Chapter Text
Peter knew that the steeple was a temporary solution. It had a good vantage point. The loose ceiling boards provided a decent place to hide Peter’s meager things and sleep. The two suitcases and a bag of food were stashed there. It wouldn't work for too long though, the leaky patches roof and small cracks between the boarded floor made it a chilly place, even if it was semi-shelter from rain. He couldn't stay there for much more than another few weeks or so. He just didn't have enough blankets and clothes to keep him warm, especially since he couldn't maintain his body heat anymore. It was a nice place though. Maybe if he got enough stuff from dumpster dives he could fix up the inside a little better to keep warm. If he didn’t get it fixed up soon, winter would make it impossible, but he considered the possibility of coming back in spring. It was hidden and safe. He didn’t know what he’d do about the coming cold though and shelters were just so damn hard to get into.
Peter had to admit that it had a good view. He climbed up the steeple, above the bell and pushed up the loose boards, retrieving his school bag. At least he still had school to lean on, but he didn't know for how much longer. If social services went to his foster ‘home' as they should, he'd only get to go to school until the beginning of January. The problem, would be that social services would know he was living on the street and they'd be able to find him at school. He'd eventually have to drop out so they couldn't find him. He was never going back to a foster home again. He'd already been in three that were hell, just in the matter of five months. He was better suited to take care of himself. All he had to do was wait it out until he was sixteen. He'd have to somehow get a job before then and be able to afford a place to stay...but, he could do it...maybe.
Giving up school would suck though. It was the last connection he had to loved ones and any sort of support and structure. He'd miss seeing Ned. Plus, school meant he had two meals and heat for a few hours, not to mention access to a shower and a place to make web fluid. He liked learning too, even though most of the classes were too easy. No matter what he was lacking, he wasn't going back to the foster system, even if he had to be homeless and if he ended up school-less.
Peter slung his bag over his shoulder and dropped down to the floor. School was a ten minute walk, he needed to get going. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and looked inside: $3.97. He really had blown it. He'd saved money from working odd jobs and the part time work he'd had for a few weeks. The store had looked the other way at his young age, which was great, until his crime fighting had made him late once and they fired him. In the tin can in the roof, along with his important documents, he had $782.23. He budgeted to give himself ten dollars a week to get whatever he needed, which wasn't enough for his enhanced metabolism, but he had found a lot of places that gave out food to the homeless. He found a few churches that gave out bags of non-perishables, so he usually got two paper sacks a month. Then there was a cool spot that would let him “shop” around and choose what he wanted as long as it fit into their box once a month. (Peter was glad he was good at geometry, because that meant extra stuff.) There was also a grocery store that sold their “on its way out” produce for as little as a dollar a box. It was fifteen minutes away by swinging, but Peter liked being able to have fruits and vegetables.
Most of what got donated wasn’t entirely good for him. That was the way of things though. Healthy stuff was perishable and perishable stuff didn’t work out with homelessness. In fact, most things didn’t. Peter had budgeted for a can opener, but he’d met plenty of people who didn’t have that, and so much of what was given was canned goods or things that required heat to cook. Boxed meals sounded good to those who donated, but they often required milk and butter and heat…none of which was readily available to the homeless.
The thought was there, Peter was sure of it, but it often didn’t work out in favor of the hungry. He’d had to work very hard to get around those limitations and even he still couldn’t manage anything that required cold ingredients.
He had a good stack of food in the corner, but some of it he couldn't eat yet. He had a can opener, but he hadn't yet finished his project of converting the (almost) perfectly good coffee maker he'd found into a battery operated one so he could heat water for the instant meals and soups. He'd get the last bit finished in class today though, he knew it. It would have a huge impact on him. He’d finally be able to have a warm meal and cook certain foods he’d been given. Hard to have pasta if you can’t cook it.
He really shouldn't have bought the sandwich from Delmar's. He'd just wanted one so badly. He missed it, the normalcy of simply going out and having one of his favorite sandwiches. So he bought one and now he had $3.97 to get from Wednesday to Sunday. He really hoped he could get his rechargeable battery pack to work in class, because if he didn't, he'd be down to his last two boxes of cereal, which wasn’t as pleasant without milk and so full of sugar that it wasn’t really filling.
After one afternoon of patrol he could eat both of them in one sitting and still be starved. He’d understood nutrition before being homeless, but it had never mattered as much as it did now. His body felt absolutely awful, but he couldn’t even complain, because unfulfilling and un-sustaining food was better than nothing at all.
