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English
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Part 1 of a chuisle mo chroí - the pulse of my heart
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Irondad Creators Awards 2021 - Nominations, Irondad Creators Awards 2021 - Runners-Up, Irondad Creators Awards 2022, Best, One word. Aweeee, Peter Parker’s Rare Bio Family Tree, Adopted/Homeless/Orphaned Peter Parker, BAMF Peter Parker, Peter Parker Identity Reveals, Everything so far, Lyndsey’s marvel faves, Thomas' Fics to reread when complete, Peter Parker Stories, You haven’t lived if you haven’t read this, My Entire History, Peter Parker's Alternate Living Arrangements
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Published:
2019-09-25
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2022-02-04
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102,383
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33/33
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why can't the past just die

Summary:

Every Monday, Peter Parker calls his social worker and asks the same question.

"Did you find a foster home that is willing to take in six kids?"

After a year of receiving the same answer, Peter has resigned himself to a life of avoiding his strict foster father, looking out for his brothers, and counting down the days between visitation with his other brother and sisters, all while trying to navigate new powers he doesn't fully understand. Peter has almost given up hope of getting all his siblings under the same roof, until he spots an article on his Twitter feed: "STARKS LOOKING TO EXPAND THEIR FAMILY THROUGH FOSTER CARE."

Will a long-buried family secret and a sob story be enough to reunite the Parker siblings?

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes and other works inspired by this one.)

Chapter Text

“This is your second sandwich today, Parker,” Mr. Delmar says. 

Peter swallows the last bites of his turkey club sandwich. He showed up to work with a grumbling stomach and insatiable appetite. Delmar usually lets him make a couple sandwiches without charge, saying that he is a “growing chico.”  Peter knows it probably has to do with the bags under his eyes and his whipcord-thin frame.  

Peter’s face reddens. “Sorry, sir,” he says. “I-I overslept this morning and didn’t really have time to eat.” The lie rolls off his tongue easily. Too easily. 

Delmar reaches to the counter and hands him another turkey club. “Don’t apologize, Parker. I want you to eat a third one. You’re too skinny.” 

“I’m not skinny,” Peter argues, even as he takes the third sandwich.  

“You’re emaciated,” Beto, Delmar’s son, corrects. “Ain’t healthy, ese.”  

I’m growing too fast. My body can’t keep up,” Peter says. He looks at Mr. Delmar. “Thanks, señor.”  

Eat it later, you lazy bum. You’ve got work to do.” Delmar points to the sink full of dirty dishes. Peter rolls up his sleeves and attacks the mountain of dishes with vigor. He sneaks bites of his sandwich when Delmar isn’t looking.  

“This is what happens when I’m off for a day,” he mutters, loud enough for Delmar and his son to hear. 

“Why do the dishes when we have you around?” Beto said airily. He is wiping down the counter. 

They fall into a comfortable silence after that. It is around two o’ clock in the afternoon. The lunch rush just ended, and they can breathe for a few hours until the dinner rush. Even so, the sandwich shop still has a trickle of customers come in between the busy times. And there are always dishes to wash, counters to scrub, and floors to sweep. Delmar likes to say that the floor is clean enough to eat off.  

Peter is finishing the last of the dishes when he hears the door open. With his back to the register, he doesn’t take any note of the customer. Until that customer says, “One Reuben with extra sauerkraut, please. Toast the bread a little extra, too.” 

Peter would recognize that voice anywhere. He’s heard it on the news, in person once before. He whips around, eyes wide as saucers. 

Tony Stark stands at the counter of a dingy sandwich shop in the bad part of Queens, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Even with red-tinged sunglasses on, Peter would recognize the iconic facial hair anywhere. He seems amused by Beto’s dazed reaction. The poor kid can hardly the numbers into the register. 

Delmar whacks his dazed son lightly on the shoulder. “Muévanse, mijo ,” he snaps before going to make Stark’s order. 

Peter just stares as Tony Stark pays for his meal. He uses a debit card, one of those nice metal ones that rich people always carry. Stark moves over to the pick-up counter, shifting side to side. Peter stares some more. He really should stop, it’s getting creepy. 

“You want an autograph, kid?” Stark says.  

Peter thinks Stark is talking to Beto at first, until he realizes that Iron Man is staring at him.  

“No sir,” Peter says, growing as red as a beet. He turns back to his dirty dishes, feeling mortified. God, that was probably so rude. He’s about to apologize to Iron Man, but Delmar speaks first. 

“The kid’s a big fan of yours. Bit of a science whiz himself.” Delmar turns to Peter. “How long was that report of yours on the arc reactor? Thirty pages?” 

“Thirty-five, señor,” Peter says, turning to face his boss and his idol. His face is redder than the surface of Mars now. 

Stark looks slightly interested. Maybe. Peter isn’t good at reading people. “What was it on?” 

“My AP Chem teacher wanted us to find theoretical applications for technology that already existed. I argued that smaller versions of the arc reactor could be used to power a variety of household items, which would help us become less dependent on fossil fuels. It took a lot of explaining, so that’s why the report was so long,” Peter says in a rush. 

“You’re interested in clean energy?” Stark says. 

Peter shrugs. “I’m just interested in science,” he says. He doesn’t want to admit that he chose the arc reactor because he has a slight obsession with Tony Stark. 

“More like obsessed. Every shirt the little nerd owns has a science pun on it,” Beto scoffs.  

“You must be very proud of your son,” Stark says to Delmar. 

“He’s not my son. Just works for me.” Delmar ruffles Peter’s hair, and he tries not to flinch away from the touch. “We are fond of the little chico, though.” 

“You called me a lazy bum twenty minutes ago,” Peter mutters. 

“Because you are. Get back to work.” Delmar cuffs Peter on the ear playfully and hands Stark the finished sandwich. “Here you are, Señor   Stark.”  

“Thank you.” Instead of leaving, Stark goes to sit at one of the tables in the corner. He pulls out a StarkPad and begins to write on it with a stylus. Peter watches out of the corner of his eye, absolutely enchanted. Stark seems to be sketching some sort of design. Maybe a modification for the Iron Man suit?  

Delmar catches him staring and orders his young employee to peel potatoes in the back. “Quit making a fool of yourself, Parker,” he tells him in Spanish. Peter can here the affection in his voice, though.  

Stark stays until five. Peter gets off work at five. Stark leaves at the same time Peter is heading for the door. The billionaire even holds the door for Peter.  

“Thanks,” Peter says. Before the billionaire melts away into the streets of New York City, he blurts, “Did you ever know a Mary Fitzpatrick?” 

“No,” Stark says, confused. He waits for Peter to explain. 

“My mom was a SHIELD agent,” Peter finally says. “Said she saw you when she was stationed on the Helecarrier. I was just wondering.” 

“She still with SHIELD?” 

“No. She died in 2009.” 

“Was she killed when Loki escaped?” Stark’s voice is soft. Almost gentle. 

“Few months after. Car crash.” Peter’s voice doesn’t waver. He’s practiced. For the first few years, he couldn’t even mention his mom without crying. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, and I’m sorry I don’t remember her. Take care of yourself, kid,” Stark says. 

“You too, Mr. Stark.” With that, Peter turns away from his idol and heads home. 


 

When Peter opens the front door, he hears yelling. He wants to leave, but he forces himself to go to the kitchen and see what the yelling is about. 

“Do you think I really want to go to your fucking school to meet with your English teacher? Get your grades up! I work fifty hours a week, I don’t have time to just piss away like you do--” 

He finds his foster father, Quentin, screaming at Will. Peter’s twin is hunched in a chair at the kitchen table while Quentin looms over him. His blue eyes lock with Peter’s hazel ones. Even though they look similar, they are fraternal twins. All Peter can see is his mother staring back at him for a moment.   

Quentin looks to see what Will is staring at. “You got off work, Peter?” 

“Yeah. My shift ended at five today,” Peter says. 

Quentin turns to Will. “Why can’t you be more like your brother? Perfect grades at a STEM school, holds down a job. You can barely make it in a shitty New York public school,” he says scathingly. “You don’t even try.” 

“Lay off him,” Peter growls, taking a step towards Quentin. 

“You stay out of this, Peter. He needs someone to get on him. He’s been coddled his entire life--” 

“I hardly call being orphaned at age eight coddling,” Peter spits. 

“I won’t tiptoe around it. You two need to stop playing the victim and get your shit together,” Quentin says. 

Will lurches to his feet, reaching for his cane that is propped against the wall. “I’m going to study for math,” he says. 

“Did I say this conversation was over?” Quentin says. 

Any fire in Will’s eyes disappears. “No sir.”  

“No media or socializing with friends until you have at least B’s in all your classes. Your brothers are smart, there’s no reason you can’t get good grades too,” Quentin says.  

Will nods. He just takes it.  

“I’m doing this because I know you can do better, Will. Not because I hate you. Remember that, okay?” 

“Okay.” Will doesn’t even look at Quentin as he moves past him. He goes up the stairs and Peter hears a door slam shut. He hears Will let out a harsh sob and a shuddering breath. Good God. He wants to run upstairs and hug his brother, but Peter knows it will only upset his twin more.

Quentin turns to Peter. “I’m the parent here, Peter, not you. I know you had to fend for yourselves, but now there’s an adult in the equation. Stay out of it.” 

“You were screaming at him,” Peter says. 

“Nothing else that I’ve done has gotten through to him. He was asking for it.” 

You’re the one who asked for it, Pete. Peter shivers at the memory. “He was failing all his classes at the beginning of freshman year. He’s doing a lot better now.” 

“Peter, he’s got D’s in two of his classes. That’s unacceptable. He’s a bright kid.” 

“Will doesn’t react well to pressure--” 

“Just because your previous guardians allowed you to do whatever the hell you wanted before doesn’t mean you can just do that now. You need boundaries, structure, discipline. That’s why the state placed you three in my care.” 

“I wasn’t allowed to do whatever the hell I wanted,” Peter says. “Jesus God, Quentin, you know that.” 

“No sleepover at Ned’s this weekend. You are only allowed to have your phone when you leave the house for the next week,” Quentin says with a sudden viciousness that makes Peter flinch.  

“What?” Peter sputters, outraged. Normally he wouldn’t dare kick up such a fuss, but he’s exhausted from work and pissed at Quentin for being such a dick to Will. 

“Do you want it to be two weeks?”  

Peter digs his phone out of his pocket and sets it on the table.  

“That’s much better.” 

Condescending ass, Peter thinks. He brushes past Quentin and goes upstairs. 

“Start dinner at six,” Quentin calls after him. 

Peter doesn’t bother replying. 


 “What a dick!” Peter says as soon as he walks into the room he shares with Will. His twin is sitting on the bottom bunk, reading Eragon for the billionth time. His cane is in the corner of the small bedroom, shoved out of his sightline. Peter ignores his brother's reddened eyes.

“I am a dumbass,” Will says. 

“No, you’re not,” Peter says. “Jesus, Will, why even say that?” 

Will glares at him. “I remember Dad screaming at me for bad grades in kindergarten. I’ve always been kind of stupid.” 

“Grades don’t really mean anything, anyway.” 

Peter's words sooth his twin. Will's shoulders relax a bit, and some of the bitterness leaves his eyes. “I’m going to trade school or community college. I don’t need a 4.0. My grades have improved a lot, you know. I have two A’s, two B’s, and two D’s. And they’re getting better,” Will says. “I’m trying, Pete, I really am.” 

“I know you are,” Peter assures his brother. 

“How was work?” As usual, Will’s favorite thing is to change the subject. 

Peter’s earlier excitement returns. “You’ll never guess who I saw at work.” 

“Peter, there’s a bunch of famous people that live in New York,” Will whines. 

“The most famous of them all.” 

Will narrows his eyes. “Are you joshing me?” 

Peter waggles his eyebrows. 

“You didn’t see Tony Stark! You didn’t!” 

With a triumphant grin, Peter bobs his head. 

“Tell me everything.” 

Peter tells Will every excruciating detail. Will makes him repeat it, and then repeat it again. 

“But he didn’t remember Mom?” Will’s smile falters at that detail. 

“She was a data analyst, Will. She probably never worked with any of the Avengers directly, even when she was on the Helecarrier.” 

“You think she would’ve said something to him. About, well, you know.” 

“Granddad would’ve killed her.”  

“This isn’t just about Granddad anymore.” 

“What’s the point? Mom’s dead, Granddad’s dead. He won’t care about us. If he wasn’t famous, I wouldn’t care that much about him either.” 

“Jesus, Peter, I know you don’t mean that.” Will’s right, but Peter won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it. Still, his twin persists. “He looks like Mom.” 

“So?” 

“Doesn’t that mean something to you? Dad always said that family is the most important thing.” 

Personally, Peter thought that his family has let him down more than anyone else ever has. He remembers years of angry hands, sharp words, and broken promises. 

Full of anger and bitterness, Peter spits out, “No, Will, it doesn’t mean shit to me.”  

Chapter 2

Summary:

trigger warnings for verbal abuse and past physical abuse

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Harley wakes up, all twisted up in his sweat-soaked bedsheets. They have a ridiculously high thread count, and he’s almost positive they are made of silk. Even after four years, it still surprises him to wake up his luxurious bed. He still expects to wake up next to his mom and Celine every morning. They only were ever able to afford a single bed. Harley never minded, though. He liked knowing that his family was nearby, that little Celine was nestled between him and his mom. He figured that between the two of them, they would be able to keep her safe. 

Harley cuts off that train of thought. He has other important things to focus on, after all. This includes coffee and breakfast and Sunday morning puzzles with Morgan. The faint smell of pancakes and bacon wafts in through Harley’s slightly adjacent door. He inhales heavily, tasting the air like a dog. He wiggles out from under the covers, hating how clammy and moist they feel. 

Harley pulls sweatpants over his boxers, running his fingers against the worn fabric of his Iron Man tee. Tony gave it to him for his twelfth birthday. He shuffles into the hall, following the breakfast smells to the kitchen.  

Pepper is keeping an eye on the bacon and pancakes while Morgan colors in a Disney coloring book at the kitchen table. His guardian and his adoptive sister both turn to look at him. Morgan slides off the chair and runs to Harley, her coloring book clutched in her chubby fists. 

“Harley!” she yells. “I made alien Cinderella.” 

Harley cranes his neck down to see an illustration of Cinderella and the mice marred by random green scribbles. “Woah. I’m pretty scared right now, Mor.” 

“She’s a nice alien, like Thor,” Morgan insists. 

“Thor can be scary if he wants to,” Harley says wryly, thinking of the time the Asgardian accidentally shattered their coffee table during a rock-paper-scissors match with Steve Rogers. Harley hid in his room for two hours after that incident. To be fair, he was eleven at the time. 

“Like when Clint hid his favorite dagger?” 

“Yeah, kid.” Harley grabs her hand. “Let’s see if your mom needs help with breakfast, yeah?” 

“Mommy says I’ll burn myself,” Morgan tells him. 

“I’ve been making scrambled eggs since I was six, Mor, and I’ve never burned myself.” 

“Never?” Morgan says in awe. 

“Never.” Harley catches Pepper’s eye and sees the worry there. “But you gotta wait until you’re six. By then you’re a whole lot older.” 

“When I’m fifteen, I’m gonna be really old!” Morgan turns to Pepper. “Mommy, can I make cookies when I’m fifteen? Harley makes cookies and he’s fifteen.” 

“Of course, darling.” Pepper exchanges an amused glance with Harley. 

“I’ll start the scrambled eggs, Pepper,” Harley says. Morgan trots after him like an excited puppy. She helps Harley crack the eggs and whisk the yokes. Harley explains the process to her step-by-step, throwing in random tidbits of information about the cooking process.  

“I wanna make eggs,” Morgan whines as Harley plates the finished product onto four plates. Pepper adds the pancakes and bacon. “I wanna help with breakfast.” 

“You have a much more important job,” Harley said. “You have to go get your dad from his workshop.” 

Morgan’s grin widens. “I’m the Daddy-getter!” she yells, sprinting down the hall that leads to Tony’s personal workshop. “DADDY!” Harley hears her scream, pounding on the door of the workshop. 

Pepper and Harley carry the plates to the table. Harley hides his grin when he sees Morgan tugging his other guardian by the arm. Tony Stark, Iron Man and billionaire genius, wears clothes that are stained with motor oil and ratty with years of wear. Even rich people enjoy old comfy clothes, Tony told Harley once. 

“Harley,” Tony says in a low tone.  

Harley tries not to freeze up. He knows he shouldn’t, knows that his guardian’s tone shouldn’t make him this nervous. “Yeah?” he says with forced casualness. 

“Were you the one who unleashed this vicious gremlin on me?” Tony scoops Morgan up and flips her upside down. Her little bare feet kick in the air as she squeals in excitement.  

“Yeah, she’s some little urchin I found on the side of the road,” Harley says. “I thought you might find some use for her, so I sent her your way.” 

“I’m not an urkin!” Morgan says. “I’m a Morgan, your daughter.” 

Tony flips her right side up, slowly so as not to make her dizzy. He peers at her, squeezing her baby cheeks and poking her ticklish spots. “What planet do you think this ‘Morgan’ species of alien is from, Harley?” 

“We’ll have to ask Thor. He knows a lot about aliens,” Pepper says. 

“I’m a human. I’m Morgan!” Morgan shrieks with laughter. 

“Hmmm,” Tony says. “Wait, Pep, did we have a daughter, say, about four years ago? I might be remembering it wrong.” 

“I think we did. Was her name... Mona? Maguna?” 

“Morgan!” Morgan says. 

“This little gremlin must be our daughter. She’s pretty cute, I have to say. We did a good job.” Tony plants a kiss on Morgan’s brown curls and sets her down. “Go sit down next to Harley, my little alien. Your eggs are getting cold.” 

“Okay, Daddy,” the little girl chirps.  

Harley lets himself fall into the comfortable and familiar rhythm of Sunday breakfast. Tony asks him about his upcoming tests, Pepper reminds him to do his laundry before he gets slammed with homework this week. Morgan tells Harley that learning the alphabet is a lot harder than “chem-iz-ree.” When Harley agrees with her, Tony chokes on his orange juice.  

Harley loves the stability of it all, these simple moments of peace that feel as natural as breathing. He loves his routines. 

Harley loves routine so much that he can immediately anything out of the ordinary. He has an uncanny sixth sense for it. That makes it easy for him to notice the nervous glances Pepper and Tony keep shooting each other, the way Tony pushes around the last bites of egg around on his plate like a little kid. Pepper’s thigh bounces up and down. 

His guardians are not fidgety people. Nothing fazes Pepper, not even a room full of angry board members or a crowd of screaming paparazzi. Tony was trained from birth to project a calm and collected exterior that is bolstered by the confidence his wealth and supreme intellect gives him. This is not normal. Something is wrong. 

Something is very wrong. 

Harley knows he was right when Tony clears his throat and looks at both Morgan and Harley with a serious expression on his face.  

“Guys, I have a very important question to ask you,” he states. 

Harley tenses. Morgan chews her pancakes thoughtfully 

“What would you think about adding another member to our family?” 

Harley’s fork clatters against his plate at the same time Morgan exclaims, “I would LOVE a puppy, Daddy!” 

Shooting Harley a concerned look, Tony says, “I mean adopting another sister or brother, Morgan.” 

“I want a brother, Daddy! Can we go to the store and buy him?”  

Pepper clears her throat. “You don’t get brothers from the store--”   

Morgan frowns. “So we didn’t buy Harley from the store? Was he from the side of the road?” 

Harley freezes. Before he knows it, he’s up and heading towards his room. He hears his guardians call his name, hears Morgan yelling after him.  

He wedges himself between his ridiculously luxurious four-poster bed and the wall, desperately trying to slow his labored breathing. He loved small spaces when he was little, places he thought no one could ever reach him.  

They always did though, no matter where he hid. 

Someone knocks on his door.  

“Harley? Can I come in?” Tony’s voice is muffled, distant. 

“Yeah,” Harley says. 

Tony walks in, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting. Harley doesn’t unwedge himself. Doesn’t want to. 

Tony sits on the bed. “Think you can come out, bud? It’s okay if you don’t want to.” 

“I’m not a baby,” Harley snaps, his tone sharper than he means it to be.   

“You know, bud, after the Battle of New York, I hated the dark so much that I slept with a lamp on for two years.” 

Harley pops his head up at this. “You’re just saying that,” he accuses.  

“Am not.” Tony smiles. It’s a tired smile, but still genuine. 

Harley sinks back into his safe little canyon between the wall and the bed. “So you and Pepper want another kid?” 

“Only if you’re comfortable with it.” 

“No one said that to me before I met you guys, did you know that?” 

“I figured, bud.” Tony’s silent for a while. “We want to give you the control you never really got to have. This is your decision, and we are okay with whatever you decide.” 

“I don’t care about that. I think it would be fun to have another sibling.” Harley thinks of a little girl with black curls who loved ponies and mermaids and singing silly songs, and shoves that memory back into the box it belongs in.  

“Harley, you’re allowed to say you don’t want to do something.” 

Harley hauls himself out from the canyon. He sits on the bed next to Tony and looks him right in the eye. It took him years to be able to do that. 

“I think it would be fun if you adopted another kid,” he says. 

“I believe you,” Tony says. Harley grins at the joy in his guardian’s eyes. “But, bud, what upset you?” 

“It was nothing.” 

“Harley, don’t shut me out.” 

They have a long staring contest. Finally, Harley admits, “Morgan thinks you got me from a store, like a pet or something. She thinks I’m a fun puppy, Tony.” His cheeks when he says it out loud. God, Tony probably thinks he sounds like a massive whiny baby, like a pussy who can’t suck it up-- 

“I think that more has to do with the fact that she’s four and doesn’t know what sex is.” 

That thought never even occurred to Harley. “What?” 

“She told me that her friend Aditi’s mommy told Aditi they got her little sister from the store.” Tony imitates Morgan perfectly. 

“Jesus Christ,” Harley says. 

He and Tony burst out laughing. 


 Peter stares at his food and tries not to burst into tears. He’s always been weak and stupid, prone to cry on the drop of a hat. 

It’s been a couple days since Quentin grounded him and Will on Friday. Denied phone privileges, Peter was grateful that he was scheduled to work an eight hour shift on Saturday. Unfortunately, he was off on Sunday. He cannot wait for school tomorrow.  At home, Peter distracts himself with AP Calc BC homework and solitaire and Quentin’s endless lists of chores. At two a.m. last night, he heard some woman getting mugged at gunpoint three blocks over. He slipped on his mask and leaped out the window. Will didn’t even stir. The hug and look of absolute relief he received made a rare sense of pride loom in his chest. 

Peter tries to recall that feeling desperately. He fails. 

Quentin stabs a strip of roasted zucchini with his fork. “You burnt it, Peter, really? I’m pretty sure a six-year-old could make this.” 

“Sorry,” Peter mutters. 

“The chicken’s bland and the rice is overdone.” Quentin sighs loudly. “I worked a twelve-hour shift today. The least you could do was at least try to make Sunday dinner nice.” 

Peter exchanges a glance with Will across the table. Their foster dad tries to pretend they’re some sort of family by forcing them to have a nice dinner every Sunday. He says routine encourages delinquents to learn what a real family feels like. 

Peter’s had a real family before, and he knows this isn’t one. 

Leo, Peter’s older brother by two years, says lightly, “We’re Scottish and Irish. We don’t know how to season our food.” Sitting to the left of Peter, he pats his brother on the knee under the table. 

“Clearly,” Quentin says. He moves onto more important topics, grilling the three brothers on upcoming tests and quizzes. Between his foster’s dad nagging and the construction work half a mile down the street, Peter has a migraine by the time they are done eating. 

As usual, Quentin goes out to the dive bar down the street with his work friends after dinner. Leo and Will do the dishes while Peter wipes down the kitchen table. There’s an awkward silence between them. The older boys were always the quiet ones in the family.  

“Can we call Peni?” Peter blurts. 

“I’ll get my phone,” Leo says. He disappears upstairs and returns with his cracked Android that belonged to Uncle Ben.  

Leo dials the number from memory and puts it on speaker. Someone picks up on the second ring. 

Leo ?” a girl’s voice says. 

“Hey, Peni,” Leo says. “How is everything?” 

We just talked this morning. Not much has changed ,” Pen i says in an amused voice. “ Are Peter and Will there ?” 

“Hey, Peni,” the twins say.  

Leo told me this morning you two got grounded. What was it for this time, breathing or being in his general vicinity?” 

“He got on me about my grades. Peter defended me,” Will says. 

“You’re getting there, Will. Just give it some time,” Peni promises. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, was it ?” 

“No.” 

We know you’re working hard, even if Quentin doesn’t notice. Besides, you’ve got more street smarts than the rest of us combined .” 

“Where are Reese and Deke?” Peter asks, because he needs to know. 

Reese has her nose buried in a book and Deke is building some computer in the basement. What else would they be doing ?” 

Shut up, Peni !” Reese yells in the background. 

“I see Reese is as pleasant as ever,” Will says. “What book are you reading, Reese?” 

I’m rereading Eragon ,” their little sister says.  

“I’m rereading that right now!” Will exclaims. Seeing the tension on his twin’s face replaced with excitement makes Peter grin. 

I’m at the part where Eragon’s uncle is trying to sell the egg to the traders.”  

Where I’m at, Eragon and Murtaugh just found the Varden’s secret mountain fort thing.” 

“Quit being nerds,” Leo says. “Not all of us read the same book series over and over again.” 

“You just checked out seven physics books from the library,” Will shoots back. 

God, Leo, you’re such a weirdo,” Reese says in the scathing tone that only preteen girls can summon. “And you say Will and I are nerds.”  

“We’re a pretty nerdy family,” Peni points out. “All you and Will do is read books, Peter’s obsessed with Star Wars and chemistry, Leo salivates over physics, Deke does math worksheets for fun, and I’m teaching myself a fourth coding language.”  

You were just bragging there, you narcissist,” Peter says. 

Guilty.” Peni snickers. “I just can’t get over how brilliant I am.”  

“I have the most insufferable twin in the world,” Leo groans. 

“Have you met Peter?” Will dodges his twin’s half-hearted cuff. 

My teacher said that Mom had a one in three thousand chance of having a second set of fraternal twins,” Reese says randomly.  

“We just defy the odds,” Peter says. “Since we’re so cool and everything.” 

The coolest,” Peni agrees.  

Leo’s about to say something, but through the phone, the three brothers hear someone yell, Aspen, Teresa, get the FUCK over here!”  

Shit, we gotta go,” Peni says into the phone. “Love you guys.”  

“Peni, is everything okay?” Leo growls. 

The line clicks dead. Leo’s scowl deepens. 

“Fuck this shit,” he snarls. “Fuck CPS, fuck Peni and Reese and Deke’s fucking shitty excuses for foster parents. Fuck my ENTIRE FUCKING LIFE.” Leo runs his hands through his sandy brown hair, still spitting curses. 

“Leo, Peni said as soon as he lands a hand on one of them, they’re out of there,” Peter says. 

Leo whirls to face his brother. “They’re still getting verbally abused, emotionally abused! Deke is thirteen, Reese is ten fucking years old. And as much as Peni likes pretending she’s invincible, she’s still sensitive. The state won’t do shit. You know they won’t.” 

“You think I don’t know that? Of course I know,” Peter yells back.  

“Calm down,” Will says. “Calm the fuck down, both of you.” 

Peter sees how his twin is clutching his cane with a white-knuckled grip and freezes. 

You were screaming at him, Peter told Quentin yesterday. Will hates yelling. When they were younger, Will would goad their uncle into hitting him, just to get him to stop his drunken ranting and raving. He preferred getting backhanded across the face to the words that cut like razors and festered in his heart for years. 

“Something’s gotta change,” Peter says. “Something’s gotta give. Life can’t always be this shitty. It can’t.” 

Leo looks at him with sad eyes and Will just clings to his cane like a lifeline. They look like soldiers that have been fighting in the same war for years, exhausted and longing to go home.  

No, Peter realizes. They look like soldiers who know there will be no home to go back to after the war is over. His eyes blur with tears, and he turns away from his brothers.  

He’s always been a kvetching crybaby. Never learned to just suck it up.  

Notes:

I am so overwhelmed with the reaction that the first chapter received, you guys are the freaking best! I decided to share the second chapter a couple days early, I wrote it the day after I posted the first chapter and I couldn't wait ANY longer. Enjoy, and have a great Monday!!!

also, does anyone have recommendations for some good ol' IronDad and SpiderSon fics? I can't get enough of them.

And a list of Peter's siblings, in birth order:

Leo
Peni
Peter
Will
Deke
Reese

I'm planning on alternating between Harley and Peter's POVs. Let me know if you want me to write in the POV of any of the other characters.

Chapter 3

Notes:

trigger warning for discussed death of parent, physical abuse, bullying, and verbal abuse

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Jesus, Peter, that’s your third package of Pop Tarts this morning,” Quentin says as he pours a cup of coffee. 

Peter puts down the Pop Tarts and his coffee mug that says The only elements I need are cobalt, fluorine, and iron. “Sorry, I was just hungry this morning.” 

“There’s a difference between being hungry and binge eating, Peter. Do you want to look like Ned?” 

Peter should shut his mouth, but he sees red. “You don’t have to be a dick all the time, Quentin. It’s not that hard.” 

He’s not surprised when Quentin seizes him by the wrist and snarls, “What did you just say?” 

Peter keeps quiet. Jesus, why is he so stupid?  

Quentin drops Peter’s wrist and smacks him across the mouth. It’s nothing, it barely hurts, he’s used to it, but Peter still feels the familiar sting of betrayal as he jerks away from Quentin. He knows he should not have cussed his foster dad out, but he also knows that Quentin was being a dick. 

He is always  a dick, a little voice in the back of Peter’s head whispers. 

“Don’t ever speak like that to me again. I’m the one person keeping your sorry ass from a group home or juvie. That clear to you?” Quentin leans in close enough for Peter to smell his coffee breath. 

“Yes sir.” It’s the safe thing to say, what he should have said in the first place. “I’m sorry, Quentin,” he adds. 

Peter’s stomach turns when Quentin ruffles his hair lightly. “There you go, that’s what I like to see. I just want to help you, Will, and Leo. When you aren’t difficult, we get along, don’t we, Peter?” 

Peter nods. 

“Now go get Leo, you guys are going to miss your train if he doesn’t get down here soon.” 

Peter dips his head and heads up the creaky stairs. This narrow little house in a shitty part of Queens is probably the best place he has lived in since his parents died, but he still hates it. Hates the green carpeting on the stairs and the ugly linoleum flooring. He hates the small bedroom he shares with Will, and Leo’s even tinier one. He’s almost positive that Leo’s room used to be a storage room, it only has a small window and no closet. Leo keeps his clothes in a plastic tub under the bed. It’s not like he has that many clothes to begin with, anyway. 

“Leo?” he says. “Time to leave for school.” 

His brother is poring over a collection of Richard Feynman’s lectures on physics. On the nights he can’t sleep, Leo wakes up at four and reads science books until he leaves for school. Peter stares at the framed photo of their mom on the milk crate Leo uses as his nightstand, at her dark blue eyes and sandy hair. “Leo,” he says. “Time to go.” 

Leo sets the book down and snags his bookbag off the ground. “Okay. Did Will leave yet?” 

“Twenty minutes ago. Didn’t you hear?” 

“No, I was too focused. Feynman’s brilliant, I wish I could ask him--” 

“You can nerd out later, Leo,” Peter laughs. “We need to get going before we’re late.” 

“Fine, you nag,” Leo says. 

The two brothers thunder down the stairs, mutter a quick goodbye to Quentin, and scurry out the door. Once they are safely settled on the subway and headed towards Midtown Tech, the STEM school they both attend, Peter faithfully listens to Leo prattling on about Feynman and all the great work he did to improve the study of physics. He sees the other New Yorkers on the subway rolling their eyes, but Leo’s too impassioned to notice. Peter gives the most obnoxious onlookers a death glare and they avoid his gaze for the rest of the ride. 

Once off the subway, they shove their way through the thick crowds of New Yorkers heading to school or work. Peter puts his earbuds in and plays some indie rock to help drown out the noise. He feels a lot better when they reach the school grounds. As they cross the small parking lot reserved for the faculty and students who are rich enough to afford a car in the city, Peter feels the skin on the back of his neck crawl. He grabs Leo and jerks him back without warning. Seconds later, a car takes a recklessly fast turn into the parking lot. 

“Watch out, Penis Parker!” the kid driving the Audi convertible hoots. 

“Flash is such a fucking tool,” Leo mutters. 

Peter just shrugs. The brothers walk into school together, dodging the crowds of students heading to class and digging books out of their lockers. After a quick goodbye, Leo heads to the senior hall while Peter heads to the hallway the sophomore lockers are in.  

While he’s shoveling books out of his locker, he feels a prickle of warmth on the back of his neck. “Join me, and together we’ll build the LEGO Death Star,” someone breathes in his ear. 

Peter whips around to stare at his best friend, Ned Leeds. “Wait, really? That’s so cool!” 

“What a loser,” he hears a cheerleader mutter to her other friend. Peter’s cheeks redden. 

He fights back his shame and grins when Ned tells him the number of pieces the set contains. That grin disappears when his friend asks him to come over and build it. 

“Sorry, I’m grounded,” Peter says. 

“Still? Your foster dad didn’t even let you come to the sleepover we planned for Saturday,” Ned says. 

“I know, I-I had a fight with my brother, and Quentin was really mad about it.” Peter feels bad for lying, but it’s better than the truth. “It-it was my fault, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t worry, man, Ellie and I fight all the time. She took my Switch without asking last night and we didn’t talk during dinner,” Ned says. “Which brother?” 

“Will,” Peter says. 

“I figured Deke. Leo said he is ‘a frightening wee walloper,’ whatever that means.” 

“It’s Scottish for idiot,” Peter explains.  

“Your brother has the coolest accent. I wish I was from Scotland.” 

“Hey, I’m from Scotland, too, kind of,” Peter says. “Leo and Peni still have the accent because we moved back to the US when they were eight, and they’d spend the summers with their dad until our mom and their stepmom had a pretty bad fight.” 

Leo and Peni’s dad is a Scotsman named Alastair. The twins are the result of a drunken hookup their mother Mary had with a recently divorced Alastair when SHIELD stationed her in Edinburgh. When the twins were one, she married an American pilot named Richard Parker, the father of Peter, Will, Deke, and Reese. Alastair tried to remain present in Peni and Leo’s lives, but he was verbally abusive and his ex-wife insisted he cut them off when they got back together again. Peni and Leo were shunned from the family and not allowed to talk to their paternal half-siblings. Richard Parker became their father in all but name. 

Peter feels guilty telling Ned about it. Even mentioning his half-siblings' dad in front of Peni makes her cry, while Leo simply changes the subject or insists he doesn’t give a shit about the man. 

“Damn, that sucks.” Ned pauses. “And you have EU citizenship because your grandpa was from Ireland and you were born in Scotland, right?” 

Peter nods. He hopes to go to college in Scotland or Ireland, since tuition is a lot cheaper in Europe and he is technically a citizen of both the EU and UK  shoutout to Brexit . “Yeah, not that it really helps me a lot,” he jokes. “I’m still stuck in the US until I turn eighteen and age out of foster care.” 

Ned keeps his tone purposefully light, which makes Peter’s heart swell. “Well, you have three years left in this country and then you can hightail it to the land of free healthcare and affordable higher education.” 

Peter barks out a laugh. “Can’t wait.” 

“You have to let me visit you all the time.” 

“Of course, buddy. We can go on a super cool trip around Europe. You would love Dublin and Edinburgh. London’s pretty cool, I guess, but Edinburgh’s my favorite city after New York.” 

“Do you think they’ll think my accent is cool?” 

“So cool,” Peter promises. He looks at his watch at the five-minute warning bell rings. “Shoot, we better get to AP US before Mr. Duncan marks us absent.” 

Ned spends most of the day chattering about various European cities he wants to visit. During lunch, they sit at their usual table in the corner, where they try to avoid Flash Thompson and google cheap VRBOs in Italy. Ned has decided that he will meet his future wife there and that her name will be Giuliana. Peter goes to throw the remains of his free lunch—perks of being a foster kid, he supposes—out in the trash can. His neck tingles. He turns around and sees Flash lurking behind him. Peter moves past him, too tired and stressed to deal with his bully. 

“Didn’t you wear that shirt last week, Penis?” Flash says. “You might need to take another trip to Goodwill soon.” 

Peter stiffens, suddenly self-conscious of his red T-shirt that says I Made a Chemistry Joke...There Was No Reaction. Peni gave it to him on his fifteenth birthday. Peter wears it on days that are worse than usual, such as Monday mornings when Quentin hits him. Last week was his parents’ anniversary, so he wore the shirt to make him feel a bit better. Peter wore a blue flannel over it today to make it looks a little different.  

Peter is also aware of the fact that he does not have that many clothes. His science pun T -shirts and flannels are either carefully saved for and then bought at sale price or purchased at Goodwill. There are a few rare gifts, such as the T-shirt from Peni. His siblings are the only ones who bother to buy him gifts besides Ned. While Peter does not wear rags to school every day, he does not have a walk-in closet full of clothes either. His whole wardrobe fits in the top two drawers of the hideously orange dresser Quentin bought at a yard sale when he and his brothers were placed in his home. 

Peter cried when he saw that dresser his very first night there. He thought it was a bad omen. He hates the color orange. 

Peter’s pretty sure his instincts were correct. 

“Thrifting is pretty trendy these days, Eugene. And here I thought you were the coolest guy in this whole school,” Peter says. 

Flash’s expression darkens when Peter uses his real name. “Don’t call me that, you shrimpy loser.” 

“You’re the one who calls me Penis like some stereotypical bully in a low-budget film, Eu-gene.” Peter makes sure to enunciate the name.  

“You’re asking to get pounded, Parker,” Flash says. 

“Go ahead, do it. You’ll get an in-school suspension at best if you pick a fight in the middle of the lunchroom.” Peter brushes past Flash. He knows he’s going to regret this later, but right now he doesn’t care. 

No one insults a gift that one of his siblings gave him. No one


 Since Ned is not in his AP Literature class, Peter does not have anyone to talk to after lunch is over. He is shocked when Michelle Jones, the loner on his Academic Decathalon team, sits down next to him. Her brown eyes are curious, her expression carefully guarded.  

“I heard Flash Thompson say he’s going to jump you after Academic Decathalon practice,” Michelle says. Some people call her MJ, Peter remembers. He wonders which one she prefers. 

Peter takes this news with the resigned attitude he’s carried around with him since age eight. It used to disturb his aunt to no end. “I figured,” he says. 

“Hit him back. I know you have biceps, even though you’re skinnier than a stray dog.” 

“I’m growing,” Peter says vehemently, only focusing on the latter part of MJ’s statement. “I’m not anorexic.” 

MJ says, “I never said that. A serious mental illness should not be used as a casual adjective.” 

“I agree,” Peter says quietly. He remembers the first part of MJ’s earlier statement. “And I don’t have biceps. Trust me.” 

MJ shrugs. “I just think you shouldn’t let a tool like Flash push you around.” 

“You make it seem like I want him to pick on me.” Peter flushes. Who is this girl, to comment on a situation she knows nothing about? 

“I just think you need to decide to stop being a victim.” With that, MJ stands up and goes back to her usual corner in the back of the classroom. 

Peter sits in his desk, rooted in shock.  

His whole life, things have happened to him without having much say in it. His parents decided to have a large family, constantly leaving them short on money and time to devote to their brood. After the car crash, Peter and his siblings found themselves without parents and in the care of an aunt and uncle who loved them in a flawed sort of way on the best days and resented them on the worst. In foster care, Peter was placed in the care of people he never met and later separated from his siblings.  

It’s bad luck, he always tells his siblings. Our family just has bad luck.   

When Flash decided to make Peter his special victim to torment, Peter chalked it up to bad luck. The Parker luck. The story of his life. 

But then he got bit by the spider on the field trip to Oscorp, just over six months ago. Sometimes Peter roams the streets in a red hoodie and blue pajamas he stole from Quentin. He stops muggings, helps drunk girls find their way home, fights off gangbangers with guns. Good, honest work. He’s helping people, he knows he is. 

He gave the brave version of him, the good person who helps people instead of screwing everything up, a name. 

Spider-Man. After the creature that gave him a gift. At least, he thinks it is a gift. 

Getting bit by the spider wasn’t bad luck, was it?  

Will cried when he found out what happened to Peter. Peter figured that his twin finding out would be inevitable; they share a room, after all. Will says he knows what happens to mutants, to people with special powers. Evil people want to dissect them or weaponize them. The government wants them to be registered at best. Even agencies like SHIELD want to use mutants to further their interests. Peter knows Will thinks what happened to Peter is bad luck. He knows his other siblings would think the same; that’s why he hasn’t told them. 

While his brother may think his powers are a curse, Peter sees them as a blessing. He uses them to help people. 

Yet why hasn’t he used them to help himself


 “Penis,” Flash calls after Academic Decathalon.  

Leo, Peter, and Ned are heading down the hall to part their separate ways. Leo stocks shelves at a grocery store a few nights a week, while Peter needs to hurry to go to his shift at Mr. Delmar’s from four to nine. Ned doesn’t work, but his extremely Catholic mother makes him volunteer at the food pantry with her every Monday. 

“Just ignore him,” Ned mutters, even as Leo whirls around. 

“The fuck do you want, you bloody wanker?” Leo asks. Peter thinks his older brother thickens his accent on purpose. 

“Do you need your big brother to fight your battles, Parker?” Flash says. Flash glances at Leo. “Excuse me, he’s your half-brother, right? Word on the street is your mom was a bit of a slut, Fitzpatrick.” 

Leo’s surname is Fitzpatrick, which was their mom’s maiden name. “Word on the street is that your mom’s uglier than the hoores you fuck in Central Park.” 

“You’re dead, Fitzpatrick,” Flash warns. 

Leo looks at Peter and Ned. “Weird. The bloke’s mom told me the same thing last night when I rejected her. That’s why I know how fucking ugly she really is.” 

“You wanna go for it, huh?” Flash’s eyes are dark and dangerous. 

Leo’s about to snap back when Quentin’s words from earlier sneak into Peter’s thoughts like an unwanted parasite.  I ’m the one person keeping your sorry ass from a group home or juvie.  

Peter and his brother are on thin ice with Midtown already. A fight on school grounds would probably result in expulsion. Peter grabs Leo’s shoulder, shakes his head. 

“Not worth it, Leo,” he whispers. “Just leave it.” 

“You’ll let the bloody bastart--” 

“Yes, I will. Be the better man.” Peter pictures a man with dark hair and hazel eyes telling him this when he hit Will for stealing his cookies when they were five.  

The words visibly affect Leo. “God, you sound just like him,” he mutters. Turning to Flash, he adds, “You’re not worth it, Eugene. Picking out that massive stick up your ass might be a better use of your time than picking fights.” 

Peter, Ned, and Leo walk away with Flash shooting jeers after them. Peter ignores them. He has an important phone call to make. 


 Before he clocks into work, he dials a number he has memorized. The line rings and rings, but eventually, an exhausted-sounding woman picks up.  

“Deidre Lahey speaking. CPS.” 

“Hey, Mrs. Lahey. It’s Peter Parker,” Peter says into the phone. 

“What. Do. You. Want.” 

“I was just wondering, have you found a home that can take in six kids?” 

Mrs. Lahey sighs heavily into the phone. “Peter, I have told you a million times, there is no home that can take in six kids. You guys blew your chance. You’re lucky that the six of you are split up between two homes as it is. Do you know how hard it was to place three teenage boys together? Do you?” 

“Can we at least get more visitation? I only get to see my sisters and Deke every other Thursday--” 

“Their foster parents have busy work schedules. You know that.” 

“They’re my siblings. Please.  

“Do I need to call your foster father? I’m sick of you calling every week and whining. Every Monday, like clockwork. It's pathetic. You’re fifteen, Peter. Life isn’t fair. You need to grow up, some kids have it way worse than you do.” 

“I know,” Peter says. “I-I’m sorry.” 

“I have more urgent cases to get to. Goodbye, Peter.” 

“Goodbye,” Peter whispers into the phone. 


 

Harley hates Eugene “Flash” Thompson with a burning passion. 

The kid is the son of a SI board member who often frequents the dinner parties Pepper throws at the penthouse in Avengers Tower. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson usually drag Flash along with them. Harley suspects that the couple want their son to become friends with him for future business connections. Networking can start sophomore year of high school, apparently.  

While they both have a love for science and the Avengers, that is where their similarities end. Flash can pick from three different luxury cars to drive to school. He constantly flaunts his wealth and talks about the expensive private school he attends. Harley grew up eating fried eggs and white rice for dinner every night, and he refuses Tony and Pepper if they try to buy him designer brand clothes. He prefers a good homecooked meal over food from the fanciest restaurant in the New York. Harley may walk among the rich now, but he’s never felt he belongs.  

Harley wants to claw his eyes out when he sits next to Flash at the dinner table. He would prefer sitting with Morgan and the six-year-old twins of another board member at the kiddie table.  

“You see any of the Avengers lately?” Flash asks. 

“No,” Harley says, even though Clint and Natasha taught him to shoot pool for three hours on Sunday. “They mostly stay in the upstate facility.” 

“I’m just saying, you could totally give my number to Black Widow--” 

“Not happening,” Harley says, grinning just a little bit. “She’d kill me.” 

“What about Scarlet Witch--?” 

“Wanda’s in Edinburgh right now,” Harley says. “With her boyfriend.” 

“Who’s Scarlet Witch’s boyfriend?” Flash, ever the gossip, wants to know. 

“Classified,” Tony yells down the dinner table. 

“Understood, Mr. Stark,” Flash says dutifully, ever the suck-up to Iron Man. He turns back to Harley. “Whoever he is, I’m guessing the Secret Scottish Boyfriend is probably really territorial. There’s this Scottish kid that goes to my school, and he’s got some serious anger issues.” 

“Is he a foreign exchange student?” 

Flash shakes his head. “No, I think he immigrated to the US. He has a younger American half-brother who’s our age, so I don’t really get it.”  

“Oh, that is weird.” Harley tries not to sound disinterested. 

“They’re both such freaks. I think they’re scholarship kids. It figures,” Flash scoffs. 

“There’s probably no father figure, given the mother has children with multiple men,” Mrs. Thompson chimes in. “Really messes the kids up when there’s no man in the house, it always does.” 

Harley remembers a man that drank and threw things and a mother covered in bruises. He remembers things being a lot better when the man was gone.  

He wants to say something, wants to defend this random Scottish kid and his American brother, whoever they are, but Flash continues running his mouth. “And I think they’re foster kids, so they’re probably super messed up from that. Any foster kid is. Remember that one foster kid who shot their foster dad, a few years back--” 

Morgan pipes up from the kiddie table, “Mommy, is the foster kid you and Daddy want to ‘dopt gonna shoot Daddy?” 


 The next morning, The Daily Bugle releases the following article: 

 

STARKS LOOKING TO EXPAND THEIR FAMILY THROUGH FOSTER CARE  

 

Everyone has a favorite power couple—Barack and Michelle, Kanye and Kim, William and Kate. Everyone’s favorite superpower couple is Tony and Pepper Stark. This couple shocked the world when they announced they were expecting a child in early 2012. Not satisfied, the couple decided to expand their family by adopting eleven-year-old Harley while Pepper was still pregnant. When Morgan Stark was born, everyone thought the Stark family was complete.  

According to an inside source, the Starks have recently revealed to close family friends that they are hoping to have a third child. However, they have decided to go the adoption route. They hope to adopt domestically. According to a report released by CPS in 2015, there are almost 450,000 kids in foster care in the United States alone...  

Notes:

I physically could not restrain myself from updating this story once I had the chapter written. I love the comments I've been getting, you guys are the best.

Next chapter should be up by Wednesday. I am updating my Merlin fanfic, The Druid's Lament, on Monday.

Chapter 4

Notes:

trigger warnings for physical and verbal abuse and ableist language

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Peter sees the article on Twitter before he leaves for school. Quentin gave him his phone back last night. Peter received the best grade in the class on his AP Calc BC exam, so Quentin decided to cut his punishment short. However, Will received another poor grade on an English assignment. Leo almost had to step between Will and Quentin last night. Peter has no doubt his twin was going to club Quentin with his cane right before Leo interfered.  

“You lousy crip , you can’t even write a fucking English paper,” Quentin had sneered.  

“What did you just call me?” Will’s breathing became heavily labored. Peter saw the inciting resentment flare in his twin’s eyes, that same determination that goaded Uncle Ben to beat Will bloody countless times. The Parker temper, their mother used to call it.  

There was some ancient hunger that Will possessed, an anger that could only be released through the exchange of blows and pain. Peter feared that it would one day kill his twin.  

In short, last night was not good. 

As he reads the article title, Peter remembers his Granddad Fitzpatrick’s constant obsession with Tony Stark. As a little kid, Peter chalked it up to an ex-SHIELD agent’s interest in a heroic figure, one who swore to protect the world. However, he soon realized the much more personal connection. He saw it in the arch of an eyebrow, dark hazel eyes, that mischievous grin Granddad would sometime flash at Peter at Sunday dinner. When he finally plucked the courage to ask Granddad to confirm his suspicions at age eleven, the old Irish bastard grabbed his shoe and whacked Peter with it. 

The second time he asked a few months later, Peter stayed well out of the old man’s way. Finally, Peter’s endless pleas convinced Granddad to confess to a drunken hookup with another SHIELD agent that resulted in a baby. That baby was adopted by one of the founders of the agency, and Bill Fitzpatrick never saw his child again. 

Grandad swore Peter to secrecy. Peter only ever told Will, Peni, and Leo. They rarely talked about it, except when Will would call Peter out for his unhealthy obsession with Iron Man. They had bigger problems than their grandpa’s secret love child, especially once they entered foster care. 

Peter almost drops his phone when he reads the actual content of the article. They hope to adopt domestically. Domestically means that the Starks will probably go through foster care, the same way they adopted Harley Keener-Stark when he was eleven.  

Peter knows six foster kids who need a new home. His feels his hopes rise just the tiniest bit, until he remembers his social worker’s scathing voice reminding him to be satisfied with his current placement. She basically told him to shut his mouth and suck it up. 

Peter takes his hope and locks it up in the box it belongs in. Some other kid deserves to be adopted by the Starks, someone with actual problems. He clicks off Twitter and goes upstairs to remind Leo that it is time to leave for school. 


 

School passes as usual, with Peter only talking to Ned in class and occasionally waving to Leo in the hallway. Flash shoves Peter into a locker twice and makes at least three jokes at his expense in AP Chem. Peter wants to pummel the bully until he is nothing more than a quivering mess of narcissistic prick on the floor, but he restrains himself.  

In AP Literature, right after lunch, Peter almost keels over in surprise when Michelle Jones sits next to him again. Peter is scanning through Twitter and Instagram, where all the Iron Man fan accounts are spouting outlandish theories about the impending Stark adoption. Many suspect that the couple will adopt a toddler or a younger kid, most likely a boy.  

“What’s up, loser?” MJ glances at Peter’s phone. “That’s totally a publicity stunt, you know. I guarantee that Stark Industries' PR department leaked the information themselves.” 

Peter looks at her, surprised. “You think so?” 

“Despite all his accomplishments as Iron Man, Tony Stark was still a weapons developer whose inventions have killed thousands, especially in the Middle East. And I’m pretty sure their stock portfolio is sketchy--” 

Peter listens to her rant for a minute straight. It’s the longest he’s ever heard her speak. “I think it’s great,” he says quietly. 

MJ studies him. “Why do you say that?” 

“When a high-profile couple such as the Starks pursue adoption, it prompts ordinary people to at least look into it. When they adopted Harley, the domestic adoption rate in the US that year went up nearly fifteen percent, with more than half those kids being over the age of seven and adopted directly from foster care.” 

“The whole point of foster care is reunification with families, though.” 

“Trust me, I know,” Peter says. When MJ quirks an eyebrow, he mutters, “I’ve been in the system. I have a foster dad and everything.” 

MJ looks taken aback. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that.” 

Peter shrugs. “It’s not exactly something I tell a lot of people. And it’s not as bad as they make it seem in the media, especially when you have siblings with you.”  

“You have a brother, right? He always waits for you to come out of Academic Decathalon practice.” 

MJ is very observant, so Peter is not surprised she knows who Leo is. “His name’s Leo, but I also have two other brothers and two sisters.” 

“Woah, that’s a big family.” MJ pauses. “Are they all younger? Is that why they aren’t at Midtown?” 

“No, four of us are in high school right now. My twin brother goes to a public school in Queens, while my older sister does dual enrollment at a community college in the Bronx. The younger two are only in eighth and fifth grade. They go to a public school in the Bronx.” 

“You guys are all over the place. Your poor foster dad.” 

Peter just shrugs, not bothering to correct her. He likes the idea of MJ thinking he gets to live with all five of his siblings. “With four of us in high school, we can get to school by ourselves.” He smiles a bit at the thought of dodging his sisters and Deke in the morning as they scramble to get ready for school. He used to make Reese’s lunch for her every morning. He always left her a cute little note, at least until she demanded he stop when she turned eight. 

If he could, he would still leave little notes in her lunch, no matter how much she complained. 

“My mom can barely handle one kid without getting ulcers,” MJ deadpans. 

Peter blinks. “You give your mom ulcers?” 

MJ shoots him a withering look. “Have you ever heard of sarcasm?” 

“I have, but you seem like the type of person who would give someone ulcers.” Peter clutches his stomach. “I think I feel one coming on.” 

MJ punches him in the arm.  

Peter grins just the tiniest bit. He might have just made his second friend in high school. 


 

That night at “family” dinner, exhausted from a long day of work and school and studying, Peter just wants to sleep. Quentin is a particularly good mood after Will brings back an English assignment he did well on. Peter knows for a fact that Will spent an hour and a half FaceTiming Peni last night, and that she did most of the work. For being such a bookworm, Will really does suck at English.  

Halfway through Quentin going on a tangent about Will needing to keep up the good work in school, Peter tunes out. He nearly falls out of his chair when Quentin says, “Peter, don’t think I don’t notice you daydreaming.” 

“Sorry, sir,” Peter mutters. “I’m a bit tired. Work was crazy today.” 

“It was only a four-hour shift. Surely you don’t find that exhausting?” Quentin laughs. “Just wait until you start a real job, Pete.” 

The nickname makes Peter’s skin crawl. That’s a good boy, Pete, just like that. “ Yeah, I’ll be working crazy hours when I’m a chemist,” Peter agrees. 

“Well, you’ll never be able to pay for college if you’re too lazy to put in the effort it takes,” Quentin points out. He looks at both Leo and Will. “That goes for you two as well.” 

“SHIELD will pay for my schooling if I get accepted into SHIELD Tech,” Leo says. His dream is to work for SHIELD as an engineer. He’s been working on his application since freshman year of high school. 

