kidnapped, so I drew a picture of the bad guy.”

Harley leaned over Peter’s shoulder and peeked. “Can I see it?”

“No,” Morgan said. “It’s evidence.”

Tony groaned. “She showed it to the doorman.”

Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose. “She also threatened to call the Avengers if it happened again.”

“I was gonna call Captain Marvel,” Morgan added proudly.

Peter laughed, hugging her tight. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Morgan snuggled into his neck like she planned to glue herself there.

Tony placed a hand between Peter’s shoulders, warm and steady. “Alright, little gremlin. Give him a second to breathe.”

“No,” Morgan said, without budging.

Harley flopped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “She missed you almost as much as Tony did.”

Tony glared at him. “Keep talking. You’ll be on dish duty.”

“Joke’s on you. I like doing the dishes,” Harley replied.

Pepper chuckled and headed toward the kitchen. “Dinner will be done in twenty. Peter, sit down. You look exhausted.”

Peter did sit, mostly because Morgan dragged him there by his wrist and plopped herself on his lap like she owned the spot. Harley moved to sit cross-legged on the floor by Peter’s legs. Tony took the seat right next to Peter, close enough that their shoulders brushed.

The Tower felt warm and bright around them, the way it always did when the family was home at the same time. Pepper hummed quietly as she checked the oven. Morgan toyed with the hem of Peter’s shirt. Harley leaned his head back against Peter’s knee. Tony watched all of them with a tired, soft smile that made Peter’s heart squeeze.

Morgan peeked up at him. “Are you sleeping here tonight?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah.”

Tony added, “And tomorrow.”

Harley chimed in. “And probably the weekend.”

Morgan nodded seriously. “And Monday.”

“That one we can negotiate,” Tony said, but he didn’t look like he meant it.

Peter felt his chest warm.

They talked quietly until Pepper set the table. Morgan fell asleep halfway through drawing on Peter’s arm with washable markers. Harley muttered commentary at the TV. Tony nudged Peter’s shoulder every few minutes just to make sure he was really there.

When dinner was ready, Tony stood and offered Peter his hand. He didn’t say anything, but Peter didn’t need him to. He took it.

Harley rolled his eyes. “You two are disgustingly emotional.”

Tony pointed at him. “Dishes. All week.”

Harley barked a laugh. “Worth it.”

Peter smiled, small and real.

He sat down at the table between Tony and Morgan, with Pepper across from him and Harley making faces next to her.

Tony passed Peter the mashed potatoes with a quiet smile. “Glad you’re home, kid.”

Peter swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“Yeah,” he whispered back. “Me too.”

Three Weeks Later

Three weeks was long enough for Midtown High to move on.

Not completely. Not in the way that erased everything. But long enough that the article stopped being the headline of every whispered conversation. Long enough that Tony’s arrival had shifted from a school-wide emergency to a story students exaggerated for fun.

Three weeks was enough for things to breathe again.

Peter walked down the hallway with a backpack that didn’t feel too heavy anymore. Harley walked beside him, twirling a pencil and arguing over which Star Wars movie was the best. MJ leaned against her locker, watching them with an amused smile. Ned waved from across the hall with one arm full of textbooks.

Normal.

The kind of normal Peter hadn’t realized he’d been craving.

He felt eyes on him sometimes, but they weren’t sharp anymore. Not curious or suspicious or hungry. Just passing glances. The occasional whispered oh yeah, that kid. As if the whole thing had faded into the background of school legend.

Harley bumped him lightly with his shoulder. “You’re zoning out again.”

Peter blinked and smiled. “Sorry. Thinking.”

“About your dad,” Harley said, pretending the word dad didn’t make Peter blush every time.

Peter shrugged, but the warmth in his chest gave him away. “Maybe.”

Harley grinned. “He’s picking us up today. Try not to look like you’re gonna cry when he shows up.”

“I don’t cry every time,” Peter protested.

“Sure you don’t,” Harley said. “And I look nothing like Thor.”

Peter rolled his eyes, groaning. “For the love of- Harley, stop saying that. You don’t.”

They reached the cafeteria, and a few freshmen waved awkwardly at Peter as they passed. One of them whispered, “He’s cool,” which made Peter blink and look behind him just to make sure they meant him.

MJ slipped her hand into his without warning. “Stop looking surprised. You earned this.”

Peter’s smile grew, small and soft. “I’m still getting used to it.”

“You’ll get there,” she said, squeezing his hand once.

The rest of the day passed easily. No stares. No comments. Flash even went out of his way to avoid Peter, which was possibly the greatest victory of all.

When the final bell rang, the four of them headed to the front steps. Kids streamed past them, laughing and loud, spilling into the street. Peter waited near the railing, fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve.

The final bell rang, and the four of them headed toward the front steps together. A few kids lingered to watch, but most just streamed past with tired Friday energy.

Harley nudged Peter. “Kinda glad you’re staying with us while May’s off saving the planet. Tower’s too quiet without you.”

Peter’s heart warmed. “Yeah. I’m glad too.”

Harley shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but his grin said otherwise.

 A sleek Stark Industries car pulled up to the curb, windows tinted, paint gleaming. The door popped open.

Tony stepped out.

He looked relaxed for once. No suit jacket. No crisis-level tension in his shoulders. Just jeans, a worn band tee, and an easy smile that softened the second he saw Peter.

“There you two are,” Tony called. “Thought I’d have to call security to track you down.”

Harley snorted. “Like Midtown needs more drama.”

Tony smirked. “You’d be surprised.”

Peter’s chest warmed. The sunlight hit Tony from behind, and for one ridiculous second, Peter thought he looked like he did in every headline Peter saved on his phone growing up. Except now he wasn’t looking at a superhero.

He was looking at his dad.

“Hey,” Peter said shyly.

Tony’s smile widened. “Hey yourself.” He ruffled Peter’s hair before Peter could duck away. “You ready?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

They headed toward the car together. Harley climbed into the back seat, kicking his shoes off instantly despite Pepper’s rule about no shoes in the car.

Peter hesitated before getting in. Tony noticed.

“You good?” Tony asked quietly.

Peter nodded. “Yeah. Really good.”

Tony’s eyes softened. “I’m glad.”

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Tony reached out and rested his hand on the back of Peter’s neck. A light, warm pressure. Familiar now. Comforting.

Peter leaned into it without thinking.

Three weeks ago, that would have made him flinch, made him look over his shoulder to see who was watching.

But now it just felt right.

“Come on, Bambino,” Tony said, opening the door for him. “Morgan made cookies, and Pepper says if Harley eats more than three, I have to make him run laps around the gym.”

Harley groaned. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Tony replied. “I’m delightful.”

Peter laughed, climbing in. Tony shut the door gently behind him.

As the car pulled away from the curb, Peter looked back at Midtown High through the window. The building wasn’t intimidating anymore. It wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t loud.

It was just school.

And he wasn’t walking out alone.

He turned forward again, warmth settling into his chest as the city blurred by.

And Tony was right there beside him.

The way it should be.

The way it was always meant to be.