As soon as he had the coffee maker he could start cooking his canned soups and rice and noodles and just so many things. He'd be glad to finally have warm food again. It had been a month, except for at school meals, since he'd had a warm plate of food.
Peter shook his head. He needed to get to school so he could sneak into a lab early and get started on his battery. He went through the trap door below him and down the ladder into the church. He listened for a moment before he opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The church was empty, as it usually was this early in the morning. Peter only had to be careful later in the day. But, when there were people inside he could always swing up to his makeshift home.
He thanked God for letting him stay in His home as he left through the front doors. Ben had always said churches were the houses of the Lord, so Peter didn't want to be an ungrateful guest, even if he wasn't quite sure there was a god watching out for Peter Parker. Maybe if there had been He would have noticed Peter's utter lack of caring adults...but hey, Peter couldn't judge. He hadn't yet been evicted from the house of God, so he'd just hope and pray that sometimes bad shit happened and maybe there was a plan for it all in the end...
Maybe something good could come from his unlucky existence.
Maybe.
His stomach ached and took with it that little touch of hope.
-
"Yes!" Peter beamed. The battery was working. If his calculations were correct, the battery could work for seventy-two hours before needing to recharge. That would be simple. All Peter would have to do is buy himself a drink at a restaurant, plug it in, and wait it out. Or he could find an inconspicuous place at the school to plug it in once in a while. It'd be fine. He plugged the battery into the outlet at his lab desk and shoved the battery into his drawer. He'd sneak back out of the school and walk in like the rest of his classmates.
If it all worked out, he'd have a hot dinner to warm him before bed.
-
Peter chatted with Ned as they waited for class to start. He wished he could tell his friend, but he knew Ned. Ned would try to get him to come to his house, then Mrs. Leeds would figure it out in a snap and have Peter sent to yet another foster home. She wouldn't do it with ill intent, she would just not want Peter to be out on the streets. But even hungry and cold, Peter was doing better on his own. If he didn't heal as fast as he did, he'd probably still have bones healing from his last stint in a foster home. It was par for the course though. Peter knew there were lots of good homes out there, but he was a Parker, and he'd always had shitty luck. Even asking for help from his dear friend wouldn’t do.
"Did you hear, dude? There's supposed to be some big announcement today.” Ned said. “Wonder what it is?"
"Mr. Harrington called it an “opportunity,” it could be really bad or kinda cool." Peter shrugged.
"I'm going to bet “really bad” on this one. Harrington's not the best with announcements." Ned laughed.
"True." Peter nodded.
Mr. Harrington walked into the room and took attendance at his desk before standing up in front of them. "Alright, all of us first hour teachers get to make a pretty awesome announcement today, so, listen up." The teacher pulled a stack of papers out of his laptop bag. "Stark Industries has, for the first time ever, made an open call for internships from gifted teens."
Excited whispers filled the room as Peter and Ned shared a wide-eyed look. Not a bad announcement at all.
"It's cool, I know. Very cool." Mr. Harrington said. "Here's the dealio. Only five schools in New York are allowed to send their students, and we’re one of them. If you'd like to try to get the internship, you'll need to fill out one of these applications, right here. There will be a selection process and Stark Industries will take thirty students for four weeks to intern, at the end of that period, one lucky student will become a full-fledged SI intern. The odds are low, but may they ever be in your favor, or whatever it is you kids say." He shrugged. "If you want to read up on it and apply, grab a packet on your way out. Now, onto class."
"Bro, you could totally get it." Ned elbowed Peter.
"What about you?" Peter retorted, elbowing him back. Ned was a genius too, in a different way but still genius.
"I don't think they'd let me stay if I hacked them...which I would, because I'd be tempted to and you know I don't deal well with temptation. I’d have to know. I mean how do you go into SI and not know, you know?" Ned raised an eyebrow. "I'd get kicked out at best, arrested at worst."
Peter laughed. It was true. Ned would take it as a personal challenge to see just how far he could get into the SI systems before someone caught him...annnnd he would get in trouble for it. "I wonder how you qualify for this thing."
"You have to have your parent's signature." Flash commented. "So, I guess you won't be getting in, Penis."
Peter held in a sigh. "You know, the orphan jokes only get funnier after each parental figure I lose." Peter snarked. "Comedy equals tragedy plus time, after all. So if you keep working on it you might get as funny as you look." Peter used sarcasm to fight back, because if he wasn't trying to be witty or sarcastic, he'd cry.