“Just because your mom and grandpa supposedly worked there doesn’t mean you’ll get in.” 

“He’s smart enough to get in on his own merit,” Will says loyally. “And of course our mom and granddad worked there. The Fitzpatrick name is famous at SHIELD. Our mom worked with the freaking  Avengers at one point, and our granddad was one of Peggy Carter’s right-hand men.” 

“And I suppose your dad drank beers with Captain America and the Hulk?” Quentin snorts. “C’mon guys, if that all were true, don’t you think SHIELD would have kept you guys from ending up in a foster home?” 

None of the boys have anything to say to that.  

Quentin stands up. “I’m meeting my buddies at the bar, the game’s on tonight. I want this kitchen clean when I come home and a few loads of laundry done.” His tone leaves no room for argument, even though the bastard knows his foster sons are exhausted from work and school. 

After he leaves, Will bursts out, “He’s so fucking condescending all the time. What does he know about Mom and Granddad?” 

“Jack shit, that’s what he knows.” With a sigh, Leo stands up. “I’ll do the dishes. Peter, you wipe down the counters and sweep the floor. Will, you able to do the laundry? I know your back was bothering you earlier.” 

“I have a limp , I’m not paralyzed,” Will snaps. 

“I know,” Leo assures him. “Just want to make sure you aren’t straining yourself.” 

“I’m not a bloody baby.” Will stomps upstairs to empty the laundry baskets. 

Leo and Peter look at each other.  

“He’s still upset about Quentin’s comment yesterday,” Peter says. “Don’t take it personally.” 

“I know. Will only lashes out when he’s hurting.” Leo sighs. “I wish I could just make it all go away for him, you know?” 

Peter nods, his heart heavy. “Trust me, I know.”  


 At eleven, Quentin still isn’t back from the bar. Peter waits for Will to fall asleep before he dons the Spider-Man uniform.  

He stops two muggings, beats up a man who was following a woman, and helps a drunk man get back to his apartment. Peter stays out until three, much later than he should. In his defense, one of the muggers grazes him with a knife and he needs to stay out until it heals fully. He does not want to freak Will out when he comes out. His poor brother worries enough about him.  

Over a block away, Peter hears yelling coming from inside the house. Shit. 

He sprints up the fire escape, scaling it in a matter of seconds. He yanks his bedroom window open, paling at the conversation he hears from downstairs. Peter rips off the Spider-Man suit and throws on a pair of shorts and a random T-shirt of Will’s.  

“Where the fuck is your brother?” Quentin snarls. Peter pales. 

“I’ve told you a billion times! I don’t know.” That’s Will. 

“Don’t get smart with me, you little shit.” Peter hears an audible thwack when his foster dad backhands Will across the face.  

Peter tears down the stairs. “Leave him the fuck alone!” 

Quentin whirls around, his eyes gleaming with fury. He has Will cornered in the kitchen. His twin brother quivers in terror, clutching his cane like a lifeline. Leo’s hunched over the kitchen table, his eye blackened and the side of his mouth bleeding. His eyes are swollen and red from crying. 

Peter is going to kill Quentin. 

“Where the fuck were you?” Quentin stalks towards the stairs and reaches to grab Peter. Peter darts past him, which only pisses him off even more. 

“Out.” 

Quentin lunges towards Peter again, this time grabbing him. The kitchen is really small and there’s only so much room for Peter to run. He shakes Peter and cuffs him over the side of the head. “Give me a straight answer, Peter, I swear to God.” 

“I just went for a walk,” Peter says. He struggles a little bit, but he’s afraid to pull away from Quentin and reveal his true strength. 

Quentin hits him again, this time with more force behind it. “Probably on drugs, just like your uncle--” 

“He wasn’t on drugs,” Peter gasps out, only to receive another slap. 

Quentin shoves him away. “Stay here,” he hisses. Peter stays rooted in the spot as his foster father stalks into his bedroom. He hears Quentin rustling through his wardrobe. When Quentin reemerges with a belt, Peter scrambles backwards. Will lunges up the stairs as fast as he can. The ugly green carpet muffles the thumping of his cane. 

Peter can’t blame him. 

“Don’t touch him,” Leo warns. “I swear I’ll call the cops.” 

“Go ahead, pussy. I’ll tell your bitch of a social worker that Peter and you attacked me, so I beat your asses in self-defense. Then the three of you are off to a halfway house or juvie for assault. You two already have a record. There’s no second chances, not for punks like you.” 

Peter can’t breathe. He remembers Uncle Ben coming home from the police station all riled up and ready to fight. He’d pummel them just for breathing, some days. The worse days were when he unbuckled his heavy belt and folded it in half. Aunt May would cry and scream, but nothing made him stop. Nothing. 

No second chances.  

Peter doesn’t want to go to juvie. He’d rather die. 

“Just get it over with,” he hears himself saying.  

When Quentin stalks across the room, snapping the belt in the air, Peter screws his eyes shut. 


 With red welts peppering his body from his shoulders to his thighs—even parts of his chest—, Peter sits down on the bed heavily. He lets himself to cry for a few minutes, his thin body shaking with the force of his sobs. He buries himself into Leo’s chest, letting himself say over and over, “I want Mom, I want Dad, I want Aunt May.” Will shoves a chair under the doorknob in case Quentin tries to come into their room.  

Finally, Peter leaves the comfort of Leo’s warm embrace and pulls out his phone. He shows his brothers the Twitter article and says, “We’re getting out of here. I’m going to write a really long email to Mr. Stark.” 

“You what?” Will says incredulously. 

“I’m going to email Tony Stark.” 

“What if he doesn’t respond?” Leo looks at his little brother as if he sprouted another head. 

His eyes still leaking tears of shame and agony, Peter grins wolfishly and says, “Then I’ll send another. And if he doesn’t respond, I’ll send another one after that. I’ll just keep sending them until we get a reply.” 

Notes:

I have just been posting the chapters as soon as I write them, I have no control. I have the best readers ever and I can't hold back. Reading your comments make me so freaking happy.

Sorry that the Starks, Peni, Deke, and Reese did not appear in this chapter. I wanted to focus this chapter solely on Quentin and his treatment of Leo, Peter, and Will.

Chapter 5

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Harley knows that Pepper is as no-nonsense as they come. His guardian can single-handedly render every member of the Avengers—besides Natasha, of course—speechless with a few words and a disappointed look. She handles Tony’s strange sleeping schedule, Harley’s obsession with routine, and Morgan’s refusal to eat nothing but Juice Pops with skill. Nothing can halt Virginia Pepper Potts Stark in her tracks.  

Nothing.  

When someone at the dinner party leaks her family’s plan to adopt another child, Pepper is furious and shocked. These are the people who are the lifeblood of SI, the people who help her manage billions of dollars in assets and stocks.   

“Who the hell talked?” she shrieks into her phone when the news leaks.  

Tony does his best to sooth her, but nothing can calm the lioness once she is unleashed. Pepper summons each board member who was present and grills them. Finally, she determines that Flash Thompson leaked the news.   

Needless to say, Harley is not surprised. Flash is to be shipped off to do charity work all next summer, and Mr. Thompson promises to inflict a “draconian” set of rules and ground him for a month.   

Paparazzi and reporters hound Pepper and Tony wherever they go. Harley, who does online school, remains largely unaffected. Natasha and Clint personally oversee Morgan’s security detail at her very expensive preschool. Everyone wants to know about the expected new member of the Stark family.  

The rumors swirl, as they always do. Many suspect Pepper suffers from secondary infertility. Others argue that this is just a publicity stunt. A few—Harley's favorite group—wholeheartedly believe that Pepper and Tony just want to make the world a better place by adopting an unwanted child.  

Of course, the reporters also drudge up Harley’s adoption story. Harley starts off avoiding those articles. Eventually, he caves in and reads them. He then spends hours sobbing and wishing that he hadn’t. Even after four years, Harley cannot face the past.  

Sometimes, Harley wishes his body was buried in that tiny graveyard in Woodpine , Tennesse.   

Morgan finds him wedged between the bed and the wall. She brings him Juice Pops, and he tries not to accidentally call her Celine.


  At 2:08 A.M. on a Wednesday, the following letter is sent to the Stark Industries email account:  

Dear Mr. Stark,  

In the history books, the founding members of Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division can be traced back to legends Peggy Carter and Howard Stark. However, countless agents who go unnamed built the agency from the ground up. Agent Carter and the elder Mr. Stark could not have done it alone.  

In the early seventies, Agent Carter saw an Irish teenager hold himself against four grown men in a barfight. He was from a Catholic working-class neighborhood in Belfast, the son of a factory worker who had strong ties to the IRA. Agent Carter offered William Fitzpatrick a chance to escape the conflict that had wrecked his city and would soon claim him. William Fitzpatrick exchanged the Irish tricolour and his Armalite for a SHIELD badge and a pistol. (He remained a strong advocate for a united Ireland for the rest of his days, though.) 

As a SHIELD operative, Fitzpatrick quickly rose through the ranks as he proved himself again and again during missions. He soon became a trusted advisor of both Agent Carter and the elder Mr. Stark. They sent Fitzpatrick on the missions that no one else would be able to complete.  

Amanda Armstrong was an undercover agent who was captured by Soviet operatives in Ukraine. Fitzpatrick was sent to rescue her. After they returned safely to the United States, Fitzpatrick and Armstrong kept in touch. They pursued a brief relationship that ended with them parting as friends.  

A few months later, Armstrong contacted Fitzpatrick and revealed that she was pregnant. At the time, they were not in the position to raise a child. Peggy Carter and Howard Stark caught wind of the situation. Howard Stark and his wife had been having issues conceiving a child, so they offered to adopt Fitzpatrick and Armstrong’s child.  

 They both agreed. When their son was born, Amanda named the little boy Anthony after her father. The next day, the adoption papers were signed. Anthony Fitzpatrick became Anthony Edward Stark.  

Mr. Stark, I never met Amanda Armstrong. I do not know if she still lives. However, my granddad Bill Fitzpatrick helped raise me and I knew him very well. If you wish to know more about him, feel free to contact me at [email protected] . He was a good man and he adored his daughter and grandchildren. I know for a fact that he loved his son with all his heart.  

There is no easy way to say this, so I will say it outright. My granddad died two years ago. His daughter Mary and son-in-law Richard passed away in 2009. She left behind six children: Leopold, Aspen, Wilder, Peter (yours truly), Deacon, and Teresa. After the deaths of our paternal aunt and uncle, we have found ourselves without guardians and in foster care. While I do not know if you wish to care for all six of your six half-nieces and –nephews, I beg you to at least consider adopting the youngest two, Deacon and Teresa.   

Sincerely,  

Peter Parker, the son of your half-sister Mary Parker and the grandson of William Fitzpatrick  


 

Harley hears glass shattering.  

He lurches out of bed and skids into the kitchen. He finds Tony and Pepper standing in the kitchen, staring at each other in shock. Tony clutches a sheath of papers. Harley sees tears glistening in his guardian’s eyes.  

“Did someone die?” Harley asks.  

Tony’s eyes are hollow. “No. Go back to bed, Harley.”  

“Something happened, though. Something bad.” Harley feels a wave of anxiety. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”  

“We’ll discuss it in the morning.” Tony is short and dismissive.  

“But--”  

“God dammit Harley, just do as you’re told!” Tony snaps.  

Harley flinches back, and any anger in Tony’s eyes melts away. “Oh God, kid, I’m so sorry,” his guardian says. “I’m sorry.”  

Pepper looks at her husband. “Tell him, or I will.”  

Tony’s grip on the papers crinkles them. “You have cousins, Harley. Six of ‘em.”  

“What? My mom didn’t have any siblings, and my dad’s family wants nothing to do with me--”  

“Sorry, I meant adoptive.” Tony winces.  

“You and Pepper don’t have siblings...?”  

“I’m adopted, kid, just like you. Appar ently my half-sister decided to have a whole litter of kids. Who the hell has six children?”  

“You’re adopted?” Harley repeats stupidly.  

“Yep. And to put the icing on the cake, my birth father and half-sister are both dead. Now my newfound nephew wants me to adopt him and his five freaking siblings. He asked me over email, Harley, email !”  

“Did a DNA test confirm it?”  

“I haven’t gotten a sample from one of my nieces and nephews, but FRIDAY just ran a DNA test that confirmed I am not the biological child of Howard and Maria Stark.”  

“Jesus Christ,” Harley says. That’s all he can manage to say. In a situation like this, mere words seem inadequate.  


 

Two days later, Peter and Leo walk in the door and find Tony Stark chatting with Quentin in the kitchen.  

Stark looks up and smiles. “Hello, boys. I thought a long-awaited family reunion was in order.”  

Notes:

sorry this chapter was so short, I felt the chapter was getting too long and decided to split it up. Leo and Peter finding Tony in their kitchen seemed like the best place to end Chapter 5. I will be posting the second (and much longer half) in the next few days.

I promise you guys will see more of Reese, Deke, and Peni in the next chapter

Chapter 6

Notes:

trigger warnings for discussed death of loved ones and past physical abuse

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Peter’s first reaction is to look at Quentin. His foster dad’s gaze is carefully blank. His smile is fake. Fuck, Peter never realized that Tony Stark might show up at their freaking house -- 

Leo just stares. “Mr. Stark,” he finally says, “you’re the bloody spitting image of our mum, except for the fact that you’ve got Granddad’s eyes.” 

Something very raw and very real flashes in Stark’s eyes momentarily. From the way his eyebrows furrow, Peter can tell that his uncle is studying Leo just as intensely. There is a feral need to understand, to figure out where he came from.  

“Leopold,” Stark says, “where did you get that black eye?” 

Leo answers smoothly, “A fight at school. Some asshole jumped me in the hallway.” His gaze slides over to Quentin, his lips twitching into the barest hint of a smile. 

“Did he get in trouble for it?” 

“I’m not a snitch, even though he probably would deserve any punishment he got.”  

“Kid’s too stubborn for his own good,” Quentin says fondly. His words make Peter want to throw up. “I had my own share of fights in high school, so I can’t be mad at him.”  

“Didn’t we all.” Stark turns to Quentin. “You mind if I borrow the boys for a minute? Just want to ask them a few questions.” 

After Quentin nods his assent, Peter and Leo lead Stark up the stairs. They go into Peter and Will’s bedroom, since it is slightly bigger. There is an awkward silence between them. Finally, Tony says, “Your foster dad tells me that you guys needed to go through your social worker to request a change in guardianship. The state thought you had no living relatives left, after your aunt and uncle died.” 

“We... Granddad swore us to secrecy about the whole adoption thing, and at that time, we thought foster care might have been a better option,” Peter says. “There was a foster home that had six beds open, and we wanted to stay together.” 

“Your file said that you two were separated from the rest of your siblings to keep them safe. Wilder refused to leave you, so they let him come with you.” Tony takes a crumpled sheet of paper from his coat pocket. “Let’s see here... Peter Benjamin Parker, age fifteen. Convicted for physically assaulting your foster brother and resisting arrest. You purportedly threatened to stab your first foster father.” 

Stark turns to Leopold. “Leopold Alastair Fitzpatrick, age seventeen. Convicted on two counts of physical assault—your foster brother and your foster father--, running away twice, and five counts of petty theft between ages eleven and fifteen.” 

Peter feels the air physically leave his lungs. He sees suspicion in Stark’s gaze, not an instant connection or the fatherly affection he prayed to see. Stark looks at him the same way Quentin looks at him, the same way the principal at Midtown did when he warned Peter that if he stepped one foot out of line, he would be expelled-- 

He feels tears of shame pool in his eyes and threaten to spill over. 

“I--” he starts to say, but Tony holds up a finger. 

“I have a four-year-old and a teenage son who has been through hell. With you boys, I worry--” 

Peter feels the tears spill over and stream down his face. 

Leo, his fierce and sweet brother, says, “Not everything is as it seems, Mr. Stark.You want to know why we ended up in foster care?” 

“Leopold--” 

“Our uncle broke Peter’s fucking arm. He was thirteen. Our baby sister Reese was eight at the time. Peter got between them, before the fucking bastard could do anything to the wee lass.” Leo grabs Peter’s spindly arm, revealing a long scar that runs from his little brother's wrist to elbow. “Snapped it like a twig. Bastard didn’t even blink. He hit us plenty, but he’d never broken a bone before. Peter needed two surgeries to fix the break. 

“Aunt May had stage four cancer, but she still drove Pete to the hospital when Ben refused to. The doctors reported the injury and we were removed from the home. May died two weeks later. The chemo destroyed her body, and with her kids taken away, she had nothing left to fight for. 

“Uncle Ben was released on bail. He got absolutely blitzed at one of his favorite bars and stepped in front of a semi. Never had a chance. You may think less of me for it, but I was happy when that old wanker died.” 

“Jesus Christ--” Stark starts to say. 

“Do not pretend you know anything about us or what we’ve been through. You simply have words on a paper. You do not know us. Peter and I would do anything for our siblings, anything . You think a kid who defended his sister from a drunk six-foot cop would hurt a preschooler?” 

Stark clears his throat. “I was going to say that on paper, I seem like a pretty bad guy. I have a rap sheet twice as long as you two’s combined, and more DUI’s than I care to admit. So if I got a second chance, I think you two deserve it, too.” 

Peter’s jaw drops.  

“My legal team has already begun the paperwork to have Aspen, Wilder, Deacon, and Teresa transferred into my care. I wanted to meet you two before I became your legal guardian. I’ll text my wife and tell her to put in a request with my lawyers now. They’re the best money can buy, so my driver should be picking you three up in the next few days.”  

Stark sends the text and lets the boys read it as proof. Peter feels lighter than he has in years. 

Stark looks at them seriously. “I did not have a family from ages twenty-one to forty. I would not deny my own nephews a chance to have a family again, especially since I know what it feels like.” 

“Thank you,” Peter chokes out. This time, his tears are ones of relief. “Oh my god, Mr. Stark, thank you.” 

“You don’t have to thank me, Peter. Isn't that what family's for?” Stark says in that glib way of his. He leans forward, his gaze serious again. “Now, there are two conditions before you two are officially my responsibility.” 

“We’ll do anything,” Peter says immediately. Leo nods. 

“One, never call me Mr. Stark. Tony, Uncle Tony, call me whatever the hell you want. Secondly, I need you to tell me about my dad and my sister.” 

Peter looks to Leo. His brother was ten when their parents died, while Peter was barely eight. Leo and Peni remember them the best.  

Leo stands up. “I’ll be right back.” 

A minute later, he returns with a small photo album Peter has not seen in years. He has to look away for a moment. 

Leo turns to a well-worn page coated in pictures of a smiling woman with dark brown hair and blue eyes. “My mum’s name was Mary, and she was the kindest person I have ever known,” he begins.   

Notes:

I decided to post another short chapter!! I am taking a break until next Friday.
I just wanted to thank everyone for leaving such lovely comments. My jaw dropped when I saw the number of kudos and views this story is getting.

Hope you enjoyed, and leave your thoughts below.

Chapter 7

Summary:

triggers warnings for physical abuse, poverty, and discussed death of an infant and parents

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Just as all good things in Peter’s life do, Tony Stark’s time at the house in the bad part of Queens must come to an end. Peter awkwardly shakes his uncle’s hand, trying not to shiver in Quentin’s presence. All his senses are dialed to eleven; the prickle in the bad of his neck suggests danger. Peter wants to beg Stark not to go, but he keeps his mouth shut. He cannot screw this up.  

“I’ll call you tomorrow, Mr. Beck, to discuss transport of the boys’ things to my house,” Stark says to Quentin.  

Quentin is all wide smiles and slick words. “Of course, Mr. Stark. Feel free to call me Quentin. I’m so happy the boys have reconnected with you.”  

Stark looks at Leo and Peter, his expression inscrutable. “It’s certainly the beginning of a new era for us all,” he agrees. He looks at Quentin seriously. “I just wanted to let you know, you don’t have to be cut off from the boys permanently. You can visit them whenever you want.”  

Quentin puts a hand on Peter’s shoulders. He tries not to cringe away. “It’s good to know that. I’ve gotten attached to them over the past year.”  

Attached? Sure, Peter could tell how attached Quentin was when his foster father beat him with a belt and gave Leo a black eye.  

“Who wouldn’t? They’re great kids.” Tony smiles at Leo and Peter. It’s tentative, but it’s real. It’s the most affectionate gesture Peter has received from a parental figure since Aunt May died. He tries not to cry right then and there. “See you soon,” Mr. Stark adds.  

“See you soon, Tony,” they say.   

“Don’t go,” is what Peter really wants to say.  

Sure enough, Quentin grabs the front of Peter’s shirt collar as soon as Tony’s car pulls out of the driveway. “What the fuck did you tell him, you little punk?” he hisses. 

Peter tries to pull away. “Nothing, I swear!” When Quentin raises his hand to strike him, his voice rises. “Sir, I swear! I’m not an idiot.”  

“You tell him anything, I’ll tell your social worker about your little night activities,” Quentin says.   

Peter’s breath hitches in his throat. Quentin sneers. “What, that got you scared?”  

“I don’t do anything at night,” Peter mumbles.  

This time, Quentin does hit him. “You think I don’t see how you’re losing weight, or that you put on a bunch of muscle? Wearing baggy clothes won’t hide that. Hell, Pete, even your girly voice deepened. You’re on some sort of drug, not sure if it’s some amphetamine or a steroid, but you’re definitely on something.”  

Leo’s voice shakes, but he says, “Leave him alone, Quentin. You think Tony Stark isn’t gonna notice if we show up with a bunch of bruises?”  

“I’m trying to keep you three from turning into good-for-nothings like your uncle. Jesus, Leo, can’t you tell I’m the only one who gives a shit about the three of you?”  

“Our parents gave a shit,” Peter says. “Our aunt gave a shit. Our grandpa gave a shit.  

Didn’t your grandpa beat the crap out of you with a shoe if you misbehaved, until he finally croaked when you were in eighth grade? Didn’t your aunt never divorce your uncle because she was too scared and too poor to raise her six nieces and nephews by herself? When Quentin see how Peter recoils at his words, he sneers and keeps going. “ You really think your parents gave a shit, Peter, when your dad drank just as much as your uncle did? Besides, who the hell has six kids in seven years? Wasn’t your mom pregnant when she died--”  

In that instant, Peter sees red. His mind goes to a graveyard in Queens, to a plot with three graves. Richard Laurence Parker, Mary Teresa Fitzpatrick Parker, Phillipa Columbine Parker. Phillipa Columbine, after his mom’s beloved SHIELD mentor Phil Coulson. When the car crash happened, Mary Parker was eight months pregnant. Aunt May insisted that Uncle Ben pay for the extra gravestone, as they already knew the gender and the name Mary and Richard had picked out for their unborn child.   

“Fuck you, Quentin,” he snarls. He shoves his foster dad away, giving him a taste of his full strength. Peter’s eyes swim with tears. “If you lay another hand on me, Will, or Leo, I’m calling CPS and reporting you for child abuse. I never took drugs, and you’re just as much as a bastard as my uncle was.”  

“You already cried wolf once, Peter. You think they’ll listen to you again?” Quentin advances forward. Peter stumbles back a step, his hands trembling. What was he thinking when he shoved Quentin? Good God...   

-- Peter remembers strong hands holding him down, a mocking voice purring in his ear, that same voice telling him that no one would believe him--  

Leo steps between Quentin and Peter. “We’ll stay out of your way, alright? You won’t ever see us after we leave, and we’ll be out of your hair.”  

Quentin looks from Peter to Leo. Finally, he holds his hands up. “I’m done with you three. I’ll be glad to have your ungrateful asses out of my house.”  

The two of them flee up the stairs and wait for Will to come home.  


Peter stares at his siblings’ happy faces through the phone screen and tries not to cry tears of happiness for what feels like the millionth time. Deke is jumping up and down. Reese rolls her eyes at Deke’s excitement, but Peter can see the corners of her sullen mouth twitching into a smile. Peni looks so relieved. He wants to reach through the screen and give them the biggest hugs. In a few days, he will be able to.  

However, his younger siblings ask some difficult questions.   

How come you never told us that freaking Tony Stark is our uncle ?” Deke’s tone isn’t accusatory, but Peter can hear the confusion in his little brother’s voice.  

“Granddad told us older kids to keep it a secret. You know how the old geezer was,” Leo says with a laugh. It’s a textbook Leo deflection, and Reese catches on.  

We had a right to know, Leopold ,” Reese says. If it was another ten-year-old speaking, Peter would think she was being sarcastic, but he knows that she is deadly serious. No one messes with Teresa Parker.  

“It never seemed like a good time, Reese. With Aunt May’s cancer, Uncle Ben’s death, all the foster care BS--”  

Leo, as someone whose parents died when she was three years old, I think I can confidently say we have never had a good time in our lives. What were you waiting for ?” Reese’s voice rises.  

Chill out, Reesey , do you want the Bronners on our asses ?” Deke hisses.  

Don’t swear in front of Reese, Deke, Peni chides.  

You l i terally just dropped the F-bomb yesterday, do not be a hypocrite .”  

“Why are we fighting? This is the best thing to happen to us in years, and y’all are being petty as hell,” Will says.  

“Not sure why I missed you guys,” Peter jokes.  

We’re irreplaceable, Petey,” Deke says in a sickly-sweet voice.  

“Doubtful,” Leo says loudly, just so Deke can hear it.  

I’m going to pack my shit, I can’t handle you guys anymore,” Reese says.  

“Really need to get a handle on her swearing, Peni . You’re doing a bad job minding them ,” Leo tells his twin.  

I got stuck with the worse two,” Peni complains. Peter can see Reese scowling on the phone screen. “ Reesey is worth at least three Wills .”  

“There can never be three of me!” Will exclaims. “I am one of a kind, Aspen.”  

You’re literally a fricking twin, you twerp .”  

“Fraternal twin, you ignorant fool!”  

Peter feels all his uncertainty and doubt melt away. Nothing can be worse than their last foster home or Uncle Ben’s. As long as he has all his siblings with him, he will be fine. As long as he never has to call his social worker a nd ask, “ Did you find a foster home that is willing to take in six kids?”, he will be the happiest person in the world.  

Peni , Leo, Will, Deke, and Reese are the air in his lungs, the reason his heart keeps beating. As long as he has them, everything will be okay. As long as he has them, he is home.   

So Peter relaxes for the first time in years and listen to his siblings’ pointless squabbling.  


Three days later, a  man who introduces himself as Happy Hogan picks the three boys up. He says that Tony and Pepper are arranging the final details at the penthouse, so they sent him to pick Leo, Will, and Peter up. For a man named Happy, he seems a little annoyed with Peter’s endless questions and Leo’s gawking stares. Will woke up with an ache in his leg that his painkillers did nothing to ease, so just sits quietly in the back.   

“So do they really live in Avengers Tower?” Peter asks.  

“The penthouse,” Happy says with great pain.  

“How many bedrooms does it have? Like four?”  

“Who the hell would have four bedrooms and six kids? I think eight or nine,” Happy says.  

Peter grew up in a two-bedroom apartment. He shared a room with all his brothers while his sisters slept on a sleeper sofa in the living room. He keeps his opinions to himself. “Dang, that’s pretty big,” he says.  

“I think your sisters each get their own room, your little brother gets his own, Leo gets his own, and then you twins have to share,” Happy says. “Dear God, why do I know that?” he adds mournfully, half to himself.  

“Then do our... cousins have their own rooms, too?” Peter hesitates to use the word to refer to Harley and Morgan. The term still feels foreign to him.  

“Morgan has a bedroom and her own personal playroom, kid. These are the Starks, after all,” Happy tells him.  

“A playroom?” This is the first time Will’s spoken. “Like a whole room just to... play in?”  

“She really likes puzzles, horses, and Disney princesses, so that’s the current theme, ” Happy says. “God, why do I know that, too?”    

“A whole room for just toys?” Will presses.  

“Yeah, little kids tend to have a lot of toys, don’t they?”  

Uncle Ben broke their toys if they left them out, and most of the time they barely had money for food, utilities, and rent. Aunt May used to make the girls homemade dolls to play with, and she bought what toys she could find at Goodwill. Reese’s baby blanket had been an old T-shirt of Peter’s.  

“Yeah, our place was always trashed growing up, since there were so many of us kids,” Peter says.  

Leo side-eyes Peter. Uncle Ben would freak out if the apartment wasn’t spotless. Aunt May said it was a holdover from his time in the military. Personally, Peter thought it was a holdover from his uncle being a  major asshole.  

“You guys are messy?” Somehow, Happy sounds even more annoyed.  

“Not anymore. Our foster dad was pretty strict about keeping things clean,” Leo says. He kicks Peter. “Peter here can make his bed military-style, with the tight corners and everything . Right, Petey?”  

“Yep, I’m a certified neat freak,” Peter says through gritted teeth. He could kill his brother right now.  

Hopefully they make a better impression on Pepper and their cousins than they did Happy.  

Notes:

sorry this is so short, I really wanted to get something out there. Hoping to publish the next chapter by the weekend. Thanks for being patient with me. Life is good, just really busy!!

Just wanted to thank everyone who reads this story and takes the time to comment and leave kudos, it means the world to me.

Chapter 8

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The boys arrive first.  

Harley sits on the couch, fiddling with the buttons on his flannel. Morgan zooms around the living room, shrieking like a banshee. “My brothers are coming, my brothers are coming!” she singsongs. “We’re gonna eat JuicePops and do puzzles and sing songs ALL day long!”  

Morgan has decided that their six mysterious new cousins are in fact her new siblings. Nothing that  Pepper tell s Morgan can dissuade her from this decision. Since they now have “a ginormous, humongous, really big family,” Morgan thinks they need to get their own TV show, like the Duggars. She knows who the Duggars are because Happy is obsessed with them and watches their show when he babysits.  

“Mommy, when are my brothers coming?” Morgan asks Pepper, who putters around in the kitchen nervously. For some reason, Harley’s guardian always makes omelets when she is stressed.   

“Any minute, darling,” Pepper is telling her when the elevator door dings open. Three boys spill out of the elevator at once.  

A boy with rumpled sandy curls leads the way. He holds a garbage bag under his arm. His blue eyes are wide and appraising, taking everything in. He’s shorter in stature, wiry and thin like Tony. Harley sees somewhat of a resemblance to Tony in the angle of his jawline and the determined way he strides. Who knew that Tony’s cocksure attitude was genetic  

Two boys trail behind him. The twins, then. One walks with a cane. His left foot appears to turn outward, and that leg bows slightly outward. The boy seems to catch Harley staring. Furious blue eyes—a brilliant shade much darker than his brother’s--meet Harley’s gaze head-on. Harley tries to pass it off by smiling awkwardly and giving his cousin an awkward wave. The other boy’s expression does not change as he lifts a hand in greeting. Harley is blown away by his resemblance to Tony. If Harley did not know better, he would think this boy is Tony’s son.  

The other twin seems more cheerful than his sullen brother., sporting a small smile that reveals a couple dimples. While he resembles his twin, they are not identical. This twin’s hair is a darker shade of brown, and Harley thinks he might have Tony’s eyes. He carries a backpack and a plastic grocery bag stuffed full of clothes.  

“Hi, boys,” Pepper calls nervously, heading to greet them from the kitchen. In that same moment, Morgan darts across the living room, shrieking like a banshee.  

“Hi, new brothers!” she shrills.  

Harley almost falls back on the sofa when she launches herself at the sandy-haired boy, in the same way she does with Happy and Tony. To his surprise, the sandy-haired boy catches her easily. He drops the garbage bag he carries on the ground.  

“Hello there, little lass. I take it you’re my cousin Morgan?” he says with a Scottish accent, propping Morgan on his hip expertly. Are my cousins from Scotland? Harley wonders.  

“I am.” Morgan pauses, staring at her new cousin. “You talk funny! Are you Leo, Peter, or Willie?”  

“I’m Leo. Unfortunately, my brothers do not share this splendid accent,” Leo says.   

“We’re the boring Americans,” the happier twin says with a wry smile. He turns to Pepper and Harley. “I’m Peter.”  

Morgan peers at the other twin. “Are you Willie, then?”  

Indeed I am,” Will says, looking slightly rattled by Morgan’s overenthusiasm.  

“Well, here, let’s make you comfortable,” Pepper says, taking over as usual. “You poor boys, we’re crowding you here in the doorway. C’mon, let’s move into the living room. There’s a bit of an emergency downstairs in R&D right now, or else Tony would be here.”  

Pepper leads four teenage boys (and one preschooler being carried) into the spacious living room. The three Parkers plop down on the couch, Morgan still refusing to leave Leo’s arms. To his credit, Leo takes it in stride. Pepper and Harley move to the overstuffed armchairs that once belonged to Howard Stark’s grandfather.  

“Thank you for--” Peter starts to say.  

At the same time, Pepper begins, “I’m not really sure--”  

They both break off, staring at each other.  

“Sorry--” Peter mutters.  

“You’re good, dear, don’t worry--”  

They break off again.  

“This is awkward,” Morgan announces.  

“Morgan!” Pepper hisses.  

“It’s true, Mommy,” Morgan says, crossing her arms.  

Leo attempts to salvage the situation. “Um, should we go over names again, since there’s a lot of us?” He fixes his gaze on Harley. “ So you’re Harley, then there’s Aunt Pepper, and then wee Morgan here. I’m Leo, like I said, then those are the wonder twins, Peter and Wilder.”  

“Will,” Will says. “I prefer Will, Leopold .”  

Morgan giggles. “Your name is Leopold?”  

Leo says good-naturedly, “Yeah, it’s a bit of a funny name.”   

“My mother named me Virginia while we were living in the state of Virginia,” Pepper says. “I win the funny name category.”  

“Where’s ‘Pepper’ come from, if you don’t mind me asking?” Peter says, looking uncertain.  

Pepper gestures to her face. “I’m freckly, and I hate my real name,” she says.   

“Me too, Aunt Pepper, me too,” Will says. Harley tries not to grin. His cousin seems to have a bit of a snarky personality. Between Tony and Morgan, Will is in good company.  

“I was named Harley Allen after the country singer, because that was the song playing on the radio during the drive to the hospital,” Harley says. “I have the most redneck name.”  

“Mommy and Daddy named me after Mommy’s weird uncle that smells like old socks,” Morgan says.  

“How can someone smell like old socks?” Will mumbles.  

“Daddy says it’s Uncle Morgan’s cologne, I-Never-Bathe,” Morgan says with an exaggerated French accent.  

“Wow, Miss Morgan, you are really just saying whatever pops into your head today,” Pepper says, fixing her daughter a stern look.  

Leo elbows Peter. “Petey here, when he was six, told his teacher that--”  

“We have been in here for three minutes, Leo, you do not need to start on the embarrassing baby stories!” Peter squawks.  

“Hey, remember when Leo called his second-grade teacher ‘Mommy’--”  

“Will!” Leo and Peter shush the third Parker brother at the same time.  

Harley suddenly feels a flare of jealousy. How can he expect to fit in with this group of bantering siblings, raised together their whole lives and clearly close-knit? Morgan might fit in seamlessly, considering she is so extroverted. Harley feels suddenly alone. Besides, he’s an outsider, the only kid not genetically linked to the others. He lurches to his feet, ready to flee.  

When the brothers shoot him questioning looks, Harley tries to save face and blurts, “We should take them on a house tour, Pepper. Show ‘em their rooms and stuff.”  

“Oh, yes, of course!” Pepper says. “If you want to grab your things...”  

Leo still has Morgan, so Will gathers up the discarded garbage bag while Peter hefts the backpack and grocery bag. Harley sees how Pepper’s face falls at the sight. She wore the same expression when Harley arrived at the penthouse with five tees, a too-small coat, and a holey pair of jeans. Even after years of living with Tony and Pepper, Harley still struggles to remember that poverty is not the norm for some people.  

Harley leads the group down the hallway with all the bedrooms. Morgan finally consents to being set down. In the room to the right of his is Leo’s. It contains a queen-sized bed and en-suite bathroom. He sees the boy’s eyes widen at the room’s large size. He runs a hand over the soft duvet, clearly intrigued. For some reason, he seems to sag with relief. After a long moment, Leo turns to Pepper and says, “Thank you, Aunt Pepper. Thank you .”  

“You are more than welcome,” Pepper says. She glances around. “I intend to bring an interior designer in, to let you decorate. We wanted to let you guys choose paint colors and decorations, so we kept it pretty bare bones.”  

“You don’t have to--” Peter says quickly.  

“I insist.” Pepper gives Peter the no-nonsense smile usually reserved for stubborn diplomats or cajoling board members.  

“Then I want a blue room, Peter,” Will says. He glances at Pepper. “That Happy guy said Pete and I are sharing. Is that right?”  

“Yes,” Pepper says. “I’m sorry you can’t have your own room--”  

Will looks panicked. “Oh no, Aunt Pepper, I-I-I want to share with Peter. I didn’t mean to sound entitled, sorry--”  

“Will, don’t worry, I know what you mean.” Pepper reaches to pat his shoulder. Will flinches back.   

“Okay,” he mutters. “I really am grateful, you have no idea--”  

“Will, you’re family,” is all Pepper says. “Got that?”  

He nods, still jittery.  

“Now, let’s take you and Peter to your room. Then I’m going to call Tony and ask him where the heck he is.”  


Morgan is forcing Peter, his brothers, and Harley to see her do a show-and-tell of all her toy dinosaurs when Peter hears a voice boom, “Why are there a bunch of burning omelets on the cooktop?”  

“SHIT!” Pepper yelps, practically tearing out of Morgan’s playroom.  

“Daddy says that’s a word Mommy came up with, so only she can use it,” Morgan tells Peter as they follow Pepper to the kitchen at a much slower rate.  

Tony is trying to fan away smoke when they reach the kitchen. He blinks in surprise when he sees the horde of four teenage boys and one preschooler. “God, that’s a lot of kids. A nd there’s three more coming! I guess I’m gonna have to get used to it, eh?”  

Peter recoils at the words, until he sees the humor in Tony’s eyes.   

“Welcome, boys,” their uncle says warmly, striding over to meet them. “Sorry about not being here, one of the robots in R&D went all Ultron on us--”  

At that same moment, the elevator opens with a ding, signaling the arrival of   Peter’s three other siblings.  

Notes:

I'm sooo sorry this chapter is another short one, I'm starting winter break next week and I'm hoping to finally get a 3k+ chapter up. You guys are the best and DESERVE the best. Seriously, the amount of views and kudos I have been receiving blows me away.

I hope my American readers had a great Thanksgiving! I'm thankful for all you guys.

Chapter 9

Notes:

Trigger warnings for implied past abuse

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Reese spills out of the elevator first, clutching no less than six books to her chest. Peter is almost positive that the bulging backpack she carries is stuffed with books, too. Peter wants to sweep her up and spin her around like he did when she was little. His ten-year-old sister would probably clobber him if he tried to do it now.

Deke hauls a massive duffle bag that probably holds all their clothes. He seems nervous, standing as stiff as a board. He looks relieved when he locks eyes with Peter. Peni takes up the rear of the group. Her dark hair is pulled up into a ponytail. When Peter sees the bags under her eyes and how much weight she has lost, he wants to cry.

Leo moves across the living room in a flash. Leo and Peni practically collide. Peni buries her face in Leo’s shoulder, breathing heavily. “We did it, Aspen, we did it,” Peter hears Leo whisper to Peni.

“Indeed we did, Leopold,” Peni breathes back.

Reese approaches Will. She looks up at him, her gaze unreadable. She holds out the stack of books to her big brother. “I brought your favorite books. Lord of the Rings, Ender’s Game, White Fang, Crime and Punishment, and Twilight.” She offers him a vicious grin.

“Jesus, Reese, I only read Twilight because I lost a bet to Deke--”

“That is a lie--” Reese is cut off when Will suddenly envelops her in a hug. “Will, you’re such a dork.”

Leo pulls away from Peni and wraps an arm around Deke. “God, little lassie, it’s been nearly three months and you can’t even act happy to see your big brothers.”

Peter seeks out Peni and lets himself be comforted by the warm embrace he’s missed for months.

Tony decides to stride forward and introduce himself. “Hey, guys! I’d offer you omelets but...” He gestures to the charred remains on the cooktop.

“Uh-Uncle Tony!” Peni stammers. “I’m Peni. The co-oldest, since Leo and I are twins and everything.”

Leo nudges Deke forward. “This is Deke. And that is--”

“I’m Reese, the youngest. Deke and I are not twins, Uncle Tony,” Reese tells Tony. She holds out her hand for him to shake.

Tony shakes it. Peter wonders if their uncle knows what he is taking on with Teresa Elizabeth Parker. “Duly noted. It’s good to meet you, Reese.”

Morgan escapes Pepper’s grasp. She lunges over to Peni and wraps her arms around her legs. “I have a sister! I have two sisters!” she singsongs.

Peni looks down at Morgan with amusement. “And who might this lass be?” she asks Leo.

“We found Morgan on the side of the road a few years ago. Don’t mind her,” Harley says. “I’m Harley.”

“And I’m Aunt Pepper,” Pepper calls from the kitchen, still trying to clear away the smoke. “Sorry, I’ve got an omelet emergency.”

“Might you say an om-ergency?” Deke waggles his eyebrows.

“Quit it with the puns, Deke, you’ve been here for a minute,” Leo says, his exasperated tone making him sound more Scottish than usual.

“Puns are fully welcome here. Harley and I make terrible puns all the time,” Tony says.

“Tony’s puns are really bad,” Harley admits.

“You should hear Petey’s science puns,” Peni says with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Must be genetic,” Pepper observes.

Tony freezes for a moment. Peter figures the poor man is probably overwhelmed. In the past week alone, he found out he was adopted, was informed of his birth father’s and half-sister’s deaths, and agreed to adopt said dead half-sister’s six children. This is the first time he is seeing all of his nieces and nephews face-to-face.

“I believe you do mean, dearest wife, that our fantastic puns are in fact genetic. If that is the case, then you are absolutely correct,” he says to Pepper.

Pepper rolls her eyes. “Would you like to show Deke, Reese, and Peni their rooms, dearest husband?”

“Indeed I would, dearest wife.”

“Tony, Pepper, you guys sound like something straight out of Downton Abbey, it’s weird,” Harley whines.

“If you’re going for British, Ah’d say ye want tae sound Scottish!” Peni says, exaggerating her accent for comedic effect.

Pepper lets out a genuine laugh. Peni ducks her head to hide a smile.

Reese mutters to Peter, “You’d think, after seventeen years on this planet, that Peni and Leo would find something in their comedic repertoire to fall back on besides their Scottishness.”

“Shut up,” he mutters back.

Tony now leads a pack of eight children through the penthouse, giving his own special tour. Morgan interjects occasionally, holding Leo and Peni’s hands near the back of the group. They stop in Deke’s room first. Deke explores nervously, pacing the perimeter like a rangy cat. Peter’s hyperactive little brother has never been allowed to occupy such a large space before; he doesn’t know what to do. When Tony tells him that he can decorate it however he wants, Deke asks in the tiniest voice, “Could I get a desk, please?”

“Of course. For homework?” Tony asks.

Deke nods. “Thank you! Yeah, it’d be nice for homework. And as a work station to build computers.” He looks at Tony shyly.

“You like to build computers? That’s fantastic, do you—“

“Take him to the workshop, Daddy!” Morgan squeals.

“We’ll definitely make a stop there once I show the girls their rooms. C’mon, my small war band, let us march on.”

Reese finally smiles when she sees her room. She goes straight to the big window, pressing her face against it. She turns to her siblings with a big grin on her face. “Look, guys, I get my very own window! It’s not like at that stuffy old room at the Westcotts’—“ She cuts herself off, her eyes darting to Peter when he stiffens infinitesimally.

Peter forces a smile on his face. “I’d say it’s a pretty good view, Reesey. Maybe we can people watch later, see what all the crazy New Yorkers are up to.”

“You should see the crazy cosplayers that hang out in front of the Tower,” Tony says with a deep sigh.

“So now we are definitely people watching later,” Peni says.

“Who’s got the best view?” Reese wants to know, staring at her siblings.

“We haven’t even seen Peni’s room yet,” Will points out.

“Oh yeah!” Tony says. “Peni, do you want to see your room?”

“I would love to, Uncle Tony,” Peni says.

They go one room to the right. It just so happens to be directly across from Leo’s. Peni walks into the room first. Peter sees his tough sister’s shields crack just a little; her eyes water slightly. She explores the large walk-in close and  the bathroom she shares with Reese with great enthusiasm. Peter has not seen her this excited about something in literal years.

“Uncle Tony, this is amazing. Thank you so much,” Peni says.

“You’re welcome.” Tony clasps his hands together. Will and Deke flinch back almost in tandem. Thankfully, they are mostly blocked from Tony’s line of sight by Leo standing in front of them. Tony continues, “So, guys, I was thinking we could whip up a quick lunch, maybe finish the grand tour after. How’s that sound?”

Leo nods. “That sounds great! Do you mind if we just catch up for a few minutes in here? I’m sorry, it’s just been a while since we’ve all been together—“

“I understand. Come out when you’re ready.” Tony nods to Harley and Morgan. “Let’s go help Mom with the omelets, yeah?”

“I wanna stay with my new brothers and sisters,” Morgan whines.

“Mo, I need some help with this one really difficult puzzle. Do you think you could help me finish it?” Harley asks. In a second, Morgan is darting out the door. Despite being a little quiet, Harley sure knows the right words it makes to get Morgan to do what he wants.

“Don’t feel rushed,” Tony tells the six siblings before he shuts the door.


They all start talking at once.

“Holy crap, this place is so nice!” Deke gushes.

“I feel like this is Little Orphan Annie times six right now,” Reese butts in.

“Jesus, Reese, you can’t go around saying stuff like that! You have to be appreciative, this is a once in a lifetime chance. We cannot blow this,” Peni says.

“Of course I won’t blow this! I’m not about to go back to Deborah Bronner screaming at me for two hours after drinking a glass of milk without her permission.” Peter’s blood boils at this. He has to count backwards in order to prevent himself from interrogating Reese as to when this happened.

“Pen, I don’t think any of us are gonna screw this up,” Will says in a low voice. “Who knows where they would send us after this? I sure as hell know Quentin wouldn’t take me, Leo, and Peter back.”

“We just need to follow the rules and be polite,” Leo says.

“Tony and Pepper seem pretty chill,” Deke says. “Not super strict or uptight.”

“We should still follow their rules,” Peter says.

Deke frowns at him. “No shit, Sherlock.” He pauses. “What are their rules? Did they give you some when you got here?”

“No,” Peter says.

“Just be smart. Keep your rooms clean, help out around the house as much as you can, and don’t do anything to set them off,” Leo says. “Just like with Ben, aye? I think we’re pretty used to that.”

“Tony and Pepper are a lot nicer than Ben,” Deke mutters.

 “The Westcotts seemed nice at first, and look at what a shitshow that turned out to be,” Will reminds him.

“Why are you guys talking about this shit?” Peter suddenly snaps, feeling a flare of annoyance. “We haven’t been together for three months. There’s more important things to focus on.”

He immediately wishes he hadn’t spoken when he sees Will’s stricken expression. Will hates any sort of conflict. As his twin, Peter should know that better than anyone. Peter shouldn’t be whining, anyway. He has not seen his siblings for months. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” he mutters.

“It’s been a stressful few months, Peter. Don’t sweat it.” Leo claps Peter on the back.

“More like a stressful life,” Will says.

“I really think things will be better from now on,” Peni says earnestly. “Tony and Pepper are cool. Morgan is adorable, and Harley seems like a chill guy. And we’re together again. We’re good, guys. Things are looking up.”

Peter prays that she is right.

 

Notes:

Here’s a quick little chapter. I thought it seemed to be the most logical way to split up what I already had written. Enjoy!

Thank you to everyone who continues to support this story, I really appreciate it :)

Chapter 10

Notes:

trigger warnings for references to past physical abuse

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Leo and Peni lead the way into the Starks’ kitchen, the younger kids trailing behind them. Harley sees the six siblings enter as a horde, indistinguishable from one another for a quick moment. Leo’s sandy curls fade away, and the varying shades of brown curls coalesce into a nondescript hair color. He sees them as a single entity rather than six individuals. Just for a moment, Harley allows himself to yearn for the sense of belonging that comes with sharing flesh and blood with another.  

However, as he helps Morgan with a puzzle at the kitchen table and hears his guardians fussing over making sandwiches for ten people, he knows that blood isn’t everything.  

When Harley looks up from the puzzle, he sees Leo and Peni falter for a moment. Now that he sees the two of them together, he cannot imagine one without the other. Peni’s skinny, lithe frame is complemented by Leo’s harsh edges and the cocksure way he carries himself. Leo’s sandy curls are enhanced by his twin’s curtain of dark hair rather than washed out. He sees the roles they have fallen into: Leo as protector, and Peni as the nurturer. Harley knows; he had to fulfill both roles at one time. 

Harley blinks in surprise when Leo says, “Do you need help with lunch? Peter here makes some well tidy scran.” 

Peter freezes when Tony and Pepper’s eyes fall on him. “I-I work at a deli,” he explains. He adds, “Um, scran means food, if you were wondering.” 

Tony frowns a little. “Wait, I saw you at a deli in Queens. Dear God, how did I forget?” 

“You’re good, Uncle Tony! I mean, I-I never brought it up.” Peter’s face reddens. “Um, anyway, um, I can make the sandwiches. I can toast them, as well. I saw that there was a panini maker earlier...” 

Pepper gestures to the panini maker. “I rarely use the thing. We aren’t very good at cooking beyond Italian food.” 

Peter shuffles into the kitchen, scanning the array of lunch meat and cheeses that are laid out. He reaches for a small chalkboard sign that Pepper bought during one of her Pinterest crazes. He palms a stick of chalk and says, “Uncle Tony, what do you want?” 

“Uh, pastrami and Swiss,” Tony says.  

“Coming right up, sir.” Peter writes something on the board. “Anyone else?” 

Only Deke wants a pastrami and swiss sandwich. Peter makes a quick mark. 

“Aunt Pepper?” Peter’s tone is polite and cheerful. 

“Ham and cheese, please.” 

As Peter writes this down, he says, “Before you say anything ,Reesey, I already know you want ham and cheese.” 

Morgan, Reese, Will, and Peni also want ham and cheese. Harley prefers plain grilled cheese, while Leo asks for ham, cheddar, and Swiss. Peter is quick and efficient; before Harley knows it, they are all sitting down at the big dining room table. Tony opened a couple bags of chips and Pepper made a salad.  

Thankfully, Pepper purchased a large kitchen table because the Starks often host dinner parties for SI events. The table sits twelve people, making it seem overcrowded. Morgan insists on sitting between Leo and Peni. Harley finds himself between Deke and Peter. Deke eats quickly. His napkin is placed neatly on his lap and he keeps his eyes fixed on his plate. Peter chews thoughtfully, relishing his simple sandwich. 

It takes Harley a minute to realize how silent his cousins are. 

Only Leo and Peni talk, since Morgan asks them endless questions about them liking the apartment and whether or not they like Juice Pops. Tony and Pepper stare helplessly at their new charges, not sure what to do with the silent brood before them. 

“So, where do you guys go to school?” Harley finally asks. 

“Deke and I go to a grade school in the Bronx, where our foster home was,” Reese says. 

“I’m at--” Peni starts to say, but Deke cuts her off when he asks, “Where are we going to school, since we moved pretty far from our old one?” 

Tony grimaces for a second. Deke tenses, those big blues eyes watching Tony’s every move. He starts to say, “Sorry, I didn’t--” 

“No, you’re good,” Tony cuts in. “I just didn’t want to overwhelm you guys after you just moved in. But, of course, you want to know where you’re going to school. Kids wanna know that stuff.” 

Deke nods, still taut as one of Clint’s bowstrings.  

“We thought about transferring you guys to private school. Morgan goes to a great school. We really like the headmaster and the other teachers. As our”--Tony stumbles a bit on the wording—“nieces and nephews, you’re going to be thrust into the public eye. We want you in a more secure and safe place.” 

“We can transfer?” Reese asks excitedly. 

Deke uncurls his shoulders a bit. “Our school right now is kind of gross,” he admits.  

“I’ve read most of the books in the library, and Deke constantly has to fix the computers in the lab,” Reese says.  

Pepper says, “We contacted the headmaster last week, and she arranged for spots to be made ready for you guys.” 

The other kids tense. Harley sees Leo and Peter lock eyes. Leo turns to Tony and says, “Peter and me, we go to a private school called Midtown Tech on scholarship. It’s well-accredited and safe--” 

“Several of our business associates have kids who go there. I’m perfectly fine with you guys staying there,” Tony says. 

Leo just nods. 

“I do dual enrollment,” Peni says. “I take two college classes online through a community college in the Bronx, along with three APs. I get extra study halls at school to allow me to complete my online classwork.” 

“Stonelore Academy will accommodate your online classes. They’ll definitely offer any AP class you are currently enrolled in,” Pepper assures her. 

“Okay,” Peni says. 

“Are you fine with transferring during your senior year?” Tony asks. 

“I transferred there at the middle of my junior year. I’m not...overly attached. It’s not the nicest school.” 

“Same with my school,” Will adds. “I’m more than happy to switch.” 

“Won’t you miss your friends?” Tony asks innocuously. 

Will’s cheeks redden. Harley knows his guardian means well, but Tony was quite popular during his year and a half of high school and during his MIT years. Unlike Harley, and possibly Will, Tony sees having friends as a given. 

“Yes, sir, but I also value my education. I don’t want to waste the opportunity you’ve offered me,” Will says slowly. 

“God, I don’t think I ever said anything remotely that mature when I was fifteen,” Tony says. “Are you sure you’re my nephew?” 

“Will looks more like your son, Tony,” Harley says without thinking. 

“Isn’t Willie Daddy’s son? We ‘dopted him, he’s my brother now!” Morgan pipes up. 

Will stares at his plate while Pepper and Tony shush Morgan.   

Tony says, “Morgan, we are your cousins’ guardians because we are their aunt and uncle. Remember how we are Harley’s guardians? It’s the same thing,” 

Morgan fixes her gaze on Will. “Are your mommy and daddy in Heaven with Harley’s mommy and sissy, then?” 

Tony and Pepper stare in horror and try to admonish their daughter. Harley’s fleeing the room before he even is aware of it. The last he sees of the Parker cousins is the six of them exchanging horrified looks at the dinner table. 


Peter tries not to quiver in terror as Pepper leads Morgan away from the dinner table to have “a quick chat about her behavior.” He dimly registers the absence of Harley—by now, to him, his cousin is nothing more than panicked breathing and a rapid heart rate in another room. Peter lowers the usual blocks on his senses to expand them outward. He waits for the sound of a hand striking flesh, the all-too-familiar cries of a child in pain. 