"Whatever, Penis-OUCH!" Flash grabbed his arm where he'd been slammed by MJ's book.
"Oops. It slipped while I was accidently throwing it at you...it waaaaas supposed to hit your face." MJ sighed and picked up her book. She looked at Peter and smiled faintly. "Don't listen to him, loser." She never could just end the sentence nicely. But Peter liked that about her. It was refreshing somehow for her to be kind but not treat him like glass. "You should take a packet, Parker, I know you're into that whole SI thing."
"And you're not?" Peter asked.
"They create weapons and warmongers." MJ said with a straight face.
"Not Mr. Stark." Peter defended. Mr. Stark was adamantly against it. His anti-weaponry stance had ended up getting him kicked out of leadership of his own company. Total BS in Peter’s opinion. There was so much good coming out of R&D though, now that Mr. Stark had been relegated to running that section of the company. Sure SI in general was about weaponry. But holy crap the innovations and inventions coming from Tony Stark’s mind was definitely worth trying to get into the internship program for.
"He did though, and what good's he doing anyway?"
"There have been seven new departments developed since his kidnapping, and lots of them are helping with quality of life for everyone," Ned commented. "Some of them even help wounded soldiers by giving them prosthetics. He may not be...in control of SI, but it's progress, right?"
MJ's expression remained unimpressed. "I'll believe it when I see it. They still profit most from feeding war across the world. Just look at their list of military contracts, it’s disgusting."
Peter zoned out while Ned and MJ bickered. Would it be a paid internship? If he couldn't stay in school, at least he'd be able to learn...and maybe make some money if he managed to get it. He'd have to come up with a cover story so they wouldn't find out about him, at least not quickly... Even if it wasn't paid he'd just be excited to work with those brilliant minds, plus, it would give him another warm building to go to in the coming cold months.
At the end of the class, Peter grabbed one of the packets. He could try. Sure, the odds of him getting past the first selection process, assuming half the kids in the schools decided they wanted to attempt it, was less than a third of a percent, but...hey...he'd give it his best shot. If he didn't try he wouldn't get it and if he did, he probably wouldn't get it either, but at least he'd know the truth. He’d know for certain that he wasn’t good enough, so long as he went and failed.
-
Tony looked up at Pepper and folded his arms over his chest. Pepper, held his gaze without any sign of backing down. As per usual. Pepper didn’t ever give an inch with him. It was, in fact, one of her worst and best traits.
Tony frowned. "You did what now?"
"I thought you could expand your horizons, take on the future leaders, maybe teach them a thing or two." Pepper gave him an almost condescending smile.
"You want a teenager running around in my labs? A teenager?" Tony huffed. There was no way this could end well. Especially considering the kinds of things in his lab.
"I thought you could use an intern." Pepper said in her “don’t even dare fight me” tone.
So, naturally, Tony argued. "SI has plenty of interns, Pep."
Pepper face became stern and she straightened up. "I meant you, Tony."
"That's what I have you here for. Or Steve. You all can hold things up while my hands are full. You do great at passing tools too."
"No." Pepper shook her head. "I'm here to do all the business work that you, not so politely, refuse to do, while you play with your toys in the lab. I think you need an intern in the lab. At the very least, someone who can get you coffee and be babysit you so I can get my work done."
Tony spun in his seat and pointed to DUM-E and U. "I have robots to get me coffee and JARVIS…supervises." He did not need a babysitter.
"Dum-E gave you motor oil just yesterday!"
Tony couldn't fight that one, she was telling the truth. "It's how he shows affection. It’s not his fault, it’s really rather sweet, and JARVIS warned me! Look, I don't want a little kid running around in here. What if they haven't got all their shots or they get a cold and wipe us all out? My lungs are already diminished, Pep, I can’t take it.” He complained. “Plus how many kids could keep up with me in the lab?"
"That's why I sent out calls only to the most prestigious schools in New York. Literally the schools where most students are brilliant.”
“Depends on how you define brilliant.”
“It’s definitely not your face next to the definition.” Pepper rolled her eyes, then continued. “All the applicants with under a 4.5 GPA are being screened before they even get here. Tony, Tony." She repeated his name when he opened his mouth. "You were a kid yourself when you first started working in a lab." She nodded seriously to Dum-E and U. "They’re may be other kids who are like you. Not only could it be good for you to interact with someone else, someone human, but it'll also be good PR, especially with all the Iron Man attacks recently." She narrowed her eyes on him.