Nothing, only words. He strains to listen, to understand-- 

Morgan, you know Harley doesn’t like to talk about his mom and Celine.”  

“Mommy, you said I need to tell you if I’m upset! Harley should, too, he’s always sad. My new brothers and sisters seem sad, too.”  

“Sometimes, the really painful stuff is really hard to talk about--”  

Peter is distracted from his eavesdropping by Will. 

“Uncle Tony, Morgan shouldn’t be punished on my account,” Will says, his blue eyes frantic with worry. “She’s like four, she has no idea what she just said.” 

Tony looks concerned. “Will, it’s okay, you’re allowed to be upset by what she said--” 

“I’m not, sir. She doesn’t need to be punished--” 

“Pepper is explaining to her why what she said was wrong. Sometimes little kids need to be reminded about certain things.” 

“Sir, she’s four . It wasn’t anything malicious.” The way Will tenses is as familiar to Peter as breathing. This is the Will that wants to protect and defend what is his. Even though he has known Morgan for only a short time, Peter’s twin will do anything to protect her. This is the boy who would goad Uncle Ben into beating him until he was a bloody mess if one of his siblings was the target of Ben’s ire.  

“All she and Pepper are doing is talking. Alright?” Tony says. His tone is sterner this time. 

“Yes, sir,” Will murmurs. 

Reese glances between Will and Tony. “Um, Uncle Tony, can I ask about Harley’s family? I just want to make sure we don’t upset him in the future--” 

Leo puts an arm around Reese’s shoulder, effectively silencing her. “I think what Reesey means, sir, is that we want to make sure we don’t cause any undue stress to him. We don’t need to know any specifics. But since we went through a similar situation, we want to avoid upsetting him. Is there anything that we should avoid?” 

“Fires, alcohol, and country music,” is all Tony offers. He meets the eyes of all his nieces and nephews. “Anything for you guys?” 

“Nothing,” Peter says, lying through his teeth.  

“Let me know if you think of anything,” Tony says, definitely not buying Peter’s bullshit. 


An hour later, Peter and Will are unpacking in their room. They each have a big dresser, and they share a walk-in closet. Between them, they fill three drawers of one dresser. Peter hangs his only dress shirt and khakis in the closet. Will doesn’t have any. 

“So, a blue room?” Peter asks Will. 

Will shrugs. “Thought it might be nice,” he says. 

“We should make a Pinterest board.” 

Will laughs, and Peter drinks in the sound of it. “You’re kidding, right?” 

“Pepper totally comes across as a Pinterest mom. She’d love it.” 

“If you say so.” 

“Hey, you know earlier, when Pepper took Morgan to her bedroom to talk?” 

“Yeah.” Will turns away from Peter and starts doing his daily stretching routine that his physical therapist designed to help relieve his aching muscles. 

“She really was just talking to Morgan. She wasn’t... well, you know.” 

“Wasn’t beating her like dear old Ben would have, you mean? You don’t have to talk in circles around me, of all people, Petey.” 

“I didn’t want you to feel stressed about it--” 

“You could hear Morgan and Pepper because of your powers, right?” Will asks. “That’s how you knew Morgan was safe.” 

Peter nods.  

“Can you hear everyone now? Harley, Leo, Pepper, Tony, the rest?” 

“If I wanted to. I try not to eavesdrop.” 

Will gnaws his lip. “Your owl ears might be useful in the future.” He goes to stare out the window. “The view is much better here.” 

Peter joins him. “I’m pretty sure anything’s better than the bad part of Queens.” 

“At least we’re in a safer neighborhood. No more drug dealers or gunshots or muggers,” Will says. “You can’t be sneaking out at night.” 

“What do you mean?” Peter furrows his brow. 

“As Spider-Man or whatever. You really think Tony Stark is going to want some enhanced mutant with a record living in the same house as his son and daughter?” 

Peter feels like his twin just sucker punched him. “That was just plain mean.” 

“I’m being honest.” 

“You’re being a tool, Wilder.” 

“I don’t want you getting hurt, okay? Just keep your powers on the DL. We don’t need any trouble.” 

“You’re the reason I have a goddamn record in the first place, dickwad,” Peter hisses. He leaves their room in search of Peni or Leo, leaving a slack-jawed Will in the middle of the room. 


 Harley walks past a furious-looking Peter in the hall. He freezes up for a moment, but any annoyance on his cousin’s face melts away and is replaced with a genuine, if unsure, smile. 

“Hey, Harley,” Peter says. “I was wondering, do you remember which room is Peni’s?” 

Harley points to a shut door. “Right there. Are you guys unpacking?” 

Peter moves towards the door, with Harley hovering awkwardly behind him. “Will and I are mostly done. I wanted to see if Peni needed any help.” He knocks once.  

“Come in!” Peni calls. When her brother opens the door, she says, “Hey, Petey.” 

Harley planned on turning away once Peter went into the room, but Peni says delightedly, “And you brought Harley! It’s a proper party in here.” 

“I can go, if you want to catch up--” Harley says, suddenly self-conscious. 

“Of course not,” Peni insists. “Besides, I need help with decorating, and Peter’s hopeless at it.” 

“What have you got to decorate with?” Peter asks.  

“Well, I need to pick out a paint color, and I was thinking about a mirror over the dresser--” 

“Will and I are making a Pinterest board,” Peter cuts in. 

Peni squawks with laughter. “Dear God, Peter, you have got to be kidding!” She turns to Harley when Peter shakes his head. “The lad made a freaking Pinterest board. How do you even know what Pinterest is?” 

“We haven’t made it yet,” Peter mumbles. 

Harley looks at the room. “I think light gray walls with a purple duvet and white area rug would look nice. We could look on Facebook Marketplace for an antique mirror.” 

“Let me guess, you worship Chip and Joanna Gaines as much as Peni does,” Peter groans. 

“Pepper loved their show,” Harley mumbles. 

“Peni cried when they cancelled it,” Peter says. “No joke.” 

"Moving on," Peni says forcefully, "how do you like Stonelore, Harley? Are the kids nice?"

Harley expected this question, but it doesn't make it any less awkward. "I actually do online school," he says.

"That's cool," Peter says. "Will did online school for a bit. He loved it." He doesn't volunteer anymore information.

"I do know that Morgan loves preschool there, if that helps. I know preschool is a lot different than high school," Harley says to fill the silence.

"I think it'll be good. I'm used to switching schools," Peni says.

"How many times have you done it?"

"This is my sixth school, I think."

"The switch from Scotland to America was the worst one, I think," Peter says.

"You guys were born there, right?" Harley asks.

"Yeah. Our mom worked out there. My dad was in the Air Force and stationed in Scotland at the time," Peter says. "We moved back to the US when Will and I were six, so I didn't keep the accent."

"It's quite the tragedy," Peni says mournfully. "Peter and Will actually had to do speech therapy since the move messed with their accents so much."

"But you're only two years older," Harley says. "Shouldn't you and Leo sound American?"

"We used to visit my dad in Scotland a lot," Peni says stiffly, her face suddenly closed off. 

Harley suddenly remembers that Peni and Leo have a different last name than their four younger siblings. He feels bad for prying. "I'd love to visit someday. I've heard the sky is really blue there."

Peni brightens immediately. "There's nothing like it. Do you want to see a couple old scrapbooks back from when we lived there?" 

"I'd love too," Harley says.

"Don't pull out the baby pictures, Pen," Peter groans.

Notes:

Thank you so much for the continued support, I have the best readers EVER! Also, if you guys have any content/tropes you want to see in the story, drop a comment below and let me know! I can't promise it will make it into the story, but I will try my best. Much love~

Chapter 11

Notes:

Triggeer warnings for past physical and sexual abuse

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Over the next two days, Peter and his siblings fall into an uneasy routine with the Starks. The luxurious penthouse does not feel like home—nothing has since their parents died—but Peter feels much safer than he did at Quentin’s house. He’s careful not to make his new guardians mad, but his “Spidey sense” does not give him a constant migraine like it did in Quentin’s house. Peter lets himself loosen slightly—he chitchats with Pepper while he helps her with dinner, he and Leo and Deke explore the lab with Tony. Tony even lets Deke grab a motherboard and a few spare parts to start building a computer.

Now, Peter is doing dishes with Peni and Harley. Harley scrubs the pan Leo used to make chicken pot pie, while Peni washes off the plates and utensils. Peter loads everything into the dishwasher. Peter loves the quiet domesticity of it all. He’s made dinner every night for a year at Quentin’s, but the kitchen was always fraught with tension. Back at his aunt and uncle’s, May and Ben were always fussing about how to stretch their food until payday. Here, Peter is safe and his new guardians have plenty of money.

They work in silence. After dinner, Will went to lay down because his leg was bothering him. Tony disappeared into the lab after dinner, while Pepper is calling a business associate in China. Earlier, Harley told Peter that she often has calls at weird times due to time differences. In the living room, Leo entertains Deke and Reese by explaining a new card game. Morgan is content listening to Leo teach his younger siblings the rules.

Morgan’s easygoing nature and hero-worship of Leo makes Peter reminisce for the days when Reese was that small. Before they entered foster care, Reese clung to her older siblings and hung onto their every word. Now, Peter is lucky if she looks away from a book long enough to acknowledge his existence. He wants to rip down the walls his little sister has built over the last two years, but he does not even know where to begin.

It’s been hilarious watching Reese and Morgan interact. Morgan watches the frosty bookworm from a distance. Reese, who is unused to small children, regards Morgan with a mixture of bewilderment and amusement. She finds Morgan’s obsession with Leo hilarious.

“I played this card game at school before,” Reese tells Leo, staring at the cards intently.

“Then why am I wasting all this time teaching it to you, you ungrateful lass?” Leo exclaims, exasperated.

“I dunno,” Reese says. “I can’t remember all the rules. It was a while ago.”

“Remember when we taught her Mafia and she forgot a week later?” Peni calls from the kitchen.

“I remember plenty of other ones,” Reese insists. “Spades, War, euchre, Kings in the Corner, double solitaire! Sorry if I don’t understand Crazy Eights!”

“Someone’s prickly tonight,” Deke mutters.

“I’m not prickly.” Reese crosses her arms. “You guys are just mean. Will wouldn’t gang up on me.”

“You’re only saying that because our dear brother Wilder Anthony Parker is in another room,” Leo says.

“That’s a lie, Leopold Alistair Fitzpatrick,” Reese says with the tiniest smile.

“Willie has the same name as Daddy!” Morgan squeals suddenly. She takes off down the hall, heading towards the direction of Tony’s lab.

Peter looks at Harley. “Um, should we go after her...?”

“No, she does this all the time,” Harley says, shaking his head fondly.

Morgan returns with Tony in tow, tugging her dad’s hand. “Tell Daddy, Leo, tell him!” she demands.

“Do you have anything you want to tell me, my eldest nephew?” Tony asks.

Peter sees Leo flinch slightly.

--Ben hovers in the narrow doorway to their room. Peter, Will, and Deke huddle on one of the top bunks, staring at him with wide eyes. Leo lurks near the window, radiating tension and fear. Ben only comes into their bedroom to “discipline” them.

Ben holds up a white dress shirt. “What is this?” When none of them say anything, he says testily, “I haven’t got all day.”

“It’s your shirt.” Peter furrows his brow.

“Very good, Peter.” Ben’s condescension cuts like a knife. “One of you dumbasses shrunk it in the dryer. Who did it?”

Will goes very still. He did laundry earlier in the day.

“Do you have anything you want to tell me, Wilder?”

That is Ben’s catchphrase. The simple question that indicates Ben is about to snap.--

Leo recovers quickly, though. “Will’s middle name is Anthony,” he says. “Morgan thought it was a cool connection.”

“Willie’s named after his uncle, just like I am,” Morgan tells her father.

“I’m sure, um, they liked the way it matched with his first name. That’s why we named you Morgan Hope,” Tony tells her.

Realization dawns on Peter. His own middle name is Benjamin, after his dad’s brother. Would it be a stretch to assume that his mom got Will’s name from the name of the brother she never met? His parents chose Wilder instead of William so that it would match with Peter. Would they want the origin for Will’s middle name to mimic the origin for his twin’s middle name?

Peter can’t summon the courage to actually tell Tony this. Maybe one day, but not quite yet.

“Morgan Hope is very pretty,” Peni says.

Morgan beams at her. “Thank you!”

“My name was supposed to be Deanna Hope if I was a girl,” Deke says, very quietly.

“Thank God you were a boy,” Reese mutters. “I mean, Deanna? Seriously?”

“You and I are the only ones with normal names, Teresa,” Peter says.

“You were almost Peadar before Richard kicked up a fuss and insisted she Anglicize it,” Peni says. “Granddad was pi—um, pretty mad since Mum hadn’t given a single one of her kids a proper Irish name yet.” She shies away from Tony’s gaze momentarily.

“Why do you think my name is Deacon?” Deke laughs. “I’m Mum’s apology grandchild.”

“That’s why you were Granddad’s favorite,” Leo says.

“Yeah, Deke never got his—” Peter cuts himself off suddenly. Saying “Deke never got his ass handed to him by Granddad” probably wouldn’t endear Tony to the memory of his dead birthfather. Bill Fitzpatrick’s tendency to wallop his grandkids with a shoe paled in comparison to Ben’s form of discipline, anyway. Peter was just being a baby about it.

“How did you start going by Deke?” Tony asks.

“Peter couldn’t pronounce Deacon. It stuck,” Peni says fondly.

“That’s why I call my uncle Rhodey ‘Uncle Ro-Ro,’ and my aunt Natasha ‘Auntie Nat-Nat,” Morgan says.

“As in War Machine and Black Widow?” Leo says. “Do-do the Avengers come here a lot?”

“Pretty often. They mostly stay in the upstate facility, though. Morgan scares them away.” Tony grins.

“I do not!” his daughter squeals.

“Will they be coming by anytime soon? I’ve been reading Dr. Banner’s theories about the fine-tuning of the universe. His work in gamma radiation is unparalleled, too, he’s the Feynman of his generation for sure,” Leo says. Peter braces himself for a long-winded rambling about Leo’s favorite physicists.

“I told them to keep their space for a little while we got you guys settled. But Bruce would love to talk to you about physics anytime, he’s very passionate about his work,” Tony says. Peter appreciates how honest their uncle is with them. He never sugar coats anything, but he never uses the truth to insult them, either.

The pure excitement on Leo’s face helps Peter relax a little bit more.


It doesn’t take long for one of them to have an incident. Peter had his money on Peni or Will, but Deke claims first prize for One of The Parker Kids Having Nightmares About Their Various Past Traumas at Stark Tower.

That night, Peter stares up at the ceiling as he tries to fall asleep to the sound of Will’s steady breathing. His twin always passes out after a long day of fighting the pain in his leg. He will be up in four hours, probably. Will struggles to stay asleep, while Peter struggles to fall asleep.

Peter lets his senses drift a little. Peter hears the rustling of pages in Leo’s room, Peni’s gentle huffs of breath as she sleeps, and cute little snuffles from Reese and Morgan. Peter stiffens when he hears shallow breathing and a jackhammering heart.

Deke.

Peter’s up and tearing out the room in a flash. He must be off his game, because he almost smacks into Harley in the hallway.

Harley looks tired; the dark accentuates the shadows under his eyes. “Everything alright?” he asks in that unsure tone he saves exclusively for his cousins. Peter sometimes wonders if Harley sees them as invaders.

“I-I wanted to check on Deke,” Peter says.

“Is everything good with him?”

“I think. I just… sometimes he gets nervous in new places. A little panicky, you know?”

Harley says haltingly, “Um, Tony’s good with this sort of thing. Really good. Do you want me to get him?”

“I don’t want to bother him—“

“He won’t mind. He never minds. He-he wants to help.” The earnest look on Harley’s face lowers Peter’s carefully-built walls.

“Would Pepper mind?” Peter asks. Having a grown man in Deke’s room would not help the situation at all.

“No. She’s good with this stuff, too,” Harley promises over his shoulder as he heads towards the master room.

Peter goes to Deke’s door. He opens it just a crack. “Hey, Deke, it’s Peter,” he calls softly. He hears Deke’s heart rate pick up.

Peter’s enhanced night vision allows him to see Deke half-burrowed under the covers, shivering and curled in a ball. Peter is over to his little brother’s side in an instant, rubbing his back and whispering soothing words. Deke leans into the touch, his sides heaving.

“What’s up, a chuisle?” Peter asks.

“Skip,” Deke says, and Peter’s blood runs cold. “I-I dreamed he grabbed me and… I woke up and it was so dark.”

“I’ll turn the light on. He’s not here, Deke, he’s not here,” Peter assures his brother, flicking on the light.

The light does nothing to soothe Deke. If anything, it makes Deke cry harder. Peter sits on the bed and wraps his arms around Deke. “I want to be normal again, Peter, and not some fucked up human being. I want Mom and Dad and May—“

Pepper appears in the doorway. “Hey, Deke, it’s Pepper. Harley said you were feeling a little nervous. Is it about school tomorrow?”

Peni, Will, Deke, and Reese start at Stonelore Academy tomorrow. Peter knows for a fact that his siblings are excited to leave their low-budget and overcrowded public schools.

Deke flushes. He swipes at his eyes and sits up, pulling away from Peter. “I’m good,” he says, his voice cracking. “I’m excited for school.”

“It can be hard, moving around. I know this is the third place you guys have been in two years. It’s a lot,” Pepper assures him. She still stands in the doorway, not coming a step closer. Peter appreciates it.

“I’m just being a baby,” Deke says. “There’s b-bigger problems.”

“What the fuck are you crying about? There’s bigger problems in the world. Shut the hell up, I didn’t even hit you that hard.— Peter can almost see Ben’s sneering face.

“Other people going through worse things doesn’t invalidate your problems,” Pepper says. “If you want to talk about it, we’re here. I know you have five very loving siblings who would do anything for you.”

“I-I don’t,” Deke says in that nervous way of his. “But, thanks Aunt Pepper.”

“Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep? I can sit in the chair in the corner over there,” Pepper suggests. “I can make you some tea, or hot chocolate.”

A little smile appears on Deke’s tearstained face. “Really?”

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll get the kettle started.”

When Pepper leaves, Deke burrows into Peter’s side. “Can you sleep in here tonight, Petey?”

“‘Course I can,” Peter says.

“I like it here,” Deke whispers, as if it is too bad to say out loud.

“I’m glad.” Peter hesitates, but he knows he has to at least ask. “Do you want to talk about Skip?”

“No,” Deke says vehemently, pulling away from Peter. “Remember rule number one?”

“We don’t talk about Skip or Fight Club,” Peter says reluctantly.

“We made that rule for a reason. It’s in the past. It’s done, it’s over with.” Deke’s close to tears again.

“We don’t have to talk about it. Hey, you want to hear about the time Granddad had to seduce a Russian snake talker?”

“Hell yeah I do,” Deke says.

Peter tries to ignore the shaking in his brother’s hands.

Notes:

This chapter is really short. Sorry! I’m hoping to publish another chapter in the next week or so. I had a great Christmas and a happy New Year, and I love my classes, so I’m excited for this year. I hope life is treating you well.

As always, the feedback for this story always takes my breath away. I have the best readers in the world. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Chapter 12

Notes:

trigger warnings for past physical abuse

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The next day at school, nothing really feels different. Having a sort-of family again may fundamentally change Peter’s personal life, but it really does not have any affect on his school life. Happy drops Leo and Peter off in a sleek SUV. They get there before most of the buses and walking students, so no one really notices. Peter trudges to his locker, ignored by everyone as usual, and waits for Ned to arrive. 

“Hey, do you want to come over after school today?” Ned asks as soon as he sees Peter. 

“Not today,” Peter says. “I-I switched foster homes over the weekend.” 

“Oh my gosh,” Ned says in a low voice. “What happened? Are you and Will and Leo okay?” 

Peter grins. “We’re...amazing, actually. They found a home that had room for all six of us.” 

“That’s fantastic.” Ned hugs Peter. “I’m so happy for you, Peter! Do you like your new foster parents?” 

“They’re pretty cool. The husband is actually my mom’s half-brother. He’s married, has two kids. The state managed to track him down. My grandpa put him up for adoption in his early twenties.” 

“Woah! I never knew you had another uncle. What’s his name?” 

Peter can’t contain his excitement. “You won’t believe me.” 

“Who is it?” Ned says. 

“Okay, you really cannot tell anyone. Promise me?” 

“Promise,” Ned swears. 

“It’s Tony Stark.” 

“HOLY SHIT! You’re kidding, Peter, you’re kidding. Holy shit!” Ned runs a hand through his hair. “Damn, how the hell did that happen?” 

Peter feels other people’s eyes on them. “Shhh, Ned. I’ll tell you everything. Just be lowkey about it, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Ned breathes. “But jeez, man, that’s insane. He’s your uncle?” 

“My mom’s brother,” Peter confirmed. “They had the same dad and different moms.” 

“So you live with Harley and Morgan and Pepper? What are they like?” 

“Harley’s chill, Morgan’s cute, and Pepper’s really nice,” Peter says. 

“That’s it?” 

“I don’t know them that well, it’s only been like three days,” Peter laughs. “I’ll give you a daily update. How’s that sound?” 

“Splendid,” Ned says. 


In AP Lit, Peter is still trying to recover from Ned’s lunchtime interrogation. He scrolls through Twitter, waiting for the bell to ring and the teacher to arrive. He smiles when he gets a text from Will in the group chat (Leo named it “twin squad”) they have with Peni and Leo: 

Better-Twin-of-the-Better-Set-of-Twins: stonelore ain’t bad 

About to text him back, Peter nearly jumps out of his skin when MJ pokes him with a pencil.  

“Look at this article,” she says, shoving her phone into his hands. 

Peter skims the headline of the article and pales. Two Teenage Boys Spotted Leaving Stark Tower—What You Need to Know About the Starks’ Adoption Process

“It looks like they kept true to their word,” MJ says. “They adopted older kids.” 

Peter examines at the blurry picture that accompanies the article. It shows him and Leo wearing hats pulled low and obnoxiously large sunglasses. Tony insisted this morning that Leo and Peter wear sunglasses and hats when they left the building and entered the car. Then they switched jackets and shoes before they arrived at the school. The Stark Industries PR Department is still writing the speech for Tony and Pepper’s press conference about adopting their nieces and nephews. Tony described Peter and his siblings’ presence in the Tower the Avengers’ highest security mission yet, and Peter honestly doesn’t know if his uncle was kidding. 

“They’re probably fostering. You can’t get an adoption approved that fast,” Peter says, his heart pounding. 

MJ nods in agreement. “Do you think they’re twins? They are the same height,” she says. 

“Maybe, I don’t know. It’s hard to tell, it’s such a blurry photo.” 

The Daily Bugle is just a shitty publication in general,” MJ mutters. 

“Yeah,” Peter agrees. “You know, I’m an inch taller than my twin. It drives him crazy.” 

“Are you guys identical?” MJ asks. 

“No, we’re fraternal.” 

“Disappointing. Identical twins are more interesting.” 

“Twins run in my family. My grandpa was a twin and my older brother and sister are twins, too. Does that make it cooler?” Peter grins crookedly. 

“Leo has a twin?” MJ says. “Damn, so that’s why you’re one of six kids.” 

In that moment, Flash just happens to overhear the conversation from a couple rows over. “You’re one of six kids, Penis? Damn, maybe your mom should keep her legs shut.” 

Peter’s face reddens when several of his classmates laugh. He wants to yell at them, tell them that his mom is dead. He wants them to know that he never resented her for deciding to have a large family. He wants them to know that his baby sister Philippa died before she was born, and that he grieves for the babies that probably would have been born after her.  

“I always thought that nine seemed like a good number, a ghr á ,” Mary often said to Richard. “What do you think?”  

“I want more sisters,” Peni always begged. “Mummy, please, I’m sick of all these brothers.”  

Peter pushes those thoughts away. What use is it to dwell on a mother seven years dead, and a baby sister who never drew a single breath, much less long for babies that might not have ever existed? 

Funnily enough, he has always pictured Phillipa looking a little like Morgan. That little girl really is pure Fitzpatrick, with her dark curls and big hazel eyes. 

Instead of voicing his thoughts, Peter turns back to his phone and texts a quick reply to Will:  

WillsBetterHalf : that’s great! did you met anyone who’s nice?   

Peni responds almost immediately: 

Mybrothersareannoying : im loving the mom energy, petey  

WillsBetterHalf : stfu peni  

Mybrothersareannoying : there’s the brother I know and love  

Meanwhile, Flash takes Peter’s silence as an invitation to keep taunting him. “Maybe that’s why you wear the same three shirts, Peter, because your broodmare of a mother has too many kids to buy clothes for.”  

The laughing is louder, this time.  

Peter wants to snap back. He wants to pummel Flash and wipe that smirk off his face. He wishes for Granddad’s Irish fire, his dad’s Parker temper, that thirst to win that grips Will like a drug, Reese’s effortless sarcasm. He even wishes for Ben’s ability to throw a punch. 

Peter is cut from a different cloth, though. He is numb and craven. He lacks his mother’s sweet disposition. He does not have Peni’s doting patience or Deke’s spastic kindness. He’s too used to being met with violence and humiliation to fight back. All the death, all the beatings, all the pain inflicted by cruel hands and words filled him with a weariness he cannot shake.  

Not even a radioactive spider bite that altered his genetic composition could change the fact that Peter is a weak coward. 

So he sits in silence and lets Flash say what he wants. 

MJ has other ideas, though. 

“Can you not be a dick for a single second, Eugene, or is it too hard for your tiny brain to fixate on more than one activity at a time?” she asks, tilting her head.  

“Sorry, Michelle, what did you say? I don’t speak loser,” Flash says with an exaggerated eye roll. 

“You’re such a fucking tool, Flash. Your ‘roasts’ are just as insignificant as you are without your daddy’s money,” MJ says flatly. “You are about as impressive as the high school bully in a low-budget chick flick. That is to say: not impressive at all.” 

Flash is about to hurl another comment at MJ and Peter, but the teacher walks in. She tells the class to pull out their copies of Wuthering Heights, and they all groan in unison.  


Harley is in the middle of studying for Calc BC in his room when he hears Tony bickering with Steve Rogers. 

Captain America and the other Avengers are regular fixtures in the Stark household, often dropping by unannounced with plates of cookies or random modern movies to catch Steve up on modern culture. At first, their random visits sent Harley skittering to his room. Slowly, he grew more comfortable around the team and accidentally acquired a motley crowd of doting aunts and uncles. 

At first, Harley struggles to hear them. He creeps forward and presses his ear against his bedroom door. 

“Tony, you can’t just decide to adopt six kids and not tell anyone! Jesus Christ, do you know the security risks--?” 

“I have about thirty drones circling Midtown, and Stonelore is one of the highest-security private schools in the country. Diplomats, government officials, and many powerful people send their kids to school there everyday. They are safe.” 

“Yeah, but the Twitter article--” 

“You barely understand Twitter!” 

“I understand it enough to know that someone leaking a photo of two of your nephews is pretty bad. How long before the media finds out who they are, huh? They’ll dig up everything and expose it to the world, just like they did with Harley--” 

“You think I don’t fucking know that? Dammit, Steve, I think you’re forgetting that Harley is my son. Pepper and I were the ones who helped him through that situation, not you.” 

“I care a hell of a lot about that kid, Tony,” Steve says in a low voice. “You should’ve told the damn team.” 

“Clint kept his family hidden away for years .” Tony sounds petulant. Harley pictures his guardian scowling.  

“Clint was a secret agent with a constant target on his back. Before you decided to become Iron Man, you were from a wealthy American socialite family whose every action was scrutinized by the media.” 

“If only I had been a working-class kid from Brooklyn,” Tony complains. 

“You wouldn’t have survived Brooklyn, Tony,” Steve chuckles. “Hey, don’t deflect. I’m being serious.” 

“And so am I. The well-being of my nieces and nephews is my top priority.” 

“It’s the team’s top priority.” Steve pauses. “Wanda will be delighted. I heard the two oldest are around her age?” 

“Yeah, Peni and Leo are a year younger than her,” Tony says. “They’re twins. My sister had two sets of twins. It apparently runs in the family. My birth family, that is.”  

“How are you doing with all of that?” Steve is gentle, as if he is talking to a shy dog. 

“I--” Harley’s heart breaks when Tony’s voice cracks. “I was fucking robbed, Steve. I was robbed .” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Adoption supposed to be this great thing where everyone lives happily ever after, right? Well I ended up with a father that barely tried and a mother who wanted to be a mom but never quite understood how to.” This is the most that Harley has ever heard Tony talk about his parents. Tony hoards more secrets than even Harley.  

Maybe Tony just doesn’t talk about this sort of stuff with Harley.  

“What makes you think that living with your birth family would have been any better?” Steve asks.  

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, your birth dad only died a few years ago. How come he never took his grandkids away from their abusive uncle? There’s no way he didn’t know that he was beating the shit out of them.” 

Harley sucks in a sharp breath. His poor cousins. Was that how they ended up in foster care in the first place?  

Steve continues, “And I was reading up on his SHIELD records. He was a talented agent, for sure, but he also drank a lot and basically left your sister Mary with his wife to do all the raising while he gallivanted across the USSR during the Cold War. Teresa Fitzpatrick died when Mary was fifteen. Bill sent her to a SHIELD training academy instead of looking after his daughter who had just lost her mother.” 

“I read his files,” Tony says stiffly. “We don’t know his story, and he isn’t here to defend the choices he had to make. His grandkids seem to remember him fondly, at least.” 

“Take it from me, Tony, you can’t change the past. Dwelling on what your life could have been like if things were different won’t fix the past. You’re fixing the future, though. You’ve done a great job with Harley, and I know you’re gonna take good care of your sister’s kids, too.” 

“I just don’t want to screw this up.” 

“You won’t. You’re a good father, and you’re experienced in fostering traumatized teens.” 

Harley bristles at Cap’s words. What the hell is Steve trying to imply about him? Harley is fine barely functioning, thank you very much.  

“They’re... different than Harley, though. Every kid is different.” Tony sighs heavily. “Peter’s the restrained one. He’s very polite and formal. ‘Yessir, no sir,’ like he’s in the damn army or something. Every word and movement is thought out beforehand. Deke’s nervous, a little cagey. He’s a little hyperactive—kind of like me—, and he looks at me like I’m gonna murder him if he so much as fidgets at the dinner table. Reese communicates solely through sarcasm and literary references. I feel like I’m not getting anywhere with her, she clings to Leo and Peni like they’re the parents. I suppose they’ve probably had to raise the younger ones by themselves, practically--” 

"Tony,“ Steve says, quietly but firmly. “The fact that you can tell me all of this about them after just a couple days should indicate how good of a job you are doing. Be gentle with yourself.” 

“I’m trying,” Tony mutters. “I really am.” 


A couple hours later, Harley takes a break from schoolwork to eat lunch with Tony. Pepper is working in the office, and Steve left thirty minutes ago. He decides to take a risk and ask a few nonchalant question to satisfy his curiosity about his cousins’ past. 

As they eat leftover chicken pot pie—Leo's a damn good cook--, Harley says, “So, the cousins don’t have any other family, right?” 

“None left in America, no. I apparently have a large extended family in Northern Ireland with ties to the IRA,” Tony says. 

“Lovely,” Harley says, not sure how to respond to that. “So that’s why they reached out to us, after their American relatives weren’t around anymore?” 

“You’re fishing, Harley,” Tony says, his tone somewhere between cautionary and amused. 

“I just want to know them better,” Harley says defensively. 

“You wouldn’t want them doing the same to you, though. Let them open up when they feel ready. They’ve had a few rough years, and this is a hard transition for them.” 

“I just don’t feel like I know them that well. With Morgan, it was so easy. I’ve known her since she was a newborn. They don’t really feel like my siblings yet.” 

“And that’s perfectly okay,” Tony says. “Pepper and I never expected you guys to.” 

Gnawing his bottom lip, Harley nods. 

“Say, pal, what if me and Pepper go out for a date on Saturday? We’ll give you kids run of the place, give you some time to bond without the adults hovering.” 

“Really?” 

“Really,” Tony says. “What can go wrong?” 

Harley can think of a million things, but he doesn’t voice these opinions out loud. He just nods.  

Tony is about to say something else, but his ringtone interrupts him. He picks up immediately, saying, “Hello, Tony Stark speaking.” 

Harley can hear the tinny voice coming through the phone. “ Mr. Stark, this is Midtown School of Science and Technology. We need you to come meet with the principal. Your nephew Peter got into a fight with another student.”  

Notes:

I want to extend a huge thank you for the continued support of this story, it means the world to me!

I am so excited for the next chapter, we will begin to dive more deeply into Peter and Co's past, along with a little bit of Harley's. I am especially looking forward to writing about Tony's meeting with the principal :) Lmk in the comments if there's anything in particular that you want to see in that scene.

Much love~

Chapter 13

Notes:

trigger warnings for past eating disorder, past physical abuse, past withholding of food, and past sexual abuse

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Peter sits on an uncomfortable chair, waiting for Tony to arrive. They shoved him in this small room shortly after the principal screamed at him and Flash for twenty minutes. When he eavesdropped on the secretary called his guardian earlier, Peter did not have the heart to listen to Tony’s reaction. He practically quivers in fear. How was he so stupid, to let Flash goad him? He is stupid and weak, a fucking screw up--  

Peter’s breath hitches in his throat. He grips the hem of his shirt to stop his hands from trembling. He’s been called to the principal twice in his life.  

The first one was when a kid bullied Will in preschool and Peter threw blocks at him. His dad picked him up early and took him to get ice cream.   

“You were given a twin for a reason. Will needs you to look after him, and you need Will to look after you. Remember that, buddy,” Richard had said.  

Peter’s heart aches for the kind man with hazel eyes, untidy hair, and big glasses. Deep down, there will always be that part of him that incessantly screams for his dad, a gaping wound that never heals.  

The second time, in sixth grade, another kid who picked on Will for his disability decided to get physical. Peter tackled him in the playground. Uncle Ben picked him up. Aunt May tried to pull Ben off Peter. She ended up with a black eye and split lip for her efforts.  

Peter, unable to escape the blows, curled up in a ball and wished for a man many years dead.  

This time, Peter anticipates the arrival of an uncle he barely knows. Is Tony a Richard, or a Ben?  

Or somewhere in between?  

He hears the arrival of angry footsteps and a rapid heart rate. He tenses as the person enters the front office.  

“Where’s my brother? Peter Parker, where is he?” Leo says gruffly.  

“He’s in the office on the left, waiting for your uncle to arrive,” the secretary says.  

“Thanks.” Leo’s footsteps sound closer.  

“Leopold, where do you think you’re going?”  

“I’m going to sit with him, of course. It's my study hall.”  

“The principal--”  

“He’s my kid brother, Miss Hazel. He has horrible anxiety, and I know he’s probably feeling rotten. I’m not bothering anyone by sitting with him awhile.”  

Miss Hazel gives up.   

Peter hears the door click open. He can’t bear to look at Leo.  

“Petey, you stole the pleasure of punching the bloody bastart from me,” Leo says, going for humor.  

“I didn’t...I only shoved him, at first. He was standing too close to me. But then he punched me, so I kicked him in the shin. He fell over and got a bloody nose.” The words tumble out of Peter.  

“That’s textbook self-defense. You’re off the hook already,” Leo says. He sits in a chair next to Peter.  

“We’re probably out on the fucking street after this.” Peter’s eyes swim with tears. He blinks them back.  

“No, we aren’t. Kids get in fights all the time. You’re the victim here.”  

“Don’t call me that,” Peter bites out. Victim . The term makes him think of sweaty hands and dark rooms and sneering words that haunt his dreams.  

“Peter, it will all be fine.”  

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Leo. Not you, of all people.” Peter turns his face away from his brother.  

Leo grips his hands tightly. “Petey, I would never lie to you. When have I ever lied to you?”  

“Skip. You lied then.” Peter’s voice sounds low and strangled. He practically chokes the hated name out.  

Leo leans back in his chair and sighs. “We all lied to each other. And ourselves.”  

“What am I talking about? It’s my own fucking fault. It could’ve gone down so differently. I wouldn’t have a fucking record. I should’ve told someone.”  

“I could’ve told. Will could’ve told. Deke could’ve told. Gwen could’ve told.”  

That last name makes Peter feel nauseous. “Rule number one,” he rasps.  

“One day we need to talk about the things that actually matter,” Leo reminds his little brother.  

“Says the king of deflection,” Peter says.  

“Sometimes a lad likes to pretend he follows his own smart advice. Sue me for being a little self-indulgent,” Leo laughs.  

Just this once,” Peter agrees.  

Leo finally asks the question. Peter expects it, so he is not angry.  

“What did Flash say, Peter? You … You don’t usually react like this.  

“He found out we had four other siblings.”  

“So? What the hell did he say about that?”  

“He made a bunch of poor people jokes before Lit started. Y’know, the usual stuff about Mom needing to close her legs and us not having a lot of clothes.”  

“Prick,” Leo mutters. “So you shoved him before Lit?”  

Peter shakes his head. It takes him a second to find his voice. “No. It was after the bell rang, in the hall. I was walking out with MJ—a sophomore in Decathalon , you wouldn’t know her—and Flash and his cronies mo bbed us in the hall. Started saying all this shit that made me mad. I was so mad, Leo.”  

“What was it?” Leo’s voice is soft and gentle. He sounds like Peni.  

He asked if me being so skinn y was because my mom had too many kids to feed or if I had anorexia.”  

Leo’s on his feet in an instant. “Where is that bloody bastart ? I’ll break his fecking nose, the little arsewipe —“  

“SHHH! He’s in the office across the hall, you idiot.”  

He really said that? He said that ?” Leo’s face turns steadily redder.  

“He said that, so I shoved him. Then he punched me and I kicked his shins.”  

Leo examines Peter’s face. “There isn’t a bruise or anything. That’s good.”  

“My nose bled a bit, but I washed it off in the bathroom.”  

“Good lad. You’ll look presentable when Uncle Tony gets here.”  

Peter’s eyes water at the thought. Leo immediately goes into panic mode.  

“Sorry, pal, I didn’t mean it that way. He’ll side with you, anyone would.”  

I don’t—he’ll think I’m a loser, if he knows what Flash said.”  

“Peter.” Leo’s voice is firm. “I know that… certain people made you feel like you were worthless. Made you feel like you didn’t matter, or that you don’t have a voice. I feel like that, sometimes. Most of the time, honestly. But since I’m the fella who pretend he follows his own smart advice and your big brother, I’m gonna tell you this: You matter. You don’t deserve for someone to treat you like that. It’s okay to fight back, and , sometimes , people really do listen.”  

Close to tears, Peter mutters, “What lame-ass self-help book did you steal that from?”  

They share a laugh. Leo sits back down and loops an arm around Peter’s neck. Together, they wait for Tony to arrive.  


When Tony arrives, the secretary takes him to the principal’s office first. Then she fetches Peter from the side office. She does not even bother trying to pry Leo from Peter’s side. Miss Hazel knows when not to pick a fight. 

Tony looks surprised to see the both of them. He’s about to say something, but the principal beats him to it.  

“We are waiting for the other boy’s father to arrive. Until then, I will leave you with your nephews to talk, Mr. Stark.” Mr. Greene gets up and walks out of his office.  

“I’m so sorry. Sir, I really am,” Peter blurts immediately. He hates the way his voice cracks and his shoulders hunch.  

“It wasn’t his fault, sir,” Leo adds. “This kid—“  

Tony holds up a hand. Peter recoils, and he sees the hurt in his uncle’s eyes.  

Boys, I need two things from you right now .”  

Peter nods, quivering, while Leo stares at Tony stonily.  

Don’t call me ‘sir.’ I’m your uncle, not an officer in the military. Second thing, I need you to trust me. Or to at least try.”  

They nod. Peter wants to vomit.  

“My parenting style isn’t to come in here, gun blazing and yelling. It’s exhausting and a waste of time. I can’t promise that I won’t lose my temper, but I will always listen to what you have to tell me. You’re my nephews, and I’m your guardian. That makes me the number one person to advocate for you besides yourselves. Alright? 

Whatever Peter had expected, it certainly had not been that  

“Alright,” he murmurs.  

“You guys probably like science, since you’re at Midtown and everything. What’s science if not straight numbers and facts? Just give me the facts, guys.”  

Haltingly, Peter tells his uncle the same thing he told Leo, albeit with much less swearing. When he gets to the part about the, “Hey, Penis, are you anorexic or can your family just not afford food,” comment, Tony’s jaw clenches.   

“That’s what happened?”  

“Yeah,” Peter says.  

“Why the hell did they call me in here, then? Who is this little entitled prick—“  

The door swings open, revealing Flash and his father.  

“Tony?” Mr. Thompson exclaims. “What are you doing here?”  

“Peter’s my nephew,” Tony says. “What are you doing here , Frank ?”  

“Eugene was… involved in a conflict with another student.” Mr. Thompson, clad in a three-piece suit and sporting impeccable hair, fixes his gaze on Leo and Peter. Your nephew Peter , I presume ?  

Mr. Greene attempts to regain control of the situation. “ Your families know each other?”  

“I am a board member of Stark Industries. Tony and I are business associates and friends,” Frank tells Greene with a sense of utter importance. Peter resists the urge to roll his eyes.  

Are Peter and Eugene well-acquainted, then?”  

“No. I didn’t know Peter was related to the Starks.” Flash looks floored. He stares at Peter like he’s grown a second head.  

“Peter and Leo came into my care recently. That is all I will say about that,” Tony says.  

Frank says, I’d like to discuss what happened. Eugene tells me—“  

“Based on what I gathered from what Peter did tell me, and several incidents a young lady on their Academic Decathalon team described in detail, I believe we are dealing with a case of bullying that went unaddressed for far too long,” Greene says gravely. “Mr. Thompson , Flash will be in after-school detention for a week and suspended from extracurriculars for two weeks.”  

“What? I haven’t even had a chance to hear what this kid has to say--” Mr. Thompson gestures towards Peter.  

“We will go over how Flash has been misbehaving these past few months. However, I need time to talk to Mr. Stark and Peter alone first. I want your son to face up to his actions and take some time to reflect afterwards. If you could take him back to the side office and discuss things with him while I meet with the Starks, I would greatly appreciate it.”  

Thompson nods stiffly. “C’mon, Eugene,” he says to his son. Flash glares daggers at Peter.  

Greene waits until they are gone to speak. “Peter, I recognize you are the victim in this situation. However, you know that Midtown has a strict no-violence policy. A year ago, after the incident with your foster dad, I told both you and your brother that I wanted no trouble from you.”  

Peter’s face goes red with shame. He nods.  

“I think we need to reevaluate your presence here--”  

“This is madness,” Leo says. “Absolute bloody madness.”  

“Leo--” Tony says.   

Leo looks at his uncle. “Just let me say my bit, sir. Um, Uncle Tony. And Mr. Greene, I mean, really ? Flash physically attacks my brother and he gets a week of detentions. Boo- hoo . Peter kicked the loser in the shins. Wouldn’t you snap after being tormented by the same guy for a year and a half? And here you are threatening expulsion ?”  

Greene scowls. “Mr. Fitzpatrick, Eugene does not a record--”  

“You don’t know anything about us--”  

“Mr. Fitzpatrick, that is enough --”  

“They were abusing us!” Leo suddenly snarls. “They hit the older kids and screamed all the time and took away our dinner if we were bad. Peter already had an eating disorder and it made it worse! And Skip was threatening Will and Steven brushed it off so Peter and I made them stop. We made it stop.  And of course, no one believed us because th -there were no bruises and no d-damage and no proof and no DNA evidence. So we took the fall.”  

“Leo, it’s okay--” Tony puts a hand on Leo’s shoulder, but Leo pulls away.  

“A-and you’re sitting here looking at Petey like he’s a bad lad when he’s the best lad around. I’m the troublemaker. I shoplifted all the time and got caught, I punched my foster dad and I even ran away a couple times. All Peter did was defend his twin. They were gonna  beat Will with his own crutch.”   

“Leo,” Peter whispers. “Jesus, Leo! You’re being... Leo, please stop.”  

Leo only stops because Peter asks. He probably would’ve told them everything --   

Greene looks horrified. “I-I... Your caseworker never mentioned that.”  

“There was a lot of stuff she didn’t mention,” Peter says. “Mr. Greene, I’m fine with--”  

“You get two detentions for kicking Eugene. You can serve it in separate classrooms. If he bothers you in the future, please tell a trusted teacher. You don’t have to suffer in silence anymore,” Greene says.  

Tony nods. “Mr. Greene, can I wrap this up? I want to discuss some things with the boys. Is it okay if they leave early today?”  

Greene nods. “Of course, Mr. Stark.” He still looks slightly ill from Leo’s exposé.   

Tony stands up. “Okay, guys, let’s blow this popsicle stand.”  

The three of them leave without another word.  

As they walk towards Tony’s sports car, an awkward silence settles between uncle and nephews. Peter feels like he can’t breathe. Tony starts the car. The engine purrs as it comes to life.  

Tony looks at Peter in the passenger seat. “You want to get ice cream?”  

Peter nods.   

Thanks, Dad.  


They eat the ice cream in silence, too. They only speak to tell the cashier which flavors they want.  

Tony gets mint chocolate chip.  

“That was our mum’s favorite flavor,” Peter says, licking his salted caramel cone.  

“Smart woman,” Tony says. He lets out a soft sigh. “Boys, I’ll be honest. What you said in there really shocked me. I read the police report.  

Peter’s heart rate speeds up.   

“The Westcotts look good on paper. But we three don’t look too good on paper, either, and I wouldn’t say we’re bad people. People who look good on paper can be bad people.”  

Leo and Peter just stare.  

“Just because you told someone something and they didn’t believe it doesn’t make what you said not true. Alright?”  

-- They won’t believe you, Pete.--  

--You already cried wolf once, Peter. Do you think they’ll listen to you again?--  

Safe,  his Spider-sense tells him. He may not hear the words directly, but he hears the words reverberating in his bones. You are safe, and you have found a home again.  

He pictures his mother, with her quick mind and big heart.  

He pictures his father, a man of wise words and many hugs.  

He pictures his grandfather, a gruff old man who made up for failing his children by loving his grandchildren to the best of his ability. 

He pictures his aunt, she of the gentle touch and quiet strength. She was a woman who battled many demons and married one.  

Peter had no one after May died. He had two older siblings who were still children themselves, a twin who didn’t know how to ask for help, and two younger siblings that looked up to him. They were a family, but a broken and flawed one.   

He pictures an uncle, a man who went from infamous billionaire playboy to beloved hero and father. A man who welcomed the children of an unknown sister into his home.   

Safe, his heart sings.   

Notes:

Thank you so much for the lovely response to the last chapter. We didn't get any Harley, but I promise the next chapter will feature him much more prominently.

Chapter 14

Notes:

trigger warnings for discussed death of parents and siblings and implied disordered eating

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Two hours after he left, Tony returns home with Leo and Peter in tow. Harley thinks they all seem relaxed. The family resemblance still unnerves him. His uncle goes to the kitchen and heads straight to the coffee pot. Harley stares at his cousins awkwardly from the kitchen table.

Leo, to his surprise, sits down next to him and unzips his backpack. “Hey, mate. Did you finish your schoolwork for the day?”

“Yeah, I’m usually done around one. I’m probably gonna workout in an hour or so,” Harley says.

Peter sits down across from him. “Let me grind out some of my AP Chem homework and then I’ll join you. I need to get back into a fitness routine,” he says.

“Aye, Petey, you can’t be losing those pretty muscles,” Leo teases.

Peter ignores him and pulls out a battered binder. Harley thinks his cousin seems skeletal, not muscular. His clothes hang off his thin frame loosely. His baggy sweatshirt must hide any musculature Peter does have. The dark circles under his eyes and his sharp cheekbones give him a gaunt look.

His cousin seems to have a hearty appetite, though. He eats two helpings at every meal, and Harley sees him grabbing snacks a few times a day. He always double checks with Tony or Pepper before doing so.

Before he realizes it, Harley’s standing up. “I’m going to make avocado toast and almonds for a pre-workout snack. Do you want some, Peter?” Harley is pretty sure that avocados are full of healthy fats. Pepper had him eating almonds and avocados for months after he came into their care. She was always fussing over Harley’s skinny frame.

Peter nods, lurching to his feed. “Yes, please. I can help--”

“You’re good. Work on your AP Chem homework, that shit’s hard.”

Tony looks up from his coffeemaking. “You’re in AP Chem as a sophomore, Peter? That’s awesome.”

Peter shrugs. “I want to take AP Physics and AP Environmental next year, so I had to knock Chem out early. It’s not too hard to schedule multiple science classes a year at Midtown.”

“At Midtown, that’s no small feat. We’ve recruited some interns from there, and I know how hard the curriculum is,” Tony says. “Don’t be so modest. You’re related to one of the biggest narcissists around, act like it.”

Peter ducks his head, blushing, and sits back down. He buries himself into his work while Harley busies himself with slicing the avocados and toasting bread. Tony asks Harley about his day before launching into a rant about Oscorp trying to poach one of his physicists.

“SHIELD already wants to steal Bruce and have him teach at SHIELD SciTech!” Tony whines.

“You could have the Hulk as your prof, Leo!” Peter exclaims. “I think you’d pass out if you saw him there.”

Harley wants to correct Peter about referring to Bruce as the Hulk, but refrains. The brilliant scientist hates when people only see him as an angry green giant.

“I would not pass out,” Leo snaps.

“You want to go to SciTech?” Tony inquires.

Leo nods. “I applied for a fast-track engineering program. I hear back in December. I want to get my doctorate and design tech for SHIELD. I doubt I’ll get in, but I thought it was worth applying.”

“They’d be crazy not to let you in,” Peter tells his older brother.

“It’s as hard to get into as MIT,” Leo says.

“You have a perfect GPA, a 35 on the ACT, and you’re a student at a top science school in New York City. Not to mention, you have leadership positions in the robotics and engineering clubs--”

Dún do bheil,” Leo says none too gently. Harley cannot place the language.

Whatever he did say makes Peter scowl. Huffing, Peter returns to his Chem homework.

Harley and Tony exchange awkward looks.

“A 35 on the ACT is insane, Leo,” Tony says. “Like I told Peter, drink in the family narcissism.”

Leo just nods. His face is tight with tension, like he wants to snap at Tony in the same way he did Peter. Fear, respect, or a mix of both keeps him silent.

“You know, I have some pull at SciTech, with all my SHIELD connections--”

“That’s okay, sir!” Leo half-yelps. “I want to see if my application speaks for itself. And they’re pretty strict about not showing favor to legacies.”

“They wouldn’t have to know I’m your uncle,” Tony says.

“I really appreciate it, but I think my relationship to you, Mum, and Granddad would hinder me more than help me. Mum fought tooth and nail to get her spot at the Academy of Communications, and people still looked down on her for being Bill Fitzpatrick’s daughter. They said SHIELD was playing favorites.” Leo’s tone hovers between stiff and grateful.

“I didn’t know that,” Tony says. “She must have worked really hard to get on the Helecarrier, then.”

“She ran around the apartment and screamed like a banshee when she got the assignment. Dad was worried because she had just found out she was pregnant, but nothing could stop Mum when she wanted to do something,” Peter says, his eyes glazing over as his words take him back to a time he clearly misses.

 “So she was pregnant with Reese when she first got the assignment?”

Leo and Peter stiffen. “No, it was after Reese. She was pregnant when she died,” Leo said, his voice and face bereft of emotion.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Tony says. He looks exhausted and upset at his nephew’s words.

“It-it’s okay,” Peter says. “It was a while ago.”

“My mom was four months along when she died,” Harley says.

Leo looks at him, and Harley sees a hint of the hopelessness and fear he’s carried around for the past four years. He wonders if having a living sibling would make his burden easier to carry. His heart aches for Celine.

Leo says, “It’s tough shit, man. I’m sorry that happened to you, as well.”

Peter suddenly stands up and heads towards the bathroom off the kitchen. The door shuts, leaving Harley, Leo, and Tony all staring at each other.

“Phillipa is a sensitive subject,” Leo says, his eyes sliding over to Tony. “He doesn’t mean to be rude—“

“He’s not being rude, Leo. God, he’s being human. What—Jesus, what the hell happened to make you think that I’d be upset? Who taught you to think like that? Did Ben or—“ Tony cuts himself off.

Leo wears the expression of an old man sick of his wretched existence. Harley sees the hurt caused by years of abuse. His cousin is a kid exhausted from the continual failures of the adults who are supposed to protect him. A kid ashamed of what circumstance formed him to become.

It takes one to know one, after all.

“I—“ Leo stares at Tony miserably. Bereft of any siblings to protect, Leo lacks his Scottish wit and charm that lightens any awkward or heavy moments. Leo mutters, “May I go to my room to do homework?”

Tony nods jerkily. “Leo, I’m sorry—“

“I know,” Leo says, his gaze softening somewhat. “You’re trying. It’s a helluva lot more than anyone else has done these past few years.”

He slips away, backpack clutched in his hands.

Tony turns away from Harley, who sits clutching a loaf of bread and a bowl of mashed avocado.

“Did I ever fuck up that badly when you first got here, Harls?” Tony asks.

“A few times. I fucked up, too. You learned how to be my parent, you just need to learn how to be theirs. Might be a little harder, since there’s six of ‘em and there was one of me,” Harley says.

Tony looks at him with gratitude. “You’re a good kid, Harley. You sure you’re only fifteen?”

Harley laughs and goes back to mashing the avocado.


Peter waits for his tears to dry and for Tony and Harley’s conversation to fade until he emerges from the bathroom. Tony and Harley do not comment on Leo's absence. Peter and his cousin eat their avocado toast and almonds in a companionable silence before heading to their rooms to put on workout clothes. Peter’s homework lays forgotten on the table.

Peter pulls on a faded T-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts he snagged from Goodwill. He’s been working up the courage to ask Pepper for new clothes. After this shit show of a day, he wants to delay that request for at least a few days.

Harley stands waiting outside his door. “The gym’s on one of the lower floors. We might see Steve, he stopped by earlier. He’s usually at the gym for a few hours a day.”

Steve as in Captain America Steve?”

“Yeah.” Harley grins. “The Avengers are normal people, I promise. They’re like a ragtag group of aunts and uncles to me and Morgan.”

“I don’t wanna bother Captain America…”

“He won’t mind. I promise.”

“Okay. It would be cool to meet him. Really cool.”

Harley claps him on the shoulder. “He’ll be excited to meet you, too.”

Notes:

sorry this one is so short, I've been slammed these past couple weeks. hope you enjoy! as always, thank you so much for the support :)

Leo basically tells Peter to shut up in Gaeilge, or Irish, if anyone was wondering

Chapter 15

Notes:

trigger warnings for the death of parents/guardians, sexual abuse, physical abuse, and eating disorders

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Harley and Peter encounter Steve pummeling a punching bag. His brow furrows in confusion when he catches sight of Peter.   

“Hey, Harley,” he says. “And are you one of the nephews I’ve heard so much about?”  

Peter freezes for a second. He says with a grin, “I hope they are only good things.”   

“Of course. Which, for Tony, says a lot about you.” Steve rips off his boxing glove and holds out a sweaty palm. “Steve Rogers.”  

Peter shakes Captain America’s hand, unable to comprehend how large it is. “Peter Parker. It’s—Nice to meet you.”  

Steve stares at Peter intently. “You look like your uncle,” Steve says, half to himself.  

“Those family genes run strong. My cousin Will—Peter’s twin—is Tony’s carbon copy, Steve,” Harley says.  

Peter wants to tell them that Will really just looks like his mom, but he’s seen his twin and his uncle together. They really do bear an uncanny resemblance to each other. “He’s a younger Tony with blue eyes,” Peter says.  

“Do you have a photo?” Steve asks eagerly. A bit more timidly, he adds, “Sorry—all us Avengers are just really excited to meet you guys—“  

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Peter says. He pulls out his old iPhone and scrolls through his photos. He finds a nice portrait he took of Will, Reese, and Deke in Central Park a year and a half ago. It was just before Mr. Westcott smashed his camera in a fit of rage, he remembers. Peter’s good mood immediately dissipates. He hands his phone to Captain America silently.  

“Are the other two kids your siblings, too?” Steve asks.   

“Yeah, the younger boy is my brother Deke and that’s my sister Reese.”  

How old are they?”  

“Thirteen and ten. Will and I are fifteen, and the older set of twins, Leo and Peni, are seventeen,” Peter says automatically.  

“Six teenagers! ” Steve crows. “Tony must be ripping his hair out.”  

“I like to think we are low maintenance,” Harley says.   

Steve nods. “I think Tony is probably worth six teenagers himself, for all the trouble he gets into,” he says.       

Poor Pepper,” Harley mutters. “Hey, Steve, Peter and I were planning on working out. Do you want to help me give him a grand tour of the gym?”  

“Of course,” Steve says.  

Peter is introduced to about twenty types of workout machines he never knew existed. There is a whole wall of daggers in password-protected cases for Black Widow to practice throwing. Judging by their well-worn hilts and shredded targets, Peter figures they are getting plenty of use. There is a track, swimming pool,  a rock-climbing wall, and gymnastics floor as well. His eyes are bugging out of his head by the end of the tour. 

“What do you want to do?” Harley asks.  

Peter wants to go swimming, but he outgrew his only pair of swim trunks last year. He looks at the rock wall and grins. “Wanna try climbing?”  

Peter may cheat with his sticky palms, but he and Harley still have fun on the rock-climbing wall under Steve’s careful supervision. If he was alone, Peter would scurry up the wall in a matter of seconds and do backflips off it. However, he resigns himself to an uncomfortable harness and a much slower pace.   

When they finally take a break, Harley says, “Leo wasn’t joking about those biceps .”  

Even though his arms are skinny, muscle still bunches underneath. There isn’t a wasted ounce of flesh on Peter’s body. No matter how often he eats, Peter still finds himself scrawny and lean. The irony of a well-defined six pack and his ribs jutting out never fails to humor him. Peter knows he does not eat enough to maintain his enhanced metabolism. Even with all his scientific genius, he cannot even begins to estimate how many calories he should be getting a day.  

Peter hasn’t starved to death, so he must be doing fine  

At least that is what he tells himself.  

“My uncle was into working out. He got me into it, too,” Peter says, which is partly true. Ben was a veteran who became a cop. He was always at the precinct’s gym with his cop buddies. Afterwards, they’d go out for drinks. Uncle Ben would come home wasted—  

“You seem like a runner to me, with you being so lean,” Steve says. “You do cross country or track?”  

“No, I haven’t really got the time for sports,” Peter says, even though he quit his job at the deli and only does band and Academic Decathalon . Mr. Delmar left him four voicemails and Beto has texted him ten times in the the past three days. Peter does not know how to explain to them that he now lives with Tony Stark.   

 “He’s a nerd like the rest of us,” Harley says.  

Nothing wrong with being academically driven. I wish I paid more attention in school. I could have gone to college, if I tried more,” Steve says. “I was too focused on WWII and all that. Wanted to go soldiering.”  

“You—“ Peter cuts himself off , then tries again . “My—my granddad said the same thing, except with the Troubles and the IRA. He dropped out at sixteen and got involved with the paramilitaries full time.”  

“I watched a couple documentaries on the Troubles. I missed a lot during my time in the ice. That whole situation is fascinating to learn about,” Steve says .  

“The IRA were the pipe bomb terrorists in the Sixties , right?” Harley asks.  

Peter purses his lips. While he tries to sympathize with the Unionists in Northern Ireland, he is the grandson of William Robert Emmett Fitzpatrick through and through. “They were paramilitaries. Freedom fighters,” he says.   

Oh.” Harley hesitates for a second. “How did he get involved with SHIELD? He was a SHIELD agent, right?”  

Peter’s eyes dart over to Steve. He knows that Peggy Carter was the love of the man’s life. Will his story hurt Captain America’s feelings, or will he be bringing back fond memories of a loved one?  

“A SHIELD agent saw him fend off four grown men in a pub brawl when he was nineteen or so. She recruited him right away,” Peter says. “Said she had a good feeling about him.”  

She had good instincts,” Steve says distantly.  

Peter shoves down his anxiety and says very quietly, “If Uncle Tony had been a boy, my granddad would have insisted on the name Ma iread Cara. Mairead’s the Irish form of Margaret, a nd Cara means ‘friend’ . Agent Carter meant the world to him.”  

Steve looks at him with raw, unabashed emotion. He says, “I’m so lucky to know that in my absence, Peggy had such good and true friends to help her along the way. I’m even luckier to know the grandson and son of one of her friends,” he says thickly.  

Peter smiles back at him, sadly and knowingly. He knows the pain of grief all too well.    


When the rest of the kids get home from school that day, Peter knows that something is up with Will immediately. His twin grips his cane nervously as he shuffles out of the elevator. Morgan and Deke rush ahead to tell Pepper and Harley all about their day. Reese and Peni walk side-by-side, deep in a conversation about which Wizards of Waverly Place actor i s hotter. Will takes up the rear, reeking of shame and nervousness. Peter sees him clutch ing an envelope in his hands .  

Peter goes up to Will and slings an arm around his shoulders. “How was your first day?” He guides his twin to a corner of the living room, away from their siblings, cousins, and aunt. Tony and Steve disappeared into the lab about an hour ago to discuss Avengers business.   

“Good. Really good. Great, honestly,” Will says, unable to decide on a proper adjective. He relaxes a bit. “The elevator works well, the cafeteria food is great, and I met this kid named Harry who is pretty cool.”  

Peter prays that this Harry guy can be the Ned to Will’s Peter. His twin really needs a friend besides his siblings. “Any hot chicks?”  

“So many,” Will sighs. “Everyone’s super rich. Not in a bad way, but you can definitely tell they have money.” He eyes Leo’s old jeans and his navy flannel with distaste.   

“Was anyone mean about it?”  

“Naw. I just told ‘em I transferred from a school in Queens. Didn’t tell ‘em which part of Queens.” Will winks.  

You might be able to impress them with stories from the slums, man. You never know with rich kids,” Peter chuckles.  

Oh yeah, I can tell them about th e one time in third grade when a kid showed up to Spanish with six hundred bucks after he agreed to be a lookout for a crack dealer—“  

“It was probably a coke dealer , Will, you know crack doesn’t bring that much cash in,” Peter says with an eye roll.  

Why are we discussing drugs? Is there anything I should know, boys? Pepper asks .  

Will springs back, his cane smacking the floor. Peter stands in front, in case anything happens.  

“We were just joking around, Aunt Pepper,” he says quietly.  

“I know. Um, s o was I,” Pepper says, the earnestly in her eyes making Peter’s stomach pool with shame.  

He offers an uncertain smile. “I promise I’m not a drug dealer,” he says.  

“And Will, do you deal drugs?” Pepper’s smile seems genuine, but Will trusts exactly five people in the world. Peter knows it will take more than a gentle smile to break down the walls of Wilder Parker, better known as the human Fort Knox.  

“Never,” Will says, stiff as a board.  

“Glad to know you aren’t following in my footsteps,” Pepper says before turning her attention back to Reese , Morgan, and Peni .  

T hat was the most awkward interaction of my life, Will mutters to Peter.  

Shut up, you know she was joking,” Peter mutters back. He eyes the envelope in Will’s hand. “What’s that?”  

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Will says.  

“Don’t be a jackass.” Peter jostles his twin a bit.  

Will rises to the bait. When he wants to, Peter can play him like an accordion. “They want me to get a tutor for English and history.”  

“Who, the teachers at Stonelore ?”  

“Yeah.” Will hunches his shoulders. “Everyone’s smart there, and I’m not. I don’t belong there.  

Y es you do! They’re lucky to have you.  

“Yeah, between my gammy leg, failing grades, and awful temper, I’m a real prize, Petey.” Will barks out a bitter laugh.  

“C’mon, Will, I know you don’t mean that,” Peter says, frowning. “ You know, tutoring might be good for you.  

I don’t need an expert to tell me how dumb I am. We already know it,” Will says.  

Peter remembers Leo’s words from earlier today. “You know, it’s okay to ask for help.”  

“You quoting some fucking self-help book at me?”   

Peter scowls at Will. “What’s with you, man? I thought you liked this new school.”  

Will’s voice rises above its hushed tone. “Well, sorry , Mr. Midto wn , that not everything is falling into place for me like it is you. Sorry that I’m the idiot in a family of geniuses.”  

The chattering from the girls, Pepper, Harley, and Deacon dies down.    

Peter’s temper flares. “ Cut the crap. My day wasn’t great either, but I’m not taking it out on you. And God knows things in my life are not ‘falling into place’, you little shillelagh ,” he snaps, just as loudly.  

Will’s eyes narrow. “What’d you just call me?”  

“Peter, Will!” Peni growls. “Stop it!”  

Deke’s expression practically pleads for his older brothers to quiet down, while Reese’s gaze is as unreadable as ever. Morgan looks heartbroken at the sight of her cousins fighting, while Pepper watches with quiet interest and disappointment .  

Will turns red under all the scrutiny . He brushes past Peter and makes his way towards the bedrooms, his cane thumping loudly.  

“Peter, what was that about?” Pepper asks.  

Peter feels everyone’s eyes on him. “I don’t—I think he had a bad day at school. I’m sorry.”  

Pepper’s gaze softens. “It can be rough, moving around so much. Do you think he wants someone to check on him?”  

“He’ll come crawling out in an hour, looking for something to eat,” Reese says dismissively.  

Still looking uncertain, Pepper glances at Peni .  

Peni gives her a single nod. Besides Peter, Peni is probably the sibling that is closest to Will .  

Thankfully, Pepper lets it drop. “Who wants an after-school snack?” She asks.  


Peter finds himself in Harley’s room with Deke, Harley, and Peni , attempting to do his homework. Leo and Will are both still sulking in their rooms, while Morgan and Reese play with Barbies in the playroom.   

Deke is chattering away about his new school, unable to contain himself. He tinkers with a discarded circuit board that Tony let him take from the workshop. Peni indulges Deke while she does work for her online college classes. Harley is reading Eragon. He cannot put it down. When Reese and Will discovered their cousin enjoys fantasy, Peter knew it was game over for him.  

In my computer class, we even talked about AI! I didn’t have a computer class at my school in the Bronx,” Deke says happily.  

Are you gonna design a robot to take over the world, Deke?” Peter teases, looking up from his AP Lit essay.  

Harley cuts in, “So you’re interested in AI?”  

Deke nods.   

“The lad loves anything with computers,” Peni mutters.  

Harley grins. “FRIDAY, activate,” he says.  

Hello, Mr. Harley,” an Irish voice says out of nowhere.  

Deke, Peni , and Peter flinch at the unexpected noise. “What was that?” Peni asks.  

“FRIDAY is Tony’s AI. She basically runs the place—maintains security, keeps an eye on me and Morgan’s antics, helps Tony with his research—“  

“What do you mean ‘keeps an eye on you and Morgan’?” Deke says, his eyes narrowing.  

Harley says, “Part of FRIDAY’s use is to keep us—and you guys, of course—safe from anyone who might want to target Tony or attack the penthouse—“  

“So there’s cameras and stuff, watching us?”  

I think there may be a few in the living areas and the lab. Tony told me that she monitors our vitals and stuff with sensors , you can ask him more about it—“  

“How come you guys never mentioned it?” Deke’s voice is controlled and careful. Peter knows that the Bronners , his old foster parents, screamed if he so much as raised his voice slightly at them.  

“FRIDAY’s always just kind of there in the background. Tony mostly uses her, sometimes I ask her to Google something for me or Pepper asks for a recipe.”  

Is it watching me in my room?” Deke stares at Harley intensely. Peni reaches towards him for a second, but Peter shakes his head at her. 

I don’t think so. Tony can tell it better than I can,” Harley says.  

Mr. Deacon, I monitor your vitals and location within the house to provide Boss with an accurate report on your safety and well-being,” FRIDAY says.  

“My location?” Deke repeats. “Like, if I’m showering or taking a nap or eating in the kitchen?”  

Yes, Mr. Deacon.”  

Deacon’s voice is barely above a whisper. “Do you save the data —like, the footage of me and stuff ? Can people go back and watch it?”  

Peter sees his younger brother’s hands tremble and his stupid brain finally makes the connection. God, Deke, this is a safe place, oh God, Deke—  

There’s an archive of footage —“  

Deke clutches his circuit board tightly, his breathing becoming quick and shallow. This time, Peni reaches for her little brother and tucks him under her arm. Harley looks at his cousin with concern.  

“Is everything okay?” He asks.  

Deke ignores him and burrows close to Peni . “I can’t be on camera, Peni , I can’t be on camera—“  

—Pe ter is tangled up in musty gray sheets, his breathing labored. He fe els hands grabbing at him, touching him in places he d oesn’t want to be touched. He squirm s , protesting and wailing softly. Those hands, those evil and wretched hands, d o not let him go. He s ees the blinking red light, and it  ma kes him cry harder.—  

“We can talk to Tony about it,” Harley says soothingly. “He just want to keep you safe. Keep all of us safe. Security is really important to him, especially since he was kidnapped in Afghanistan. He’s not trying to be controlling or overprotective.”  

“O-Okay,” Deke mutters.   

“Aye, there’s a good lad,” Peter says. “Nothing to get concerned about. You aren’t sneaking out to high school parties yet.”  

“As if one of us would ever go to a party,” Peni snorts. “C’mon, Petey, we’re the biggest group of nerdy homebodies you’ve ever seen.”  

“Who knows, maybe Reese is a party animal and we just don’t know it yet,” Deke says.  

“She certainly thinks she’s cooler than the rest of us,” Peter adds.  

“Reese is very… intense,” Harley says. “In a good way, of course,” he adds.   

“She’s quite the character, that’s for sure,” Peter sighs. He attempts to subtly keep an eye on Deke. From the way his little brother is glaring at him, he is not being very subtle.   

“She’s not very into science. Neither is Will. I can tell the rest of you are,” Harley says. “After knowing Tony and Bruce for years, I can recognize a fellow science nerd from a million miles away.  

“Will and Reese are more into books than science. Apparently our grandma liked to read,” Peter says.  

“Do they like science books, at least?” Harley looks hopeful.  

“No. It’s quite the tragedy,” Peni says with a sigh.  

“Will can’t even code,” Deke mutters, half to himself.  


Peni waits a couple of days to approach Tony about his AI. She sees Deke pace around like a fidgety cat.  She knows he’s been sleeping in Peter and Will’s room the past couple nights. His eyes dart to the ceiling at random times, and he flinches whenever Tony stands less than three feet away from him. Her little brother, her little Deke, is afraid, and she can’t have that. 

Never again.   

Peni is fifteen and trying to navigate high school without her other half. Leo goes to Midtown Tech on a scholarship, leaving her for in their sketchy Queens public school all by herself. She tried not to resent him for it, but she felt utterly helpless and alone. Peter and Will are going to join her next year, she keeps telling herself. They’ll graduate eighth grade and everything would get better.  

Their new foster parents may be assholes, but they aren’t as bad as Ben . A ll six of them are together. Their social worker said that hardly ever happens. Peni can suck it up. She will suck it up, for the sake of Leo, Will, Peter, Deke, and Reese.  

Being in high school means that Peni arrives home earlier than the rest of the kids at the Westcotts. Usually, Leo and Skip get home before her. She doesn’t mind her older foster brother, he mostly plays video games and sneaks out with his girlfriend. Her only complaint is that he gets up at five to run and wakes her up. He’s the only biological child of the Westcotts; every other kid in the crowded house is a foster child. However, Skip dad’s Steven Westcott hits all the kids just as hard and screams at them all the same amount. It’s quite the bonding experience. 

Peni uses her key to open the door to the shitty townhouse and shuts it quietly behind her, not wanting to disturb April, her foster mother. The cranky bitch will be on her ass about homework and chores as soon as she knows Peni is home. Peni just wants to breathe.  

Peni tiptoes up the stairs. Halfway up, she pauses when she hears low, indistinct murmuring. Curious, she moves up the rest of the stairs silently. 

Standing outside their bedroom door , Skip is whispering into Leo’s ear and clutching his shoulder . Leo’s face is flushed and embarrassed.  

“Hey, Leo, Skip. Wh-what ’s going on ?” She asks, frowning.    

Hey, Peni .” Skip looks around. “Mom’s in a bit of a mood. I wanted to warn Leo.”  

Leo nods, still looking a bit pale.  

Peni nods, any of her previous concerns previously forgotten.—  

Peni should have noticed.   

Should have seen the way he grabbed Leo’s shoulder, the way his hand would brush down Deke’s arm, or rub Peter’s back. She should have wondered about the dark shadows under Will’s eyes. Sometimes Gwen cried herself to sleep. Peni asked her what was wrong, once, and Gwen freaked out on her. Peni never asked again. Peter picked at his dinner every night, and she watched him turn into a skeleton. Deke wet the bed at least twice a month. Will’s panic attacks became a daily thing. Leo never slept. 

She was the big sister, the ir protector, and she never noticed.   

She should have noticed.   

So if she can do anything to help Deke, by God she will.  

She catches Tony in the lab, just a fter most of her siblings and cousins have gone to bed. She knocks on the glass , trying to not to tremble.  

The doors slide open. Tony smiles at her, wiping his hands off on an oil-stained rag. “Hey, Peni . Do you need anything?”  

Peni thinks of a man she hasn’t seen in year s , a Scotsman with Leo’s eyes . Her gut twists . Lassie, don’t you bloody see that your da’s hard at work? Go bother your brothers !  

Fuck you, Alistair Ward , for abandoning your kids , she thinks.  

Her mind flicks to another man, a man with kind eyes who she shared no blood with. Hey, Pen! Do you need help with that math homework I saw you doing earlier? 

Fuck you, Richard Parker, for dying and leaving me all alone , she thinks.  

And, unwillingly, a cop with meaty fists and a short temper crosses her mind. You think I wanted to take Mary’s bastards in, huh? That Scottish asshat should be paying for you, not me! 

Fuck you, Ben Parker. You deserved to die, she thinks.    

She takes a steadying breath.  

“Ye s, sir . I just wanted to talk to you about something.”  

Tony nods. “Sure? You want something to drink, a juice or a soda? You like coffee?”  

“No thanks, the caffeine would keep me up.”  

Tony smacks his forehead. “Sometimes I forget how to parent,” he tells his niece.  

“Aye?” Peni chuckles.  

“Anyway, what did you want to ask me about?”  

The words tumble pout of her mouth. “Harley said you had an AI that tracks our movements and stuff and there’s cameras everywhere.”  

“Oh yeah, FRIDAY! She doesn’t really track you, just think of her as a really advanced security system,” Tony says.  

“Is—do you watch us through the cameras? Like check up on us and stuff?”  

“Only time I’ve ever watched a kid in my care is when we used FRIDAY as a really advanced baby monitor for Morgan. She helps me with my research, but in terms of raising my family, she is rarely involved unless there is immediate danger.  

Peni stutters her question out, but she knows she has to ask: “And there’s no cameras in the bedrooms or bathrooms?”      

Tony’s betrayed and shocked expression breaks her heart. “Of course not! I would never . God, I’d never ,” he says vehemently.  

“I know. I just—it just weirded me out to know there was a really advanced AI in the house. I just wanted to know—“  

Tony holds up a hand and she flinches back in surprise . Tony smiles at her sadly. “I know, Peni . It’s completely understandable. I-I’m happy you asked me about it.”  

You are , sir ?” she whispers.    

“I know it took a lot to ask me those questions. That’s was real brave, kid. I’m proud of you.”  

“I—Well, um, good night.” Peni , unable to deal with her emotions as usual, turns around and practically sprints out of the lab.   

You’re safe, my little Aspen. You’re safe, a voice that sounds painfully like her mother whispers in her ear. You don't have to protect them by yourself anymore.

Notes:

Sorry I was away for so long. All this coronavirus stuff is really throwing me off. We live in crazy times. So a couple things:
- Someone asked for more of Peni, so of course I had to oblige.
- Quick disclaimer: Peter and his grandpa's views of the IRA are not my own. I studied the subject of the Troubles in school. Through my characters, I am simply expressing what, in my opinion, are the views of many Nationalists in Northern Ireland. I love to highlight history in my writing. For anyone unfamiliar with the history of the Troubles and paramilitary groups, I suggest you research it. If anyone with more knowledge than me feels I have overstepped, please let me know in the comments. I am not claiming expert knowledge, and I am always open to criticism.

As always, I really appreciate everyone who takes the time to comment and read my work. The fact that over ten thousand people have read this story blows me away! thank you!!

Chapter 16

Notes:

Trigger warnings for discussed death of parents, fatal car crashes, past sexual abuse, implied internalized ableism, and past physical abuse

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Even though it’s a Saturday, Harley rolls out of bed around seven. Nightmares kept him up all night and Harley knows sitting in a dark room won’t help him. Harley opens the door and pads to the kitchen. Peter is cracking eggs over a skillet while Morgan looks up at him adoringly. Peter narrates his actions to Morgan softly, explaining the best way to make over-easy eggs.

Morgan hears him coming into the living room. She looks at him excitedly. “Petey, Harley’s up!” She chirps. The little girl has adopted the nickname Peter’s siblings call him.

“Morning,” Peter says. “You want eggs?”

Harley nods. He scoops up Morgan easily. He asks his sister, “What are you doing up so early, gremlin?”

“I wanted breakfast. Petey said he’d make it for me,” Morgan says happily. “Why you up?”

“I smelled breakfast,” Harley says. “Should I make avocado toast, Peter?”

“Sure. Do you want eggs over-easy? I can make scrambled, too.”

“Over-easy works,” Harley says. He sets Morgan down and gathers up the ingredients for avocado toast. Morgan is happy to watch Harley and Peter prepare a quick breakfast for just the three of them.

They eat at the table, with Morgan sitting on her little Black Widow booster seat. Morgan fills up any awkward silence with her enthusiastic chatter. She explains how she and Reese have a Barbie game where they run a detective agency to find missing puppies.

“Peter, how come Reese hasn’t played with Barbies before? She said she’s never had any,” Morgan says.

“Too many brothers. She and Deke were always following me and Will around when they were small, so they played a lot of Star Wars and Transformers and stuff like that.” Peter’s face flushes a little. “She played with our old toys, mostly.”

“Harley plays Star Wars and Barbies with me,” Morgan says.

“A man of many talents, I see,” Peter says.

“Harley’s really good at doing different voices for the Barbies.”

Harley grins. “I’m basically a professional Barbie player, at this point.”

Peter’s phone buzzes a couple times. He glances at his phone. Harley doesn’t mean to, but he reads the texts anyway:

From Señor, 6:41 a.m.:

I am getting really worried, mijo. Please call me back.

From Beto Delmar, 7:19 a.m:

call my dad u little prick

From Beto Delmar, 7:20 a.m.:

We miss you ese ANSWER ur damn phone. Murph is falling into clinical depression w out u

Peter scowls and shoves his phone in his pocket.

Morgan, ever the observant one, asks, “Who’s texting you?”

“My friend and his dad,” Peter says.

“Are you gonna text ‘em back?”

Peter smiles at her tiredly. “Soon, a chuisle.”

“What’s a kooshla?”

“It’s something my mom used to say. A chuisle mo chroí means ‘pulse of my heart.’”

“What’s a pulse?”

“It’s the blood moving in your body. It’s like little rivers of blood in your arms,” Peter says.

Morgan squeals, running a little hand up her arm. “That’s gross, Petey! Does Daddy have rivers of blood in his arms too?”

“Everyone does, Mo,” Harley says.

“Bleh.” Morgan shoves a forkful of eggs in her mouth. “Do chickens have rivers of blood?”

“Yep,” Peter says.

“Do avocadoes have rivers of blood—”


Tony crawls out of bed around nine. Everyone else is still asleep. He finds Harley, Morgan, and Peter doing a puzzle at the kitchen table. Two completed puzzles already lie finished on the countertop and on another part of the table.

“So you two are the reason a little troll didn’t crawl into my bed at the crack of dawn,” he says.

Peter flinches at the sound of his voice, while Morgan runs to greet her daddy. Tony sweeps her up and props her on his hip. Harley waves to his guardian sheepishly.

“We got started on Saturday morning puzzles a little early this morning,” Harley explains.

“Morgan, did you wake Harley and Peter up?” Tony asks with mock sternness.

“No, I went to cuddle with you and Mommy, and Petey was already up. He made us breakfast!”

“I bet it was good. Peter’s quite the cook,” Tony says.

His nephew stares at the puzzle. “My foster dad always worked late, so Leo and I usually made dinner.”

“Have you talked to Quentin? He can come over whenever you want—”

“That’s okay. I haven’t heard from him. I think he’s really busy with work.” Peter won’t even look at him. Tony wonders just how close he actually was with Quentin Beck.

“Is that the guy who was texting you earlier?” Morgan asks.

“No, that’s my boss. My old boss, anyway.” Peter’s eyes dart to his phone.

“The guy at the deli? He was really cool,” Tony says. “He makes an awesome Reuben sandwich.”

“A Reuben with extra sauerkraut and the bread extra toasted,” Peter recites. He finally looks at Tony. Tony hides a delighted grin. He managed to coax a small smile out of Peter! Now if he could only do that with Will or Reese.

“You remembered my order? I’m honored,” Tony says.

“That was all he talked about for days, when he first met you. I had to listen to him tell me, then Leo, then he called Deke and Peni, and then called them again because Reese wasn’t there the first time,” Will says, shuffling into the kitchen. “Basically, Peter’s a huge nerd.”

Peter rolls his eyes at his twin. “Says the kid who spent a summer learning freaking Elvish,” he shoots back.

“You actually like school. That makes you a real nerd. Blue check mark on Instagram, verified nerd. All caps,” Will says. Tony hears his nephew’s cane thumping against the ground, which reminds him of something.

“Hey Will, before I forget, I set up an appointment for you with the physical therapist I keep on staff for the Avengers. I figured it would be easier to have your appointments here in the Tower rather than go all the way to the one in Queens every week,” Tony says.

Will nods. “Okay, thanks. I didn’t like that guy anyway, he had really bad B.O.”

“What’s t’erapy?” Morgan asks, running over to sit by Will.

“Physical therapy helps me strengthen the muscles in my leg so I can walk better. I basically stretch for a couple hours a week,” Will says.

Morgan asks, “Why’s it all bendy? Does st’etching help?”

Tony shushes her immediately, but Will holds up a hand. “I shattered my leg when I was in a car crash. It took a lot of surgeries, and the doctors worked really hard and tried their best fix my leg. The damage was really bad, so my leg bows out a little. And I have a duckfoot*, too. That’s why I need a cane, or else my legs hurt a lot.”

“Duckfoot?”

“It means I can’t straighten my foot all the way. It makes me look a little like a duck,” Will says.

“When did you get a duckfoot?” Morgan asks.

“I was eight,” Will says.

Harley locks eyes with Tony. Peter and Will were eight when their parents died. Judging by the look on Tony’s face, Harley’s guardian already knew.

Holy fucking shit, Harley thinks. Will was in the car when his parents died.

“Does it hurt?” Morgan goes up to Will and kisses his knee gently. “Mommy says kisses make ouchies better.”

“She’s right. They do. Thanks, Morgan,” Will says with a little smile.

Morgan hugs his good leg tightly. “I’ll always kiss your ouchies better, Willie. You’re my kooshie.”

“Kooshie? What’s that mean, pal? Cousin?” Will asks.

A chuisle,” Peter says.

Will grins. “We’re connecting her to her Irish roots, I see.”


When Pepper awakens at ten, she sends Morgan to drag the rest of the kids out of bed. Peter, Harley, and Will observe from the couch. Peter hears a scream when Morgan launches herself into Peni’s bed and tackles her older cousin. Leo awakens easily enough, as he rarely sleeps a full night through. Peter heard his big brother reading one of Tony’s physics books at two this morning. Peter’s proud of him for being able to fall back asleep at all.

He should have realized there would be trouble when Morgan goes to wake Deke up.

When Morgan tiptoes into the room and then clambers into Deke’s bed, he hears a bloodcurdling scream and the sound of a tiny body falling on the floor. He hears Morgan bawling. Peter launches himself to his feet and tears down the hall to Deke’s room. Tony is on his heels.

“Get off! Oh my god. Shit, Morgie, I am so sorry,” Deke mutters, “shitshitshit—“

Peter appears in the open doorway, finding his brother crouched on the floor by the bed with a sobbing Morgan. Her shin is scraped and she glares at Deke accusingly. Deke reaches for her, but she scoots away.

“You hurt me!” She screeches. “You shoved me!”

“What’s going on?” Tony asks. He sees Morgan’s hurt knee and brushes past a gaping Peter, heading straight towards his daughter. He scoops her up in his arms and hugs her close to him.

“Deke, what happened?” Tony asks, whirling around to face his youngest nephew. Deke scrambles to his feet, refusing to meet Tony’s eyes.

The other kids and Pepper crowd behind Peter.

“He hurt me!” Morgan wails.

“What happened?” Tony repeats.

“I—“ Deke’s eyes well up with tears. “I didn’t mean, I—“

Pepper weaves through the gaggle of teenagers by the door, stepping into the bedroom. Peter sees his little brother tense up, his eyes darting between Pepper and Tony.

“You can tell us, Deke. It’s okay,” Pepper says.

Tony scowls. “It’s not okay, Pepper, look at Morgan’s leg—“

“It was an accident,” Deke gulps. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, she startled me when she landed right on me and I thought—“ His breath hitches and his hands tremble. His eyes slide over to his siblings standing in the doorway.

Peter remembers a little boy being chased around a dingy apartment by a monster of a man. He remembers how that little boy screamed and begged and cried. He watches, not sure if he should intervene.

“It’s not Deke’s fault. Morgan shouldn’t have been jumping on him like a freaking monkey,” a harsh voice cuts in, and Peter forgets how to breathe.

Pepper and Tony’s gazes snap to Will. Peter’s twin draws himself to his full height, body tensing. He wears the trademark scowl he used to antagonize Ben. He sneers in the way that practically goaded Quentin into pummeling his fists against him.

You dumbass, Peter thinks. Shit shit shit

Pepper says, “Will, this between us, Deke, and Morgan. How about the rest of you guys go to the living room and wait for us there?” Her tone is gentle, but Peter can tell that she means business.

“No,” Will says.

“Excuse me?” Tony says.

“Just leave,” Deke says, his face reddening. “God, Will, just leave!”

Peter takes Will’s arm and half-tugs him to the living room. The older twins and Reese follow, while Harley skitters to his bedroom per usual. Will seems a bit shocked at first. Then his scowl returns and he starts heading back towards the bedroom.

Leo grabs at Will’s shoulder and pulls him back a step, his silent way of telling Will to stop.

“Deke doesn’t need this, dumbass,” Peni hisses in Will’s ear.

Will fights against Leo’s grip, whirling around to face Peni. “I’m his big brother, too, Aspen!” He snaps. “You and Leo aren’t the only ones who care about him.”

“How are you helping him now, Wilder, huh? What do you think is going on in there, when Pepper and Tony have been nothing but great?” Peni retorts, scowling at her little brother. They stand inches apart. They are two indomitable forces cut from the same cloth. “You’re so full of yourself! What did you do to look out for him this past year—“

Will slams his cane against the ground. He speaks softly, but his words are full of anger and bitterness: “What were you doing, letting the Bronners fuckin’ treat Reese and Deke like shit? Being too goddamn self-absorbed seems to be your thing lately.”

“Fuck you, Will. That wasn’t my fault! You know it wasn’t,” Peni says. “You little shite, fuck you, you have no idea how hard this year’s been for me—“

“You have no fucking idea what this year was like for me, dealing with Quentin’s bullshit,” Will snarls. “You have no idea, do you? Leo never tells you anything, so of course you don’t know. We all want to protect precious little Aspen.”

Reese grips at Peter, and he wraps his arms around his little sister.

“What was he doing?” Peni demands. “Dammit, Will! You don’t just get to say that—“

“He was hurting you guys, wasn’t he?” Reese pulls away from Peter. She stares at her older brothers accusingly.

Peni looks stricken. Her eyes lock with Leo’s.

Leo nods once.

“You forgot rule number two,” Reese says in a low and dangerous tone.

In the police station, before their new foster parents show up and separate the six of them, Peter and his siblings crowd together in a corner.

Peni’s face is streaked with tears. “We need to fight this, stay together—“

“It won’t work! Nothing ever fucking works,” Will spits.

Leo says haltingly, “If Gwen or one of us tries to tell them again—“

“They won’t believe us. Not now,” Deke says. “We need to move on. Forget all that. We need to focus on getting our family together again.”

And so The Rules are born:

Rule One: Never talk about Skip or Fight Club.

Rule Two: If anyone hurts you, anyone, get out of there.

Rule Three: Harass Social Services until we are together again.—

“You promised, guys! You promised to follow The Rules,” Reese says, her eyes welling up with tears.

Peter says, “He wasn’t doing the… it was only hitting, and only once in a while. Not every day.”

“Not every day? That’s supposed to make me feel better?” Peni chokes out a watery laugh. “I just… Please tell me he didn’t—“

“He didn’t fucking touch us,” Leo says. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”

“You’re lying.” Reese trembles. “You’re lying!”

Peter kneels down and holds her close to his chest. She burrows against him, making him miss the expressive and open little girl she used to be. His ten-year-old sister should not be this guarded shadow of who she used to be. “I’m not lying, Reesey,” he promises. “I lied before, but I’m not lying now.”

“You always lie,” she hiccups. “Petey, you said Uncle Ben didn’t break your arm, when I heard the bone snap. Will, you lied about the blood on the sheets I found when we did laundry together. And-and there were always bruises on your arms and neck. Leo said that he was just playing video games with Skip when they went to the basement. No one told me why Deke cried all the time! All you guys do is lie! He made you liars, and I hate him for it! I hate him so much.”

“Me too, Reese,” Will says. His eyes—Mom’s eyes, God, what would she think, I failed Will and Deke and Reesey, I’m sorrysorrysorr—well with tears.

“You have to tell us things, guys! You can’t keep lying. That means he’s still hurting our family. That means he’s still in control,” Reese says. “Stupid Skip, I hate him—“

Peter hears a small gasp. Deke hovers awkwardly, holding Morgan’s hand. Tony and Pepper stare at their knot of distressed nieces and nephews in confusion.

“Who’s Skip?” Tony asks.

Deke’s look of betrayal cuts Peter to the bone.

Leo says, “No one.”

“Reese?” Pepper asks her niece.

Reese is quiet for a minute. “No one important.”

“You guys are all crying. We just want to understand why,” Tony says. “We want to understand what happened back in Deke’s bedroom.”

Rule one, Deke mouths.

Peter says, “It’s nothing, Uncle Tony. We promise. Just sibling squabbling.”

“I’ll take it for now, kids, but I want you to know that you can trust us,” Tony says. “You really can tell us anything, alright?”

Peter and his siblings nod furiously.

Peter almost feels guilty.

Almost.

Notes:

Sorry it took me so long to update, quarantine really has been kicking my butt. At least I have extra time to snuggle my pets and write :) I hope you guys are staying safe and healthy, and that this update makes things a little easier.

My long-ass author’s notes:
- I swear we will have more Tony and Peter bonding in the next chapter. I swear ;-;
- “Duckfoot” is a term I would never use in real life. At least to me, it sounds borderline if not blatantly ableist. (please let me know in the comments below if this is wrong, I am always open to criticism and further education on complicated topics). The proper medical term is femoral retroversion, or, more informally, “out-toeing.” Will has been bullied and shamed for his disability his whole life. Pepper and Tony are going to help him heal but it won’t happen overnight.
- I tried to describe Will’s injured leg in a way that was medically correct, but I don’t have a medical background and it’s probably inaccurate lmao
- updates are taking me longer as I try to navigate writing about heavy topics I haven’t personally experienced in an accurate and sensitive manner. Thank you guys for your patience :)
- to end on a lighter note, someone requested a family shopping trip, so look forward to seeing that in a couple of weeks!
- can someone give me tips on how to write Morgan’s dialogue? How much can a four-year-old actually say, pls help a struggling writer out

As always, thank you guys so much for supporting this flaming garbage heap of a story. I have the best readers EVER, I can’t believe over 12k people have read this. Much love~

Chapter 17

Notes:

Trigger warnings for food insecurity, implied/referenced drug use, and past physical abuse

A huge shoutout goes to my beta thelostcolony

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

I’ll take it for now.

Peter paces around his bedroom, where he escaped to shortly after the mortifying conversation with his aunt and uncle. Peni, Will, Reese, and Leo are braving the living room. Morgan suggested a family game of Uno. Peter knows his siblings are full of shit. They just want to make it look like everything is normal. Like everything is fine.

Deke and Peter declined to play. Deke went to his room to cry. Peter knows this because his shuddering sobs batter against Peter’s eardrums. Peter does not seek his little brother out. Like Will, Deke needs space when he is upset.  

It’s easy to know what his siblings want. Peter knows them better than he knows himself. Peter has been lost for the past seven years. His eyes drift to the framed picture of his mom and dad on the dresser. Richard wears his U.S. Air Force uniform, his arm thrown casually around a beaming Mary. They stand in the shadow of Edinburgh Castle. They seem so young and vibrant, so full of life.

Peter blinks rapidly. In his weakest moments, he’s unable to unwrap his current problems from the car crash that set his life off track. When Skip held him down and called him a dirty slut, Peter sobbed. He cried from the pain, from the humiliation. He also cried because he missed his parents. His dad would have come in with his Air Force training and kicked Skip’s ass. When Ben shoved Peter against a wall or beat him almost to the point of unconsciousness, Peter wanted his dad to rescue his son from his monstrous brother. He wanted his mom’s gentle patience with her children when Quentin hounded Will for his failing grades.

Peter’s never been able to move beyond the deaths of Richard and Mary Parker. He doesn’t know if he ever will.

One time in seventh grade, Ben shouted, “my brother would be ashamed to see how lazy and entitled you are, Peter.”

“He’d be ashamed of you,” Peter retorted.

He hadn’t been able to go to school for two days after that comment.

Peter’s eyes well up with tears. He digs his fingernails into his wrists. They’ve been dead for years. They were dead when Skip raped you, they were dead when Ben beat you. They were dead. They’ve been dead. Seven years.

He winds his fingers through his hair and breathes heavily. 

“Get over it,” he mutters to himself. “Get over it.”

He washes his face with cool water and joins the Uno game. When Deke creeps out of his room, he sees his confident older brother laughing as if nothing is wrong.

That’s what Deke needs. That’s what Reese and Will, and even Peni and Leo, need, Peter tells himself. They need him to be strong.

Seven years seven years sevenyearssevenseven—


After a couple hours of awkwardly navigating around each other in the penthouse, Pepper asks FRIDAY to tell everyone to gather in the living room at eleven o’ clock. Harley emerged fifteen minutes ago to grab a banana to munch on. Tony stopped him from skulking back to his room and sat Harley down next to him on the couch. Morgan clambered into Harley’s lap, effectively trapping him. 

Leo, Deke, and Peni are finishing cleaning up the batch of blueberry waffles they cooked for breakfast. Reese leaves her room clutching a copy of a book Harley recommended, By the Great Horn Spoon! She is followed by Will and Peter.   

“Do you like the book so far?”

 “I do,” she says with a small smile, plopping down next to Harley and leaning her head on his shoulder. “I relate to Jack a lot, being an orphan and all.”

Harley hears Tony choke on his third coffee cup of the day.

“Me too,” Harley says. 

Tony chokes again. “Me three,” he rasps.

“We should start a club,” Will mutters.

Before the conversation can get any more macabre, Pepper shoos the Fitzpatrick twins and Deke into the living room. Everyone finds a seat, watching Pepper with a mix of bewilderment and wariness. Harley is suddenly very aware of just how many people are now living in the penthouse. Feisty Reese, sarcastic Will, bouncy Morgan, and sweet Peni. Things are definitely a lot more crazy around here, but not in a bad way.

For the first time in a while, Harley is okay with change.

He leans against Tony, hugging Morgan close to him and appreciating the warmth of Reese on his left side. He looks at Pepper, his guardian and second mother, and waits for her to speak.

“I thought we could go shopping upstate and pick up some stuff for your rooms,” Pepper says.

As usual, Harley’s cousins look to Leo and Peni.

Peni says in that slow, deliberate way of hers, “Aren’t we not supposed to be seen in public until the press conference?”

“I have a few business contacts that owe me some favors, tesoro, ” Tony says. “They guaranteed me a few empty department stores at a strip mall upstate and no paparazzi.”

Reese leans around Harley to peer at Tony. “Really, Uncle Tony? Like the whole store?”

“Yep. There will be plenty of room for you hooligans to run around and start a ruckus,” Tony says.

“We’ll be good,” Leo says immediately, twitching nervously.

“We know you will. You guys have been great,” Pepper says soothingly. “We figured we could eat at a cute little Italian restaurant outside the city after we go to the mall. How does that sound?”

There’s a chorus of eager nods and verbal approval. 

Tony rises to his feet. “Rise, my small army. Let us go to our battle chariot and load up!”

Exchanging a dubious glance with Will, Harley follows his family into the elevator and they go to the garage floor. Will ends up pressed against Leo awkwardly, while Peni’s elbow digs in Harley’s ribcage. Morgan hugs Peter’s legs. Pepper is shoved in the far left corner.

“Maybe we need a bigger elevator,” Tony mutters as the elevator door dings open. 

They spill out of the elevator, panting with relief. Tony’s collection of expensive sports cars take up a large sectioned-off part of the garage floor. Harley scans the garage, wondering if they will have to take two separate cars— 

“You bought a Mercedes minivan, Tony?” Harley blurts as soon as he sees Happy leaning against the silver monstrosity of a vehicle. Their driver does not look any happier about the situation.

“I needed something that could seat more than ten people,” Tony whines. “Happy bullied me into it.”

Happy squawks angrily, his scowl deeper than usual. “That is not true! I got a text from him at four AM two days ago saying that it would be dropped off the next morning.”

“Poor Happy, he has the patience of a saint,” Pepper says.

Peter lets out a small snort of disbelief. Harley sees Tony suppress a grin.

“Let’s load up. We haven’t got all day,” Happy says. He eyes Tony with thinly-veiled irritation. “You look like a damn Catholic, Tony, with all these kids.”* 


Harley realizes that his cousins’ idea of road trips are vastly different than his. Mostly, Tony and Pepper chat quietly while Morgan plays “I Spy” with an unwilling Happy. AC/DC blasts in the background. Usually, Harley looks out the window and thinks about how he did not leave Tennessee for the first eleven years of his life. He’s not sure that one time his dad took him to Alabama to get LSD for his old prison buddy counts.

His cousins arrange themselves as if there is a previously discussed seating chart. In the third row, Reese and Deke park themselves by the windows. Peter sandwiches himself between them. Leo and Peni lodge themselves in the far back row and wave Morgan back with them. Harley feels awkward for a second, until Will nudges him into the second row of seats. Tony sits next to Will. Pepper calls shotgun. Happy drives, of course. 

They pull out of Stark Tower’s garage and pull into the crazy streets of New York. Harley knows it will take literal hours to get outside the city and lets out a little huff. 

Deke distracts him by saying, “Okay, there’s an advertisement for Adele ’s new album—“

Broadway show poster on a light pole, I swear it was there!” Reese squawks.

Peni says, “NY C poster—“

“ACRONYMS DON’T COUNT, YOU BLOODY INCOMPETENT FOOL!” Leo shouts. It takes Harley’s brain a few seconds to disassemble his cousin’s accent.

Will says, “ Dave’s Heating and Cooling ! Double whammy, look for an E—“

“What’s going on?” Tony cuts in.

Reese says in a tone that implies Tony did not attend MIT at age fifteen, “The alphabet game, of course—HOAGIES AND ENCHILADAS !”

“What’s next—“ Will mutters.

At least three of his siblings shout, “F, it’s F!”

“Jeez, I’m failing English—“

Free Credit Score Report at EZScore,” Pepper chimes in.

Harley finally realizes they are looking for words in alphabetical order on various signs and advertisements in the city. In less than six minutes, they have gone through the entire alphabet. Tony found an advertisement for the zoo on a billboard. He trades a high-five with Will. The sound makes Harley flinch.

“Uncle Tony really came in clutch at the end,” Leo says. “I was getting desperate—“

“You really should get your eyes checked, old man,” Reese says.

“Reese, I’m seventeen—“

“That’s ancient.”

“I’m only seven years older than you.”

“You’re old, Leo,” Morgan agrees. “Really, really old!”

“What does that make Mommy and Daddy then, Maguna?” Tony asks.

“You’re almost Uncle Steve old, but not Uncle Thor old,” Morgan finally says.

“Okay, no more comments from the peanut gallery,” Tony says. “My massive ego can’t take it.”

Leo coughs into his elbow, but then Deke starts cracking up. Soon, all the kids are laughing. Harley leans back, feeling content in the car for the first time in years. 


The strip mall is in a cute little town about two and a half hours outside the edges of the city. Harley’s cousins and Morgan filled the car ride with silly games, useless trivia, and a rendition of an atrocious song called “The Rattlin’ Bog.” Peni’s reserved manner belies a gorgeous singing voice that makes shivers travel up Harley’s arms.

They go to a furniture store first. The young woman working there absolutely freaks out when she sees Tony, Pepper, Harley, and Morgan. Harley sometimes forgets how famous his family really is sometimes. 

Tony practically has to force his nieces and nephews to peruse the store. When Reese runs a finger over the woodwork on a gorgeous antique bookshelf, Pepper asks, “Do you want that, Reesey?”

“It’s expensive,” Reese says, sounding uncertain for the first time since Harley’s known her.

“This will last you forever, though. You can pass it on to your kids one day and fill it with lots of good books,” Pepper says.

“My copy of By the Great Horn Spoon better be the first book you put on it,” Harley says sternly.

Will waggles a finger at his little sister. “If it’s not Eragon or Lord of the Rings , I’ve failed as an older brother.”

Tony looks over from the set of bunk beds he coaxed Peter into looking at. “ Ender’s Game ?”

“Scifi trash,” Will says dismissively. 

“You—you did not just say that!” Tony sputters.

Will tenses for a second, but his lips twitch into a tiny grin. “I stand by what I said.”

“Fantasy is the best genre. Sci Fi sucks, except for Star Wars ,” Reese says. She looks at Pepper. “Can we get the bookshelf, Aunt Pepper?”


After securing bunk beds and a desk for Deke, a vanity and big silver mirror for Peni, Reese’s bookshelf, and a nightstand for Leo, Tony leads the way to a decent-sized department store. Peter cautiously picks his way to the shoe section. He needs more shoes than a pair of ratty sneakers and flip flops he stole from Quentin. He eyes a pair of red Converse, but immediately blanches at the price.

He hears Peni’s gentle steps and looks over his shoulder to see his big sister smile at him. She holds a jean skirt and a couple sweaters. “Get it, Petey,” she says.

“They’re fifty-five dollars,” Peter says.

Peni’s eyes flick around for a second. “I don’t mean this in a bad way, a chusile, but they’re billionaires . I know it’s different than what we’re used to—“

Peter’s eyes burn with hot tears. “Remember when we ate toasted slices of stale bread with chips, mayo, and a slice of baloney for a week? It was right after Mom and Dad, when Will’s hospital bills burnt through all of the money and May hadn’t finished nursing school yet—“

“Why are you talking about that? Why can’t you just focus on the present for once —” 

“This is more than ‘different,’ Pen, this is a whole new ballpark for us. How do I go from unloved foster kid to a freakin’ ward of billionaires?”

“You weren’t unloved, Petey,” Peni says. 

Peter feels his anger dissipate. He pictures a ten-year-old that finished potty training her toddler sister by herself. The preteen who cooked dinner and kissed the ouchies better and did her best to raise three younger siblings with her twin brother. Peni is—

She’s his sister, but she’s more than that. She is his confidant, his role model, the person he turns to with all his problems, someone who practically raised him. 

“I’ll get the shoes,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“I know this is hard. You want to go look for a new pair of jeans?”

With his big sister’s help, Peter fills in the gaps in his limited wardrobe. He leaves with four new pairs of shoes, two pairs of jeans, three flannels, a dozen T-shirts, a sweatshirt, a new jacket, and Star Wars swim trunks. He helps calm Deke down in a changing room when his little brother realizes that a jacket he likes costs seventy dollars. Besides that, his siblings navigate buying brand new clothes for the first time in years rather well.

Reese takes to it like a duck in water. She lets Morgan drag her through the younger girls’ section, picking out random shirts and accessories. Peter chokes back a laugh when he sees them wearing matching pink sunglasses. He knows Reese will punch him if she sees him laughing.

The guy who rings them up stares at them with wide eyes. Peter fights back a surge of panic when he sees the amount of money his new clothes cost. Leo visibly flinches when Tony hands the cashier a shiny metal credit card. 

“Only rich- rich people have metal credit cards,” Uncle Ben used to say.

Peter guesses they are rich -rich now. 

Trailing behind Will on the way out of the store, Peter notices how stiffly his brother moves. Spending all that time in the car and walking around the stores undoubtedly irritated his leg. Will, too proud and stubborn to admit it, has not uttered a word of complaint.

Taking a deep breath, Peter falls back a couple steps and murmurs to his aunt, “Aunt Pepper, can Will ride shotgun on the way home? I think the extra room might be good for him.”

“Of course, Peter. It’s sweet of you to think of him,” Pepper says.

“Call it twintuition, I guess,” Peter says.

As they load up the bags in the trunk of the Mercedes van, Pepper says, “Will, do you mind sitting up front with Happy? I felt kind of carsick on the way here.”

Peter sees the relief on Will’s face. “Of course! Riding shotgun is the best.”

Peter hides a smile. 

—“You were given a twin for a reason. Will needs you to look after him, and you need Will to look after you. Remember that, buddy.”—

I’m trying, Dad, Peter thinks. 


Later that night, Peter finds himself staring up at the ceiling at one in the morning. Will and Deke snore in the other bed, curled up like two little puppies. Peter rubs a hand against his face tiredly, wishing he could fall asleep. The buzz of Manhattan traffic and sirens are bothering him more than usual. The overstimulation makes his temples throb.

Even after feasting on lasagna and breadsticks tonight—Peter saw Peni and Leo exchange pleased glances when he finished his plate, they think they are subtle and they are not —, Peter still feels hungry. He listens carefully. He’s pleased to discover that everyone in the penthouse is sleeping peacefully.

Peter eases himself out of the covers and creeps out of the room. He heads to the kitchen, planning to grab a banana and a high-calorie granola bar. Harley says they keep those around for the Avengers with enhanced metabolisms. 

He tears into his food eagerly, relishing in the fact that he can go to the kitchen and take whatever he wants. He even goes back for a couple handfuls of almonds. He thinks healthy fats are probably good for weight gain—

Just focus on the food, how good it tastes

Peter flinches when he hears someone getting out of bed. He hears the footfalls and immediately recognizes them as Tony’s. He briefly considers racing back to his room, but he fears waking up his brothers and Tony catching him. He decides to shove the food wrappers in his pajama pocket and sit on the couch. He pulls out his phone and opens Twitter. 

“Hey, kid,” Tony says cautiously. “Is that Peter or Will or Harley? I can’t tell in the dark.”

Peter’s grip tightens around his phone. “It’s Peter.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” To Peter, Tony sounds purposefully casual. It’s hard to tell. Sometimes Uncle Ben became deadly calm before he snapped.

“No.” Peter lurches to his feet. “I’ll go back to bed—“

“The worst thing for me is staring at an empty ceiling for hours.” Due to his enhanced vision, Peter sees Tony offer him a wry grin. “I’m a chronic insomniac.” 

“Me too,” Peter says. “I mean, it’s not every night. Just every once in a while, you know?”

“I know,” Tony says. “Do you want to go to the lab and hang out? I have some leftover ravioli in the mini fridge. I can stick it in the microwave.”

Peter tries to remember the last time he willingly “hung out” with a father figure in his life. Up until eighth grade, he and his siblings spent a month every summer with their granddad. Bill Fitzpatrick usually dragged him out on a fishing trip or to a used bookstore. Even though the old man has been dead for only two years, it feels like a lifetime ago.

Even Ben liked to take one of his nieces or nephews grocery shopping or on a day trip to Central Park. Peter remembers playing catch with his uncle. Ben brought Peter to visit Richard’s grave with him. Sometimes, his uncle wasn’t all that bad—

“Sure,” Peter finds himself saying.

They walk to the lab in a companionable silence . FRIDAY turns on the lights. Tony orders one of his robots, a strange little creature named DUMM-E, to microwave the ravioli. “Don’t burn the place down,” he adds.

Peter can’t tell if his uncle is serious or not. 

Tony pulls out a bundle of blueprints from a shelf that is out of the robots’ reach. “I’m working on some new designs for Steve’s suit. Do you want to see?”

Peter nods. He creeps forward to stand beside his uncle. He listens to the thrum of the microwave as he tries to decipher Tony’s wild handwriting. A finger brushes against a chemical formula.

“Are you trying to create a synthetic fiber to neutralize acid?” He asks.

Tony grins at him. “Aren’t you quite the chemist? I can’t really go into detail, but Steve has some trauma from the war involving acid attacks—“ He falters.

“I understand,” Peter says. He admires his uncle’s desire to respect Captain America’s privacy. Peter certainly would not want Tony discussing his own trauma to the other Avengers. “That’s really cool of you. Like, awesome.”

“He’s my friend and he’s helped me a lot. It’s the least I can do—“ The microwave dings. “This is Natasha’s ravioli. It’s life changing, kid.”