Tony grimaced. Pepper was one of four, flesh-y, people who knew he was Iron Man, the others were Steve Rogers, Rhodey, and Dr. Cho—who only knew because she’d put together one too many injuries with the news coverage. There was one other flesh-y person who knew, but he was a pint-sized potato kid, so he didn’t really count as a full people, right? Tony was pretty sure Happy had suspicions as well. He slowly stood up and sighed. "I don't like the blackmail, Miss Potts."
"Well, we need something positive to distract from the negative. The news still hasn't gotten over you being deposed after Afghanistan."
"You make it sound like I'm a king, I like it, continue." Tony waved her forward.
"Oh, God. Anyway, the whole tension and divide with you and Mr. Stane has things shaky, especially after that last public outing together, stocks took a dip. People are noticing and it’s not good."
"Yeah, funny how it works, he's getting bad flack for his weapons issues while I'm creating products that are revolutionizing everyday life. It's funny how I'm being punished, I for one think I'm doing the right thing."
Tony was still unsure if it was the right thing. He’d managed to escape Afghanistan and he’d come home with a purpose. He built a new, better Iron Man suit, and he was going to tear down everything Stane built. He needed to do it in a way that didn’t smear his own name worse than it already was post-Afghanistan. Once he’d taken out Stane, he wanted to take control over the company again, after all, to finally fix the nightmare it had become.
That meant no one could know Tony Stark was Iron Man. He was sure Stane knew, but he did his best to tell no one else. Iron Man had become a supervillain very quickly. Stane made sure the press heard all about the villainous acts. Which…well, Tony wasn’t arguing that he was being nice about taking out Stark weapons…so the news had a point. But things were fine. He was gathering intel, fighting back against Stane and everyone they were selling to.
Then a captain had thawed, Tony’d been asked to help him acclimatize, something to do with Steve knowing Tony’s dad and probably being more comfortable around someone familiar…. Which had worked out…surprisingly.
And then an army of aliens came to Earth. Nick Fury had asked for Tony’s help to offer tech support to the Avengers, not realizing he’d also roped in Iron Man. People had naturally had questions when Iron Man flew a nuke into space.
Steve had been there when Iron Man landed in a heap in New York. Others had ignored the sacrifice play. Steve hadn’t. He got Iron Man out of the battlefield. Never attempted to unmask him. Nothing.
-Flashback-
“Fucking fuck am I alive?” Tony asked inside the suit.
“Indeed, sir.” JARVIS answered. “Do not panic, but Captain Rogers is here.”
“What?” Tony demanded. He would have launched up, out of his laying position, if he didn’t feel like he’d fallen from space…oh wait, he had. He needed to do another Iron Man update.
“I don’t know who you are. I’ve heard a lot of awful shit about you, Shellhead. You’ve done a lot of damage, damage that effects someone I care about. But you also just carried a nuke out of the way for him and all the people in New York…so… It’s not a great place, but I figured no one would see you down here. I owed you one.”
“Did you just call me Shellhead? Rich coming from a Winghead.” Tony grumbled and looked over his readings. His suit wasn’t coming off. Not the normal way. “Fuuuck. Okay. Listen, I have a very good explanation for all this. Cap, could you hit the release button on the side, by where my ear would be. I really can’t lift my arms right now. It’s…it’s unlocked.”
Slowly, Steve did just that and then his eyes went huge. “Tony?”
“I promise…I can explain, Steve.” Tony may have coughed up a little blood. “Can you get me to your penthouse? Preferably without being seen?”
“Yeah… I can do that. Better be a damn good explanation.”
-Present-
Tony had done his best to explain it all. His abduction. His torture. What Stane was doing with the weapons. Tony had to fight back, but he also needed Stane to not particularly be afraid of total loss. One guy in a tin can? Not too bad.
Steve warned Tony when the Avengers decided Iron Man was an Avengers-level threat. And they’d used it. Iron Man never hurt the Avengers, at least not too bad, good for PR recovery…someday. Stane go to feel more secure and untouchable, because, well, if the Avengers were siding with Stane and the company’s plight, well, then what could Iron Man really do? Threaten Stane too much, and he might go hide somewhere. Let him feel more confident…well, he’d probably be more prone to making mistakes then.
Tony didn’t want people to know he was Iron Man. And he and Steve kept it quiet. So, the fights looked very real, but Tony always knew what was coming ahead of time. Not only because Steve warned him, but also because he was the one arming the Avengers to begin with.
It worked and Stane had made more slip-ups since…but it wasn’t enough to hang the man with.
It exhausted Tony and he was never really sure if he was doing the right thing.
Pepper sighed and walked forward, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You aren't being punished and you are doing the right thing, but I'm trying to help you keep appearances here, okay? As far as the board is concerned, you're incompetent, but I'm trying to make the world see where the real SI is, okay? The best thing for SI is for it to go in your new direction and I need the court of public opinion to see that too. Work with me, that's why I'm here."
Tony sighed and leaned forward, resting his head on her shoulder. "I'll play along, but I do have a weak heart now, you know. If this teenaged bag of hormones and illness gives me a heart attack, I'm writing you out of the will."
Pepper chuckled and pushed him off her shoulder.
"Ah." Tony hissed in pain and grabbed his shoulder.
"What is that?" She demanded, and didn't ask for permission as she pulled the neck of his t-shirt to the side to look at his shoulder, which was bruised to hell. All sorts of purple and black and red.
"Just a little...present from an exploding arrow. It's just a bruise." Tony shrugged.
"What's just a bruise?" Steve asked as he stepped into the lab.
Pepper turned on Steve. "Look at it, have you seen his shoulder? It's purple!"
"He saw it this morning, in the shower." Tony teased, trying to lighten the mood.
Steve blushed, but recovered quickly. "Yeah, Clint managed to hit him, but it's just a bruise."
"I can't believe you create weapons that the A-team can use against you... On second thought, I can. You've always been self-destructive." Pepper glared at Tony.
"At least it's not drugs and alcohol anymore." Tony shrugged. He was proud of that. Proud of living clean. It was a struggle some days, but he was fucking doing it. Sober and focused and really working on trying to be a positive impact on the world.
“That’s true.” Pepper nodded. She’d seen the worst of him and still stuck around. He appreciated her for that. “Well, think about what I said. And don’t get hit again. Jesus. I got to get back to work.” Pepper turned and left the lab. He really needed to pay her more.
“Babe, why didn’t you save me sooner?” Tony grumbled.
“Sorry, if I’d known you were getting a lecture I would have come faster.”
“What time is it, anyways?”
Steve sighed and wrapped his arms around Tony. "It's a little after lunch time; you need a break."
"Already?" Tony asked, melting into Steve's arms. He knew he was a juxtaposition. He didn't like people touching him, but he was touch starved. He could only ever lean into it when he trusted someone. Steve counted in that group now. It had taken some time, but when he’d been introducing the old man to the shiny new future (present). Things had just sort of…happened.
"Yeah, you promised we'd try something new, maybe fish tacos?" Steve wondered gently.
"Okay." Tony nodded. "Consider me convinced, big guy." Tony reached up and turned his head so he could easily pull Steve into a kiss. "Five more minutes?"
"Time starts now." Steve nodded.
Tony pulled away and got to work so he could finish his projects in a good spot before lunch. The thing about Steve was that if he came to the lab to take Tony out or to make sure he took care of himself, Steve wouldn't let Tony avoid it. Pepper and Rhodey would eventually give up if Tony decided to dig his heels in and go days without eating or sleeping.
Steve understood Tony had important work, but always reminded Tony that the important work didn't get done if Tony passed out or got hospitalized because he didn't take care of himself. Everything would stop working, if Tony wasn’t there to do it anymore. So Steve gave Tony his time, then, if he had to, he'd carry Tony over his shoulder to get him out of the lab.
Tony liked it and hated it at the same time. He felt cared for that Steve insisted that he be looked after...but sometimes Tony was in the zone and he just wanted “five more minutes, mom”... (Or a couple hours, depending on the day.) He got his projects to a good stopping point and turned around. By his watch, it had taken him fifteen minutes, but Steve was still there. "Sorry."
"It's alright." Steve smiled. "I saw how much you were working on, it's fine. Time for a late lunch."
Tony returned a smile. "Sounds great, sugar lips."
Steve wrinkled his nose. "No."
"I'll find one you like, sweetie." Tony was stumped. He’d never been able to find an endearment that Steve liked. Or even a nickname. Tony loved nicknames. They were fun. But he hadn’t gotten it right yet with Steve.
"Not that one." Steve laughed.
"I'll find one." Tony was nothing if not thorough and persistent. He’d get things right, eventually.
"Whatever you say, darlin'."