DUMM-E brings them the plate. Peter picks one up and shoves it in his mouth. He’s not prepared for the burst of flavor.

Tony laughs when he sees Peter’s expression. “Like I said, life changing!”

Peter swallows. “Holy shit —“ He flinches. “I meant—sorry, I didn’t mean to swear, sir.”

“It’s fine, Peter.” Peter stares at the floor. “Kid, look at me.”

Peter stares at his uncle, waiting. 

“This is the same rule for Harley, for all you kids—I don’t care if you cuss. Hell, I swear all the time. Just try to avoid it in front of Morgan. I understand once in a blue moon, but if it’s all the time, that’s when there might be consequences.”

“What kind of consequences?” Peter forces himself to ask.

“What do you think?” Tony looks him square in the eye.

“I—“ Peter should shut up, but the words rush out of him. It’s one a.m. and he’s tired and Tony has been so nice. “Ben would have killed me. April, my old foster mom, she had this wooden spoon. She’d smack you with it if you’d talked back and shit, you know? One time Peni told Leo to fuck off, and-and April just went psycho on her. Peni had to wear long sleeves to school for like a week, there were all these bruises on her arms.”

“My dad would call me a fucking waste of space, and use a belt on me if I told him the same,” Tony says.

Peter looks in his uncle’s eyes and sees a kindred soul. Sees the eyes of a kid who was denied love when he needed it the most. It’s too much to bear, so he turns back to the blueprints for Cap’s suit.

“Ben had one, too. A belt, I mean. And—“ And so did Quentin, he wants to say, but he’s not ready for that. Not sure if he will ever be. Tony met Quentin, talked with him, even joked with him. Ben was arrested and convicted for physical assault of a minor. He snapped Peter’s arm. There’s a difference between getting your ass beat and a broken arm, after all. 

Tony doesn’t say anything. It’s like he knows Peter has more to say, and Peter does—

“It was only when he was drunk. He—he was in the army. Aunt May said it messed him up, that he was different when he came back.”

“Peter, your uncle being unable to process his trauma does not justify what he did to you,” Tony says. 

“I know. I mean…” Peter suddenly feels his chest tighten. He takes a deep breath. “What are your consequences?”

“Extra chores or I take away electronics. We put Morgan in time-out, sometimes. Pepper and I always talk about it beforehand, and explain why we are doing what we are doing to Harley and Morgan,” Tony says. 

Peter nods. “That’s—“ A relief. Not what I expected. Nothing like what I’m used to. There’s a million things he could say, really. He simply looks at the blueprints, stares at the chemical formulas that are blurred by his tears.

“You’re a good kid, Peter,” Tony says. “Better than Pepper and I could deserve. Good enough to deserve even more of Nat’s ravioli.”

His uncle shoves the plate into Peter’s hand. Peter lets out a watery laugh.








Notes:

my beta is thelostcolony

I made a Tumblr!! It’s @enchantingwriting. Talk to me there if you want :)

A couple notes:
- next chapter will include a few of the Avengers. Let me know who you want featured below!
- we will also get an in-depth Tony and Harley bonding scene
- I can’t promise that I can include every request, but requests for future scenes give me new ideas and insight into where people want this story to go. I have the plot mostly mapped out, but there’s plenty of wiggle room.

Finally, thank you so much for all the love this story has received. The fact that there are literally over 1000 kudos makes me insanely grateful. I have the best readers EVER!!!

Chapter 18

Summary:

Trigger warnings for vivid depictions of past childhood sexual assault, discussed deaths of parents and siblings, PTSD, past physical abuse, homophobia, and a panic attack. Please take care of yourselves, this is a very intense chapter!

A huge shoutout goes to my beta thelostcolony

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

A few days after his heart-to-heart with Tony, Peter wakes up to find the hair on his arms sticking straight up. Spidey sense. 

Sleep forgotten, Peter bolts upright, the tidal wave of sounds and smells in the Tower hitting him like a truck. His senses strain as he tries to make sense of them: snoring down the hall, Reese laughing in her sleep— why doesn’t she laugh when she’s awake?— , Tony’s heart murmuring along with the steady thrum of the arc reactor. Uneven breathing, muffled sobs from across the hall.

Across the hall. Harley .

Peter lurches to his feet and trips across the room, staggering into the door and nearly crushing the knob. In his ears, the sobs hitch and hiccup like Harley’s trying to catch his breath.

He hesitates.

Will is sleeping in Deke’s room tonight, a guard against nightmares. Tony is down the hall snoring with Pepper, Morgan’s rabbit-fast heartbeat wedged between them, and everyone else in the tower are sound sleepers; there’s no way they’d wake up if Peter wanted to host a party on this floor, much less if he went to comfort Harley. 

But Harley isn’t … Harley is his cousin, not his sibling. Harley hasn’t endured everything that Peter and the rest of his family have endured together. They don’t share Ben, or May, or Quentin, or — or Skip. Harley is just their cousin. He’s got his own issues, his own way of dealing with them. His own past.

Peter rests his forehead against the door, hand limp on the knob, and listens to Harley’s heartbeat cry out to him.

With that in his ears, it's easy to make up his mind.

Peter crosses the hall and eases open Harley’s door, wincing at the creak and the way Harley’s breathing immediately hitches to a stop. “Harley?” Peter whispers. “It’s me, Peter.”

Peter’s eyes adjust to the dark: he makes out Harley’s vague silhouette wedged between the bed and the wall, curled up and miserable. His face is buried in his knees. His heartbeat aches in Peter’s bones. “It’s Peter,” he repeats softly, and tiptoes his way across the room, crouching so that he and Harley are level.

“Peter,” Harley rasps, lifting his head. His face is streaked with tears. “What --- why are you here?”

“I thought something might be wrong. Just a bad feeling.” Peter inches closer. Now that he’s here, he has no clue what to do to help. “...Do you want me to get Tony?”

Harley’s breathing hiccups. He runs a hand through his hair, stuck to his forehead with sweat. “No — no. Not yet. I’m — I’m too jumpy, he’d just make it worse with his fussing.” It takes a second, but an awkward look rises to Harley’s face. His hand drops, fingers pulling at the carpet fibers.

Sympathy wells in Peter. Sympathy and understanding. “Uh… I’m the same. After a nightmare.”

Harley’s eyes dart up to meet Peter’s again, and they look at one another for a long moment. Then Harley eases himself out of his hiding spot, flopping against the foot of his bed. Peter slowly adjusts so that they’re sitting side by side, not sure if he should offer to get Tony again or if he should go or — anything. Harley isn’t … they don’t share anything.

Still, Harley is his cousin. Peter’s in for the long haul.

“It wasn’t a nightmare,” Harley says after the silence stretches for too long. “More like…” he huffs, but it’s far from a laugh. “My therapist says I have PTSD, like I was in a fucking war or something. It’s dumb.”

There are a lot of things Peter thinks are dumb, but PTSD definitely isn’t one of them. “PTSD can be caused by any sort of traumatic event,” he says. 

There is a beat of silence between them.

 “Do you…?”

Peter shakes his head. “Not me. I mean—not really. I don’t pretend to be a psychologist, but a couple of my siblings have symptoms. Figured I should know a bit about it if I’m gonna be there for them. MayoClinic is good for that sort of thing.”

Harley nods, but when he speaks he sounds far away. “Sometimes I hear sirens. I mean, it’s fucking Manhattan,” he says distantly. “I hear sirens and it… it sends me back to a place that I, I don’t want to be. Makes me freak out. Certain noises, yelling. I’m working on it. Trying to be better.” Harley blinks and looks down, like his socks are the most interesting thing in the world. “Feels like I just keep going backwards.”

Peter’s gut clenches. “I don’t pretend to know what happened to you,” he says. “But, from my experience, there’s uh… there’s no timeline with this shit. Sometimes I — there’s just. No way to measure, so. Don’t beat yourself up so much.”

Harley nods again, more present. “Yeah. It’s just… she was so young . My sister.” He takes a deep breath. “She was almost six, you know. I see her a lot in Morgan. She was really smart, too. Hated puzzles, though. She was really into like, unicorns and shit. She always tried to tell me, but I was…” his mouth twists, bitter. “Too busy. Always too busy to care, you know? I’d be like, not now Cee, I’m doing something , even though I was just like, reading comics. She always wanted to tell me about My Little Pony or something. Is My Little Pony even unicorns? I don’t know. I don’t know. I should know. I should know, I should have — I should have paid more attention, I don’t know and now she’s dead and I can’t even — I can’t even fucking ask her—” Harley chokes, and covers his face. “Sorry, I’m — I’m sorry, give me a sec.”

Peter knows that Harley has a dead sister . But, God, Peter hadn’t realized she’d been so little when she died. 

“It sounds like you loved her a lot. You’re a great brother to Morgan, and I know you were a great brother to her, too.”

“Her name was Celine,” Harley rasps. “Celine Rose Keener.”

“That’s a beautiful name.”

“You’re really lucky, Peter, to have all your siblings. I’d kill for that. God, I really would.”

“You’re our family, bud. You have been since we all walked out of that elevator. All the craziness, all the bickering, all the love, it’s yours. If you want it—hell, even if you don’t.”

“I always wanted a brother,” Harley says thickly. “Mine wasn’t born yet, when my mom died. It—his name was supposed to be George Knox Davis. After George Strait. My stepdad liked George Strait, and we were all named after singers—Harley Allen, Celine Dion, George Strait.”

“That’s a real nice name,” Peter whispers. 

Harley chokes out another sob, and another, until he’s bawling. Peter wraps his arms around Harley and doesn’t let go for a long time.


Peter gets Harley to fall asleep around four in the morning. He stares at the ceiling for the rest of night—or early morning, really. Around five he turns to Twitter, but it’s little help: he spends the rest of the pre-dawn morning shivering after he sees a news article about the sexual assault of a college student. Phantom fingers pull at his clothing. There are whispers in his ears, whispers that make Peter feel dirty and exposed. When the sun comes up, Peter’s grateful to lurch from bed and make his way to the kitchen.

It’s a quarter to six, but the sun is rising and Peter isn’t willing to face the demons in his room again. Instead, he guzzles two cups of coffee, eats two packs of PopTarts and thinks fuck you, Quentin with every bite, burns some avocado toast, and ends up downing two glasses of almond milk for good measure. It’s easier to eat when other people aren’t around. 

No one likes a fat whore, Pete, Skip taunts.

Peter’s grip tightens around his milk glass, words beating around his skull like a bass drum. Fatwhorefatwhore fatWHORE

“Morning Peter,” Tony says.

Peter flinches and the glass goes flying to the ground, exploding. He’s distantly aware of the fact that his hand is bleeding. But he just, just—

“It’s alright, kid. I’m not mad,” Tony assures. “I’ll clean it up, okay? You go get ready for school—hey, is your hand bleeding?”

Peter cradles his hand against his chest. He can barely force himself to talk. “It’s a… little cut.”

“Let me see.”

“Please, Tony. It’s fine. I’ll go put a Band-Aid on.” Peter skitters past his uncle, barricades himself in the bathroom, and tries to tune out the sound of Tony cursing. Instead,  he examines his hand: there’s a huge gash cutting across his palm. He runs it under water, makes sure it doesn’t stain the sink, and patiently waits for the wound to knit back together. 

In ten minutes, there isn’t even a scar on his palm. Peter picks at a hangnail until it bleeds. He practically sprints to the kitchen, where Tony nurses a cup of coffee.

“Just a little nick. Sorry I freaked,” Peter says, brandishing his hangnail.

“There was a lot of blood—oh, that’s not so bad,” Tony says.

“Yeah, sorry.” Peter clears his throat, trying to look less... guilty. “When I ran, it was… let’s just say Uncle Ben would have reacted a lot differently to me breaking that glass than you did. So, thanks. And thanks for cleaning up.” It’s not a lie. It’s just not the truth, either. Not all of it, anyway.

Tony doesn’t seem to notice. He sighs. “Don’t thank me for not hitting you, kid. I’m sorry for scaring you. That was on me.”

“It’s fine,” Peter says. He forces a smile. “Really.”

Tony looks at him for a minute, and Peter does his best not to fidget. Is Tony going to call him out? Does he know Peter lied? Maybe he does. The AI records stuff, doesn’t it? Does it know that Peter healed in the bathroom? Is Tony —

“You want a hug, kid?” Tony says finally, and Peter’s thoughts grind to a halt. “This seems like a hugging moment.”

A hug.

May used to hug him, sometimes, and his siblings and Morgan do it all the time. A hug — a hug should be fine. Tony isn’t Skip. A hug.

A hug would be nice.

Peter nods.

Tony wraps his arms around him and pats him on the back gently. Peter practically melts at the gentle touch. God, he’s missed this, missed having someone who actually cares. 

Tony pulls away after a minute, but it doesn’t feel like a loss. Peter… feels better, actually. Tony smiles at him. “Now go wake up Leo and get ready for school. When Morgan runs late, Happy sends me passive aggressive texts all day.”

Peter nods, but with the mention of Leo, his mind flies to Harley. He hadn’t ended up needing Tony last night, he’d asked Peter not to get Tony, but… maybe Tony should know. Harley’s… different from Peter. Harley is Tony’s son, not the newfound nephew who emailed him at two in the morning less than a month ago. Maybe he needs Tony right now. “Um, sure,” Peter says. “Um, and you might want to check in on Harley today.”

“Is everything okay?” Tony’s eyes dart to the hallway where the bedrooms are.

“Yeah!” Peter assures him. “Yeah, I just… he might need someone to listen to him today.”

Tony nods, eyes sharp when they meet Peter’s. It’s the gaze of someone who knows something is up, something isn’t being told, and Peter is terrified that Tony can read his mind. Is FRIDAY telepathic? Can technology do that yet? His uncle would be the one to invent a telepathic AI.  Fuck. 

In the end, Tony just offers Peter another smile. “I’ll do that. Thanks for letting me know, kid.”

“Well, he’s my cousin. I gotta look out for him.”

As he heads back to his room to get ready for school, Peter thinks he hears Tony let out a little sniffle. 


Harley starts his homework at nine after a three-mile run on the track. His sides ache from overexerting himself. Living with a superhero and having the Avengers as de facto aunts and uncles always encourages Harley to engage in physical activity. Peter’s lean biceps and well-muscled legs make him green with jealousy, especially since his cousin seems to not have a regular bodybuilding routine.

Tony wanders in the kitchen around ten-thirty, nursing a steaming mug of coffee. He plops down next to Harley. His eyes are rimmed with dark circles.

“How’s school going?”

“AP Lang is easy and I hate AP Calc,” Harley says with a sigh. “Is that your fourth cup of coffee?”

“Maybe,” Tony mumbles.

“How has your heart not stopped yet?”

“Why do you think I have the arc reactor? It lets me have an unlimited amount of caffeine.”

“You have the arc reactor because there’s shrapnel in your heart, there’s no correlation whatsoever —“

“I did not come in here to be criticized by my son who drinks tea —“

“Sweet tea is a Southern staple,” Harley defends. “And don’t lie, you love my sweet tea.”

“What’s that one little diner in Lower Manhattan that you say has the best waffles and sweet tea?”

“Lulu’s!” Harley says excitedly. “It’s the closest to authentic Southern sweet tea that I’ve found in New York.”

“You want to go?”

Harley gestures to his laptop and textbooks strewn across the kitchen table.

“You have straight As, Harley. You can take a morning off. What if I invite Clint and Wanda and Steve? They’re in town today.”

“Why didn’t they stop by here?” Harley feels a stab of disappointment. The Avengers always make a point of dropping by to hang out with him, even when he initially resisted their efforts at first. He was trapped in a deep pit of depression and grief when he first arrived in Tony and Pepper’s care.

“I don’t want to overwhelm your cousins, so I’ve asked them to keep their distance,” Tony says.

“Peter met Steve and he was super excited.”

“I know. They’ve just had a lot of changes going on in their lives and we want to slowly integrate them into the family. I can’t introduce them to the whole team at once.”

“That’s what you did with me.”

“And that was a mistake.”

Harley scowls. “No it wasn’t, I loved it—“

“You hid in your room for a day after Thor threw a plate at Clint and he caught it.”

“That was one time —“

“I’m not faulting you, Harley. That was me being a bad father. I didn’t take the time to know your triggers or realize that maybe a bunch of loud men in the house wasn’t a good idea. I know I’ve apologized before, but this is me trying to be a better dad to the six traumatized kids in my care. Okay?”

“I get that. It wasn’t your fault, Tony, it wasn’t like you planned on having kids when you adopted me, of course you had to adapt to parenting.”

“I try, kid.” 

“No, you don’t just try, you… Hell, I dunno, you excel . It’s like you and Pepper deserve an Olympic medal in parenting. You were the first adults in my life to give a shit, and probably the first adults in Leo and Peni and Reese and everyone else’s lives in literal years.”

“I don’t deserve to be your dad, kid,” Tony says. “And since you’re a giant kissass, kid, let’s go get your stupid sweet tea and waffles.”


Wanda dribbles syrup on her waffles, watching with utter fascination. The Sokovian teen loves trying new foods, as HYDRA strictly regulated her diet as a child and her parents’ low incomes prevented them from eating a variety of foods. 

“Leslie on Parks and Rec likes waffles,” Wanda says. “Bruce is making me watch it with him.”

Clint barks out a laugh. “Bruce isn’t ‘forcing’ you to do anything. Wands, you begged him to watch six episodes yesterday.”

“I introduced him to it,” Harley says. “In case anyone was wondering.”

“You telling Bruce about NOVA documentaries has ruined my life, kid,” Clint says. “We should ban teenagers from the compound. You guys keep us from getting anything productive done.”

“It’s not my fault that ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’ are a bunch of children,” Harley says. 

“Why did he just put air quotes around ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’?” Tony turns to Steve. “You saw that, didn’t you?”

Steve flexes a ridiculously large bicep, almost knocking over a pitcher of sweet tea in the process. “Do you want to take that back, Keener-Stark?”

“Sorry, ‘Earth’s Obnoxiousest Heroes,’” Harley says.

“That’s not a real word,” Clint says, “so your argument is invalid. We win. Checkmate.” He fist bumps Tony across the table. 

“I share a similar opinion as Harley’s,” Wanda says primly. “The Avengers are poleznyy durak* , as the Russians would say.”

Clint retorts something in Russian that makes Wanda snicker. 

“I miss Nat,” Steve sighs. She always translates Clint and Wanda’s Russian banter for the rest of the team.

“Where is she, anyway?” Harley asks around a mouthful of waffles.

“Fury called her away three days ago. I’ve been terribly lonely,” Clint says. 

“You, Wanda, and Pietro have been on a mission for the past two weeks,” Steve says. “You got back yesterday.”

“Trying to survive the hellhole that is the compound is unbearable without my sister-in-arms,” Clint says mournfully, ignoring Steve. “I feel her absence keenly.”

“Codependent,” Tony coughs into his arm.

“Natasha is my Rhodey,” Clint says. “Prove me wrong.”

Tony glares at the archer but offers no counter argument.

Steve uses the lull in the banter to ask the question Harley knows everyone is dying to ask: “How are your nieces and nephews?”

“We love them. They’re absolutely great kids. Two of ‘em are Scottish, I seriously cannot get enough of their accents,” Tony says. “Um, what else...They love science, it’s fantastic! Well, two like books but there’s still hope for the ten-year-old—“

“Will said he hated physics at dinner yesterday and Tony almost passed out,” Harley says. “It’s hilarious, too, since Will looks just like Tony.”

“He’s still smart, though. Loves history and ‘tolerates biology,’ so I might toss him at Cho next time she swings by the tower. They’re all geniuses! The older twins—Peni and Leo—, they’re seniors applying to colleges. I helped them figure out Common App and Pepper’s going to proofread their college essays. Peni’s applied to MIT and CalTech and Harvard for computer science, Leo really wants to go to SHIELD SciTech—“

Harley bristles a bit at Tony’s words. Does Tony not realize that Harley wants to go to MIT for computer engineering, or that he has mastered Python and Java and C++ in the last year alone? Why don’t the Avengers ask about that? Hell, Harley helped Tony write some of FRIDAY’s programming—

“Your nephew wants to join SHIELD?” Clint asks incredulously, interrupting Harley’s silent tirade. “I mean, I know he’s a Fitzpatrick—that family’s SHIELD royalty, basically. But he’s still related to you .”

“I thought the Starks were SHIELD royalty?” Wanda asks, frowning at Tony. The Sokovian girl has gradually relaxed around Tony, but Harley knows a part of his friend will always despise the Stark name.

“My birth parents were two SHIELD agents who couldn’t raise a kid. My parents stepped in since they were having trouble conceiving,” Tony explains. “My birth father, he was Bill Fitzpatrick.”

Wanda nods. “This Fitzpatrick was a famous agent?”

“A Level Nine operative—one level below Clint. He hunted former HYDRA Nazis all over the USSR and South America,” Steve says. “My gi—my friend Peggy, she recruited him.”

“HYDRA called him Irish Devil. Irischer Teufel. Baron Strucker, he would—he hated him.” Wanda shakes her head. “This Leo… is his son? Grandson?”

“My half-sister, Mary Fitzpatrick, was a gifted data analyst for SHIELD. Leo and his twin Peni are her kids with a guy in Scotland named Alastair Ward,” Tony says. 

“Her husband who died in the car crash?” Clint asks. 

“No. That was Richard Parker, the father of the youngest four.” Tony frowns. “Their CPS files… it’s murky. I think Ward was married and it was a one-night stand. The twins’ step-aunt and uncle had custody of them and the other kids after the car crash. Visitation was stopped when Leo and Peni were twelve, two years later.”

“Why’d he leave them to rot in foster care?” Steve asks, voice dangerously calm. 

“Ward is a Scottish citizen and it’s hard to enforce custody and parental rights when the deadbeat asshole lives in another country, I guess,” Tony says with venom.

“Dead mother, dead stepfather, deadbeat father—that is hard on the boy and girl,” Wanda says. “I hope they get into their fancy American schools.”

“SHIELD SciTech is a lofty goal—you think he’ll get in?” Clint asks. 

“Leo already forbade me from using my Stark charisma to get him in. He’s still a little shy, but from what I’ve seen on his school transcripts and even just talking to him, Leo really is a little genius. 35 on the ACT, perfect GPA, 5 on every AP exam, constantly reading physics books. He’s one smart cookie,” Tony says. 

“I’m not familiar enough with SciTech’s admissions process to comment, but he sounds like the type of kid SHIELD’s science division is looking to recruit.”

Steve elbows Harley. “Are you thinking about college yet, kid?”

Harley feels his irritation melt away. Steve always knows what to say to him.

“MIT,” Tony says. “Next question.”

“Hey, let the kid answer,” Clint laughs. “C’mon, Harley, don’t let that dork bully you into going to his nerd school.”

Nerd school ? Listen, you brawny oaf—“ 

Clint offers Tony a sign that Harley figures is probably the ASL equivalent of ‘ piss off, metal man .’

“CalTech,” Harley says. “Or MIT.”

“Wanda?” Steve looks at the girl, who is consuming her waffles at an astonishing rate.

“I’m an Avenger,” she says. “What do I need to go to college for?”

“She and Pietro are starting online classes in the fall,” Clint says. 

Wanda side-eyes him. “Um, what?”

“You heard me, Maximoff,” Clint says.

“And you guys say I’m the dad friend of the group!” Tony squawks.

“You’re the only one of us with kids, Stark,” Steve points out.

“Which is terrifying considering you are a literal child sometimes.” Clint rolls his eyes.

“You’re Mr. I-Pout-In-The-Vents-When-Tony-Beats-Me-In-Monopoly,” Tony snarks back.

“You’re a billionaire, Tony. You’re basically living proof that capitalism is rigged,” Harley says. “That’s the whole point of the game.”

Harley and Clint bump fists while Tony laments about how his own son betrayed him for “Legolas with bad hair.”


“You have fun, kid?” Tony asks Harley on the drive back to Stark Tower.

“It was good seeing them. I’m bummed Nat and Bruce and Pietro and everyone else couldn’t make it,” Harley says.

“We can’t have the whole squad strutting around New York City, that practically invites some new villain to come crawling out of the shadows,” Tony says. 

Harley shudders. “I don’t even want to think about that one mad scientist with the brain fetish—“

“Ewww, don’t bring it up!” Tony squeals.

Harley laughs. They fall into a comfortable silence for a little while. Tony waits for Harley to start speaking. That parenting sense he has developed over the past four years tells him to be patient.

“Tony, when your parents died, did you ever get jealous of people?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, you saw someone with their parents and you just wanna claw your eyes out.”

Tony takes a deep breath. “The first Thanksgiving after the car crash, Rhodey invited me to his house. I ate dinner with all his family, laughed and joked around. After dinner, I went to the guest room and proceeded to cry my eyes out. I wanted what they had. I was jealous because I used to have that, but now I didn’t. It sucks, kid. I wish I could take your pain, and I can’t, but I’m willing to sit with you and talk about it and let it be known to the world. Bottling that shit up is poison, Harls.”

“I know. It’s just, well, I dunno, I get all jealous seeing Leo and Will and Deke and all them together. I know their lives have been pretty terrible, but I think they’re pretty lucky to have each other. I miss Celine so much . Leo and Reese, they have the same age difference as me and Celine. Seven years. I look at them and see what could have been.” Harley sniffles.

“I know, Harls. It’s… life has been very unfair to all of you. But just because they suffered doesn’t mean you didn’t suffer, too. Jealousy is a valid response, and resenting the fact that their siblings are all alive while yours isn’t does not make you a bad person.” Tony tries to stop his voice from cracking. “It makes you human, Harls. I know you love your cousins. But it’s okay to feel those other emotions, too.”

“I love you, Tony,” Harley says in a rush. “You’re… you’re the best dad. I’m so lucky you and Pepper took me in.”

“You don’t ever have to be grateful for that, kid. I know you wish things were different, but I’m glad you managed to end up here after everything that happened.” Tony glances at Harley for a second. “And, kid?”

“Yeah, Tony?”

“I love you, too. Or, as Morgan would say, I love you three thousand .”


During dinner on Thursday night, Tony’s voice cuts above the chatter of nine other people. “Hey guys, Pep and I wanted to talk to you about some plans for this weekend.”

Silence falls. Peter listens with interest and a bit of excitement. A month ago, he would have been filled with dread at Tony’s statement. 

“Are we gettin’ another kid?” Morgan asks. “I wanna baby sister I can dress up.”

“No, Iron Gremlin, you are secure in your position as baby of the family,” Tony says. “Pep and I thought we could take the younger kids to a movie on Friday night and then the older kids to a movie on Saturday night. This way we don’t have to drag the teens to Sing or force Morgan to sit through Arrival for one hundred sixteen minutes.”

“Can I go to Sing instead? That alien movie looks boring,” Deke says. 

“Sure, kiddo,” Tony says. “Does the court have any objections?”

“Sounds fun,” Leo says. “I’m a bit offended that Deke is ditching us, but I suppose the wee rocket can do what he wants.”

“You wound me, brother,” Deke says. “Do you want to square up?”

“Finish that spinach on your plate and maybe you’ll be big enough to beat me one day,” Leo says.

“I’ll be way taller, you got the short Fitzpatrick genes.”

“Kit and Grant are over six foot,” Peni says.

“Who are Kit and Grant?” Pepper asks.

Leo nearly drops his fork. “Relatives back in Scotland,” he says. “Haven’t seen the blokes in years.”

Peter feels a twinge of sympathy at the bitterness in his brother’s tone. He knows the lack of visitation with their paternal half-siblings is a sore spot for Leo and Peni. Despite their nonexistent relationship with their dad, they still love their siblings across the pond.

“Let us know if you ever want to get in contact with them,” Tony says. “And I know there’s family in Ireland, too. I can make it happen.”

“Will do,” Peni says with a tight smile. Blatantly changing the subject, she turns to Reese and asks, “Why do you want to see a movie with your namesake Reese Witherspoon playing an animated pig?”


“I left a list of everyone’s phone numbers on a Post-It on the fridge. Happy, me, Pepper, all the Avengers. FRIDAY can order any takeout you guys might want. If anything goes wrong—“

“Call right away, blah blah blah,” Harley says. “Go and be serenaded by talking animals for the next two hours.”

“Wish me luck,” Tony mutters as he leads Reese, Morgan, Deke, and Pepper into the elevator. “Please don’t have me come back to utter chaos. God knows what five teenagers can do to my penthouse during the time it takes to have dinner and a movie.”

Go, ” Harley says.

“Don’t burn the place down. Love you!” Tony shouts as the elevator closes.

Harley turns around. “I thought he’d never leave,” he says to Will, who is sprawled on the couch reading the new Cassandra Clare book.

“I’d be nervous leaving these goons by themselves, too,” Will says, gesturing to where Peni, Peter, and Leo are playing an intense game of Go Fish. 

“I heard you, loser,” Leo says.

“What are you going to do, go all William Wallace on me?”

Braveheart is the most inaccurate film I’ve ever seen, they casted that guy from Mad Max who can’t even speak like a proper Scot—“

“We don’t have time for a Braveheart rant, Leopold. Come help me make dinner,” Peni says, interrupting her twin and throwing down her cards.

“What are we having?” Harley asks. He loves eating whatever the twins concoct in the kitchen. 

“Goulash, the traditional Parker poverty meal,” Will says.

“Hey, it tastes good!” Peter cuts in. 

“That’s pretty boujee,” Harley says. “We ate rice and eggs like four times a week.”

“Don’t forget Aunt May’s black bean burritos,” Peter says. “We’d eat those for a week straight at least three times a year.”

“Those burritos were the highlight of my childhood,” Will says. “Don’t diss them.”

“You just dissed the sacred Parker goulash!”

“Zip it, Mary Kate and Ashley,” Peni says. “How about you guys help me dice the peppers and onions? Leo, you brown the beef. Harley, I need you to boil the water for the noodles.”

They make quick work of the meal. While the goulash cooks, Peni watches the four boys compete in Mario Kart. After Peter wins the fifth race in a row, they switch to Wii Sports. Peni kicks their asses in tennis, while Harley dominates bowling. Will accuses him of cheating when he bowls a turkey.

“It’s called talent, Wilder Anthony,” Peter says loftily.

“You sure you know what that is, Peter Benjamin? You don’t seem to have any,” Will retorts, poking Peter’s shin with his cane.

“You suck at Mario Kart—“

“You suck at Wii tennis—“

“That was low!”

“Not as low as you dissing the black bean burritos—“

“I wish they had a mute button,” Leo remarks to Peni and Harley. “It’d make our lives so much easier.”

The timer goes off for the goulash. Peni darts to the kitchen and takes it off the burner. She dishes five generous servings. They eat at the table, discussing everything from the vampire show Pepper and Peni are watching to quizzing Harley on the Avengers’ favorite foods. Peter is excited to hear that he and Thor both like the same flavor of Pop Tarts.

After cleaning up their dinner, the boys and Peni settle on the big sectional. After debating on a movie to watch for fifteen minutes, Peni asks FRIDAY to pick a movie that is well-rated by teen audiences. FRIDAY plays Perks of Being a Wallflower , a movie that Harley vaguely remembers hearing about but has never seen. As they watch it, he appreciates the movie talking about prominent social issues like homophobia and mental health. He is intrigued by Charlie’s flashbacks of his aunt.

He leans back, fully engrossed in the movie.


Peter hates the movie. He flinches when the main character’s aunt gets in a car crash, when a boy is beaten up by his father for being gay. He’s shown up to school too many times to count with bruises on his face and a story at the ready, and the scene hits too close to home. 

He feels Will tense up beside him when the movie cuts to a flashback. The aunt is kissing the boy. In another flashback, she says, “It’ll be our little secret, okay?”

Peter can't feel his hands. He doesn't... he doesn't know why. Why can't he... they are still attached, aren't they? He looks down. He can see.... he can see his fingers, there's no blood, they're still attached. So why can't he feel them? Why can't… I have Spider-Man healing, I’m strong, I’m strongstrongSTRONG…

If you tell anyone, Pete, I’ll go for that pretty little sister of yours. What about Deke, huh? Yeah, that’s what I thought. This is our little secret .—

I don’t want to do this. Why do I have to? Why do I have to protect Deke and Reese—where’s Mom? I want Mom. I want Mom and her cookies and her songs and Dad’s advice and—and—WHY IS IT ME?

His vision is gray. Why can’t he see? Why can’t — it’s because it’s dark. The basement is so dark, and not even the light from the TB is helping, and Peter has his eyes clenched shut because Skip wants to touch him and Peter doesn’t want to watch. Skip told him to be lookout, but Peter doesn’t want to be lookout. He doesn’t know if he wants Steven Wescott to find them. If he does, is he going to beat them bloody? He and April were just ranting about the possibility of gay marriage being legalized at dinner. Steven won’t know, no, he’ll have no idea that Peter doesn’t want this—

Mom please come down the basement steps… Why are you in a graveyard in Queens? Fuck what is he doing I said STOP, I said stopSTOPSTOP

“Stop! I don’t—get off me, please, please ...”—

He can’t breathe. He wants fresh air in his lungs, clean air to filter out all the filth and rot and guilt and shame that Skip infected him with—

His chest constricts. He doesn’t have asthma anymore, not since that spider bite. Is Skip strangling me? He likes that… I don’t have a scarf to cover the bruises! Can I borrow Leo’s?

“You’re my dirty slut. You’re mine , Pete. Don’t you love our little secret? I love having you all to myself.”—

Peter sucks in a deep breath and winds his fingers through his hair. He is choking. I’m choking. I’m going to die right here. Am I going to die? Where’s my inhaler? I’ll be with Mom—NO SHE WOULDN’T WANT THAT—

His heart feels like it’s going to explode. He feels Will reaching toward him, sees the hesitation in his eyes. Mom’s eyes. Where’s Mom? Can she come down those stairs and save me ? Skip never hesitated, he took what was his .

Peter cries and cries and cries. The air flow restricts and he pounds against his chest with his fist. Open up, you stupid lungs! I can’t die. Do I want to die? Not now not NOW. 

April is screaming because Peter dropped a plate, and it’s so dark, and someone is touching him when he doesn’t want to be TOUCHED stop TOUCHING me , fingers are ghosting at his waistband and Peter can’t fight it, he can’t, he can’t see and can’t feel his hands, are they even attached anymore?

He hears Peni yell, “Stop the movie.” Or is April yelling because Peter dropped a plate again? Is it May screaming because the cancer is rotting her insides? He can’t tell, where is he—

“-eter, Peter, it’s me, mate, it’s Leo—”

Leo.

“Leo,” Peter gasps, clutching, and that’s when he realizes they are in the living room in Iron Man’s penthouse— Tony Stark is my uncle, he can save us — and he’s in Leo’s lap, and everyone is worried, and he’s — he’s dying. He’s dying, he’s dying, he’s having a heart attack— “I’m — I’m having a heart attack,” he chokes, hands scrabbling at Leo’s sweater. “Asthma, I’m having — I can’t breathe, Leo, help —”

“It’s okay,” Leo soothes, but Peter can’t breathe, Leo doesn’t know he’s dying, he’s dying —

“Peter, take deep breaths,” Peni says, but she doesn’t get it either, she doesn’t get it, Skip is choking him and Peter’s supposed to be lookout but he doesn’t want to be lookout he doesn’t want it —

When it’s over, Peter’s too tired to even be embarrassed.

“How are you feeling, Petey?” Peni asks, face hovering over his, worry creasing her eyebrows.

Peter blinks, and more tears roll. His cheeks feel raw. He feels carved out. “I’m tired.”

Peni, his big sister, his second mother, his angel, looks down at him. 

“I’m tired, Peni,” he rasps. “I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of Rule Number One.” 

Harley’s here can’t can’t talk can’t can’t can’t… Skip will hurt Reese and she’s eight and you’re the big brother, you fat whore!

Will’s grip on his cane tightens and Leo suddenly finds the floor very interesting. 

“He said, ‘our little secret. Our little secret.’” Peter swipes at his tears. “It’s still his fucking secret, ‘cause no one knows. Our little secret.”

His breath hitches. His chest constricts. He can’t breathe.

“He’s still having a panic attack, should we call Tony?” Harley says, frantic.

The idea of Tony’s expression when he finds out how filthy his nephew is only makes Peter cry harder. 

“No,” Leo says, firm.

“He’s… I’m really worried, Leo, he should know—“

“Get out,” Will says. “We can handle this.”

Harley goes still. “What?”

“We can handle this. Peter… he needs to be calm right now, okay? I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be an ass—“

“Don’t worry Will, you already are an ass,” Harley snarls, stomping out of the room.

“Tony can’t know. He can’t know. They’ll say we’re lying and that I’m crazy. I can’t do it again, I can’t do it again!” Peter cries. He buries himself into Peni’s lap, soaking her shirt with his tears. She holds him close.

“I know, a chuisle, I know,” Peni soothes. “Okay, Petey, we’re gonna breathe. Now count with me, laddie, one, two, three…”


Harley listens outside Peter’s door for the next half hour. Peter still hasn’t calmed down, despite Peni’s reassurances and the presence of his brothers. If anything, Peter becomes even more inconsolable, claiming he’s dying and he can’t breathe and that someone’s choking him.

Before he can change his mind, Harley dials Tony’s number. His guardian picks up immediately.

“Hey, kid. We’re at dinner now. Is everything okay?”

“Peter’s freaking out,” Harley whispers into the phone. “Peni said not to call, but…”

“What’s going on?” Tony asks in that carefully controlled voice of his, the one he uses during crises. Pepper calls it his Iron Man voice.

“We were watching this movie FRIDAY recommended and I guess something triggered a panic attack? Can you get here soon, Tony?”

“We‘ ll be there in a flash,” Tony promises. “Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

“No, I’m fine. Just worried about Peter. Please get back here as soon as you can.”

“I will, kid. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Notes:

my beta is thelostcolony

I made a Tumblr! Follow me @enchantingwriting, I plan to post stuff about the story there.

A few of my usual notes:
- poleznyy durak is Russian for “useful idiot,” a Communist political term for non-Communists who were easily fooled by anti-Communist propaganda. Some of you know I love history, and I thought this was an interesting way to tie in the history of the USSR with this story!
- I hope you liked my interpretation of the Avengers! Steve is my baby and Wanda is such an interesting person, I love writing from her perspective.
- I have not experienced most of the situations the characters in this story have gone through. I try to research and be as accurate, sensitive, and respectful as possible. I am always open to further education and criticism!!!

Thank you for everyone who continues to support this story. Let me know what you guys think in the comments. Much love~

Chapter 19

Notes:

Trigger warnings: graphic depictions of childhood sexual assault, physical abuse, and abusive foster parents. Please take care of yourselves. This is the most graphic chapter I’ve written.

A huge shoutout goes to my beta thelostcolony

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Tony finds Harley sitting on the couch, curled under a blanket miserably. Pepper and the youngest three follow him out of the elevator. “Where’s Peter and the others?” He asks.

“His bedroom,” Harley says. “He’s still—still upset. It was—I didn’t know what to do .”

“You did good, baby. You did so good,” Pepper says, sitting on the couch and tucking him under her arm. She presses a kiss on his rumpled brown hair. 

Even though Harley is a far cry from the skinny eleven-year-old with a bruised face who walked into the penthouse four years ago, Tony realizes how young his son really is. How young all of them are. 

Reese clutches Deke’s arm like a lifeline. “What happened?” She asks. “Petey, is he—what happened?”

“Is Petey hurt?” Morgan asks, her eyes as wide as saucers.

Tony turns to Deke and Reese. “Can you take her to the playroom for a second?”

Deke‘s mouth opens and closes several times, reminding Tony of a nervous fish. Reese’s grip tightens on his arm. “Uncle Tony, he’s my brother. He needs me. I’m sorry.”

Pepper stands up. “I can. C’mon, little miss, let’s get you to bed.”

“But Petey needs me to love him, he’s hurted—“

“Sweetheart, you know that Daddy takes good care of his people. He can make it better.”

Reese says, “Mo, you know how you were all sad that your Barbie was broken when Leo accidentally stepped on it?”

Morgan looks up at her cousin and nods.

“Remember how you didn’t want to talk for a little while, because it made you feel all sad? How you even said no to puzzles with Harley?”

“I ‘member,” Morgan says.

“Petey feels the same way right now. He needs some time and space. Then you can love on him all you want. You guys can watch Paw Patrol or 101 Dalmations .”

“Okayyy.” Morgan draws out the word. “You sure?”

“I am,” Reese promises. “Night-night. Be brave for Petey, okay?”

Morgan nods and grabs Pepper’s hand. Together, they head to Morgan’s bedroom. Pepper throws Tony a worried look over her shoulder.

Tony sits in one of the recliners. Deke and Reese sit on the couch next to Harley. Tony’s eyes flit to his ten-year-old niece and thirteen-year-old nephew. He knows he should make them go to bed, but these kids have experienced more in their short lives than some adults he knows. Life ripped away their childhood in a brutal and callous way. 

Reese’s eyes flicker with a fervent intensity. For all her prickly antagonism, Tony knows the little spitfire is absolutely devoted to her siblings. Hell, Tony surmises they practically raised her based on her interactions with Leo and Peni.  

“Harley, can you tell me what happened?” Tony asks.

Harley fiddles with the blanket. “I don’t know… I mean, I knew it was a panic attack. I get ‘em often enough.” His lips twist into a humorless smile that disappears with his next words: “This one was… bad. The worst I’ve seen. We were just watching the movie and Peter, I dunno, it was like he just wasn’t all the way there . No sense of reality, said he couldn’t breathe, thought he was dying. A lotta crying.”

“Sounds like a normal panic attack,” Deke says, breaking Tony’s heart with those six chilling words. 

“It was bad ,” Harley mutters, hunching his shoulders. “Like really fuh—um, frickin’ bad.”

“Peter has bad asthma, so he freaks out when he feels like he can’t breathe,” Reese says. “So when he freaks out, he freaks out . And it got worse after—”

Deke grabs her hand.

“After everything,” Reese says.

Just tell me, my God , Tony wants to say. Let me help you .

Saying that didn’t work with Harley, though. And despite what Disney might say, wishing on a star never did a damn thing for anyone.

“What was the movie?”

Perks of Being a Wallflower . I thought it was some indie flick. I mean, FRIDAY recommended it off some Buzzfeed list. It was… dark. Lots of different stuff,” Harley says, shifting positions on the couch. His eyes flick to Deke and Reese. “Some of it isn’t, um, age appropriate—“

“I’m two years younger than you,” Deke says.

“But Reese is ten—“

“I’m not a baby,” Reese snaps, scowling at Harley. The venom in her voice makes Harley flinch away in surprise. 

“FRIDAY, what are the trigger warnings for that movie?” Tony asks.

“According to Google, Boss, Perks of Being a Wallflower includes themes of homophobia, alcohol and drug use, suicidal thoughts, depression, and childhood sexual assault,” FRIDAY lists off. “Would you like a summary of the movie?”

“That’s alright, FRI,” Tony says, his mouth dry. Plenty of those things could have triggered Peter.

Deke lurches to his feet. “I can’t—I need to find Peter,” he says. “He… he needs us.”

Reese is standing beside him in an instant. “We’ll see what’s going on.”

“You guys, I don’t want to rush this—“ Tony says lamely.

The two preteens march down the hall, shoulder-to-shoulder like a couple of tiny Avengers. Harley stays on the couch, giving Tony a nod.

“You helped me,” he says. “Whatever it is, whatever happened to him, you can help him.”

Fuck , Tony thinks as he follows after Deacon and Teresa Parker, two of the most stubborn people he has ever met. He cannot think of a better word to describe the current situation.

He moves past the kids and stands outside Peter and Will’s rooms. He usually stays out of the kids’ room out of respect for their privacy and his own cowardice. He still feels faintly ill when he sees Leo’s military-style-made bed or Peni’s obsessively organized closet. Even little Reese keeps her room scarily clean. 

Leopold Fitzpatrick described his guardian Benjamin Parker as physically abusive. Reasons for physical punishment included toys left out, unmade beds in the morning, or plates left out on the counter. CPS suggests future state caregivers and foster parents place gentle emphasis on housework and understand the complexity of the situation, one social worker wrote in Leo’s files in 2014. 

Reminding himself that he has fought villains and aliens and made it out alive, Tony knocks and slowly opens the door. 

He finds both sets of twins dog-piled on Peter’s bed. Peter’s face is swollen and red from crying. Will is as pale as a ghost, while Peni’s dark circles and thin frame give her a wraithlike appearance. 

“I heard something was wrong,” Tony says as mildly as possible.

“We’re fine,” Will says. 

Tony goes for honesty: “You don’t seem fine, pal.”

“You don’t have to worry, Uncle Tony,” Peter says in a bitter tone that is very unlike him. 

“I’m your guardian. It’s my job to worry.” Tony takes a step forward. “I can’t help you if you can’t tell me what’s wrong. Harley mentioned a movie…?”

Peter flinches. 

Tony hears a small voice behind him say, “Tell him.”

He looks over his shoulder to see Reese and a teary-eyed Deke behind him. Reese tugs Deke forward, slipping past Tony. They clamber onto the bed, Deke finding his way under Leo’s arm and Reese grabbing Peter’s hands.

“You’re one of the strongest people I know,” Reese says. “You can do this.”

“The Rules—“ Deke rasps. Tony feels hopelessly lost. 

“The Rules are wrong. We made them when we were scared and tired and alone. You know that new Shadowhunters book Will is reading? It says: lex malla, lex nulla. ‘A bad law is no law’,” Reese interrupts. “C’mon, Peter, you can do it.”

“I can’t,” Peter says. “I won’t.”

“Lay off him,” Will says in a strangled tone.

Tony stays silent. 

On the verge of tears, Leo says, “It’s not up to you, Reesey. You didn’t… It didn’t happen to you.” What didn’t happen to her?

“I watched how it affected you guys. Peter didn’t eat, Will cried.” Reese wedges herself between Will and Peter. “Will, the day I found the blood on those sheets was almost as bad as the day Aunt May died. As bad as the day Mum and Dad died, but I don’t remember them.”

Blood on the sheets?

Tears gleam in Will’s eyes. “I didn’t know—“

“Didn’t know what, Will? That Peni and me cared? Do you think I don’t kick myself every day for not realizing what that monster was doing to my brothers?”

Leo reaches for Reese, but she pulls away. He says, “Bloody hell, you were only eight —“

“What did he do?” Tony asks. 

“The Rules,” Deke says again. “The Rules.”

“Peter, you saved me from a monster two years ago. Let me save you now,” Reese says. “Tell him. It’s time.”

Peter seizes her in a tight hug. “I’d let Ben break my arm a hundred times if it would keep you safe.”

“That’s the thing, Peter: I’m safe now, because of you. Aunt Pepper and Uncle Tony are safe . They’ll believe you.”

His sweet little niece’s words bring tears to Tony’s eyes.

“You think that, Reese?”

“I know it.”

“I trust you.” Peter takes a deep breath and turns to Tony. “You remember the Westcotts?”

Tony nods. He may or may not be in the process of “strongly recommending” CPS reopen their investigation into the situation that landed Leo and Peter with criminal records. The police work was shoddy at best, and no one bothered to interview any of the foster children in the house besides Leo and Peter.

“Steven and April had a son. Steven Westcott, Junior. Y’know, sometimes a nickname for a junior is ‘Skip.’” Peter stops as tears trickle down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I don’t—“

“It started off with playing video games in the basement,” Leo says. His accent thickens in the same way Maria Stark’s Italian accent would become more prominent during her drunken fights with Howard. “Then he started showing me his Playboy collection. He was eighteen. I thought he was so cool. I hadn’t seen my big brothers in years; I missed having an older sibling, someone looking out for me. I was...tired and stupid and careless. I was an idiot. He wanted to play a game. That’s what he called it.”

“He said he’d do it to the others if I didn’t do it. He wanted to try the stuff in the Playboy ,” Will mutters.

Tony grips the side of the bed as he tries not to fall to the floor. There have been hard times, times where he thought he couldn’t move forward, couldn’t imagine a future where he felt a single scrap of happiness or joy. His parents’ car crash, lonely months in a cave surrounded by dust and metal and his own self-loathing, Jarvis‘s last breath in the nursing home in Leicester, when Harley called him in the middle of the night four years ago and said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Mechanic, there’s no one else to call,” that goddamn email Peter sent him at two in the morning—

But when his fifteen-year-old nephew, the one who hides behind smirks and his books and sarcasm and an iron grip on his cane, looks at him with that completely unguarded gaze, something in him breaks .

“You’re saying that this Skip, that he, he—

“It wasn’t like that, it was—“ Deke stumbles over his words, his frenzied eyes full of emotion. “I can’t, I can’t breathe—

Peni practically drags him onto her lap. They all fall silent as she pets his hair soothingly, tells him that he is brave and loved and safe. Tony listens to her babble about a dog named Greyfriars Bobby and some guy named King Lear. From the random Irish words thrown into her whispered rendition of the tale, Tony suspects Peni is not talking about the Shakespearean play, but something far more ancient than that. 

Eventually, her stories soothe the trembling boy. His frantic breathing and the claims that he is dying and choking slowly fade away. As the panic attack recedes, all that is left is six siblings, a terrible secret, and their uncle who is in over his head.


As Deke’s breathing evens out, Peni pulls her littlest brother closer to her. Her eyes flit to Leo. Between them, no words need to be said, but for the rest of the group’s sake, she says, “I’m going to take Deke to his room. His story is his own, and he’ll tell it when he’s ready and not a bloody second sooner.”

She tugs a shivering Deke to his feet. As they head out the door, Peter sees Tony and Peni share a strange look.

This is your job, now. I’m not the parent anymore , his sister’s troubled gaze seems to say. 

Tony uncurls his shoulders and lifts his chin a little. Peter’s lips twitchinto a wry smile at his uncle’s Fitzpatrick swagger. Every bit of Iron Man’s ego comes from William Cathal Fitzpatrick.

Peter sees the Irish fire in Reese when she turns to her brothers and says, “I trust you guys. You’re the bravest and strongest people I’ve ever met. He’s nothing . He’s nothing but a bloody clatty bastart, as Leo would say.”

“You’re too American, lassie, don’t even try,” Leo says.

“Go, Reese, we’ll do our best,” Will manages to choke out. Peter hears his brother’s heart thumping against his clavicle; he can practically taste the vibrations of his anxiety.

Peter gives her a nod, a silent promise to see this through. She offers him a rare smile, a tangible symbol of her trust in him. 

“Love you guys,” she says in a very small voice.

Leo is the first to stutter out a surprised “I love you, too,” with Will and Peter a beat behind him. 

Reese shuts the door, and Peter is faced with the first adult who has wanted to help him in years.

The silence is an awkward, heavy thing between the four of them. How to even begin, how to describe the shame and the pain and the fear--

Peter grips the hem of his shirt, taking a deep breath. 

Will speaks first. In a way, it is fitting that the angriest of the Parker boys should bare the source of his rage to the world.

“When Reese found the blood on the sheets, it had been going on for months,” Will says. “Mostly groping, but-but-but one time he, he, he--”

Peter remembers speech therapy with his brother as they tried to adjust to moving to America. They struggled with a new schooling system, a new country, a new accent. Their classmates in first grade made fun of Will’s strange way of speaking. Between his anxiety, his shifting speech patterns, and the bullying, he developed a slight sutter. It hasn’t surfaced in years.

Will swallows. “He went all the w-w-way,” he chokes out. “I shoved all my bedding in the bottom of my hamper. I was planning on washing it the next night, but I couldn’t—I didn’t want to see it. It’s one thing, when it’s dark, but in the light… But yeah. Reese did laundry a few days later. She saw the blood and… other stuff.”

“She didn’t get it at first. I think Peni and Gwen had just told her about periods and shit. She knew guys didn’t get them, so she asked April about it at dinner,” Leo says.

“Steven went psycho on-on-on me when he saw the sheets. I mean, it was pretty fucking obvious as to what happened,” Will says. “He asked me if Gwen and I--our foster sister--were, were, were hooking up. Skip went right along with it, the f-f-fucking prick.” He swipes at his eyes.

“Skip lied and said that he saw Gwen sneaking out of my room all the time. Th-that he was afraid to say anything, since he knew that might get us kicked out of the house.”

“I hate him, I bloody hate him,” Leo mutters.

Tony speaks for the first time. “What happened after that?”

“Steven said he was gonna beat the shit out of Will and Gwen. He said they were gonna be pissing blood by the end of it,” Peter says. “We-we couldn’t let that happen.”

“This was when you were arrested?”

Peter nods. “Skip had Will’s cane in his hands, to keep him from running. I ripped it away and started whacking him with it. I might have fractured his shin in the process.”

“Jesus, kid,” Tony breathes. Peter is shocked by the pride he sees on his uncle’s face.

Leo winds his fingers through his sandy curls. “Steven went for Peter, so I jumped him. We rolled back and forth, punching the shite out of each other. Skip’s shin was fractured by then. Steven finally wiped the floor with me and went for Peter. Peter threatened to hit him with the cane and stab him. We were locked in the basement, Steven burned the sheets in a fit of rage, and April called the police.”

“And the rest is fucking history,” Will mutters.

“That clears up a lot. The police report was pretty one-sided,” Tony says.

“Steven’s brother is a cop,” Leo says. “And no one believes a word foster kids say, anyway.”

“You told them what was happening… About what Skip and his parents were doing?”

“I had showered a few times already, and it had been four days, so we knew we couldn’t do a rape kit,” Will says honestly. “Leo and Peter were the only ones with bruises on them.”

“The cops said our story was a little too convenient.” Peter can’t meet Tony’s eyes. “Uncle Tony, he really did touch me. He… he was sexually assaulting me. For months. For six fucking months.”

“I believe you, kid. I will always believe anything you tell me,” Tony promises. “Now, we can keep going, or we can take a break. I know tonight has been a lot for you guys--”

“I just want… I can’t stop,” Will says. He looks at Leo and Peter, who nods in agreement. “If I stop now, I don’t think I’ll ever talk about it again.”

“Okay, kid. Okay. Just… take it slow, and we can always take a break.”

“Thank you, Uncle Tony. Thank you ,” Leo says.

“No, Leo, thank you , for trusting me when every other fucking adult in the system has failed you.”

Leo only offers him a ghost of a smile.

“If it happened to Peter for six months, I was probably only around four months,” Will says. “He took extra care to make sure none of us knew what was happening to the others.”

“None of you, as in…?”

“Deke, Gwen--I’m not positive, though--, Leo, Will, and me,” Peter says.

Fuck ,” Tony gasps.

Fuck is absolutely right,” Will says bitterly.

“Say what you want about the fecker, but he was smart. At first, he tried real hard to be my mate. Video games, he’d show me porn and shite, even had a couple beers together. It went on from there. I dunno about Will and Petey, but he told me that if I did what he said, he wouldn’t touch the others,” Leo says.

Peter stares up at the ceiling. “I think Gwen was the first. She had been living there for over a year when we were first placed there. Then Leo, then me, then Deke, then Will.”

“Do you talk to Gwen anymore?” Tony asks.

“They removed us all from the home. I think she went somewhere upstate.” Leo is quiet for a long moment. “I miss her. She was a good friend.”

Tony says, “Do you know if she ever tried to tell the police…?”

“Uncle Tony, I didn’t even know Skip was molesting my brothers until the night Leo and I were arrested,” Peter says. “I’m only speculating. She cried a lot and almost never talked to Skip unless she had to.”

“If it was all five of you, how did he hide what he was doing to the others?”

“He was--he was smart . It was a game to him, like fecking chess or something. And we were his pawns. There’s more to it than that, but—” Leo stands up, his face red and tearstained. “I think I’m done now, Tony.”

“I think we all could use some sleep,” Tony says. “We can talk more in the morning.”

Peter nods, feeling drained from his panic attack and the conversation. He knows he has been a burden and caused Tony a lot of trouble tonight, but he blurts out, “Can I have a hug?”

Strong arms, Iron Man’s arms, wrap around him. He feels Will tentatively nudge his way into the embrace, too. Peter melts into the touch.

“I’m glad I sent you that email,” he mutters into Tony’s chest.

“Me too, kid, me too,” Tony says thickly. 









Notes:

My usual unnecessarily long author’s notes:

- I tried to write this chapter as realistically and respectfully as I could. I am always open to criticism and further education on such a sensitive topic. I strive for authenticity. Any sources on childhood sexual abuse are welcome! I have researched a lot but there is still so much to learn.
- lex malla, lex nulla: the motto of the Blackthorn family in Cassandra Clare’s Dark Artifices. Highly recommend all of Clare’s works. The Blackthorn family dynamic loosely inspired this story,
Thank you SO much for the continued support for my story, it means the world to me. I hope I continue to live up to your expectations and will do my best to deliver the content you guys deserve.

In chapter 20, we will see Pepper’s reaction, Deke’s side of the story, and further insights into Skip’s manipulation and abuse.

Chapter 20

Notes:

Please take note of the trigger warnings and take care of yourselves!

Trigger warnings: vivid description of past childhood sexual abuse, past physical and emotional abuse, homophobic slurs, discussion of absent parents/incarcerated parents, and drug abuse

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The sound of crying wakes him up. 

Peter rolls out of bed and walks the five paces between his bed and Will’s. 

“What do you need?” he whispers. Will usually wants his space, but sometimes—

“Can you stay?” Will mutters, hoisting himself up on his elbows. “I need—I need to know someone’s nearby.”

Sometimes Will needs his twin.

Peter settles on the foot of the bed. The brothers stare at each other for a long moment. Will falls back against his pillow and releases a heavy sigh. He stares up at the ceiling. 

Peter waits.

“Tonight was a shitshow,” Will says.

Peter lets out a wry chuckle. “That’s one way to describe it.”

“Overall, I’d rate it a classic Parker family gettogether—panic attacks, rehashing our collective traumas, and a bunch of crying. A really fun evening, wouldn’t you say?”

“Don’t forget the goulash,” Peter reminds him. “It’s a Parker staple.”

“How could I forget the fucking goulash?” Will cards his fingers through his dark curls.“The only thing we were missing was some sort of physical violence.”

“I won’t say I’m not grateful that didn’t happen,” Peter says.

“Uncle Ben would’ve…” Will’s voice trails off.

“He wouldn’t have reacted like Uncle Tony did tonight.”

“I think most people wouldn’t act like Uncle Tony did,” Will says. “It’s almost like…”

“Almost like what?”

“Almost like he loves us. Like really loves us, you know?”

Peter’s eyes sting. “Yeah, Will, I know.”

“Things are going to be different now, with him and Aunt Pepper.” 

“It doesn’t have to be, Will,” Peter says.

Will’s hand subconsciously rubs his leg. The bowed leg that gives him his irregular gait. The leg that has pained him every day for the past seven years. Will has always despised people’s pity. He once told Peter that he almost prefers when they look at him with disgust.

Will’s eyes dart to the nightstand. The clock reads a little after four a.m. “What’s are they doing now, anyway?”

“What do you mean?”

“Can’t you hear them, Spider-Man?”

“Shh, Will!” Peter says, scowling. “Are you an idiot?”

“It’s not like Uncle Tony’s standing outside the door eavesdropping.” 

“You know I usually try to block out outside noise, it’s overwhelming—“

“Just for a minute? Just to see what they’re doing—“

“If you really need to know, Pepper and Tony fell asleep about an hour ago after crying for hours. Aunt Pepper lost it , Will. I’ve only heard people cry like that at funerals. I don’t really want to talk about it,” Peter says.

“Were you up all night?”

Peter shakes his head. “You know I don’t really sleep that much.”

Will nods. After a moment, he says, “Were you trying to eavesdrop on them?”

Peter’s flush is hidden by the darkness. “I wanted to see if they’re gonna do something.”

“Something about Skip?” Will avoids Peter’s eyes, but Peter can tell his brother is close to tears.

Peter nods.

“And?”

“He called James Rhodes.”

Iron Patriot James Rhodes? Army Colonel James Rhodes?”

Peter nods.

“What-what… Why?”

“Colonel Rhodes knows a judge in New York City.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Is there going to be a trial? I can’t—“

“Not yet. They want to hear Deke’s side of the story before they press charges.” Peter rubs his eyes. “With no evidence, they worry the charges may not stick.”

“There’s—“ Will cannot choke the words out.

Peter immediately understands. “I know.”

“Deke might not—he might not want to. He’s… He’s, well, I mean, you know how he is.”

“There are ones of me, too. They’re somewhere. They have to be.”

“I know. I wish I could fucking stab him for what he did to you,” Will says vehemently.

“It might not even come to a trial,” Peter says.

“I know,” Will mumbles, close to tears again. “You wanna talk about something else? Anything else?”

“Do you want to play ‘I Spy’?”

“It’s fucking dark out, dumbass! How are we supposed to play ‘I Spy’?”


A few hours later, Peter jerks awake. His thin T-shirt is soaked with sweat. Will snores softly, burrowed in the covers. His rumpled curls and scrunched-up face make him look years younger. Peter marvels at his twin’s strong resemblance to Reese and Morgan. 

Flopping onto his back, Peter stares up at the ceiling. He feels the prick of tears beneath his eyelids. There is no reason for him to be this upset right now. No, that’s a lie—he feels more numb than sad. So why is he crying? 

Stupid, Peter thinks. Weak .

He forces himself out of the bed, even though it is Sunday and he can sleep as late as he wants. Even though he only slept for barely three hours. 

He hears Pepper making coffee in the kitchen. Tony taps away on his StarkPhone in the living room. Peter cannot bear to face her, Tony, or Harley. Harley—

Does Harley know? Even the thought of his cousin knowing makes Peter’s hands tremble. He takes a few deep breaths, reminding himself that Tony sent Harley to bed shortly after his conversation with his nephews finished last night. Harley watched old clips of Storage Wars on YouTube until one in the morning.

Enhanced hearing is both a blessing and a curse.

Peter scrolls through Twitter, grateful for the mindless distraction. He absentmindedly listens to the breathing of his sleeping siblings and cousins. Tony and Pepper sit at the table, sipping their coffee in silence. They probably regret taking in six fucked up kids—

His phone begins to vibrate. Señor Delmar, the caller ID says.

Peter stares at the screen for a long moment, feeling the phone vibrating in his hands. He feels a stab of guilt for ignoring his boss and his son for almost a month now. On a whim, Peter lurches to his feet. He pads into the en-suite bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

Peter clicks “accept.”

Señor ?” He speaks softly. He does not want to wake up Will.

“Peter! Peter, is it you?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me,” Peter says.

“Where the hell are you? I called your social worker and your foster dad after you quit, and they wouldn’t tell me anything—”

Peter feels tears trickle down his cheeks. “You called Quentin and Mrs. Lahey?”

“God damn it, Peter, of course I did! Where are you?”

“I’m at my uncle’s,” Peter says. “The state tracked down my mom’s brother. He and his wife are our new guardians.”

“You’re safe? You’re safe, mijo ?”  

“I’m safe.”

“And your brothers?”

“All my brothers and sisters are here. We’re doing alright. My aunt and uncle are really nice,” Peter says.

“Good, good. You guys need to be together. Family is everything,” Delmar says. He pauses. “Why have you been ignoring me and Beto, Peter?”

Peter’s face feels hot. “It’s complicated. I didn’t mean to, but things have just been complicated. Switching foster homes… it’s a lot. I’m sorry.”

“Why did you quit? Nothing more than a text, and then you were gone.”

“I’m living in Manhattan, now. It would have been too far.” Peter closes his eyes. “And I wasn’t sure if it would work out with my uncle, at first.”

Saying it out loud for the first time makes Peter feel dirty, especially after everything Tony and Pepper have done for him and his siblings.

“But it is working out? This uncle of yours, is he making sure you eat enough? Does he make sure you get enough sleep? You stay up too late.”

Peter lets out a watery laugh. “Yes, señor. They feed me very well.”

“Have you put on weight? You are too skinny,” Delmar says. 

“I think so,” Peter says. “Really, señor, I’m doing pretty well. My siblings and I are all under one roof, now. Things are much better.”

“Hmph,” Delmar grunts, clearly not convinced. “If things don’t work out with this uncle, you call me or Roberto. My niece, she is a social worker. Just got her license. She can help you guys.”

“I promise everything is going great,” Peter says. 

“If it doesn’t, you call me. Things change,” Delmar says. “Now, the next time I call, you pick up. If you can’t, you have twenty-four hours to call me back. Is that clear?”

“Crystal, señor .”

“Bring your uncle to Queens so he knows where the best deli in New York is.”

“He loves Reuben sandwiches,” Peter says. “I’ll bring him over soon.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.” 

The line goes dead.

Peter feels warmth grow in his chest. It feels good to have adults on his side for once. Adults who believe what he says. Adults who do not hit him or belittle him. Adults who give a shit about what happens to him and his siblings.

Feeling fortified by his conversation with Mr. Delmar, Peter throws on a pair of jeans and a hand-me-down flannel from Tony. A few days ago, Peter looked up the price of the shirt based on the brand and almost had a panic attack.

I’m Iron Man’s nephew. He is literally a billionaire, Peter often has to remind himself.

Peter takes a deep breath before he leaves his room. 

He makes his way down the hall and emerges into the living room. Tony and Pepper turn their heads to see which kid is up at such an ungodly hour.

“Morning, Petey,” Pepper says.

Peter smiles at her. “Good morning,” he says. “Can I—is it good if I make some eggs?”

“You don’t have to ask to use the kitchen, Peter,” Tony says, not unkindly. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Peter says. “Um, do you guys want any?”

“That’d be great, kid,” Tony says. 

“Any preference? What about you, Aunt Pepper?”

“Whatever you want,” Pepper says, flapping a hand. Tony nods in agreement. 

“I’ll make them over-easy,” Peter decides. He goes to the huge fridge and pulls out a carton of organic brown eggs. He pulls out Pepper’s top-of-the-line pan and melts butter in it. He cracks six eggs into the pan. The awkward silence makes Peter’s skin crawl.

“Eggs are done,” Peter says once he dishes the food, turning back to his aunt  and uncle. 

They stare at him with tight-lipped smiles. Pepper’s eyes shine with tears. 

Picking up two plates, Peter moves over to the table and sets the plates in front of Pepper and Tony. He sits in the chair across from Pepper.

“I am still the same kid you knew yesterday. You don’t have to look at me like that,” he finally says.

Tony’s fingers tighten around the handle of his coffe mug. “Peter, we weren’t—“

“You were, Uncle Tony. It’s not—I get it. I know you guys didn’t sign up for this—“

“Peter, it’s not that—“

“I figured, you should know Leo and Will hate pity. Leo used to lie and tell people that May and Ben were his parents so he didn’t have to tell them that his mom and stepdad were actually dead. And Will gets enough of it with his leg. He hates if you try to baby him. With Deke—just be gentle. He cries a lot.”

After a moment, Peter adds, “The girls will pretend to be fine, but it hurts them, too. They pick up on things. Reese will be super crabby. Peni has a massive guilt complex, and she thinks she’s responsible for everyone. Leo, too...Sorry, I didn’t mean ramble. I—This will be hard, and I’m sorry,” Peter says in a rush.

Pepper reaches across the table and grabs his hands. “You’re a good brother, Peter.”

Not trusting himself to speak, Peter nods.

“We can do this, Peter,” Tony says. “ You can do this. Every step of the way, we’ll be right there.”

“Okay,” Peter says, gulping back tears. 


Harley thinks that after last night, this morning feels anticlimactic. Even with all the tears shed and harsh words exchanged merely ten hours ago, the sun still manages to rise. 

The world goes on. Harley’s world ended four years ago, and the sun continues to have the balls to keep rising and setting like everything is normal. Time marches on, putting a distance between Harley and Cee and Mom that is now measured in years, even though it still feels like it happened yesterday—

Harley’s chest feels tight, and he has to count to an embarrassingly high number to stop from shoving himself between the bed and the wall. 

With his daily mental breakdown completed, he rolls out of bed at ten. When he trudges to the kitchen, he finds Leo and Will eating cereal at the kitchen table. Leo types into his phone, frowning at the screen. His sandy curls are mussed from sleep. Will’s eyes are purpled by dark shadows, but they still light up when he sees Harley. 

“Hey, man! I got up before you for once,” Will says. He points to the box of Cheerios on the table. “Leo’s being a wee bastard. He refuses to make French toast, so we’re stuck with Cheerios.”

“Morning, Harley. Feck off, Will, you can always make your own French toast,” Leo says, not looking up from his phone. 

“Yours is better—“

“That trick hasn’t worked on me since you were five, Wilder Anthony,” Leo says. He meets Harley’s gaze and rolls his eyes.

“Where’s everyone else?” Harley asks after a moment. 

“Aunt Pepper took Morgan, Peni, and Deke to get pedicures on the fifth floor—which is insane, by the way, I can’t believe there’s a freaking nail salon in Stark Tower—and Peter and Uncle Tony went to work out on the recreational floor,” Will says. “They left a note.”

“The nail salon is amazing,” Harley admits. “Helena—she’s one of the nail techs, she’s literally amazing—tells me I take terrible care of my cuticles.”

Will inspects his fingers. “She’d probably hate me, then. I’m a nail biter.”

Leo waggles his fingers. “Me, too. My poor hands.”

“You know what those hands are great at making? French toast—“

“Zip it, Will!”

“I’m eating Cheerios, Leo. I implore you, brother, please make me French toast. I don’t want to starve,” Will pleads. 

Harley ducks his head to hide a grin.

“Cheerios are a good source of fiber,” he says. 

Will peers at the nutritional label. “Calcium, too.”

“See, it’s better for you,” Leo says.

Will fixes his big blue eyes on Harley. “Say, Harley—“

“Don’t let him guilt you into it, Harley,” Leo says. “He’s a manipulative wanker.”

Going into the kitchen, Harley grabs a bowl and a spoon. “Sorry, Will,” he says. He sits next to Leo. 

“I’m betrayed. Utterly betrayed,” Will says through a mouthful of Cheerios. “My own brother and cousin are starving me.”

“Buck up, laddie,” Leo says. 

Harley laughs at Will’s scandalized expression. “I have to ask, Leo, is ‘laddie’ a word that they actually say in Scotland?”

Leo chuckles. “Yeah, it’s pretty a common thing to say over there. My br—my Scottish relatives make fun of me for talking like an American and my American ones make fun of me for talking like a Scot,” he says.

“What about your Irish ones?” Harley asks.

Will and Leo both frown as they mull over Harley’s question. 

Will says, “Granddad made a few jokes here and there, but he was pretty used to it since he had an American wife and his daughter grew up here. We don’t really know our Irish relatives that well. I sort of remember meeting a couple of our mum’s cousins when we took a trip to Belfast, but I don’t know if we ever met anyone else.”

“Not that I recall,” Leo says. “You guys never went back to Europe after Mum and Richard moved us back to the States. Remember Mom’s cousin’s Orla, the one who moved to Edinburgh? She used to take Peni and me to lunch when we were in Glasgow. ”

“Orla’s awesome,” Will says. “She went to Granddad’s funeral, right?”

Leo nods. 

“Remember how she almost punched your dad—“ Will cuts himself off abruptly, shying away from Leo’s glare. Seconds later, Leo’s pale blue eyes soften. 

Leo fiddles with his fork. “What a fecking mess that was,” he mutters. 

After a beat of silence, he glances at Harley, who awkwardly stares at his bowl of Cheerios. “My dad’s a bit of a deadbeat, if you couldn’t tell. His wife hates me and Peni—basically, it’s a whole thing. Peni won’t talk about it, but—I mean, we’re living in the same house, and you’re family, so you should know.”

Will’s eyes look like they are about to pop out of his head in surprise. 

“My dad’s serving a fifteen-year sentence for robbing a gas station for drug money,” Harley blurts out. “He’s a deadbeat, too.”

“Fuck, that—that sucks,” Will whispers. “Shit, you—God, I’m sorry.”

“If you want to join Daddy Issues Club, Peni and I hold weekly meetings. Seven on Tuesdays,” Leo says.

Will frowns. “Do you actually—“

“Of course not, you idiot,” Leo says in an amused tone. He looks at Harley. “I am being serious, though—if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

“Thanks, man,” Harley says. “That would—that would be great, actually.”

Leo smiles at him. Harley feels a warmth growing in his chest. He never got to have an older brother, but if he did, Harley would want a brother like Leo.


Looking at her hands, Peni feels like a princess.

Pepper talked her into testing out acrylic nails. “If you don’t like them, you can always get them off in a week,” she said.

Peni gave in, and she is so glad she did. Her almond royal blue acrylics make her feel like a badass CEO with a corner office on Wall Street. Morgan is obsessed with the nails. She spent twenty minutes telling Harley about “Peni’s pretty krillies” at lunch. Morgan’s nails are a pretty yellow color.

Despite Peni’s gentle cajoling, Deke refused to let Helena paint his nails. Rage swelled in Peni when she caught Deke eyeing a dark green color longingly.

Ben hurls the bottle of May’s red nail polish against the tile in the bathroom. Deke hides behind Peni, sobbing. The red-faced man looms over them, spittle flying from his mouth as he screams, “I won’t let my nephew wear nail polish like some queer freak!”—

Peni grits her teeth and tries to focus on the work for her coding class. Deke is snuggled against her. He reads a book about the Navajo Code Talkers that Harley left him. Occasionally, Deke will stop reading to tell Peni the facts he finds the most interesting.

Deke has not left her side all day.

Peni does not mind one bit.

The next time Deke speaks, Peni expects some sort of a fact, such as how one of the Code Talkers lied about his age and enlisted at fifteen. Instead, he blurts, “I’m ready, Pen.”

Peni tries to keep her tone even. “Deke, I want you to know you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“I know. But—Leo and Will and Peter did it. I can do it,” Deke says.

“This is your decision. No one else’s.”

“I want to do it,” Deke says thickly, drawing in a deep breath.

“You’re sure?” 

Deke stares at his hands for a long moment. “When I freaked out after Morgan woke me up, do you remember what Reese said?”

Peni tries not to cringe as she recalls the vicious argument with her siblings and the revelations that came out of it. The fact that Quentin Beck physically and emotionally abused her brothers for over a year without her knowing drove a knife of guilt through her heart. “Not exactly. What did she say?”

“Basically that as long as this is kept secret, he’s still in control of our family. Still in control of me.”

A chuisle, you know that’s not true—“

“Isn’t it, though? I barely sleep, I still freak out around a lot of men. I have nightmares of him coming back. I need...fuck, I probably need therapy or medication or something . I can’t start healing until I tell someone about this,” Deke says.

Peni chooses her next words carefully. “I think The Rules might have hurt us more than they helped us, Deke.”

“Yeah,” Deke murmurs. “They probably did.”

“So you’re sure?”

Biting his lip, Deke nods.

“Do you—how do you want to do this?” Peni says. 

“Can—can we just talk to Aunt Pepper? I’m sorry, I’m not sure if I can do it with Tony—“

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, a chuisle ,” Peni assures him. “Do you want me there?”

“Yeah,” Deke says. “And maybe Peter, too?”

“We can do that. How about you go hang out with Leo while I talk to Peter and Pepper?”

Trying to blink back his tears, Deke nods.

Peni hugs him tightly.


Pepper, Peni, Peter, and Deke meet in Peni’s room. Pepper sits in Peni’s desk chair, while the three siblings sit side-by-side on the bed. Peni not to freak out over Peter’s ashen face and Deke’s trembling hands. Is this a bad idea—

Pepper speaks first: “I just want you to know that it means a lot that you guys are trusting me with this. If we need to stop at any time, you just say the word. Alright?”

The boys nod. Peni feels nauseous.

Peter says haltingly, “You know that—that it happened to all of us boys. None of us knew. I, I, I, no, we thought...All of us thought we were the only ones. I never guessed he would do it to the others.”

Deke nods. He leans against Peni. She wraps an arm around his skinny shoulders.

Peter stares at his hands. “It’d be...not very often. Maybe once every two or three weeks? He only did it when he knew he wouldn’t get caught. Like, one time, Leo had band practice and Will was at physical therapy. So Skip said he wanted to play video games in the basement with me…”

“The first time he, um, did stuff, Will was at a sleepover. We shared a room, and I was by myself,” Deke says in a rush. “Skip said it was a game.”

Pepper’s lip quivers, but she remains silent. Earlier, Peni advised her not to ask a lot of questions.

“Yeah, that was his thing. Saying it was a game. I knew—I mean, I was thirteen, but I knew something was up,” Peter says. “After a few times, I started saying I didn’t want to, but…Skip didn’t like that, you know? So he’d retaliate, I guess.”

Pepper’s first question is simple: “How?” 

“Steven, our old foster dad, was really weird about keeping our rooms clean. I shared with Leo and Skip. The first time I refused to play ‘the game,’ Skip messed with my bed. Like, he rumpled the sheets and made it look like I didn’t make it.” Peter clenches his fist. “I couldn’t—I mean, getting smacked and chased around isn’t fun to begin with, but it sucks if you didn’t even do anything wrong in the first place.”

“Or he’d say stuff about Reese or Will,” Deke mutters. “He always told me he could find someone else to play the game.”

“He was a manipulative piece of shit, basically,” Peter spits out. “I mean, he wasn’t all bad. He’d help me with my homework. And when it doesn’t happen all the time, you forget. You forget that the guy who plays baseball with you in the backyard is the same person who does all those bad things in the dark. You think he wouldn’t ever do it to anyone else. You think...you think you’re all alone, and you deserve what he’s doing to you.”

“There were two people. The bad Skip and the normal Skip,” Deke says.

There is a long lapse of silence. Peter stares at the wall, wound tighter than a spring. Deke shakes like a leaf. Peni almost asks if they want to stop, but Peter beats her.

“After like three months, I just felt really numb and tired all the time. I was really stressed. I lost some weight and my grades slipped,” Peter says. “The school thought it was because of grief. Maybe it was, partially. I dunno. Anyway, I wasn’t… I wasn’t myself, basically. Sorry, I’m rambling. What I’m trying to say is that I wasn’t me . I’m usually really observant. Like, I notice a lot of stuff. But with everything going on, sometimes I’d space out. Especially when we played the game. So I didn’t notice the camera for the first couple times.”

Fat tears leak out of Peni’s eyes.

“As far as I know, there were only two or three videos of me,” Peter says. “After I noticed it, I threatened to tell someone. He never pulled it out again.”

“There’s at least seven of me,” Deke says. 

“After a while, he started saying he’d post them online if I told anybody,” Peter said. “He’d post them so that the whole world would know I was his stupid fat whore.

“Do you know…” Pepper trails off.

“I’m not sure if he ever followed through with it. But if we found the videos, we could...” Peter pauses. He looks at Deke, who nods once.

“We could put that motherfucker in prison for life,” Peter says. 

Notes:

I am so sorry I took this long to update. I needed a break for my mental health and to focus on work and studying. Your continued support and comments mean the absolute world to me. I greatly appreciate the amount of people who have followed this story. Much love to all of you <3

Please follow me on tumblr! my blog is called @enchantingwriting. Be warned, I do not understand how to use it at all.

Some notes:
- I included the Navajo Code Talkers to celebrate Indigenous People’s Day. I encourage everyone who doesn’t know much about these heroes to do further research.
- As always, I try to portray my characters’ experiences as accurately and sensitively as possible. When writing about topics such as childhood sexual assault and people with disabilities, I do my best to research in order to create authentic writing. PLEASE call me out in the comments if my writing ever seems disrespectful or inaccurate.
- Deke thinking that he cannot begin the healing process until he reports his abuser is coming from his perspective of his situation and is not indicative of all survivors’ experiences.

Chapter 21

Notes:

Trigger warnings for past childhood sexual abuse, physical abuse, and eating disorders. There is also a scene involving drinking. Please take care of yourselves

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Tony waits until all the kids, minus Harley, are at school to call Sam. He seals himself up in his lab. For extra precaution, he places FRIDAY under strict orders to announce any visitors.

He feels nervous reaching out to the younger man. Sam is Tony’s friend. However, he is Steve’s recruit, a single veteran who can relate more to Rhodey and Clint than an eccentric scientist in his forties who now has eight kids. At least they share a common interest in combat tech, Tony reasons.  

Eight kids. Even after a month, Tony still struggles to wrap his mind around the amount of children who now look to him for guidance and care. A short time ago, all he needed to focus on was the company and his parties. Now he needs to be the best father, uncle, husband, inventor, and Avenger he can be. 

As Tony dials Sam’s number, he knows his top priority is the four boys who were failed over and over again by the adults in their lives.

Sam picks up on the second ring. “Hey, Tony. What’s up?”

“Hey, Sam. I need a favor.”

Sam asks, “What do you need?”

“I know you mostly specialize in working with combat veterans, but do you know any qualified trauma therapists in Manhattan? Money is no issue.” 

In a professional but warm tone, Sam says, “I can name a few. Without violating the client’s confidentiality, can you give me a general idea of the nature of their trauma?”

“I’m sorry, Sam, but I have to ask...You won’t tell anyone, right? Not even Steve?” Tony says.

“I swear,” Sam says.

“I need a therapist specialized in treating survivors of childhood sexual abuse. And maybe grief therapy, too? Specifically prolonged grief symptoms. And anxiety. Definitely anxiety. And I need the therapist to be a woman,” Tony says. “Harley’s therapist Dr. Mukherjee gave me a few names. I wanted to run them by you.”

Tony rattles off the names to Sam. Sam gives Tony his honest opinions on the therapists and recommends a couple names himself. 

“I’ll give Dr. Dumont a call this afternoon,” Tony says. “Considering what you’ve told me, I think she’s my first choice.”

“Krista’s fantastic. She did undergrad at Empire State University and grad school at Princeton. I’ve read all four of her books,” Sam says. “She has a way with teenagers.”

“Do you know her personally?” Tony asks. 

“She was my therapist when I got back from my first deployment at nineteen,” Sam explains. “I can’t recommend her enough.”

“That’s good to know. Thank you again, Sam, you’ve been a big help,” Tony says.

“Of course.” Sam pauses. “Hey, Tony, I know that adoption isn’t just hard on the kids—it’s hard on the guardians, too. If you’re struggling, let someone know.”

“I will,” Tony promises.

He discovered the value of therapy shortly after they began fostering Harley. Attempting to parent a grieving preteen and caring for a newborn took a toll on him. Tony lost weight and drank more than he should have. On top of his PTSD and anxiety, Tony struggled to adjust to fatherhood.

Natasha and Steve finally persuaded Pepper and Tony to pursue family therapy and individual sessions. 

Tony knows he can never repay his friends for encouraging him to take that first step to healing. 

It’s time for him to do the same for the six kids who desperately need someone to advocate for them. Sometimes, all it takes is for one person to give a damn.


Peter has to do a double-take when MJ joins him and Ned at lunch. Normally, she holds court in the library with a charcoal stick and a sketchbook. Peter cannot recall a time he has seen her in the cafeteria. 

“You’re staring,” MJ tells them.

“You’re sitting here. With us. At lunch,” Ned says. “No one else ever sits with us.”

“Well, consider yourselves lucky that I am blessing you with my presence,” MJ says.

“I’ve never heard you say more than five words at one time,” Ned whispers in awe.

MJ rolls her eyes and slings her sketchbook on the table. She begins to sketch some sort of plant, staring intently at the page. When it becomes clear that she is not going to say anything else, Peter and Ned tentatively resume their conversation. 

When the bell rings, Peter says his goodbyes to Ned and puts on his backpack. MJ joins him as he leaves the cafeteria, still holding her sketchbook. Before Peter can think of anything to say, she says, “You seem different today.”

“I didn’t get a haircut, but I have a new shirt on,” Peter says. Pepper surprised him and Will with Boba Fett shirts yesterday. Thankfully, his aunt had the foresight to not get matching shirts. Peter is still scarred by all the matching outfits his mom made them wear as small children.

“Not that. You seem… lighter,” MJ says.

“What do you mean?” Peter asks.

“You aren’t happier, but a weight has been lifted off you,” MJ says. Her expression is as inscrutable as ever. “I’m going to my locker. I’ll see you in Lit, yeah?”

“See you in Lit,” Peter echoes.

MJ leaves him. The floor spins beneath Peter’s feet. His legs feel unsteady.

Someone noticed .


“FRIDAY,” Tony says. He pauses to take a sip of his Scotch. “I need you to find a video on the Internet.”

What sort of video, Boss?

“Any video that matches Deacon or Peter Parker’s voices. It will probably be on the dark web,” Tony says. His face is wet with tears.

Tony knows he should have begun scrubbing the Internet for the incriminating videos hours ago. It’s taken three calls to Rhodey and two tumblers of Scotch for him to work up the nerve to actually do it. He needs to do this. He has to do this.

It still fucking sucks, though.

Running algorithms now. It may take several hours to break through the firewalls on the dark web.

“Take as long as you need, Fry,” Tony whispers. 

He knocks back the rest of his Scotch.


Boss .

Tony glances up from the schematics of an airplane. He drops his pencil and heads towards the bar. “Did you find it?” he mumbles.

I found ten videos whose audio files contain a 98.7% similarity to Deacon Parker’s voice, and one video with an audio file that is a 99.84% match to Peter Parker’s voice, the AI reports. Would you like me to play them? The videos are rather graphic in nature—

“No! Fuck, no!” Tony’s mouth feels dry. His hands tremble. He drank a gallon of coffee this morning. 

What would you like me to do with the videos?

“I’d like you to forward them to Judge Fabian Woods,” Tony says. “Tell him it’s in conjunction with the Steven Westcott, Jr., investigation.”

Yes, Boss.

Tony runs to the garbage can and pukes up little more than coffee and liquor. He collapses next to the garbage can and buries his face in his hands.

“It’s done with,” he whispers. “It’s over.”


Both sets of twins, Reese, Deke, and Morgan crowd into the elevator. Happy picked them all up from their respective schools today in the Duggar Van, as Will aptly named it. Morgan will not stop talking about the upcoming Career Day at Stonelore. Peter takes note of Deke and Reese’s sullen expressions. He resolves to talk to them both in private later. He can bribe Reese with chocolate before dinner. Deke may be a harder nut to crack, though—

The elevator doors open, and the seven kids surge out of the elevator. Peter skids to a halt when he sees Pepper pouring water for two men in suits in the kitchen. They wear earpieces. One of the men has a holster on his hip.

Peter may live in a penthouse now, but he still knows how to recognize a cop. 

Pepper’s eyes lock with him. 

“You guys are home so early!” Pepper bursts out. “How was your day? Leo, how’d that physics test go? Reese, I know you guys are practicing for that spelling bee…”

“Who are the suits, Mommy?” Morgan asks. She runs into the kitchen and hugs her mother’s legs. 

Pepper scoops her up easily. “Someone has been hanging out with Uncle Clint too much. They work with me and Daddy,” she says. “Silas, Warren, these are our kids.”

“Quite a crew you have here, Ms. Potts,” the taller cop says. “Seven, in all?”

“Eight, actually. Harley’s studying in his room,” Pepper says. “Um, do you mind if we reschedule our meeting? I should probably help with homework and getting dinner started.”

“Of course, Ms. Potts,” the other cop says. The pair nods to the cluster of siblings and steps into the elevator. Peter eyes them suspiciously. He sees Leo and Peni exchange nervous looks. Will’s frown is deeper than usual. 

There may need to be a twin meeting about this later.

Reese is heading down the hallway that leads to the bedrooms as soon as the door shuts. Peter heads to the fridge to grab a couple bananas, only to be elbowed out of the way by Deke. Leo and Will dump their book bags on the counter. Peni sets up shop on a barstool at the island.

“Where’s Reese gone?” Pepper asks. The kids usually gather in the kitchen after school to eat snacks and get started on homework. Between Harley, Peni, and Leo’s tutoring sessions, Will’s lowest grade is now a C+. 

“Her room, I think,” Leo says. “The lass said she doesn’t have a lot of homework.”

“She’s in the middle of Anne of the Green Gables . She’ll bite your toes off if you interrupt her,” Deke says around a mouthful of blueberries.

Peter smacks the back of his brother’s head. “She only bites if you annoy her first. Leave her alone once in a while, and you might notice a difference.”

“We terrorize each other an equal amount. She’s the youngest, I have to make sure she’s getting an equal share of what we suffer through.”

“As someone with five younger siblings and a twin,” Peni says, “I do not want to hear about how you feel terrorized.”

“Maybe I should be grateful for being an only child,” Pepper jokes. 

“Is that what made you crazy enough to take in a litter of kids, Aunt Pepper?” Leo grins at her. 

“Jury’s still out on if she’s crazy or not,” Tony says, emerging from the hallway that leads to his lab. Morgan throws herself at him and he catches her easily. “How was school, my Padawans?”

“Career Day is next Friday, Daddy. Can you go?” Morgan begs.

“I booked my time slot weeks ago, Maguna. 10 a.m.—right before snack time. Iron Man will be spilling all his secrets to elementary school kids.” Tony waggles his eyebrows. 

Morgan’s eyes are huge. “Can we make Iron Man cupcakes for snack time?”

“Absolutely.” Tony turns his gaze to Deke. “Is the middle school participating in Career Day?”

Deke shrugs. “Not sure. I don’t—I mean, it’s optional. You have the option to miss class for it, but I don’t want to make up the extra work.”

“You’re always a week ahead on your homework. You, Reese, Morgan, and me can hang out and have cupcakes. Peni, Will, do they let high schoolers come? It’d be a fun family outing—“

“I don’t want to go,” Deke says. 

Tony looks taken aback. 

Pepper says, “Honey, I’m sure the school will not mind if you miss a class to go to the event—“

“Career Day’s for people with parents, and I don’t have any, so what’s the point?” Deke snaps.

Peter, Will, Leo, and Peni freeze. Deke turns his glare towards Peter. “Quit doing that stupid thing where you all look at each other. You’re not subtle. Yeah, you know what? You suck at being subtle.”

He storms towards his room. Peter flinches when Deke’s door slams shut. Morgan buries her face in Peter’s legs. He scoops her up easily. 

Peni massages her temple. “Leo?”

Leo stands up. “I’ve got it.”

“Leave him for a bit. If Reese bites toes off, Deke will rip off your legs,” Will says.

“He’s been so upset lately, he shouldn’t be by himself,” Peni argues. “Leo, at least knock on his door.”

Pepper moves into the living room and puts a hand on Leo’s shoulder to stop him. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Leo smiles at her. “It’s okay, Aunt Pepper. I’ll make sure he apologizes for being rude to you and Uncle Tony. I know he’s been moody. Normally he is a cheerful lad—“

“I’ll talk to him,” Pepper repeats.

Leo’s eyes dart over to Peni. “You sure? I can go—“

“I need your help with a few things in here, Leo. Let your aunt talk to Deke,” Tony says.

“Peter can handle dinner. He’s a better cook than me anyway.” Leo ducks out of Pepper’s grip.

“Leo, let your aunt handle it,” Tony says in the tone he used when Morgan threw a temper tantrum about going to bed a couple weeks ago. Not angry, but firm and steady.

Leo says, “He’s more comfortable with me. I’m—“

“We’re trying to get to a point where Deke is comfortable with us, too. As his guardians—“

“As his brother , I’d appreciate it if you didn’t speak over me,” Leo says. 

Peter feels Morgan press closer to him. Her eyes are brimming with tears. She’s old enough to know that something is wrong, but too young to understand what is really going on. Peter glares daggers at Leo. Shut the fuck up, do you want to get your ass beat? 

Except Tony isn’t Quentin or Ben. Tony is Tony, so he takes a deep breath and says, “And I would appreciate it if you would speak to me in a respectful tone. Now we can talk about this calmly, or you can go to your room for a bit to cool down.”

“Deke’s right. I don’t wanna be rude, but you aren’t our parents. You’ve been our guardians for less than two months,” Leo snaps. “That kid’s been my responsibility since he was five years old. You guys have done a lot for us and I’m grateful, but don’t pretend for a bloody second that you know everything about us. And don’t you ever ignore my input about any of these kids again.”

With that, Leo snatches his backpack off the counter and storms to his room. Peter hears him slam the door to his own room rather than go into Deke’s. He lets out a small sigh of relief.

The remaining siblings, Tony, Pepper, and Morgan stand in awkward silence for a long moment. Peni, fiddling with her shirt sleeve, says, “Sorry about that.”

“It’s got nothing to do with you, tesoro, and nothing to do with him, either,” Tony says. “In fact, I’d call that progress.”

Will quirks an eyebrow. “That’s what we’re calling it?”

Tony offers him a tired smile. “Yeah, kid, we are.”

Pepper says, “I’ll check on Deke and Reese. I know it’s early, but do you guys want to get a start on dinner? I thought we could eat earlier and watch a movie during dinner. Will, didn’t you want Harley to watch some baseball movie?”

Will says, “Yeah, he claims he’s never seen Sandlot. It’s a crime against humanity. I thought the Avengers were supposed to prevent those, Tony. Harley’s your own son.”

“We’ll have to rectify the Avengers’ negligence, then.” Tony looks at Peter, Morgan, Peni, and Will. “Can you guys help me with dinner?”

“I can throw together chicken, rice, and broccoli casserole,” Peter says. “Will, can you make a salad?”

Will nods.

“Perfect!” Tony nods to the girls. “Do you want to get Reese and Harley and mess around in the lab for a bit?”

Peni nods. She steals Morgan from Peter, saying, “C’mon, little lass, we can keep working on the pony robot.”

Pepper clasps her hands together. “We’ll reconvene at dinner time. Peter, Will, let us know when the food’s ready.”

Everyone disperses to different areas in the penthouse. Peter and Will pull out the ingredients they need for dinner. Will peels cucumbers while Peter seasons the chicken. Peter flinches in surprise when Will says, “Peni and Leo need to chill.”

“What?” Peter says, shooting his brother a confused look.

“They need to chill.”

“Chill about what?”

“I dunno, just in general. They always get worked up over everything. We can’t even breathe without them immediately trying to smother us. Doesn’t it piss you off?”

Peter shrugs. After a year apart from three of his siblings, Peter is not keen to complain about them just yet. Leo’s gruff concern can get on his nerves, but he missed Peni’s fussing for months. 

“Yes, you do. They always watch you eat. Peni gives you puppy dog eyes if you don’t finish your plate,” Will says.

“Shut the fuck up,” Peter says. “Jesus Christ, I don’t do that anymore. I haven’t done that in a long time.”

“I know you have, and I’m proud of you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up,” Will says quietly.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have.” Peter fills a pot with water to boil the rice. 

“My point was that they need to back off a bit. They don’t have to do everything.” Will gestures to their surroundings. “That’s why we’re here. So they aren’t doing this by themselves anymore.”

“Easier said than done. Things have been this way for a while. Two months can’t undo eight years of parentification and codependency.”

“What fancy-ass psychology textbook did you pull those words from?”

“Google, dumbass,” Peter says. “Try being more patient with them, Will. You know they’re trying their best. Our family should know better than anyone that working through your shit takes time.”

“You think we’ll ever do it? You know, work through all our shit.”

“Maybe. It sure would be nice. I’m sick of feeling so shitty all the time,” Peter admits.

Will slings an arm around his shoulder. “We’ll get there, Petey. It could take a while, but we’ll get there.”

 

Notes:

For once, my author’s notes are rather short:
- Unfortunately, Harley did not make an appearance in this chapter. Sometimes it’s hard to juggle all these damn characters! Next chapter is going to be very Harley-centric, and I am so excited to share it with you all.
- as always, if you think you can further educate me on any sensitive topics discussed in this story, I would be delighted to hear from you. I am constantly trying to research and grow, but there is always room for improvement.

Follow me on tumblr. My blog is @enchantingwriting. I sometimes post little snippets of upcoming chapters.

Thank you for the continued outpouring of support for this story. It makes me so happy that so many people love these characters as much as I do. Thank you for being patient with my slow updates!

Chapter 22

Notes:

Trigger warnings for past childhood sexual assault, past physical abuse, addiction, death of parents and a sibling, car crashes, and criminal trials. Please take care of yourselves and stay safe.

A huge shoutout goes to my beta Astro-cat13!! Please go check out her amazing writing

pls follow me on Tumblr, my blog is @enchantingwriting... pls I only have 9 followers

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Harley finds himself standing in the dark at two in the morning, fist hovering near Leo’s door. Light pools out from under the frame. He prays that his cousin is still awake.

Harley takes a deep breath.

If you ever want to talk, I’m here .

Harley raps his knuckles against the door ever-so-softly. Morgan wakes up at the slightest of sounds. He hears shuffling around in the room. Leo opens the door a crack. When he takes in Harley’s tear-streaked face and frantic expression, he opens it wider and steps aside.

“Come in,” Leo says.

Harley says shakily, “Hey, I know it’s late—“

“I was up anyway,” Leo says soothingly. He shuts the door behind him. With a hand on Harley’s elbow, he guides his cousin to the end of his bed. “Do you want me to just listen, or do you want advice?”

“I don’t know,” Harley says with a frown. “Fuck, man—I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that before. That’s… that’s really thoughtful.”

“It’s something my stepdad used to say,” Leo says with a shrug. “Force of habit, I guess.”

“My parents never—they never did that. Like, listen to me complain or ask me if I was worried. B-b-back in Tennessee, no one ever listened to me.” Harley hunches his shoulders. “Even when they should have.”

“A lot of parents don’t, unfortunately.” Leo’s expression is unreadable in the dim light.

“My dad, all he cared about was his next hit.” Harley clenches his fists. “My mom said he was different before he started using. I never really believed her. I mean, I was like two when he started getting into hard drugs, so I never knew what he was like sober. My mom did. She loved him, even though he didn’t give a shit about her. He didn’t give a shit about any of us.”

“When did he go to prison?” Leo asks.

“I was nine. Celine was three or four, I think. Mom… She was finally done with him after the robbery. I mean, he fuckin’ pistol-whipped a seventy-year-old woman. Who the hell does that?”

“Your dad, apparently,” Leo mumbles.

Harley lets out a bitter laugh. “I’ve never visited him in prison. Not even when Celine and Mom died. Even though he’s an asshole, Celine was his kid. Now the bastard’s only living kid refuses to see him.”

“You don’t owe him anything. Your grief isn’t his grief. Any regrets he has, any of his feelings, it’s not your job to fecking sort through. He’s a grown man,” Leo says. “He made his choices long ago. He should learn to live with his mistakes.”

Harley rests his head on Leo’s shoulders. “I think I want your advice. You’re a pretty smart guy.”

“Yeah, well, that’s mostly because I’ve gone through similar shit, I think,” Leo says. 

“Asshole dad, dead mom?” Harley asks.

“That, and the fact that I thought I owed something to assholes who didn’t deserve a fecking thing from me.” Leo lets out a deep sigh. “My uncle Ben, my stepdad’s brother, he never grieved for Richard properly. He loved Richard, but I think he resented being saddled with all his kids. He took it out on my aunt and all of us.”

“He sounds like a dick,” Harley says.

“I think I hate him more than Skip,” Leo mutters.

“Skip?” Harley repeats.

Leo’s face twists into a scowl. “An old foster brother of ours. It’s not--that doesn’t matter. I mean, I guess what I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to beat yourself up or wonder if you’re part of the reason why he is the way that he is. People fucking suck sometimes, and its not our job to fix them.”

“Your best advocate is yourself,” Harley mutters.

“That’s Tony’s saying, right?” Leo asks.

“Yeah. He…God, you know, he always knows the right thing to say.” Harley’s voice grows thick with emotion. “It was right after the fire, right after they declared my mom and Celine dead, and I called him b-b-because there was no one else, you know? Only him, and he said, ‘You did a good job by calling me, kid. I’m flying to Tennessee right now, okay? You took the first and hardest step all on your own. Pepper and I will be with you for the rest of this, but you should always remember how strong you were right in this moment, okay? I’m proud of you, and I’ll be there soon.’ Those words are fucking burned into my mind.”

“He’s such a great guy.” Leo’s voice hovers above a whisper. “I wish I had called him when my parents died.”

“Who’d you call?”

“My brother Kit,” Leo says. “He was sixteen at the time, almost an adult--well, to ten-year-old Leopold he was. I thought he’d know what to do.”

“What happened?” Harley asks, unable to stop himself.

“My stepmom yanked the phone out of his hands and started screaming at me for wasting their international minutes,” Leo says with a bitter laugh.

“Holy fuck,” Harley whispers.

“To be fair, I guess she didn’t know yet.’

“She’s still a bitch.”

“I can think of a stronger word that starts with a ‘c’, but in the States it has a worse context so Peni doesn’t let me say it,” Leo says.

Harley hesitates, but he finally says, “So you have another brother?”

“Three more, actually, including Kit. A sister, too,” Leo says. “My dad hasn’t let them speak to Peni and me  in five years.”

“God, that’s fucked up.”

Leo’s eyes leak tears. Too overwhelmed with emotion to speak, he wipes them away and simply nods. 

In a feeble attempt at humor, Harley says, “I do have to say, man, you have a ton of fucking siblings. Nine?

Leo lets out a watery laugh. “Eleven, now. I know people with less cousins than that.”

Harley goes still. “E-eleven?” he rasps.

“That’s what Morgan keeps saying, aye? I mean, I know Tony and Pepper are technically our legal guardians and no one can ever replace our parents--”

“You’re right. We’re brothers,” Harley blurts out.  

“We have been for a while now, I think.” Leo rubs his knuckles on Harley’s scalp. “Lesson one--your big brother’s always right, Harls.”

“Are you, now?” Harley raises his eyebrows. 

“God, you’re a cocksure little gobshite. Clearly Peni and I have to take you down a couple notches.”

“Well, I’ll be the stereotypical annoying little brother and make your job ten times harder.”

“I’ve been bossing around little kids for years , Harley. I’m a pro.”

“Little kids? Fuck you, too, mate .”

“Bring it, bitch,” Leo says in a horrible American accent.


Three weeks after the breaking of Rule Number One, Pepper and Tony gather the kids in Tony’s lab. Harley and Morgan were asked to hang out in Morgan’s playroom for a bit while their parents discuss “custody-related issues” with their cousins. 

Peter can tell that Harley knows something is up. However, his cousin has not said a word about Peter’s freakout during the movie or Leo and Deke’s frequent nightmares. Instead, he bakes cookies with Leo on his sleepless nights or shows Will the punching bags in the rec room. He reads every book Reese shoves under his door.

His silent support means the world to Peter. His cousin may not know exactly what they’re going through, but he still wants to help them. Even thinking about how great his family is makes Peter want to cry.

Morgan begged to come to the meeting, but Harley easily bribed her into the playroom with the promise of Juice Pops and My Little Pony. Peter misses the days he could bribe his younger siblings with treats.

In the lab, they spread out. Deke fiddles with a motherboard while tucked under Peni’s arm. Will hunches in Tony’s bean bag chair, his cane resting on his knees. Peter tries to sit next to Reese, but her death glare sends him skittering towards Pepper and Leo on the couch. Tony fiddles with the holographic screen FRIDAY is projecting.

“Two weeks ago, I sent the DA the videos Steven Westcott, Jr., filmed with Deke and Peter. They arrested him that night and dragged him out of his dorm room. He resisted his arrest, so the cops had to subdue him. He has quite the black eye in his mug shot--”

“Can we see?” Will asks.

“No,” Deke says. “ No . I don’t want to see him ever again.”

“That’s fine,” Will says hastily. “Yeah, no, probably not a good idea. Know your triggers and all that.”

Tony started sending them to counselling two weeks ago, and some of them have taken to it more than others. Will bitched about it until Peter told him it was like physical therapy for his mind.

“Whatever you feel comfortable with, Will. Maybe later, yeah?” Tony says. When his nephew nods, he continues on: “The Avengers might have intimidated the DA to set a ridiculously high bail. For the past two weeks, he’s been meeting with his lawyer and the prosecutor in prison. Skip has made his decision--he’s going to plead guilty to producing child pornography, distributing child pornography, and sexual assaulting minors on several occasions.”

“He’s going to prison?” Deke whispers. “For how long?”

“Producing child pornography has a fifteen to thirty year sentence alone, and the DA is doing everything he can to make sure that Westcott won’t be able to serve any of his charges concurrently.”

“Oh my god,” Deke says. “Holy shit. So he could go away for life ?”

“Looks like it,” Tony says. His eyes dart between each kid. “How are you guys feeling?”

“We don’t--we, umm, me and Will don’t have to pursue any charges?” Leo asks.

After a lot of discussion and weighing the pros and cons, Leo and Will decided to not press charges against Skip. Their case would have involved giving statements and a possible criminal trial. Both boys have reached a point where they feel it would cause them more pain and trauma to go through the trial process. 

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Pepper says. 

“If he’s going to prison for life, I think… I think I’m ready to move on. It’s enough for me,” Leo says.

Will says, “Nothing will ever be enough for me, I think. Nothing that’s legal, anyway.”

Peter drops down in the beanbag. He interlocks his fingers with Will’s, squeezing tightly. Will presses his forehead against Peter’s. Together, the twins each take a deep breath. 

“You think I’d be happier,” Will whispers. Peter feels his brother’s heart hammering against his ribcage.

“Situations like these don’t always have a happy ending. Sometimes you just have to learn to live with it,” Reese says.

“You read that in a book or something, Reesey?” Will asks her, blue eyes swimming with tears.

“Dr. Dumont says all these stupidly comforting platitudes during our sessions,” Reese says. “I started writing them down.” 

“You’re capable of feeling human emotion?” Deke mumbles.

Reese shoots him a withering look. 

Peter bites back a little grin. Despite everything, despite the world shitting on him and his siblings every day for the past seven years, the six of them made it to the other side. They’re together. They can bicker and tease and heal and learn and grow together. No one can separate them ever again.

Deke and Reese went to hell and back, and they can still fight like normal siblings. 

Goosebumps creep up Peter’s arms. His neck tingles. Maybe it’s his Spidey sense or just plain old intuition, but every atom in his body thrums from a profound realization-- Mom, Dad, May, Granddad, I think we’ll be okay .


Will wears a perfectly tailored suit. His dark hair is carefully styled. Peter watches him retie his shoes five times. Will finally stands in front of the mirror on their bathroom door, frowning at his reflection.

“You want to do this?” Peter asks.

“There’s a difference between wanting something and needing something, you know?” Will massages the bridge of his nose. 

Peter goes to stand next to Will. He sees their mom’s blue eyes and their dad’s hazel eyes staring back at them. Will has plates and screws in his leg. Titanium pins lie beneath the long scar on Peter’s arm. Will is full of the Parker rage, but it took Peter a year and a half to stand up to his bully. They shared a womb for nine months, but they are two different people. 

The same man molested them for months. He degraded them and took away their innocence. He isolated the two of them from each other in a way grief or Ben’s abuse never managed to. They suffered the same treatment, but it affected them in different ways.

None of that matters, though--

Today, they will stand together while Skip confesses to the world that he abused him. For the first time since Skip wanted to play a game, they can go to sleep knowing that he will never hurt someone else again.

He needs to know Skip will never whisper the words “ fat whore ” in a dark basement again--

Peter screws his eyes shut. It takes a couple minutes of slow breathing and Will murmuring in his ear to calm down again. 

“I need this,” Peter whispers, not sure if he is talking to his reflection or his twin.


Peni hugs Deke tightly. Her brother is swimming in Harley’s sweatshirt. His red eyes and quivering frame hurt her already-aching heart.

A chuisle, I can stay with you--”

“I have Reese and Happy,” Deke says. “We’re gonna watch a sea lion documentary.”

“But they aren’t--” Peni’s weak protests die in her throat.

Deke stares up at her with knowing eyes. He finishes her selfish statement for her: “They aren’t you.”

“I’m sorry. That...That came out wrong,” Peni whispers.

“They aren’t you. That’s the point.” Deke gestures to where Leo, Will, and Peter stand in an awkward knot by the elevator. Their heads are bent together, three handsome brothers clad in designer suits. “Today will be rough for me, but they’re actually gonna be there for the sentencing. I’ll have Happy and Reese. I’ll be...not fine, but I’ll manage until you all are back. Leo, Will, and Petey are going to need our amazing sister to get through today. No one else can do what you do for this family, Peni.”

Peni’s eyes overflow with tears. 

“Feck, I’m gonna ruin my makeup,” she mutters.

“We don’t...I can never thank you for everything you’ve done since the car crash,” Deke says.

Peni thinks of a two-bedroom apartment in Queens. Blood on the tiles, holes punched in the wall, screaming and crying and yelling. Then a townhouse where video games in the basement meant something much, much worse. A police station. They ripped her out of her other half’s arms. More yelling and screaming and crying, while her brothers were being slapped around in a house halfway across the city. 

Powerless, weak, stupid. Should have, could have, would have.

“I wish I could have done more,” she says.

“You did more than enough. I love you, mo chroí .”

“My heart?” Peni whispers.

“I mean, that’s what you are, right? The heart of the family.”

Peni kisses the top of his head. 

“You’re a good lad. A great lad,” she whispers. “I love you so fecking much.”

“How much is ‘fecking’ much?”

Peni shoves his shoulder lightly. 

“Hey, just because we had a mushy moment doesn’t mean you get to be a smartarse!” she scolds.


The judge lets them sit in his chambers during the sentencing. A live audio stream--Tony requested that they cut the visual feed--will play for them. Both sets of twin, Pepper, and Tony pile on the couch together. Happy is watching the other four kids at home, but Clint, Natasha, and a handpicked security team are watching over the Starks and their charges at the courthouse.

Peter is wedged between Will and Leo. Pepper and Peni reach across their laps to grip his hands. 

The microphone comes to life all the sudden. Judge Ortiz says, “We call the case of Steven Grayson Westcott, Jr. vs. the State of New York.

Peter screws his eyes shut. He listens to the lawyers introduce themselves and state who they are representing. The prosecutor rattles off the charges--

“Production of child pornography, distribution of child pornography, multiple counts of sexually assualt of a minor… We ask that these charges are not served concurrently--”

Fuck fuck oh my god fuck --

“Mr. Westcott, how do you plead to these charges?” Judge Ortiz asks.

“Guilty.”

Guilty. Two syllables, six letters, one word. It’s a simple word, really, but the implications--

A dark basement, hands on his throat, picking at his meals until his bones jut out, evil words that repeat over and over in his mind, fat whore, fat whore, FAT FUCKING USELESS WHORE--

Peter opens his eyes. He’s not in the basement. He is with his family on an expensive leather couch bought with taxpayer money. That’s fucked up, isn’t it? They could be helping foster kids with that money. Peter cannot focus too hard on that, though, Judge Ortiz is talking--

“Mr. Westcott, you will serve four life sentences after pleading guilty to Counts 1 to 27. These sentences will be served consecutively, and you will not be eligible for parole at any time during your incarceration. I have read the statements from the victims. I watched every single video you filmed. 

“Those children were placed under your parents’ care after years of extreme trauma and abuse. You singled them out and took advantage of foster children in a vulnerable position. Instead of confronting your predatory behavior, your parents turned a blind eye to it and blamed the victims instead. Your family failed the children they were trusted to care for, and the system failed them as well. My only regret in this is that justice was not served sooner. An admission of guilt is not the same thing as true regret. Thankfully, you will have a long time to come to regret your actions, Mr. Westcott.”

Peter waits for anything. Any retort, any quick-witted reply. He pictures Skip’s charming smile, those baby blue eyes, his quick smile. Something, something-

After a minute of silence, Peter realizes that there is nothing more to say.

Guilty.

G-U-I-L-T-Y.

“Guilty,” Peter says. “Holy fucking shit, he’s guilty.”

Leo looks at him. Peter notices that his brother is crying before he realizes that his own face is wet with tears. Will wears a blank expression. Peni is frozen.

“He’s guilty!” Peter repeats. “Guys, he’s fucking guilty.”

Tony is pulling him into a hug, and then Peni joins in. Will and Leo pound each other’s backs. Pepper darts between each kid, smothering them with kisses and hugs and reassuring words. Peter feels--well, he feels…

Not the way he expected to feel. The pain is still there; it might always be. All the memories are seared into his mind. 

Yet--

He always knew Skip was guilty, but now the rest of the world agrees with him, too. It’s weird. All the secrets and lies from the past year have been dragged into the light. Even though it was messy and hard and painful to tell somebody, Peter does not miss bearing the weight of a secret he shouldn’t have had to keep in the first place.

Strangely, he remembers identifying a mangled body in a morgue. One arm was in a bulky cast, so he had to point out Ben’s tattoos with his good hand.

-- “That’s my uncle,” Peter says. His uncle--

His uncle who hit him, his uncle who hated him, his uncle who terrorized his siblings and his aunt for years.

 His uncle is little more than a decaying piece of flesh, now.

Peter’s not relieved, but he’s not sad, either. 

“It’s done,” Leo says a couple days later at Ben’s funeral. “It’s fecking done.”--

That’s how it is now, too--

Done.


After nearly fifteen minutes of hugging and crying with her brothers, Peni excuses herself to go to the bathroom. She wipes away the snot dripping down her face with an already-slimy tissue. She stuffs it in her big purse with the mounds of other tissues.

“Fitzpatricks are ugly criers,” her mum used to say.

The thought of her mum makes even more tears leak out of Peni’s eyes. Mary adored her kids with every fiber of her being. Despite being one of six kids, Peni never felt forgotten or unloved. Her mum always validated her feelings. She and Richard were the type of parents whose kids were open with them about everything. 

Home is a place where sorrow is divided and joy multiplied , a sign in their kitchen said.

Ben smashed it during one of his drunken rages.

For the first time in her life, Peni is glad her mom is dead. Seeing her sons in such great pain surely would have killed her

Peni stumbles out of the judge’s chambers and into the lobby of the courthouse. She almost collides with a bearded man. His bright blue eyes are swollen from crying, too.

“Sorry,” the man says, stepping out of her way. His raspy voice is higher than she would have expected from a man well over six feet.

“It’s fine,” Peni mumbles. She can barely speak through the tears.

With all her racing thought, she almost moves past him. Then she remembers—beard, blue eyes, tall as fuck, raspy voice. She heard that same voice in a police station over a year ago. She’s heard it in the background of countless phone calls, screaming and yelling and bullying the three boys he was supposed to protect and utterly failed.

Peni whirls around. 

“You,” she says.

The man’s eyebrows pull together. “Do you—do I know you?”

Peni lets out a strangled laugh. “Of course you don’t fecking know who I am. You never cared enough to know, did you?”

“I’m sorry, I think you may have the wrong person…” Quentin Beck stares at her intently. “Do you know the boys?”

Peni nods.

“I-I came here to support them, too. Their social worker told me...I haven’t seen them yet, but I thought I might run into them,” Quentin says, looking down at her with that same frown.

“That’s nice of you. You’re their old foster dad, right?” Peni asks.

“Yeah, they lived with me before they got in contact with their uncle…” Quentin’s eyes widen in realization. “You’re one of their sisters. The older one, yeah?”

“Leo’s twin,” Peni says.

“Oh god, that’s right. I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you, Aspen. I’m a bit… a bit of a mess right now, honestly. It was really hard, watching them. I feel absolutely horrible about what happened to them, you know?”

“Me too,” Peni whispers. They can agree on that, at least. 

“I wish they would have come forward sooner—“

I wish .

Two little words cause a supernova of white-hot rage to burst in Peni’s vision. Her vision tunnels, and her chest tightens—

Peni blinks, and she finds her elbow colliding with Quentin’s crotch. He lets out a moan and leans forward a bit. He’s not quite eye-level with her. That’s okay, though—Peni is plenty tall enough to reach up and jab her thumb into his eye. He lashes out with a meaty fist. Peni spent five years dodging Ben’s punches, so she easily sidesteps his strike.

She hefts her bag and smacks him upside the head. Quentin’s yelling, other people are yelling. Now it’s her turn to yell—

“What do you wish, you piece of shit? What the feck do you think you could have done? Do you think they would have come to you? You fecking kid-beating, ableist, scummy piece of horseshite! You told Peter no one would fecking believe him, said he lied about being raped by a fecking sadistic pedophile. You called a kid whose leg got fecked up in the same car accident that his parents DIED IN a cripple!”

Peni manages to get a few more whacks with the purse in before strong arms wrap around her waist and pull her away. She pulls and tugs at the grip, still screaming—

“You come near my brothers again, you fecking asshole, I’ll rip your balls off. You ought to be rotting in prison like fecking Skip for the rest of your life. I BLOODY HATE YOU, you bloody bastart motherfecker—“

“Hey, Pen, hey, shhh,” a voice murmurs in her ear.

Through the blur of tears, Peni sees a boy with a mop of sandy brown curls. He grips her shoulders, pushes her away from Quentin. 

“Leo,” she chokes out. “Leo, he—“

“He’s a bloody gobshite, aye? And you’re a fecking badass, Boudicca,” Leo says. 

“You think I’m Boudicca?” Peni mumbles, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Of course you are. You’re a Fitzpatrick, and everyone knows we’re fecking bonkers.” Leo plants a kiss on the top of her head. “You wanna get out of here? Everyone’s staring.”

“Yeah,” Peni whispers into his chest. “You know, I should be the one comforting you.”

“We’re twins. We both look out for each other,” Leo says. “You good if I let go?”

“Yeah,” Peni lies.

They hook elbows and face the horrified crowd in the lobby. Quentin’s face is a bruised and bloody mess. Peter and Will huddle behind Pepper, while Tony hovers in the area between Quentin and the twins.

Peni stares at Will. Her little brother’s face, much like her own, is smeared with snot and tears. She sees a kindred rage burning in his eyes. As they stare at each other, his lips slowly quirk into a dangerous smile. 

Peni tries not to shudder.

The only person she ever saw smile like that was an alcoholic cop who snapped a kid’s arm without blinking.

Will takes a slow, deliberate step from behind Pepper. He leans heavily on his cane. He offers the crowd a sardonic grin.

“Before any of you people in the crowd, especially you cops, think my sister’s crazy or should be arrested, I’ll let you know that asshole she beat up did the same thing to me and my brothers for months.” Will shifts all his weight to his good leg. He stretches out the other one in front of him, his face twisting in pain.

“He called me a retard, a crip, a good-for-nothing faker who would live off government benefits for the rest of his life.” Will yanks up his pants leg, revealing knotted scarring and the foot that sticks out at an angle. “Does that look like I’m faking it?”

Quentin’s openly sobbing now.

“You’re only crying because you got caught, asshole. Fuck off to whatever circle of hell you were spawned in.” Will holds up both his hands, offering Quentin the middle finger times two.

Face bright red with fury, Tony wraps an arm around Will’s shoulder. Clint flaps a hand, and the security team closes in. 

“Leo said I’m a badass, Wilder, but I think you’re the ultimate badass,” Peni whispers in Will’s ear.

They fist bump.

“Jesus fuck, you two are definitely related to Tony,” Pepper mutters.

Notes:

Much love to everyone who shows their continued support for this story!! Your comments and kudos mean the world to me.

A huge shoutout goes to my beta Astro-cat13!! Please go check out her amazing writing

pls follow me on Tumblr, my blog is @enchantingwriting... pls I only have 9 followers

my usual long-ass author's notes:
- please feel free to call me out in the comments if there is something you disagree with in my writing. I do my best to research when writing about really intense topics, but there is always room for growth and so much to learn. I try my best to be as accurate and respectful as possible.
- I tried my best with Skip's sentencing scene, but it's not as accurate I would prefer it. take it with a grain of salt
- the next few chapters will be very Leo and Peni-centric, so look forward to that!!
- when Leo was talking about using the 'c' word to describe his stepmom, I was referencing how in the UK c*** is used more casually as a cuss word than in the US. I'm American and I thought that was an interesting linguistic and cultural difference.

Chapter 23

Notes:

trigger warnings for ableism, past physical abuse, past sexual abuse, past emotional abuse, and references to past eating disorders. PLEASE take care of yourselves!

A huge shoutout goes to my beta Astro-cat13!! Go check out her amazing writing.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“How long?” Tony asks. “ How long?

Leo and Peni sit in one of the armchairs. Leo has an arm slung around Peni’s skinny shoulders. Their four younger siblings watch their uncle pace back and forth from the couch. 

Peter feels relaxed enough to lean back against the cushions. His days of getting between angry hands and his siblings are long over, thankfully. However, it always seems like their fucked up lives are coming back to bite them in the ass.

Tony’s hands tremble. “Guys, you need to work with me here. There is a swarm of paparazzi outside the building. FRIDAY can’t even take down all social media posts about what happened. Your social worker has called Pepper seven times in the past two hours.”

Deke’s knee bounces up and down. “So now the bitch cares? Fuck Mrs. Lahey.”

“Deke,” Tony chides.

“You’re not my--”

Will, muscles taut as a bowstring, grips Deke’s elbow.

“I know I’m not your dad, kid, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you guys, but I’m here now. I need you to tell me what happened,” Tony says. 

“What happened is that I wasn’t there for them, Uncle Tony,” Leo says.

Peter says, “Jesus, Leo, it’s not all on you--”

“Yes it was, Peter! Will was failing all his classes, you were twenty pounds underweight. Skip messed with you bad . It’s on me.”

“Cut the bullshit, you stubborn bastard,” Will says. “All six of us are fucked up. That includes you. You haven’t slept in two years. You’re better at hiding your panic attacks than Deke and Peter and me, but you still get them. And you get mad . Mad like me, mad like Granddad, mad like…”

“Mad like who?” Leo’s nostrils flare like a bull.

Under different circumstances, Peter would find Will’s oh-shit expression funny. 

Leo half-rises out of his seat, batting away Peni’s attempts to pull him back down. “Like who?”

Will stutters out, “Not, not, not him --” 

“I’m not my dad. Fuck you, I’m not my dad!” Leo yells. “You don’t know, you bloody arsehole. You don’t know what it’s like… Richard died , Will. He didn’t want to leave you. Alastair left me. Left me and Pen to fucking rot in another country. No phone calls, no texts, no happy birthdays. Fuck you!”

“I meant Ben,” Will whispers. 

Tony says, “Guys, let’s take a break. Today’s been emotional--”

Peter blurts out, “It wasn’t bad, Uncle Tony. Nothing to beat yourself up over. He did it when we talked back, when we forgot our chores. A quick smack across the mouth, sometimes a belt.”

“That sounds pretty bad,” Tony says.

“Ben used to smash beer bottles over Aunt May and Leo’s heads. I got chased around the apartment just for looking at him wrong. That was bad,” Will says. “Quentin was… It wasn’t like that .”

“He said you lied about Skip for attention ,” Peni says. “Called you a dumb fucking crip.”

Will spreads his arms out. “Yeah, exactly. He just said shit. Quentin’s a prick. That’s why I blew up at him at the courthouse.”

“He physically and emotionally abused you for a year, Will. Anger is a totally valid reaction,” Tony says.

Will says, “That wasn’t physical abuse. That was normal .”

“That’s not normal.”

“Yeah, it is. I mean, plenty of kids get smacked if they talk back. I mean, Granddad used to wallop us with a shoe if we misbehaved at his house. That’s not abuse, that’s discipline . Abuse is Ben shoving me against the fridge and trying to strangle me.”

“Have I hit any of you guys once? Have I ever hit Harley or Morgan?” Tony asks.

“No,” Peters says when Will doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t hit my kids because it’s not right. Something being normalized doesn’t make it right. There’s a spectrum of abuse, sure, but abuse is still abuse. Just because Quentin wasn’t as bad as your uncle doesn’t make what he did to you any better.”

Will opens his mouth, but Reese speaks over him: “I swear to God, Will. Get some help, because you are messed up in the head. Listen to Uncle Tony’s fancy therapist. Why are you defending that fucker?”

“I’m not defending him. Why are you always so bitchy?” Will snipes back.

Peni massages her forehead. “I can’t. I literally can’t.”

Leo shoots her a guilty look, while Deke’s scowl deepens. He asks, “What, Mother? Do you not like it when your kids are squabbling?”

“Shut it, Deacon,” Leo says.

“Sorry, Dad--”

“What’s with you, you little shite?”

“Ohhh, I’m sorry, Mr. Scottish Superdad. I forgot how much you love to the play the ‘tortured oldest child’ victim card--”

“Victim card?” Leo bellows. 

“Quit throwing everything you did in my face constantly. I was six ,” Deke hisses, shoving at Leo’s chest.

Peter grabs Deke’s shoulder, pulls him back from Leo. “You guys are all being stupid fucks. Deke, go to the lab before you rip Leo’s eyeballs out. Reese, Will, go fuck off somewhere else. Take a book with you. Will, maybe smoke a joint--that’s a joke, Tony. None of us have ever touched weed in our life. Although Reese would probably benefit from some THC. Fuck, she’s ten. I didn’t mean that.

“Leo, Peni, take your codependent asses to Leo’s room. Take a nap. Meanwhile, I will go on a run with Harley and bask in the fact that Steven Fucking Westcott Junior is in prison for the rest of his life. Today was fucked up, guys, but everything’s been fucked up for a while. So quit the fighting, yeah? We’ll settle this shit at dinner.”

Peter’s siblings stare at them. Finally, all of them disperse in different directions. Tony stares at Peter with reddened eyes.

“How?” is all his uncle says.

“We actually fight like this a lot, Uncle Tony. A big family means big fights. We just try to hide it from you because we don’t want you to throw us out.” Peter holds up a hand. “Please don’t feel bad. Like I said, we’ve been fucked up for a while. Give your fancy therapist some time to rewire our brains.”

“That’s not how therapy works,” Tony says. 

Peter shrugs. “Semantics.”

Tony lets out a watery laugh. “Can I give you a hug, kid?”

Peter nods. He leans into his uncle’s embrace. “Peni and Leo used to be the only ones to hug me like this.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. They never really had anyone to hug them, though.”

“Pepper and I are trying to be that for them.”

“It’s hard for them. For all of us, really. Like, my friend Ned and his little sister have a completely different relationship than I do with my siblings. He only has to be her brother. With my siblings, it’s like I have to be more than that. I baby the hell out of Reese and Deke. Peni’s my sister and Leo’s my brother, but they’re also the only people in the world who come close to filling that hole my parents left. I never want to disappoint them.”

“What about Will?” Tony asks

Peter thinks for a long moment. What about Will?

Will is… Will. The fiery bastard with a sharp tongue and a good heart. Peter’s best friend, his closest confidant. The bookworm who can't write an English paper to save his life. The only one who knows about Spider-Man.

“Our dad used to say I was given a twin for a reason. There's no other way to really describe it.” Peter pulls away from Tony, sits down on the couch. “What happens now?”

Tony settles down next to him. “The world knows that a group of four kids were spotted with the Starks at a courthouse. The PR team is worried. The media is already picking up on the family resemblance. Jonah Jameson’s speculating that I was at the courthouse to win custody of my secret love children from their biological mother. We have to hold a press conference and explain the situation.”

“What will you say?”

“They’re recommending that Pepper and I say we adopted the orphaned children of an unnamed relative. We’ll release photos to the press of the six of you and ask for privacy.”

“Which we won’t get.”

“Definitely not. Harley’s adoption was a shitshow.” Tony massages his forehead.

“We can handle it, Uncle Tony,” Peter says quietly.

“I know you can. You guys can handle anything life throws at you. You know why?”

Peter shakes his head.

“Because you stick together. That’s how we’re gonna get through this--as a family.


Peter watches as over a dozen members of the PR team talk to his aunt and uncle in the conference room across the hall. Their teenage charges, meanwhile, sit in the lounge area opposite the conference room, babysat by a handful of Avengers. 

They regrouped at dinner. Eating Italian takeout together helped Peter’s siblings smooth their ruffled feathers. Deke and Leo have been bickering a bit, but things seem better. Pepper and Tony asked the older kids to be present while they planned the press conference. Harley seems baffled by the whole thing, but he has not pressed any of them for answers. 

Peter wants to seize him in a big hug.

“Can you hear them?” Harley asks Steve.

Steve shakes his head. “They soundproofed the room after that one incident with the corporate spy who had enhanced senses--”

Peter believes the supersoldier. His own ears pick up nothing more than muffled murmurs from the conference room. 

“Fuck, I forgot about that,” Harley mutters.

“Language,” Natasha Romanoff says in a chiding tone.

“He’s Tony’s kid, Nat, what did you expect?” Clint says.

Will rocks back in his chair. He complains, “Why couldn’t we go with Happy, Reese, and Morgan to get ice cream on the third floor?”

“You’re considered one of the adults. You should feel honored, kid,” Clint says.

“None of my brothers should be considered adults, Mr. Barton,” Peni says. “They’re bloody idiots.”

“Exactly,” Will says. “Bloody idiots who should be getting ice cream with the little kids.”

Steve says, “I think Tony and Pepper will want your insight with how to proceed. There’s a lot of chatter on social media about the, um, incident--”

“You mean Peni and Will’s reenactment of the Battle of Bannockburn? They obliterated that arsehole.” Leo grabs Peni’s hand and kisses her bloodied knuckles. 

“If you try to hold my hand I’ll bludgeon you to death, Leopold,” Will says.

Leopold?” Clint repeats. “God, some of you have weird-ass names.”

Deke arches a brow. “Says the dude whose name is Clinton .”

“Okay, Deke .”

“Don’t argue with thirteen-year-olds, Clint. It makes you look immature,” Natasha says.

“It’s a little late for that,” Steve mutters.

Despite himself, Peter grins a bit. He is inwardly freaking out about the videos of his siblings’ confrontation with his old foster dad going viral on Twitter. People are freaking out about the mysterious teenagers who were spotted with the Starks. Not to mention the juicy drama in the video itself.

Harley scrolls through Twitter. “Peni, there’s twelve thirst accounts dedicated to you already.”

“The objectification begins already. How bloody delightful,” Peni says.

“One account thinks you and Leo are a couple--”

Leo’s eyes widen in horror. “Are they fecking stupid? We’re clearly siblings!”

Harley shrugs. “People will assume anything… Oh shit, people are picking up on how much Will and Tony look alike.”

His phone gets passed around the room. A Tony Stark fan account posted a side-by-side photo featuring a much younger Tony and a screenshot of Will’s face. Despite the difference in eye color and nose shape, the two of them share a striking resemblance. 

“Feckin’ Fitzpatrick genes,” Peni mutters to herself.

Clint’s eyes dart between the five siblings. “You guys are like clones. An army of mini Tonys. ”

“Don’t say that,” Nat says. “The world cannot handle eight more Tonys.”

“FRIDAY’s algorithm deleted the Peni and Will stan accounts. The comparison tweet is still up--nevermind, it’s gone,” Harley updates.

“What is a stan?” Steve says. “Is there a Steve stan account?”

“Don’t ask,” Peter and Will say in unison.  

“But--”

“Don’t ask, Captain America. They’re trying to save the sanity of an American hero. They’re basically patriots,” Deke says.

Leo whacks his youngest brother’s shoulder. “Don’t be a wee shite,” he scolds.

“If I’m a wee shite, you’re a mickle shite,” Deke snaps back.

“A ‘mickle’? Where the feck did you learn that word--have you been watchin’ Derry Girls again?”

Will says, “‘Mickle’ is Scottish slang, dickwad, not Irish slang.”

Leo scowls. “How would you bloody know--”

“I was fuckin’ born there!”

Peter pulls out his phone to distract himself from his brothers’ squabbling. Thank God Reese wasn’t there. She escalates all their arguments. She used to bite as a toddler. They called her the Piranha.

He pulls up Twitter as his brothers continue arguing. Peni, Harley, and the other Avengers look distinctly uncomfortable. Peter goes to the trending tab. He frowns at the top hashtag. He clicks on it and whispers, “Holy shit.”

“What?” Harley and Peni ask in unison.

“There’s--Will, you’re trending!”

Will tilts his head. “Aren’t we all?”

“Look, look--all these people, all these kids, they’re posting about ableism, about all the rude shit people have said to them. It’s called ‘#FakingIt,’” Peter says in a rush. He shoves his phone in Will’s hands.

Will’s thumb scrolls at lightning speed. “People are saying how-how-how people have made fun of their disabilities or said that they were just making shit up. Like, this one girl’s private school refused to follow an IEP even though she has a documented learning disability… This one guy with JIA--juvenile arthritis, I think--some man yelled at him for taking a disabled seat on the bus when he was having an excruciating flare-up. I’ve never seen...God, I didn’t realize other people--” He trails off.

“Why hashtag faking it?” Deke asks.

“It’s what Will said to Quentin…” Peni’s eyes widen. 

Will stares down at the phone. “I didn’t know…”

“Didn’t know what?” Leo says.

“I mean, I’ve always been different, right?” Will holds up a finger when Peni tries to cut it. “I’ve felt different, anyway. I’m the kid with the dead parents, the kid who walks funny, the kid with the cane. Someone hipster asshole at Starbucks asked if I use it for the aesthetic ,” Will says. “I mean, it’s one thing to hear ableism get mentioned every once in a while, but it’s another thing to realize… Well, I dunno--”

“That’s you’re not the only young person who feels different,” Clint says quietly. 

Will’s big blue eyes dart to the archer’s purple hearing aids. “Yeah,” he says. “Exactly.”

“I couldn’t talk until I was five. My parents didn’t want anything to be wrong with me, so they refused to bring me to a doctor until my teachers forced them,” Clint says, his mouth twisting. “Kids at school made fun of me, said I was a retarded piece of shit. And if you don’t realize that there’s other kids like you, that you aren’t alone, it can be really fucking isolating.”

“Do you want to see?” Will asks.

“I’d love to,” Clint says.

Will even stands up and sits next to Clint. He maintains a noticeable distance between them, but the two of them look at Peter’s phone and read the tweets together. 

Maybe some good will be able to come out of this, Peter thinks.


Three thousand miles away, a girl wakes up to the sound of her alarm going off. She slaps the wailing clock and sits up groggily. The only thing she can think about is her morning caffeine fix.

Her roommate is hunched over her phone on the cheap futon, wrapped up in a blanket and nursing a cup of tea.

“Morning, Meg,” the girl mutters.

“Morning, Joanie,” her roommate says.

As she fumbles with the hand-me-down coffee pot from her brother’s uni days, Joanie’s mind drifts to the paper about the Renaissance she has to write after her shift at the grocery store. She’s so stressed about Michaelangelo and Botticelli that she misses what Meg says.

“What’d you say?”

“Did you check Twitter?”

“No. Why?”

“You might have some new brother- and sister-in-laws, Mrs. Keener-Stark,” Meg says. 

Joanie rolls her eyes. Meg is always teasing her about her massive crush on Harley Keener-Stark. 

“Oh, did the Starks adopt another kid?” Joanie asks. 

“Yeah, some video of their new kids getting in a fight with their old foster dad went viral on Twitter. There’s a bunch of them. They’re all related to Tony Stark, I guess? Not his biological kids, but his cousins or something. Stark Industries released photos of the kids at the press conference they did. Wanna see? The one kid is hot .” 

Meg pulls up a photo saved to her camera roll. A smiling boy with blue eyes and dark brown curls stares back at her. Joanie frowns down at it. The kid’s pretty cute. His eyes are a remarkable color. His square chin and angled jaw suit him. 

But that’s not why Joanie stares and stares.

“He looks… that lad looks familiar ,” Joanie mumbles. 

She stares some more.

Blue eyes. Much darker than the color that runs in her family’s. Ward eyes are like ice. The lad’s eyes, though, are a brilliant cobalt.

“Fitzpatrick eyes,” Joanie says.

“What?” Meg lets out a nervous giggle. 

“I do know that kid. He’s… FECK . You said there were a bunch of kids, right? Like a big group of siblings?”

“Aye,” Meg says. “Joan, what’s up? Is something wrong?”

“I need to call my brother…”

“Why? Which one?”

“All of them… all of them. My sister, too,” Joanie chokes out.

“You don’t have a sister, Joanie.”

Joanie stares down at the picture of Will Parker. 

“I have a sister. She just refuses to see me.”

Notes:

Thank you so much for the continued support on this story. Your kudos and comments mean the world to me.

Again, a huge shoutout goes to my beta Astro-cat13!! Go check out her amazing writing.

pls follow me on tumblr @enchantingwriting, it would make me so happy

My usual long author's notes:
- As always, please feel free to further educate me in the comments. When writing about topics such as ableism and abuse, I do my best to research and be as accurate as possible. However, there is always room for improvement and growth.
- If anyone would be able to help me write Russian dialogue, please message me on Tumblr I would literally cry with gratitude.
- keep an eye out for a Shameless-inspired Spider-Man AU in the next few weeks
Much love~

Chapter 24

Notes:

Trigger warnings for past sexual abuse, past physical abuse, a parent abandoning his children, and ableism. Please keep yourselves safe!

My wonderful beta is Astro_cat13. Her new fic "Sea of Expectations" is so amazing, please go check it out!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Peni wakes up to her phone vibrating on her desk. She must have fallen asleep doing homework. She must have fallen asleep doing homework again. It’s great that her new school isn’t shite and that her teachers are actually competent, but the heavier workload added onto the piles of catch-up work ends up being exhausting. She reaches for her phone and almost drops it when she sees the area code.

Glasgow, Scotland. Her home for the first twelve summers of her life. 

Glasgow, Scotland. The place where a man and a woman she hates as much as the Westcotts live. 

Glasgow, Scotland. The place where four people she misses very much also live.

Her heart pounds. The phone thrums in her hand. Should she—

She shouldn’t. It’s been five years. Five years of pain and confusion and abandonment. Not one text, not one card, not one birthday wish. Radio silence. Nothing .

Yet she still cannot stop herself from swiping her thumb across the screen and bringing the receiver to her ear.

“Hello,” she whispers.

“Peni, is it you?” a female voice says. 

Peni struggles to place the speaker. People sound different when they get older—

“Johanna?” Peni has to choke the words out. “Oh my gosh, Joanie, is that you?”

“I saw the news,” her sister says. “I know I shouldn’t have called, but—”

“You saw the press conference?” Peni says. 

“My flatmate had the broadcast up on her laptop. I couldn’t believe it. He’s your cousin ? Ben and May—”

Peni’s vision tunnels. “What about Ben and May? What do you mean?”

“Why are you living with the Starks? Why aren’t you with the Parkers?” Johanna’s voice trembles. “Listen, I know it’s been a long time, but I’m really worried—

“You don’t know?” Peni sucks in a sharp breath. Of course. Of fecking course. “He didn’t fecking tell you, did he?”

“Tell me what, Pen? Pen, you’re giving me a real fleg here—“

“They’re dead , Joanie. They’ve been dead for two fecking years. May died of cancer and Ben killed himself,” Peni says.

“Holy shite, Pen. I’m so sorry, I thought—“

“What did you think ?”

“Feck, I don’t even know. What happened? Did you end up with the Starks two years ago? What was that press conference for—”

“I ended up in foster care . For two fecking years, I was in foster care.” Peni’s voice rises. 

“You were in care? Dad never—“

“What do you think the bastart would have done? He doesn’t give a shite about me!” Peni hisses.

“He left you in care? He left you and Leo? He just fecking abandoned you?” Johanna lets out a sob. “Jesus, Pen, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, I swear! I haven’t talked to Dad more than four times in the past three years.”

“Three years?” 

“Mum and Dad divorced. The court allowed monthly visits, but he never shows up...God, none of that matters. Are you and Leo safe now? What about the little ones?”

Peni swipes at the snot dripping from her nose. “We’re all with my Uncle Tony and Aunt Pepper. Apparently ole Granddad Fitzpatrick had a secret love child. Iron Man is my mum’s half-brother.”

“That’s...I would say that’s really awesome, but in reality it’s just really fecked up,” Johanna says.

Peni lets out a watery laugh. “You haven’t changed at all, have you?”

“Is that meant in a good way or a bad way?”

Peni sniffles. “I miss you, Johanna. I miss you a lot.”

“I think of you and Leo every day. I love you. I love you both so much,” Joanie whispers. “Every goddamn day, I wanted to pick up the phone and call. I didn’t know where to even begin. I’m so sorry, Pen. I am so sorry! If I had known—”

“None of this is your fault. It was Dad’s,” Peni says, closing her eyes. “I’m glad you guys are out of that house.”

“Tom’s the only one still at home. Mum’s a mess—some things never change, obviously—, so he stays at Granny’s in Edinburgh most of the time. Kit keeps an eye on him,” Joanie says. 

“You’re at uni, then. God, that’s weird to think about,” Peni says. “Where are you studying?”

“University of Glasgow. Same as Grant.”

Kit, Grant, Tom. Even hearing her brothers’ names spoken out loud for the first time in years makes her tear up.

“Is Kit still at University of Edinburgh?”

“He’s in his first year of medical school,” Johanna says.

“Of course the canny wanker’s in medical school. Has he snatched any bodies yet?”

Johanna snorts. “With Kit, who the hell knows? His Snap story is mostly him snogging lassies and getting rat-arsed with his mates on the weekend. If any body snatching happens, I’ll inform you immediately.”

Peni laughs. “I’ve missed talking to you so much, Joanie.”

“I’ve missed it, too, lass,” Joanie says. Peni can hear the hesitation in her voice when she adds, “Is Leo around?”

“He’s asleep. It’s pretty late here,” Peni says.

“Do you—“

Peni cuts in, “I love you, Joan, so I’ll be honest—with Leo, it may take some time. He’s been really hurting. He’s doing a bit better, but…”

Peni hears her older sister sniffle. “It’s been five years, Pen. Things are bound to be a little different between us.”

“He’s missed you guys a lot. Like, a lot . I’ll talk to him in the morning,” Peni promises. “He might not be ready right away, but he’ll get there eventually.”

“I need to talk to Kit, Grant, and Tom, too.”

Peni’s heart clenches at the thought of her little brother. Tom was only nine when May cut Alistair out of their lives. She struggles to picture what he looks like now. “Does Tom even remember—“

“Of course he remembers you! He was going to call you, but I thought it would be best if I did it instead. We argued for over an hour about it.”

Cradling the phone between her ear and her shoulder, Peni buries her face into her hands and sobs. Her precious Tom, her baby brother, never forgot her. Peni spent countless nights worrying that kilometers of ocean and years of wasted time between them ruined their relationship. 

He cared. Tom still cared about the half-siblings he has not seen since he was nine years old.

“Tell him I love him,” Peni whispers.

“Tell Leo I love him,” Joanie says.

Peni’s heart swells. We can do this. We can fix this. We’re family, and we can make this work.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, Joan,” she says.

“You better, or I’m flying to New York and beating your arse,” Joanie promises.


The next morning, Peni finds herself in the gym with Will. She watches her little brother go through his daily exercise routine. The new physical therapist has helped him build muscle tone and relieve inflammation in his knotted muscles. Will’s obsession with the punching bag has given his arms some definition.

“You look good, Will,” Peni says.

He scoffs at her. “Shut up, Sweet Home Alabama.”

“Quit it, you arse. Save the Southern jokes for Harls. I really did mean it. You seem...happier.”

“A Parker sibling happy ? In this economy?” Will snorts.

“You don’t have to be a prick,” Peni says affectionately. She fidgets with her shirt sleeve. “I do mean it, though. I’m proud of you.”

“Me too.”

“You arrogant shite!”

“Fuck, I meant that I’m proud of you, too,” Will says. He leans against the punching bag, dark brows pushed together in a frown. “What’s brought this on? I thought you only did this mushy shit with Deke, Leo, and Peter.”

“Not Reese?” Peni asks.

“She’d slit your throat with a bookmark if you told her you were proud of her.”

“What about you?”

“Still deciding. Maybe you should lock your door tonight.”

Peni hums. The silence grows between them. It’s a thick and palpable presence. Feeling the weight of Will’s eyes on her, she finally says, “I got a call yesterday.”

“From who? That pimply drug dealer you were boning in the Bronx?” Will asks.

“How the feck do you know about that--”

“Leo’s really loud on the phone, and the walls at Quentin’s were thin.”

“How’d you know he was pimply?”

His lip twitch.

“Will!”

Fine . Leo showed us a couple pictures. It helped me feel closer to you, you know, after CPS so cruelly separated us…”

“Don’t even try to guilt me,” Peni says.

Will’s crinkly-eyed grin melts her heart. He moves to sit next to her on the bench. “So who called?”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Peni says.

“By anyone, you mean Leo. You only tell me a secret if you don’t want him to know,” her brother realizes.

“Do you want to know or not?”

“Okay, okay. I’m shutting up.”

“Kit, Joanie, all of them saw the press conference. Joanie called. We talked. Um, it was good. Really, really good. Alastair’s not really around anymore. Viola left him. She’s still batshite and off her meds. All of ‘em are at uni except for Tom, who stays with Viola’s mom most of the time.”

By the time Peni finishes, her hands are trembling. 

“So does she want money or something?” is the first thing Will says.

What? No, no, it’s not like that at all,” Peni says.

“C’mon, Pen, it’s a little too convenient. Joanie only reaches out once she finds out Tony Stark’s your uncle? You know how those Wards are.”

“I’m a bloody Ward.”

“You’re a Fitzpatrick.”

“Feck off, Will. Alastair lied to them, said we didn’t want to see them anymore. The same bloody thing he told Leo and me. Joanie’s not in it for the money .”

“So what, they accepted some bullshit story for five years ? They didn’t try to contact you once. None of them gave a shit, you know that--”

Peni screws her leaking eyes shut. “Feck you, Will. Feck you.”

“Kit and Grant never thought that maybe their twelve-year-old younger siblings wouldn’t actually cut them out of their lives? Not even once? You have Instagram, you have Twitter. They could have looked you up. They could have sent a damn text.”

“Alastair gets under your skin, gets into your head. Every word he says feels… it feels real, even when you know it’s not.”

“Five years, Pen. Five fucking years, and none of those fuckers reached out to you. Not once! I’ve watched you and Leo hurt over this for years. I know how much pain he caused you--”

“No, you don’t! You bloody don’t,” Peni screams. “You don’t know what our dad is like, Will, what he’s capable of. He’s a snake, a bloody fecking snake who knows how to rip his kids apart--”

“I do. I do.” Hands trembling, Will pulls out his phone. Shoves the screen in her face. Richard, clad in his dress blues, has a toddler Will propped on his shoulder. His hazel eyes are like Peter’s, and that mischievous grin is all Deke. The little crinkle between his eyes reminds Peni of a grumpy Reese. His dark brown, almost black, curls are the exact same length and color as Will’s hair right now.

The Internet can speculate about Tony and Will’s relationship all they want, but her brother could never be anyone else’s son.

“He was a pilot. He lived for the thrill, the adrenaline rush. Maybe he drank a bit too much, maybe he got mad sometimes, but he loved us. He was crazy for Mom as soon as he laid eyes on her. He knew nothing would be more exciting than a life with her. Dad jumped right in--he changed your diaper on the first date. At their wedding, Mom said she was jealous that she would have to share him with another woman for the rest of her life. Who was she talking about, Aspen? Who?”

Peni cries openly now. “Will--”

“She was talking about your stupid ass. Because he loved you. Good dads love their daughters, Peni, and he was the best fucking dad in the universe. Now, I may not be a genius like the rest of you freaks, and there’s a lot of shit I don’t know--especially when it comes to English class--but don’t ever tell me I don’t know what our dad was like.”

“Richard would have been the one to walk me down the aisle, Will, but--”

“But what?”

“My hair’s lighter than yours. Leo’s eyes, they’re a different blue like you and Deke’s. We have a different father, Will. We’re half-siblings. Same mom, different dad. You know that.”

Will’s face falls. “So that’s all I am to you? A half of a brother?”

“You’re my brother who I love more than anything. What I’m trying to say is that there’s a whole other half to my DNA. I talk a little different, look a little different. That’s because I have a different father. And the siblings I have from him are just as important to me as you guys. To deny Alastair, I’d have to deny them, too. And I… I can never do that. Don’t make me do that, Will. Don’t make me choose.”

They stare at each other. Will tentatively reaches for her hand.

“You’re always taking care of me, Pen. Even though I’m a fucking asshole, can you let me return the favor for once?”

Peni grabs his hand. It’s not an apology, it’s far from it, but she knows not to expect one. Not about this. Not when he still means every word he said. 

“It’ll be alright. Whatever happens, it will be alright,” Will whispers. 


“They want to FaceTime. FaceTime ?” Leo explodes.

Peni counts back from five. This is why she told Leo in the privacy of his bedroom. Taking a deep breath, she says, “Joanie thinks--”

“Why should I care what Joanie thinks? No, no, no. There’s too much going on, too much happening--”

“You’re baking My Little Pony cupcakes with Morgan and Peter, Leo. You can reschedule.”

“Not the cookies! I meant in life. You know, getting used to not having the shite kicked out of me on a daily basis, raising my siblings, sending my feckin’ pervy foster brother and my shitty foster father to jail, all that keeps me pretty busy. I can’t do this, too. I can’t.”

“Quit it with self-pity,” Peni snaps.

Leo runs his hands through his hair. “Oh, sorry, I forgot Rule Number Feckin’ One. Shutting up now. I’ll shove my treasure trove of trauma back into the fecked-up box that is my brain. Sorry I inconvenienced you.”

Peni approaches him slowly. “You’ve dreamed about this for years. Why are you being so weird?”

“I can’t--”

“You can handle it. I know that. You know that.” She reaches for him, sits him down on the end of his bed. When he stares at her, eyes vacant and fingers trembling, she tries a different approach: “It’s me, Leo. Talk.”

“Everyone leaves and never comes back. Mom, Richard, Kit, Joanie, Grant, Tom, Alastair, May, even feckin’ Ben . I had my doubts about Tony and Pepper at first, but everything’s pretty much official. The press conference sealed the deal.” Leo hunches forward. “If they left us, if they dumped us back into the system, I could handle it. I’m used to people leaving.”

“They won’t, Leo. They’re… They’d never do that,” Peni says.

“I know. I know. I’m just saying that I could handle it. I’d have to for you and the others. But no one’s ever come back after they left, Pen. I don’t know how to handle that. It’s a new variable.”

“What is this, some science experiment?”

“Maybe God’s studying how well the human brain can handle trauma,” Leo says. 

Peni nudges his shoulder. “Be serious. Like, are you afraid of what happens when they come back?”

“No, if they come back and leave again ,” Leo says.

“I don’t think they would.”

“But you can’t promise me that they wouldn’t”

Peni stares at a picture on Leo’s dresser. Leo, Morgan, and Harley sit together on the couch, while Deke and Peni photobomb in the background. Morgan is snuggled up right against Leo, looking up at him with utter adoration. The photo is pure chaos, not even that great of a shot, but Leo still has it framed on his desk.

“Tom’s fourteen, now. Almost the same age as Harley, Will, and Peter.”

“I know,” Leo mutters.

“Less than three months ago, you barely knew Harley. You love him?”

“‘Course I do.”

“Tom’s your brother, same as Harley. Can you imagine not talking to Harley for five years, now?”

Leo looks off to the side, lips trembling. 

“Tommy was nine when everything happened. A little kid. Blame Kit, Grant, and Joanie if you need to, but don’t blame him.”

“I don’t.” Leo swallows. “I don’t blame any of them. Never did.”

“In classic Leo Fitzpatrick fashion, you blamed yourself.” Peni leans her head on his shoulder. “We can do this, Leo. Even if this thing turns into a total crapshoot, we can pick each up and keep moving. Just like we’ve always done.”

“Okay,” Leo says.

“Really? Really?”

Peni knocks him off the bed when she tackles him in a hug. The two of them end up wrestling on the floor, giggling like idiots. Leo has her pinned to the carpet in no time. She smacks the ground. Leo steadies her as she sits up.

“There’s one thing,” he mumbles. 

“Aye?” Peni prompts.

“I want to talk some stuff over with Dr. Dumont. My next session is in two days. I want advice and shite.”

Peni raises her eyebrows.

“Shove off. Reese might have been right about the overeducated hen’s stupidly comforting platitudes.”



Notes:

My wonderful beta is Astro_cat13. Her new fic "Sea of Expectations" is so amazing, please go check it out!

Thank you for all the continued support on this story, it means the world to me.

As always, feel free to further educate me in the comments as I navigate writing about sensitive topics. I love hearing from different perspectives and gaining access to new information. I do my best to research and be as accurate as possible, but there is always room for improvement.

Chapter 25

Notes:

Trigger warnings for past sexual and physical abuse.

I have a new Shameless-inspired Spider-Man AU up!! Go check it out.

My wonderful beta is Astro_cat13

my tumblr is @enchantingwriting

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Peter still can’t believe he convinced Tony to let Will and him take the train back from Ned’s. 

Ever since his adoption, Peter has been escorted around like the President. Dropped off in private cars, eating at restaurants tables isolated away from the other diners, tailed by a security team at any public outing with his siblings. At school, he can barely concentrate with Tony’s security drones buzzing right above the building. Happy and three of his cronies lurked in the corner when Harley dragged Peter and Reese to his favorite coffee shop a couple weeks ago.

“You get used to it,” the older boy had promised.

Peter wasn’t so sure. He needed a break from the constant surveillance.

Peter finally worked up the courage after two days. The news of Peni and Leo’s Scottish branch of the family reaching out had sent his aunt and uncle into a frenzy. Peter overheard their secret phone calls with the legal team. Tony and Pepper were adamant about not granting any custodial rights to Alastair. While he was relieved to hear that their father had never once filed for visitation since Ben and May died, Peter’s heart still ached for his older siblings. 

After the latest phone call confirmed Tony and Pepper’s full custody, Peter approached Pepper with a cup of tea.

His aunt squealed in excitement. “Cream and a half teaspoon of sugar?”

“Just the way you like it.” Peter handed the mug to her and sat next to her on the couch.

“You are too sweet,” Pepper said. She presses a kiss against his cheek. 

“Sweeter than a half teaspoon of sugar?”

“Oh, so much sweeter,” Pepper said. “So, are you finally going to ask me about what’s been making you so nervous?”

“I-I-I don’t know what you’re talking about--”

“Just ask, Peter. You know you don’t have to bribe me with tea,” Pepper said. “Did Deke and Harley send you? I’m sorry, but I can’t in good faith let two teenagers make fireworks for a homeschool science fair--”

“No, no, nothing like that. I don’t need them setting Dum-E on fire again. It took me and Leo three days to fix that stupid robot.” Fireworks? Typical Deke. “It’s about… I’m going to Ned’s tomorrow after school.”

“Please don’t worry about that, Peter. All I ask is that you make sure to do your homework when you get home.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk about. Going home.”

“Ned can come over here if he wants.”

“He’s still afraid he’ll pass out if he sees Uncle Tony. Ned’s palms get sweaty if I put Uncle Tony on speakerphone when he calls.” Peter sipped at his own tea. “I want to take the subway home. No Happy, no drones, just me and my fancy security watch.”

All the teenagers received a watch that sends a beacon to the Avengers when activated. The watch also monitors vitals and stress levels. 

“Did Happy make fun of Star Wars again?” Pepper asked.

“No, I just miss walking around my old neighborhood and taking the subway. I’m a New Yorker, Aunt Pep. I’m going crazy--”

“There’s a lot of security risks--”

“I’ll take Will. We can wear sunglasses and hats. It’ll be like James Bond times two. Pleaseeee --”

“Okay, fine, but you have to be the one to tell Tony.” 

Tony had not been very happy, but Peter eventually wore him down. Peter’s uncle waited until he and Pepper were in his rooms to voice his concerns. Peter’s keen ears picked up every word of the conversation:

Tony said, “Pepper, do you know how dangerous their old neighborhood in Queens is? I don’t mean to insult the Leeds, but the area around their building is pretty sketchy--”

“The kids didn’t choose where they grew up, Tony. Peter deserves to have something familiar in his life. If taking the subway makes him happy, I say we let him.”

“My dad never let me go anywhere without security. It’s common sense!”

“You grew up wearing Armani and spending fifty dollars on an entree. Peni and Reese slept on a couch for five years. Harley’s dad gave him a nickel for every heroin needle he picked off the sidewalk. Now I’m not saying you didn’t struggle, too, but our kids’ formative years were vastly different from their current situation.”

Our kids, Peter mouthed.

“Their ‘current situation’ also places them in much greater danger now,” Tony argued.

“Will and Peter are smart kids. They’re familiar with the area, and they know to keep their heads down. I trust them.” 

Now, Peter and Will get to walk through their old neighborhood by themselves. It feels great to be in Queens again. Binge watching Clone Wars with Ned and his twin was just what Peter needed. He feels normal again.

Will wears sunglasses, a flannel, and a beanie, while Peter has on fake glasses and a baseball hat. It’s a poor attempt at disguise, but no one has noticed them yet.

“You look like a hipster,” Peter says for the millionth time.

“It’s a fucking disguise.”

“That makes you look like a hipster,” Peter says. 

“I will smother you in your sleep, asshole.”

The two brothers keep their heads down as they approach the subway station. They’re two blocks away when Peter stops in his tracks. He hears screaming and crying, the safety on a gun being switched off. An annoyed man shoves past him, muttering, “Move it, asshole.”

Will frowns. “What, Petey? You hear something?”

“Someone’s getting robbed down the street.”

Petey --”

Peter grabs his brother’s wrist, drags him into an alley between two apartment buildings. He takes off his watch, fastens it around Will’s wrist. Will lets his twin manhandle him without a peep, but his scowl deepens when Peter pulls a red ski mask, a sweatshirt, and his web shooters out of his backpack.

“I thought you got rid of that shit when we moved into the Tower,” Will says.

Not bothering to reply, Peter tugs on the mask and pulls the sweatshirt over his head. He flinches in surprise when Will helps him fasten the web shooters onto his wrists. 

“Go. We can talk later,” Will says. 

“Meet me at the subway station,” Peter orders, shooting a web up at the apartment building’s roof. 

“Go take names and kick ass,” Will says.

Gripping the web, Peter moves back until the thin strand is taut. He then pushes off his back legs, letting the web swing him upwards. A second web is used to pull him onto the roof. Peter looks down and sees Will shooting him a thumbs-up. 

Peter flips him off and takes off. He hops between buildings, letting his feet take him where he needs to be. His senses scream at him to be fast, so Peter obeys. A minute later, he’s crouched down on a trash-littered roof, peering into the alleyway below.

A sobbing teenage boy is held at gunpoint by a woman wearing a mask. A man is digging through the boy’s backpack, throwing papers everywhere. Peter angles his web shooter and hits the woman’s hand. The gun and her entire forearm are coated in the sticky fluid.

“What the fuck--

Peter lands on the ground in front of the man. A filthy bandana covers his nose and mouth. The man drops the backpack, stumbling back a few steps.

“Didn’t Captain America teach you to watch your fucking language?” Peter asks.

“You’re the Spider-Kid,” the man says blankly.

“And you’re a criminal. Is there anything else you’d like to say, Captain Obvious?”

Before the man can reply, Peter shoves him against the wall. Two quick shots have his legs and torso stuck to the wall. His companion’s wrists get glued to the wall. 

Peter finally turns his attention to the boy, who has his phone pulled out and recording. He offers a sheepish wave.

“Can I post this on Instagram?” the boy asks.

“Go ahead,” Peter says, attempting to lower his voice. It makes him sound constipated.

“Oh my god, thank you! And thank you for saving me, of course,” the boy says.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course. All in a day’s work,” Peter says. “Um, I’d help you pick up your stuff, but I have a train to catch…”

“Don’t miss your train, Spider-Dude.”

“It’s Spider-Man!” Peter yells before he propels himself into the air.

“Stephan Blanchard is totally going to fuck me now!” the kid whoops.

After dropping into a back alley two blocks up, Peter jogs to the subway station. He finds Will staring at a pair of rats fighting over a slice of pizza. Peter elbows his twin’s side, letting out a low chuckle. “Reminds me of Deke and Morgan fighting over the leftover goulash.”

“The bigger one actually reminded me a bit of your ugly mug,” Will replies. He takes off the watch and hands it to Peter. “Something about the teeth…”

Peter rolls his eyes and straps the watch on. “Has anyone ever told you to pursue a career in comedy? Because if they did, they’re fucking stupid.”

Will says in a low tone, “Says the kid who fights criminals in his PJs.”

Peter grins a bit.

“So it went well?”

“The guy took a selfie with me!”

“The mugger? Why?” Will exclaims.

“No, no, the kid I helped,” Peter says. “It was great.”

“Think you’ll do it again?” 

“I dunno. Maybe.”

Will groans.

“If I need to, I will. I can help people. In fact, I helped a lot of people.”

“I know,” Will says. He shoves his hands in his pocket. “You’re a grown person. I trust you, Spider-Boy.”

Peter can’t stop himself from whining: “Spider- Man .”

“Spider-Man? Bitch, you wish.”


Deke hunches over the old Macintosh his computer teacher at school gave him. He only needs to replace the faulty wiring and a couple bolts. Leo and Tony promised to help him sell it on Ebay. Deke knows the computer won’t be worth much, but he’s excited to buy something he earned with his own money for once.

Deke wonders if he’s an asshole for still laughing at memes about being broke. Especially when his room has a penthouse view of Manhattan. Especially when his eighth grade tuition costs more than most colleges.

Deke likes his classmates, and has even made a couple friends, but he feels like an outsider, like Ryan Atwood from The OC or Dan Humphrey at an Upper East Side party.

The youngest Parker brother still finds it odd to not have a wardrobe only composed of his older brothers’ hand-me-downs. Pepper figured out he likes sweaters, and now he has a drawer full of authentic Aran jumpers. Harley gave him a stack of soft tee shirts similar to the collection of random castoffs from Deke’s brothers. 

Things are different, but not in a bad way. Deke just needs to get used to it. 

Deke nearly drops his pliers when the lab doors slide open. Will walks in, and the tension in Deke’s shoulders loosens. The younger boy lifts a hand in greeting.

“It’s past your bedtime,” Will says.

Deke scowls. He turns back to his motherboard.

His older brother settles in the stool next to him. “It’s past my bedtime, too.”

Deke knows it’s redundant, but he asks anyway: “Can’t sleep?”

“Not lately,” Will says.

“Me neither,” Deke admits. He wrestles with a particularly stubborn screw.

“How come?” When Deke doesn’t respond, Will jabs him in the ribs. “C’mon, don’t clam up on me now.”

Deke jerks away. “That tickles, asshole! And you know why.”

The youngest Parker boy goes to the lab when phantom fingers don’t stop ghosting up and down his rib cage. Waking up to hot breath tickling his ear sends him skittering out of bed, away from the nightmares and the memories. The lab’s sleek modernity and sterile white floors are devoid of emotion. No fear, no shame, no disgust. Just computers Deke can tear apart and put back together.

If only he could do that to himself.

Trauma rewires the brain. There’s no ‘going back to normal’ , Dr. Dumont told him in their first session.

Deke wanted to hate her. He wishes he could. It would make the things she tells him easier to ignore.

“I used to wonder what he was doing. If he went to college, if he got a job, if he was hurting other kids,” Will says shakily. “You think it would be easier, now that he’s in prison.”

“But it’s not,” Deke finishes.

“Not at all. Him being in prison doesn’t… doesn’t reverse what happened,” Will says.

“I wish it did,” Deke says.

His hands are too shaky to use the pliers, so he lets them clatter against the table. Will flinches at the loud sound. 

The oldest habits are the hardest to break , Dr. Dumont said in their third session.

“I’m surprised Leo isn’t in here with us,” Deke says, desperately wanting to change the subject.

“He was pacing around in the kitchen,” Will says. “I figured he wanted to be alone, so I came in here.”

“I worry about him. About both of them,” Deke admits. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

The Ward siblings will be FaceTiming Peni and Leo tomorrow at noon. Pepper and Tony already told the other kids to give their older siblings the space they need. Deke won’t be able to keep his distance. Not when he knows how fast things can come crashing down. 

He’s not too sure about Harley and Morgan, but Deke figures his other siblings won’t be far behind him.

“The Wards abandoned them. They fucking left, and now they want to come crawling back into Leo and Peni’s lives after some stupid Twitter video? It’s bullshit,” Will continues.

“You don’t really think that,” Deke says.

“I do,” Will insists.

“They’re Leo and Peni’s siblings , Will.”

“It’s different—“

“Obviously, it’s different. The six of us, we’ve shared most things—Mum, Dad, Ben, May, Granddad, the Westcotts, the Starks. Every death, every beating, every foster home, we went through it together. Maybe we’re codependent, maybe we’re fucked up, but it’s how we survived. Together .”

“Yeah—“

“We will support them every single fucking step of the way, Wilder, because that is how this family operates. Peni and Leo gave up their childhoods to raise us. They have every right to reconnect with their siblings. You don’t get an opinion on it.” Deke’s breath hitches. “Did you know Peni wasn’t even going to apply to college?”

Will’s eyes fill with tears. “ No. No . Peter and I told her—“

“Yeah, like that was going to happen,” Deke says with a bitter laugh.

Peter and Will insisted that the older twins needed to leave for college after they graduated high school. Peni to Columbia, Leo to SciTech. The Bronners were licensed to foster up to four children. They would agree to take Will and Peter in for the extra income. Even if they were assholes, they were a dream compared to Uncle Ben or the Westcotts. 

“So what, she was going to apply for guardianship?” Will asks.

“She was working twenty hours a week at that convenience store in the Bronx. I saw her looking at listings for two bedroom apartments in Queens. She’d get custody of me and Reese, then you and Peter. Leo would graduate in three years and make enough money to have a bigger apartment.”

“Those stubborn fucking Scots,” Will says. 

“Do you see why you need to stop being an asshole?” Deke asks.

Will runs a hand through Deke’s scruffy hair. “Has anyone ever told you how wise you are?”

This is what Deke hates. He hates the way his siblings look at him like he’s still the scrawny eleven-year-old wetting the bed and crying all the time. He wants to scream when they hold his hand and pet his hair like the six-year-old who kept asking when Mummy and Daddy were coming home. Every time Leo or Peter step between him and the Starks, Deke feels like the eight-year-old peppered with marks from Ben’s angry hands. 

I’m not a baby anymore. I’m a teenager. I’ll be in high school next year .

Instead of getting mad, instead of shoving Will away, Deke leans into the touch.

They have all the time in the world to break old habits and patterns. For the first time in years, they’re in an environment that’s safe. They’re safe . Safe to work through their issues, finally allowed to open up about how their trauma is affecting them. Peni can learn to let Pepper mother Deke, Will can learn to treat Deke like a brother again. 

Deke says, “I’m not wise, Will. I just know it takes one to know one. I’ve been an asshole to Leo and Peni lately, and that needs to change. Things have been hard on all of us—not just me. I think all six of us need to remember that.”

“I’ll do better,” Will murmurs.

“You can, and you will,” Deke agrees. “No more us-or-them bullshit. The Wards are Peni and Leo’s family, so they’re our family, too.”

Notes:

My wonderful beta is Astro_cat13. If you don’t check out her story “Sea of Expectations,” you’re missing out.

If you want to, go take a look at my new project “Night Closes In.” It’s a Shameless-inspired Spider-Man AU. Chapter 2 is coming soon.

my tumblr is @enchantingwriting

Thank you for taking the time to read this! As always, feel free to further educate me in the comments as I navigate writing about sensitive topics. I love hearing from different perspectives and gaining access to new information. I do my best to research and be as accurate as possible, but there is always room for improvement.

Chapter 26

Notes:

Trigger warnings for past sexual and physical abuse and loss of parents

My wonderful beta is Astro_cat13

My tumblr is @enchantingwriting

Introducing the Wards:
Christian - 23 (Kit)
Grant - 20
Johanna - 18 (Joanie)
Thomas - 14 (Tom)

Peni and Leo are 17.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“It’s too early for The High Kings,” Pepper groans as she stumbles towards the coffee pot.

Peni grins. Her face and T-shirt are smeared with flour. She and Leo man the electric griddle. Harley and Will are arguing over the best way to make an omelet. Peter is attempting to teach Reese and Morgan how to make French toast, while Deke actually makes the French toast.

“We’re teaching Morgan her culture, Aunt Pepper,” Peni says. 

Leo adds, “And enhancing Harley’s understanding of his own culture. Irish music greatly influenced redneck music—“

“I’m not a fuh—um, freaking redneck!” Harley protests, shooting a guilty look towards Reese and Morgan. 

Peter says, “It’s okay, country boy, we still love you.”

“At least I ain’t a city slicker,” Harley says. He shoots a pleading glance to Pepper. “I can’t help that I sound like a character from Gone With the WInd .”

Pepper presses a kiss on his cheek. “We love your little drawl, Harls.”

“I wanna be Scottish,” Morgan says mournfully. “Leo, can you teach me to talk Scottish?”

“I’ve been corrupted by spending so much time in America,” Leo says. “My accent isn’t truly Scottish.”

“Can your brothers and sister teach me to talk Scottish?” Morgan pleads.

Leo says steadily, “I’ll ask them. After Pen and I talk to them for a bit, we can introduce them to you. You can hear some real Glasgow patter. My brother Kit sounds ridiculous.”

Peni flips over the pancakes, trying to hide her shaking hands. She knows the impromptu breakfast and Irish jam fest is her siblings’ noble attempt to distract her and Leo. Even a ridiculous rendition of “The Rattlin’ Bog” can’t shake the anxiety in the pit of her stomach. Not when her little Tom is probably the same size as Deke now.

Knowing she will see her siblings in less than two hours is nerve wracking. It still doesn’t feel real. Hell, living with Tony Stark and Pepper Potts still doesn’t feel real.

“Do you think Kit would like my French toast?” Morgan asks.

“He’s lactose intolerant, unfortunately,” Peni says.

“He’s ‘lergic to French toast? I would cry.” Morgan sounds genuinely heartbroken.

“If Kit ever comes to visit, we can make him dairy-free French toast,” Peni promises.

Deke glances over his shoulder. “You think they will? Visit, I mean?”

Leo shrugs his shoulders. “I mean, maybe. Or we could visit them. Uncle Tony wants to go on a two-week trip to the UK, right?”

Pepper nods. “I called our travel agent last week. She’s losing her mind trying to plan a trip for so many people.”

“Can we go to Edinburgh? It’s my favorite city. After New York, of course.” Peter turns to Pepper. “That’s where we lived in Scotland with our parents. Mum was there with SHIELD, and the Air Force sent Dad there to consult for the Royal Air Force. He claims he met Prince Harry.”

Peni’s breath hitches. The conversation moves on to Leo roasting the royal family, but all she can focus on is that is the most she has ever heard Peter mention their parents to a non-sibling. It took him a long time to be able to mention them in casual conversation without crying. Ben’s blowups about “wallowing in the past” stunted their healing for years.

Seeing Peter look at Pepper with a genuine smile, body language relaxed and inviting, warms her heart. Pepper is not Mary Fitzpatrick. She doesn’t try to be. Pepper is willing to meet them where they are and loves them regardless. No one can replace their mother, and she respects that. For Pepper, it is enough to watch them grow up and honor Mary’s legacy.

Richard was like that. He loved her like a daughter, but understood that Peni needed to distinguish their relationship from the one she had with Alastair. Her stepdad meant the world to her, and she misses him terribly. She does not miss her father. Tony has done more for her and Leo in the past three months than Alastair ever did.

She only calls Alastair her father to justify her love for her siblings, to explain why she feels so strongly for four people she has not seen in years. With time, maybe she can set him aside, cut ties with him altogether. Maybe she can call Richard her dad.

She stares at Will. His words ring in her ears: Good dads love their daughters, Peni.

Maybe her asshole little brother was right.


Tony and Pepper herd the youngest six towards the elevator. Leo’s laptop sits on the coffee table, the Skype app open and ready. Peni almost begs them to stay, but she knows that the two of them have to do this alone.

Reese grabs Peni’s wrist, hazel eyes narrowed and calculating. Looking like she is in physical pain, Peni’s sister chokes out, “How are you feeling?”

Peni tries to keep the shock off her face, but Reese’s responding scowl proves that she failed. “Um, you know, a lot of different stuff. I’m nervous, excited, anxious, scared, happy. A lot of emotions, really.”

“Reesey wouldn’t know. She’s emotionless, unless you mess with her books,” Deke teases. He made the rookie mistake of insulting Reese within her elbow-jabbing range. He lets out a squawk of pain. “Jesus Christ, that hurt!

“You walked right into that one, bud.” Harley reaches out to ruffle Deke’s hair, but drops his hand when the younger boy goes stiff. 

“I feel things. Like annoyance and anger towards my obnoxious brothers,” Reese says, arms crossed.

Morgan goes to stand next to Reese. She crosses her arms and scrunches up her face. She says, “You lads are ‘noxious.”

Reese nods in approval. “See, Mo knows what’s up.”

Tony sneaks up from behind. In one fluid movement, he picks up both girls and throws them over his shoulders. Reese and Morgan shriek. “C’mon, we can plot revenge against the boys on the rec floor. Maybe a paint gun war...”

“Not in those shoes,” Pepper scolds.

“Peter, Harley, Leo, and I didn’t even do anything,” Will says indignantly. 

Leo says, “If we have a girls against boys war, I like the odds. Six against four.”

“Yeah, but the girls are terrifying. Peni would declare a war of attrition, and Pepper would be the merciless general. With Reese as the battle strategist and Morgan running defense, we’d be dead,” Peter mumbles.

Tony pants under the weight of Reese and Morgan. “We need to get in the elevator. I’m not sure how long I can hold back the hell-kittens.”

“Reese is a hell- lioness , not a kitten,” Deke says.

Reese snaps, “I will smash your stupid Macintosh—“

“You wouldn’t dare .”

The elevator door opens. Peter says, “Thank God. Now, everyone, get on the elevator. The squabbling can continue when we are no longer in a confined space. Leo, Pen, if you need us, just tell FRIDAY. Love you.”

Will embraces Leo and thumps his back. “You guys needed this, and I’m so glad this day has finally come. Good luck.”

Leo shoves Will into the elevator. “We’ll see you in a bit, loser. I can almost guarantee you’re still my most annoying brother.”

Will says, “Deke totally wins that title—“

The elevator doors slam shut, cutting him off. 

Leo checks his watch. He glances up at Peni. “Two more minutes.”

Peni’s heart pounds. She grabs Leo’s hand, tugging him towards the couch. She stares into her brother’s eyes. She knows his face better than she knows her own. The little crinkle between his brow, those icy eyes, the stubborn jaw. Leo is her person, sent by the universe to help her navigate this dark, messed up world. He is her best friend, her kindred soul, her twin.

“I love you,” Peni says in a low voice.

Leo grips her hand. “Love you, too.”

The laptop lets out a trilling sound. Johanna Ward, the screen reads.

Leo clicks “accept.”

Four blurry faces appear on the screen. Peni leans forward, absolutely entranced. The picture takes on a sudden clarity. She jerks back in surprise.

Christian and Grant sit on the edge, esconcing Johanna and Thomas between them. Christian’s stubborn jaw and big nose are exactly how Peni remembers, but his muscled shoulders and the lines around his face are unfamiliar. Grant is no longer the scrawny fourteen-year-old boy who their father bullied. He inherited his mother’s straight nose, sharp cheekbones, and thin lips. Johanna looks just like a Ward—sandy curls and pale blue eyes.

Peni lets herself study the teenage boy next to Christian. Thomas, like the other three, has Viola’s raven hair. The resemblance ends there, though—

“Feck, Tom, you ought to take my place,” Leo exclaims. “You look like Peni’s twin!”

Thomas leans forward, hazel eyes brimming with tears. “You—God, Leo, your voice is so much deeper .”

Christian rumbles, “Poor Tommy’s baws haven’t dropped quite yet. Still sings like a little lass. At least his choir teacher is glad about it.”

Leo lets out a laugh, clearly hanging onto every word. “At least two of us inherited Dad’s music talent.”

“Pen, do you care if little Tommo sings the soprano parts for the family band. Sucks that you guys are still in the same range—“

“Five years apart, and you arseholes manage to revert to the usual Neanderthal antics,” Johanna cuts in. 

Peni’s smile somehow gets even wider. “It’s like we can… I dunno what the right wording is…”

“Like we can pick up right where we left off?” Grant says.

“Some of you are a wee bit taller, though,” Leo says. “Tommo’s a bloody giant. How tall are you, now?”

“One hundred seventy-six centimeters,” Tom says. “Do you need me to convert that to inches, Yank?”

“You’re a bold one,” Leo says. “I dare you to say something like that when there’s no ocean separating us.”

Christian slaps a hand over Tom’s mouth. “He’s got a mouth on him. And I gotta ask, mate, are you really living with Tony Stark? Joan says he’s your uncle ?”

Peni’s good mood dissipates. “Yeah, he took us in three months ago. Peter convinced the rest of us to reach out to him.”

“You were in care?” Grant asks softly.

Leo says, “Aye. We got sick of CPS shuffling us around, so we reached out to Tony.”

“Were you moved around a lot?” Joanie’s frown deepens.

“A bit. We were in one home for a year, then they split us up into different homes for a year and a half. Pen, Deke, and Reese in one, then me, Will, and Peter in another.”

“Why?” Christian says. 

Peni sees Leo’s fist clench. She puts a hand on his knee and says, “It’s hard to place six siblings in the same home. It wasn’t—it wasn’t bad.”

“It was bad enough for you to contact your long-lost uncle,” Christian says. “Feck, Pen, you should’ve called me.”

Grant and Joanie shush him, but the words cannot be unsaid. Peni’s heart drops when Leo lets out an angry sob. Her twin runs his hands through his hair. 

His chilling tone makes all of his siblings flinch: “What would you have done, Kit?”

“Apply for guardianship, or convince Dad to take you in…”

“Your mum can barely tolerate her own wains, much less her bastart stepkids and their pile of American half-siblings,” Leo says. “It’s—when May died, when we were fifteen, Peni and I knew we had to make a decision. And I’m sorry, Kit, but Deke, Reese, the twins, they were our first priority. Keeping the six of us together, that was always the goal.”

“So you called Tony Stark,” Kit says flatly.

“Aye, I did.” Leo swipes at his eyes. “I did what I had to, Kit, and I won’t ever apologize for it. Our uncle Tony and aunt Pepper, they were the first one who actually helped those kids. Every sacrifice, everything Peni and I went through, it was worth it. They deserve the world, and Uncle Tony and Aunt Pepper can give it to them.”

Kit looks at his hands. “I never really thought of the Parkers as your siblings.”

Peni blurts out, “What the feck did you just say?”

“Feck. Feck, that came out wrong.” Kit’s face looks red, even on the screen. “I meant—they always seemed more like your kids. After the accident and everything.”

“I mean… You’re not wrong,” Peni says flatly. 

“I’m sorry,” Tom blurts out. 

“What for, laddie?” Peni asks. 

She knows, though. Knows that video of her, Quentin, and Will went viral on Twitter. Millions of people watched it and picked it apart. 

—“You fecking kid-beating, ableist, scummy piece of horseshite! You told Peter no one would fecking believe him, said he lied about being raped by a fecking sadistic pedophile.”—

Her brothers swore up and down that they do not care. However, Peni knows better. She knows they hide things from her, that there are things that happened with Quentin and Skip that she will never know about. She shares a lot with them, but she can never comprehend what they went through. It was not her place to expose their trauma to the world in a fit of adrenaline-infused rage.

Seeing yet another protective brother staring at her with pity makes her want to scream. She remembers finding him in the bathroom, desperately trying to stop a bloody nose. Mummy said I was being bad. Thomas is a far cry from the skinny little boy she remembers.

“That things had to be this way. That we couldn’t be there for you,” Tom mumbles.

“You’re here now, mate. That’s enough,” Leo says.

“Is it?” Joanie says. “Aren’t… Aren’t you raging, Lee? Like, I’m pissed , and I can’t even imagine…”

“I’m always angry,” Leo admits. “A lot of shite happened. Like really, really bad shite. And Dad… You know how he is. I’ve never expected a lot from him. He was never my father. Not really. I think I hate him, honestly. This is gonna make me sound like an arsehole, but I did resent you guys. Everything sucked, and envying you made it easier. 

“I love you. I hope you know that. And…” Leo sucks in a deep breath. “I was pissed that I couldn’t see the people I loved, that Dad was such a manipulative piece of shite. My therapist says that a lot of my anger with you guys is actually grief. Grief for all the time that we lost. Grief for missing out on so much of your guys’ lives.”

“We know things weren’t easy for you, either,” Peni adds. “We know Dad, we know Viola. All of us were kids . Kids in really messed up situations that were beyond our control. I think this is the first step to taking back control, to healing all the wounds.”

Grant puts a hand to his mouth to muffle a sob. He manages to choke out, “Dad’s a wanker. When I saw that video, I almost… I almost killed him. I went to his house in Glasgow and stood outside for over an hour. Planned on breaking every bone in his body.”

“What did you do?” Peni asks. 

“Called Joanie,” Grant mumbles. “She’s always been the reasonable one.”

“We can’t become him. That’s how he wins,” Joanie says.

“Do you see him?” Leo asks.

“Not since I broke his nose,” Kit says. “He treats monthly visitation like it’s an optional activity.” 

“You—you what ?” Leo’s expression is a mix of horror and delight. Peni is not sure if she should be concerned.

“The arsehole forgot I was nineteen and a stone heavier than him. I put him in his place and made Mum call an attorney the next day,” Kit says. “Tommo is at Gran’s, now. We stay with her when we are home from uni.”

“And Viola?”

Grant says shortly, “Mum’s at the house in Glasgow. She cashes Tom’s checks from Dad. The bitch still has her medical license somehow.”

Out of all the Wards, Grant always hated his mother the most. The cold woman resented the sensitive boy who shared her features.

There’s more there, but Peni and Leo have their own secrets, their own stories. A lot has happened. Five years is a long time to be apart. It could take twice as long to heal their broken relationships. Peni needs to trust Leo, trust the Wards, trust herself as they try to work through their father’s lies and manipulation. 

Even through a screen, she knows the love they have for each other is still there. They need to figure out how they fit into each other’s lives, get to know each other again. They aren’t children, anymore. 

They never were. They never had the chance to be.

Peni takes a deep breath. 

“Grant, Joanie said you two are studying at University of Glasgow. How can a six-hundred-year-old institution be stupid enough to let two Wards attend the same uni? That has to be a disaster.”

“They started a fight in a pub,” Tom says. 

Two fights,” Kit corrects, a mischievous grin creeping across his face. Joanie scowls, but it does little to stop her siblings' fits of laughter. 

Peni smiles fondly, and an unfamiliar emotion that she can't quite place swells in her chest at the strange normalcy of the conversation.

They're right there, but somehow, there still seems to be a chasm between them. A small part of her wonders if they've been separated for too long, and if their relationship will ever truly be restored to what it once was.

“Three, if you count the time they had a brawl in the alley behind the pub…”

“Shut your fecking mouths and quit exposing me!” Joanie shrieks. 

Peni leans back. Don’t have any expectations , she told Deke and Reese before Happy picked them up. That way, you won’t be disappointed .

Staring at the screen, she has a feeling that these four wonderful people could never disappoint her. They need to be patient. They need to take it slow, and she cannot compare them to the Parkers, or even Leo, Harley, and Morgan. 

She and Leo have managed to get through every situation life has thrown at them. They can handle this.

She leans against Leo’s shoulder. He slings an arm around her, the motion as natural as breathing. The twins sit back and relax, and try to remember how to be younger siblings again.

Notes:

My wonderful beta is Astro_cat13. She reworked the ending of this chapter and making it readable. Without her, this story would be a hot mess.

If you want to, go take a look at my new project “Night Closes In.” It’s a Shameless-inspired Spider-Man AU. Chapter 3 is coming soon.

my tumblr is @enchantingwriting. Come yell at me on there in you want.

Thank you for taking the time to read this! The support for this fic continues to shock me. I love reading your amazing comments and hearing your thoughts on the story and the characters. As always, feel free to further educate me in the comments as I navigate writing about sensitive topics. I love hearing from different perspectives and gaining access to new information. I do my best to research and be as accurate as possible, but there is always room for improvement.

Introducing the Wards:
Christian - 23 (Kit)
Grant - 20
Johanna - 18 (Joanie)
Thomas - 14 (Tom)

Peni and Leo are 17. All six share the same father, Alastair Ward. Kit, Grant, Joanie, and Tom’s mom is named Viola.

Chapter 27

Notes:

trigger warnings for past physical and sexual abuse and discussed loss of a sibling and parent

my awesome beta is Astro_cat13

my tumblr is @enchantingwriting

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“That picture of you on the band Instagram got over half a million likes before they deleted it,” Ned says. “I saw Betty Brant showing the screenshot to her friends in English.”

Peter tries to ignore his growing irritation. Betty Brant, the bookish girl who does the morning announcements, never gave him a second look before his aunt and uncle took him in. Now, she is one of the many Midtown students who give Peter surreptitious looks in the hall, or have furtive conversations that die as soon as he walks in a classroom. 

Rather than give into the newfound attention, Peter doubled down on his loner behavior. He and Ned still sit in their forgotten corner of the cafeteria. The only people he will pair up for class projects are MJ, Ned, and a couple other Decathlon kids. 

Leo’s experience has been pretty similar. The older boy has a small friend group that he tags along with. They are not nearly as close as Ned and Peter, but they text occasionally and sit together at lunch. They are tentative friendships between the geeky outcasts, built on shared interests more than anything--Daisy Sky wants to go to SciTech for computer science, Moira MacTaggert’s mom is from Scotland, Erik Selvig likes engineering. Leo has always been tight-lipped about his personal life, so Peter can’t imagine that his friends have managed to pry any details out of him.

Ned is a different story.

The day after the press conference, Ned threw his arms around Peter and hugged him tightly. “I’m so, so sorry,” his friend said. “I had no idea about Quentin--”

Peter’s reply was direct: “Of course you didn’t. I didn’t want you to know, so I never told you.”

Ned gave him a baleful stare, brown eyes swimming with tears. Fuck. Peter buried his hands in his pockets and stammered out in a much gentler tone, “It’s got nothing to do with you, Ned. That’s the way I grew up, how we were taught to think. There is more to the story--a lot more, honestly. I’m still making sense of it--but once I do, I will tell you about it. About everything.”

Ned balled his fists, let out a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. I trust you.”

Peter clasped his friend’s shoulder. The words felt unfamiliar, and maybe they weren’t entirely true-- yet --but he choked them out: “I trust you, too.”

Those words were what Ned wanted to hear, what he needed to hear. Peter wished he meant them, but maybe saying them out loud was the first step. 

Things are not perfect, though. Even now, as they wait for their rides to pick them up after Decathlon practice, Ned’s eyes dart up and down, desperately trying to gauge Peter’s reaction to his earlier statement. He has been doing that a lot over the past week, like when Peter changes in the shower stall before gym, or when Peter stiffened up after Mr. Harrington leaned over his desk to correct a math problem. 

I’m not a victim , Peter wants to tell him. He is in prison. I’m getting therapy, my siblings are safe. I’m better .

“Don’t lie to the people around you just to make them feel better,” Dr. Dumont said after Peter confessed to telling Ned he trusted him. 

Peter shifts back and forth. “You were in that picture, too. I think Betty has a crush on you.”

Deflection, deflection, deflection. A Band-Aid solution, really, but how else is Peter supposed to survive?


Harley wakes up, and he cannot get out of bed.

Usually an early riser, he stares up at the ceiling. The sun creeps higher and higher into the sky. A phantom weight keeps his limbs buried into the memory foam mattress. Harley presses his tearstained face into his satin pillowcase. His shoulders tense up when the door creaks open.

“Tony, I’m not in the mood,” Harley mumbles, not caring about being polite. Not now. Maybe he is a selfish asshole, but he does not care .

“Good thing I’m not Tony,” a voice says coolly.

Sharp little knees dig into Harley’s back. Hands shove at his shoulder playfully. “Happy birthday, loser.”

Harley twists around and shoves the little intruder off his back. She flops onto the empty side of the mattress, a pleased smirk plastered on her face. In a fight over which Star Wars movie to play, Leo had snapped that Reese always knew the best way to piss people off. Harley appreciates that statement, now. 

Harley grinds out, “Why are you in here, Reese?”

“I’m not supposed to be in here. I lied and said I had to go to the bathroom.” Reese studies his snot-smeared face, her expression now unreadable. “Everyone’s waiting in the kitchen.”

Harley glares back at her. He might as well give her a taste of her own medicine.

“Is this about your mom and Celine?” Reese asks. 

Her question is painful but not unexpected. Despite being sarcastic and closed-off, Reese is always direct with people. Even though he is sensitive, Harley can appreciate her honesty. After dealing with so much bullshit over the course of his short life, bluntness is a nice change of pace.

Harley nods, unable to say much more than that.

Reese reaches out, the corners of her mouth pulling into a frown. Her small fingers wipe the tears away. “I can recite my list of Dr. Dumont’s platitudes.” 

Harley chokes out a surprised laugh. “Please, don’t.”

“Yeah, that would be uncomfortable for both of us.” Reese flops against Harley’s pillow. “I don’t like my birthday, either. We were poor, and one of my siblings would cry because they missed our parents. Usually Will and Peni.”

“You didn’t cry?” Harley asks.

“I don’t remember them. Not the way the rest of them do. I only remember May, Peni, Leo.” Reese’s jaw tightens. “Ben, too, I guess. I do cry, believe it or not. I cry for my parents, but I don’t cry about them . I cry because I can see the effect they had on my siblings, and I will never get to have that. I cry for all the missed opportunities. That’s what happens when you lose a parent too young.”

“Yeah,” Harley says.

“I never lost a sister--well, Philippa--but not the way you did.” Reese wipes away a few more of Harley’s tears. “When people die, especially when they’re young, you don’t just lose the person you loved. A whole bunch of possibilities die with them. And that sucks. 

“This probably wasn’t the birthday you wanted, and we might not be the people you really wish you could spend it with. That’s okay. That’s normal.” Reese mulls over her next words. “I don’t like my birthday, but I like my siblings. I like spending time with them. You like us, don’t you?”

Harley nods.

“Hate your birthday all you want. Get mad that your mom and your sister aren’t here. You should, because it sucks that they’re dead. Today sucks, but you can still have fun. Our family… I’d like to think we’ve added to your family, not subtracted from it. I’d like to think you have four sisters--me, Celine, Morgan, and Peni, even if all of us aren’t here with you. You’re allowed to have fun today. But you can also hate today if you want. Or you can do both. I dunno.”

Harley frowns. You can do both

Mom and Celine are his family, but so are the Starks, the Parkers, and the Fitzpatricks. The Avengers, too. Harley screamed for his mom while clinging to Pepper like a child clings to his mother. He has sobbed in Leo’s arms like Peter and Will do. 

After the fire, Harley labelled his relationships obsessively--Pepper is his guardian, Rose Keener is his mom, Darren Keener is a fucking asshole who shares half his DNA, Tony is his guardian. Morgan was born shortly after he moved in with the Starks. Harley loved her fiercely, latched onto her immediately. She called him her brother and Harley didn’t correct her. 

At thirteen, when Tony and Pepper finalized their guardianship, Harley asked the lawyer to change his name to Harley Keener-Stark. At the time, he had to prove a tangible connection to Morgan. Sharing a name, at least in part, made it make sense. Harley wanted to justify his betrayal of Celine.

Then came a pack of kids who upended the life of a grieving boy obsessed with routine. ‘Cousins’ was what Tony and Pepper and Morgan called them. Harley went along with it, even though Tony and Pepper aren’t his parents. As the weeks passed, those labels changed. Will was his brother, Peni was his sister.

Harley pictures his mom--beautiful, troubled, wild. She worked in a diner all day and partied all night. She was a reckless, dazzling woman, and Harley knew they might not be able to keep her long. Rose Keener was a shooting star, a whirlwind of energy whose life ended in a bitter supernova. 

His mom never belonged in Tennessee. Harley thinks she would have liked New York City.

Rose always teased him for being too uptight. Relax, sugar . She’d wake him up from a nap to dance to Johnny Cash or Pink Floyd, take him on a midnight drive when his dad started tweaking. Anytime Harley said no , she would push and push and push. Jump into the pond, sweetie. Climb that tree. Watch this scary movie

Pepper Potts and Rose Keener are very different women. It’s not fair for Harley to compare them, given the circumstances.

He still does.

Rose--complicated, messy, adoring. 

Pepper--ambitious, calm, gentle.    

And Harley knows who he would spend his birthday with in a heartbeat. Maybe he is selfish, or maybe he is a realist. But in the end, his mom isn’t here, and Pepper is--has been for almost five years, now. Harley won’t call himself her child, has even thrown that in her face in his lowest moments. Despite that, Pepper loves him just as much as Morgan. 

Celine and Rose aren’t here, but there are nine people who are excited to celebrate Harley and love him unconditionally. They are not who he wants, but they are who he has. And, fuck, he is lucky to have them.

Losing his family was the worst thing that happened to him, and finding a family to take care of him in their absence might have been the best thing to happen to him. 

Harley reaches for Reese, hugs her the way he hugged Celine. She pats his back, a little awkward and stiff beneath his hands. They are two flawed, broken kids who have lost a lot. Different personalities, different genes, different baggage. She’s not Celine, and Harley doesn’t pretend that she is. She is Reese. His stubborn, sassy, spitfire of a sister. 

Celine’s not here, but Reese is. Tony, Leo, Morgan, Will, Deke--they’re all here , and that is something worth celebrating.

“You want to go to the kitchen?” Harley asks, pulling away.

“Yes.” Reese rolls off the bed. She points at him, eyes dark and dangerous. “Come out in ten minutes, so no one knows I barged in here. I don’t want a lecture.”

“Pepper’s lectures can be rough,” Harley chuckles.

“I meant Peni’s lectures, but yeah, Pepper gives ‘em to me, too. No one ever told me how annoying it is to have your mom constantly up in your business.” Reese heads towards the door. “Ten minutes, Harls!”

Reese flounces out the door, unaware of Harley’s dropped jaw and frozen limbs.  

Mom.


Leo grits his teeth, shifting back and forth. Harley’s birthday fell on a Saturday this year. The morning started off strong with omelets and French toast. The teenagers went to get coffee from Harley’s favorite coffee shop, which caused a ruckus with the people in the shop. Harley and Will even took a couple selfies with a group of girls. The photos went viral on Twitter and Instagram within an hour. A photo of Deke with Peter’s arm slung around him is floating around on Tumblr.

In the afternoon, Happy, Tony, Pepper, and all the kids loaded up in the Duggar van to make a trip to the Avengers compound. Which means that Leopold Alastair Fitzpatrick is standing in the same room as Robert Bruce Banner for the first time in his miserable existence. 

Leo is himself, so he hovers next to his twin sister and watches Dr. Banner out of the corner of his eye. Years of avoiding Ben’s strikes taught him how to observe from a distance. His scientific brain, that engineer’s mind he inherited from Alastair, clinically analyzes his childhood hero. 

Banner wears bifocals, the thin wire types that Leo’s dad used to wear--probably still wears. He seems apprehensively curious about the motley crew of kids that Pepper and Tony toted to the Compound. The scientist keeps his distance from them, chatting with Clint and Sam, but his dark eyes light up as he watches Morgan wrestle with Steve and Colonel Rhodes. He gave Harley a quick hug after wishing him a happy birthday. Banner offered Leo and his siblings warm smiles when Tony introduced all of them. 

Leo had hovered for a minute, but he caved and trotted after Peni and Deke when they went to explore the snacks. Pepper grabbed Deke and introduced him to Natasha Romanov. His brother is still rambling to the two women about his Macintosh, cagey and twitchy as ever.  

There is a reason the six of them have few friends. Leo smiles faintly.

“Talk to him,” Peni says. 

“Shut the feck up,” Leo mutters back. He has read a dozen papers theorizing that Banner has enhanced senses. 

Peni’s lips curl into a smile. “He’s your favorite person. Besides me, of course.”

“You aren’t my favorite person. Not anymore,” Leo says. “Deke is my new favorite person.”

“Deke cracked an egg over your head this morning.”

Making the birthday omelets had gotten a little rowdy. Leo half-expected Tony to slap Deke across the face for making a mess, but their uncle simply took a handful of the yolk dripping off Leo’s scalp and smeared it across Deke’s shirt.

“Kit, then,” Leo says. 

“You’ve been pissy ever since he killed your cleric off,” Peni reminds him.   

Leo and Peni joined their siblings’ weekly D&D sessions. Kit is a merciless Dungeon Master. He had no qualms about killing a character Leo spent hours designing. His older brother revived the cleric within five minutes, but Leo stayed angry out of principle.

“Harley, then. He is the birthday lad, after all,” Leo says.

“You talking trash about me?” Harley asks, coming up to the snack table. He grabs a handful of baby carrots.

“Always. What sort of freak eats vegetables on his birthday? Must be a Southern thing.”

Harley takes a big bite of his carrot. “At least the South never stuffed a sheep’s stomach full of oatmeal.”

“Haggis isn’t just oatmeal--”

“I’m trying to convince Leo to talk to Dr. Banner, but he’s being shy.” Peni reaches up to ruffle Leo’s curls. He ducks away, swearing under his breath.

“He has enhanced senses , you bloody loon,” he whispers.

“Let’s go say hi. He’ll love you, Lee,” Harley says. “Tony has told him a lot about you, already.”

Peni shoves at her brother’s shoulder. Leo digs his heels in, refusing to budge. Harley joins in. Leo only gives into his siblings’ manhandling to stop the Avengers and Pepper from throwing them bewildered looks. Thankfully, Morgan is still preoccupied with pummeling Steve’s chest with her tiny fists. She would wrap herself around Leo’s legs and hobble him for the rest of the night.

Dr. Banner, Clint, and Sam Wilson are clustered by the wall of windows that spans the entire rec floor. Leo feels like a man being marched to his execution. Peni has her arm thrown around his shoulder, while Harley keeps a firm hand on the small of his back. Leo lost his chance to run away.

Harley says warmly, “Hey, guys! I know Tony and Pepper introduced everyone earlier, but I thought you might want to get the chance to hear some wonderful Scottish accents.”

“It might be your bloody birthday, but you’re still a goon for wanting to show me off like some wee beastie in a zoo. I ought to skelp you upside the napper…” Leo trails off when Sam chokes on his beer.

“And they say my New Orleans accent is bad,” Sam says. “I think I understood about a third of what you said.”

“You get used to it,” Harley assures him.

“Bloody Southern solidarity,” Peni mutters.

“Tennessee and Louisania have completely different accents,” Harley squawks. 

“Sounds all the same to me, ” Leo says, just to piss his brother off. 

“Are you from Edinburgh, Leo?” Bruce asks.

Leo mulls over his answer for half a moment: “Aye, but after we were eight we spent summers in Glasgow and the school year in Queens. I feel like I sound more and more American every year.”

“Luckily, I don’t have an accent,” Clint mutters.

“I don’t want to hear it, Mr. casserole-eating, ‘ope’-ing, nasally-ass Midwesterner,” Sam says.  “What kind of loser is born in Iowa ?”

Before Clint can snark back, Bruce says, “I got a PhD from the University of Edinburgh. It’s a gorgeous city. I would love to go back one day.”

“Health physics, right?” Leo blurts out before he can stop himself. 

“That’s right,” Bruce says. “How did you--”

Peni cuts in, “Oh, he’s been obsessed with you since he was five. He’s always wanted to know if you were named after Robert the Bruce--” 

By then, Leo has a hand clapped over Peni’s mouth. Something wet touches his hand, and he lets out a yelp. He wipes his hands on his jeans, swearing under his breath. “You licked me, you wee scrote!”

Leo’s face burns when the others burst out laughing. He says in a rush, “That’s not true at all, Dr. Banner. My brother Christian, he goes to the University of Edinburgh and he told me to apply. I saw you on the notable alumni page. Health physics is so interesting, the applications of it for cancer treatment are mind blowing…”

“You were right about my name. My mom loved history,” Bruce says, “and her grandparents were from Scotland. She was a bit over the top. Or ‘extra,’ as Harley and Wanda would say.”

“My mum named me after Leopold Bloom from Ulysses-- I’m Leopold Alastair, not Leopold Bloom, thank God-- , and Peni is Aspen Joyce after James Joyce,” Leo says with a grin. “I’ve read Ulysses --it’s a good book, but not worth inspiring two of your wains’ names. She definitely was a little extra.”

“Leopold Alastair Fitzpatrick definitely sounds like a name you’d read in a textbook. Fitzpatrick has a good ring to it. You know, like Planck’s constant or Einstein’s theory of relativity. Tony said SHIELD SciTech is your first choice--is that still true?” Bruce asks.

Leo nods, hardly able to breathe.

“I used to be on their board of directors. I’m not anymore, but if you’d like, I can tell you all about the admission process and how to make yourself stand out from the other applicants. Perhaps somewhere a bit more quieter--would you like to see our R&D lab?”

“Aye, that would be great,” Leo says.

Even though today is Harley’s birthday, Leo feels like he just got the best present ever.

Notes:

My wonderful beta is Astro_cat13.

If you want to, go take a look at my new project “Night Closes In.” It’s a Shameless-inspired Spider-Man AU.

my tumblr is @enchantingwriting. (sorry it's a mess, im currently losing my mind over tfatws)

Thank you for taking the time to read this! The support for this fic continues to shock me. I love reading your amazing comments and hearing your thoughts on the story and the characters. As always, feel free to further educate me in the comments as I navigate writing about sensitive topics. I love hearing from different perspectives and gaining access to new information. I do my best to research and be as accurate as possible, but there is always room for improvement.

Some notes about this chapter:
- Harley and Reese interacting might be my favorite scene I've written so far, they have such different personalities and I love them both so much.
- I tried so hard researching accurate Scottish slang but it probably still sounds so stupid to actual Scottish people, I apologize in advance
- this was my attempt at writing a more fluffy chapter and it ended up being angsty anyways fml
- in chapter 28 we will be moving into the final story arc!! I am so excited to share it with you all
- my dig at Midwesterners was me calling myself out, I've had green bean casserole for lunch 3 days in a row now

Chapter 28

Notes:

trigger warnings for past physical abuse, past sexual abuse, referenced suicide attempt and the discussed loss of a parent and a sibling

my awesome beta is Astro_cat13

you can pick out a name for a chapter, see the notes at the end of the chapter :)

I opened up my asks on Tumblr so you can send me anonymous hate about my writing now!!

my tumblr is @enchantingwriting

check out my other fic "night closes in"!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Ever since Tony broke the news, Peter has not been able to sleep.

The idea that Quentin is walking to his favorite bar right now, drinking and laughing with his friends, makes him sick. Makes him want to don a red mask and deal out his own brand of justice. The thought is tempting. But Will sleeps six feet away, and FRIDAY would surely report any unusual activity to his aunt and uncle.

So Peter stares up at the ceiling and worries. 

He worries that he blames Tony and Pepper. His anxious mind overanalyzes everything. Hours spent obsessing over Tony’s phrasing--The DA says there is not enough evidence to move forward with the case --leads him to the conclusion that Tony was trying to shift the blame to another party. 

Peter does not have to wonder if he is being unfair--he knows that he is. Knows that the resentment blooming in his chest is wrong, misguided, a slap in the face to relatives who have been nothing but kind to him and his siblings. 

Shifting the blame to someone else makes things easier. It soothes Peter’s pathetic brain that is so fucked up from trauma and radioactive spider venom and mental illness that he ought to be at the top of the list when they finally figure out how to do brain transplants. His stupid brain, with its fucking neural pathways rewired at eight years old when his pregnant mother’s skull exploded against the dashboard and his dad died two blocks from the hospital.

Stupid, pathetic, fuck fuck FUCK -- these minor details shouldn’t matter, not now. Yet Peter blinks, and he is eight years old, watching from behind the couch while Ben and May drink themselves sick…

-- Ben drank straight from the bottle, occasionally passing it to May for a sip. They ran out of vodka yesterday, so he resigned himself to tequila. Peter thinks they might have loved each other, then. Things weren’t always so bad. At first, everything was okay; until it wasn’t, that is.

That is a story for another time, though. 

Ben let out a heavy sigh. “The hospital called the landline. I saw on the call history.”

“You don’t want to know.”

Ben said, “I do,” and of course May told him: “It was the coroner. They completed the autopsy. Richard didn’t die right away. He died two blocks from the hospital.”

“Fuck,” was all Ben said. Any trace of emotion was lost in the drunken translation of slurred words.

“Let’s not tell the kids.”

“Yeah. Good idea.”

They fell silent, and Peter went back to bed .--

Peter hates his memory, hates how every little detail is carved into his brain cells.

He can close his eyes, and there’s Will tugging on a shirt to hide the welts on his back. They start at his shoulders and travel below the waistband of his jeans. Leo and Peter were at work when Quentin asked Will what he got on the math test.

Fuck --and Quentin’s hand is smacking his mouth anytime Peter is stupid enough to swear in his presence. 

The walls close in. Peter’s back aches as he remembers the countless times Quentin rammed him against the walls of that shitty Queens townhouse.

Tears well in his eyes, and that hot resentment freezes, turning into a knife of icy guilt--a knife to stab himself with. Peter wants to scream and cry and throw things.

But Will sleeps six feet away. 

Peter can stop a moving car. He has even dodged bullets before. Nothing was stopping him from punching Quentin’s teeth in and slamming him against a wall.

Yet Spider-Man is so removed from Peter Parker, so different, that they must be two different people. 

Roaming the streets at night was freeing. Exhilarating and terrifying and freeing . The vigilante who could stare down the barrel of the gun was a far cry from the snivelling fat whore who couldn’t even protect his brothers.

Spider-Man didn’t email Tony Stark. Spider-Man didn’t get all six of them under the same roof again.

Peter Parker did that, and it has to count for something.

Peter loves being Spider-Man, but he did not have a second thought about hanging up the mask. Hiding his powers is a small price to pay in order to live with all his siblings and have the Starks in his life. Being just Peter Parker was hard, but it was worth it.

Until they dropped the charges, that is.

Now that guilt claws in the pit of his stomach, digging and digging until there will be nothing else left. 

Peter failed to protect his brothers. Now the man who hurt them for over a year walks free. That’s on him. His fault. No one else’s.

Putting on the suit is tempting. The thought of swinging around the city, away from his problems, makes his heart race. 

But Will sleeps six feet away. 

Adding Spider-Man to his family’s miasma of issues and problems would benefit no one. While Peter knows his aunt and uncle would never kick his siblings out, he has no idea how they would react to having a mutant freak for a nephew.

They need to stay together.

Peter stares up at the ceiling, and Will sleeps six feet away.


Peter stumbles out of bed at six forty-five. He manages to mumble a quick greeting to Reese and Harley when he passes them in the hall.

Before he can even go to the fridge, Leo has a plate with oatmeal, a sliced banana, and peanut butter toast waiting for him. Peter glares at his brother. The mulish bastard glares right back, shoving a spoon in his hand.

“I thought you could use a break from black coffee. Do you want juice with that?” Leo asks.

Peter sinks into the chair. “I don’t need four slices of toast.”

“Well, Mum and Richard didn’t need four kids. Be grateful, baby number four.”

“They had two sets of fucking twins, Leo. Does it really count?” Peter bites out.

“No swearing or fighting until I’ve had my first cup of coffee,” Tony singsongs, heading straight towards the coffeemaker.

Peter does not bother replying. He levels another glare at Leo and takes a bitter bite of toast. The fact that the food tastes delicious only makes his scowl deepen.

Daddy !” His littlest sister’s piercing shriek has Peter rubbing his ears. Tony gets a second of peace before Morgan crashes into his legs. Morgan narrowly avoids getting scalded with fresh-out-the-pot coffee. After carefully setting the mug down, Tony scoops her up.

“Mommy let me wear my favorite Iron Man shirt for Career Day, Daddy! Do you like it, Daddy? Do you like it?”

Tony presses a kiss on her head. “I don’t like it, Maguna, I love it. How excited are you for Career Day?”

Morgan spreads her little hands as far as they can go. “ This excited.”

“Wow, Mo, that’s a lot of excitement for such a wee lass to contain,” Leo says. “Be careful, a chuisle , you might explode.”

“I’ll go boom .” Morgan flails her hands all over.

“And then we’ll have to mop your guts off the tile. You gotta be careful,” Leo says with a shake of his head.   

“There will be blood everywhere ,” Morgan squeals.

Peter’s fingers curl into a fist. Years ago, Ben cracked his fist against Leo’s mouth and split his lip. Usually Ben was careful not to mark up their faces, but Leo had said one too many smartass comments. Blood dribbled down his chin, staining his shirt and dripping onto the ground. Reese bawled her eyes out. That sent Ben chasing her through the apartment. 

Peter stepped between them at the last moment. The broken arm that intervention earned him led to an ER visit and a subsequent call to CPS.

The rest, as they say, is history.

When the social worker let them go to the apartment to pack bags, Leo’s blood was nothing more than a few dried specks on the linoleum.

Blood everywhere .

Peter lurches to his feet, suddenly nauseous. 

“Are you going to Career Day, Petey?” Morgan asks.

“No,” Peter says in a strangled tone, turning towards the living room.

“Don’t you wanna watch Daddy fly into the gym--”

“I already said ‘no’, Morgan. You know I go to a completely different school,” Peter snaps, whirling around. “Christ, if I want to watch Tony fly around in a tin can, I’ll fucking YouTube it.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Peter is not sure where to look. Leo’s quiet fury pulses through the room. Morgan’s glistening eyes cut like a hot knife, and the disappointment on Tony’s face makes him want to run. 

Any fight in him melts away, replaced only by cold, cold fear and shame. His stomach curdles when Morgan lets out a little sob and buries her face in Tony’s shoulder. Tony’s hand rubs her back, and he whispers soothing words to his daughter, but his eyes never leave Peter. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck .

“I’m sorry,” Peter says, trembling like some pathetic bitch. “Mo, I didn’t mean--”

“Peter, how about you go to your room and get ready for the day?” Tony says. 

Peter’s eyes cut to Leo. He finds no comfort there, only stern judgement. Peter nods and practically flees down the hall. 

He shoves past Pepper and Will in the hall, not even responding to their cheerful greetings. He is safely in his walk-in closet before the tears come. That’s how Tony finds him, curled up and sobbing under a shelf of flannel shirts and science pun tees.

“Oh, Petey,” Tony says, kneeling down on the ground.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted at Morgan,” Peter says. He studies his bare feet. Curls his toes into the plush carpet.

“She’s alright. She’s already telling Will all about the Iron Man cupcakes she made with Happy yesterday. I think she forgot he was in the living room while they were baking ‘em.” Tony settles onto the carpet, criss-cross-applesauce. “Give her a Juice Pop tonight and she’ll be good to go.”

Peter inhales, sucks in a heap of snot. “What about me? Am I good to go?”

Tony studies him for a long minute. His uncle finally asks, “What do you think, Peter?”

Somehow, Peter’s heart rate manages to get even faster. “Don’t,” he says.

“What?”

“Don’t, don’t ask me. That’s what he used to do. God, you’re the adult, just tell me. Just tell me.”

“I’m not sure I understand. Who are you referring to, Peter?”

“Ben. When one of us messed up, he’d always ask, ‘Do you have something you want to tell me?’ All calm and steady, right before he fucking snapped. The bastard could go from standing in the doorway to having me slammed against a wall in the blink of an eye.” Peter lets out a wet sob. “I wish you yelled. Quentin, Steven, April, they all yelled. At least, at least I knew what would happen.”

“What would happen?” Tony asks.

“They’d hit me. You mess up, you get hit. Simple.”

“From what you and the others have told me, it sounds like those situations could be more complicated than that,” Tony says.

“I mean, I guess. Sometimes I didn’t do anything. Like, nothing I did stopped it from happening. There wasn’t a reason.” Peter gnaws his lip. “If they were drunk or mad, someone was probably getting hurt.”

“Peter, there is never a good reason for an adult to abuse a child in their care. Not a single damn thing. Their inability to work through trauma, cycles of abuse, anger issues, or whatever the fuck made them think it was okay to hurt you is their fault, not yours.”

Peter scrubs his eyes. “Yeah, well even if it is their fault, they still get off scot-free, so what does it matter? I should have called the cops that night I emailed you. Leo had that black eye, I was covered in all these bruises. Quentin slapped me to shit even before he grabbed the belt.

“Besides, I snuck out that night. I put Will and Leo in danger. I knew what would happen if Quentin found out. That’s my fault, Uncle Tony. You know it is.”

“Did he ask where you were? Was he glad to know you were safely home? Did he even stop to ask why you left in the first place?” Tony counters. “Quentin chose to lash out instead of communicate. He didn’t want you guys safe or happy or well-adjusted. He wanted obedience and power. Targets to boss around, not children to raise.”

Peter blinks rapidly. “That’s what we’re doing right n ow. Communicating. I think so, anyway. This shit’s exhausting.”

“It’s hard,” Tony agrees. “Took me years to learn how.”

“I almost prefer yelling.”

“We cling to what’s familiar.”

“That’s why we yell at each other so much. The six of us watched Ben and May do it for years,” Peter admits. His fingers dig into the carpet. “As much as I love communicating, can you just tell me what my punishment is? I don’t need Happy chewing me out for making everyone late again.”

“You’re going to stay home from school and take a mental health day,” Tony says. “Sleep, play video games, annoy Harley, I don’t care.”

“I already missed school for the trial and--”

“Kid, you have a 4.7 GPA. You can take a day off.”


“If I paid you, would you let me do my own chemistry homework?” Harley asks.

Peter scrawls an impressive forgery of Harley’s signature across the top of the worksheet. A pile of three completed worksheets is stacked neatly on the table, along with a set of flashcards defining important terms for three upcoming units.

“I am helping you get ahead,” Peter says. “You can do this in your sleep.”

“You should try that,” Harley replies sweetly.

The two boys sit at the dining room table. Harley’s books spread out like a hurricane, hardly leaving any wood exposed. After Harley made the mistake of complaining about AP Chem, Peter took it upon himself to lighten his brother’s workload. 

Peter drums his fingers against the table. Harley shoots him a pointed look and the nail-bitten fingers freeze.

“Sorry,” Peter says. “I know I can be a lot.”

Harley sighs. “Fuck, I didn’t mean… Listen, how about we go get coffee? No Happy, no security, no nothin’. Just a couple of kids getting overpriced shitty coffee. 

“Not Starbucks,” Peter begs. “Peni made us go three times last week.”

“Fine, we can go to some hipster place that is probably owned by Starbucks anyway,” Harley acquiesces. “On one condition, though.”

“It depends,” Peter says, erring on the side of caution.

“I get to pick your disguise.”

“Fuck, no!”


“This is nice,” Harley says, taking a sip of his cappuccino.

“I look like my granddad,” Peter mutters. Between the Aran sweater, the flat cap, and his Harry Potter frame glasses, Peter feels like a walking Irish caricature. Harley collapsed to the floor writhing with glee when Peter finally got the courage to leave his bedroom.

“You look handsome,” Harley says.

“God, you sound like a mom insisting that her son is the handsomest little boy in the whole world,” Peter grouses.

Harley stiffens infinitesimally. Peter flinches.

“Sorry, man,” he says.

Harley shrugs. “Hey, your mom’s dead, too.”

The silence looms for a moment, tense and heavy, before Peter bursts out laughing. A beat later, Harley joins him. 

Peter has to remove his Harry Potter glasses to wipe tears of mirth from his eyes.

“You don’t have the imprisoned drug addict dad or little-sister-dying-in-a-housefire card, though,” Harley says, “so I better not hear you cracking any jokes about that.”

“I better hear jack shit about being the poster child for the horrors of the American foster care system,” Peter retorts.

Harley leans back in his chair, practically panting from laughing so hard. “We’re fucked up, aren’t we?”

“Only a little,” Peter says.

“You know, Tony gets mad when I say shit like that. He tells me it’s bad to get wrapped up in that sort of mindset,” Harley says. “That I’m ‘broken,’ or whatever.”

“We’re not broken, Harls. We’ve just seen some shit.” Peter sighs. “I get what Tony means, though. Like, when we were all little, May, Peni, Leo, even Ben, they spent a lot of time wrapped up in the fact that my parents died. We all did, really. It can be really frustrating to interact with your family and have that constantly hanging over your head.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, Peni’s my big sister, yeah? That should be the end of the story. But it’s—Peni’s my big sister, but our mum and dad died, so she feels the need to fill that void. Or with Will, it was always, Will’s my twin, but his leg got fucked in the car crash, so I constantly worry about him and feel like I need to take care of him, even though I know he doesn’t want that.” Peter spreads his hands out. “You see what I mean?”

“Kind of,” Harley says, all hesitant. “After the fire, I didn’t have… that . Like, people who knew me before, knew who Mom and Celine really were. Tony, Pepper, Morgan… they loved me, and they became my family, but they never loved Mom and Celine. Never knew them. Just the ideas of them, or what little I did tell them.”

“I gotta be honest, if I didn’t have my siblings, I don’t think I would have made it.”

“I almost didn’t,” Harley admits, and Peter’s heart drops.

“How long ago?” he whispers.

“It’ll be a year ago in December. That’s why I’m homeschooled, partially. Tony, Pepper, and I decided that it would be best to have FRIDAY monitor me. I needed pretty intense therapy for a while, too.” Harley smiles, but it’s tired and painful. “I’m doing better, Petey. Really.”

“I’m glad to hear that. And if you aren’t, that’s okay, too. There’s nothing wrong with needing help.”

“You guys helped. These past… what is it, almost four months, have been fantastic. The moment you guys stepped off the elevator, my life changed. That love you guys have for each other, that endless need to stick together and fight for each other, I needed that, and you gave it to me. The same bonds that saved all of you saved me, too.”

Peter lets out a wet laugh. “Our codependent, chaotic, fucked-up asses saved you ? You saved us, Harley. You, Tony, Pepper, Morgan. All your routines, your quiet little smirks, how accepting you all were. That saved me . I hadn’t had stability in seven years, and you guys gave that us.”

“We saved each other,” Harley says.

“Technically, you did more since there’s six of us—”

“Just let me savor this mushy moment, you Irish asshole.”

“Might I remind you that Irish immigrants influenced country music—”

“Then why do you hate George Strait and Cole Swindell's music—”

The two of them go back and forth for a bit. They order two more cups of coffee and compare Midtown and homeschooling AP Chem curriculum. Peter is ready to whip out his textbook and prove that his unit on the periodic table was harder when a girl in line exclaims, “Oh my god, the school where Iron Man’s kids go is being shot up.”

Peter can’t hear anything over the roaring in his ears. Harley’s eyes focus on some distant point, even as a barista frantically switches the TV from some soap opera to national news. A reporter jabbers on with Stonelore in the background. SWAT, SHIELD, and SI personnel swarm the property. The camera changes from the reporter to Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff frantically discussing something with a SHIELD agent.

Peter’s on his feet and moving before he can think twice. He hears Harley call after him. He spills onto the street, his brother only a beat behind. Peter grabs Harley’s wrist and pulls him into the alley next to the coffeeshop. 

“We need—we need to get home,” Harley pants. “I’ll press the beacon.”

No !” Peter grabs Harley’s wrists and pushes them apart. “You can’t. You can’t.”

“Peter, what the fuck? We need to get back, figure out what the hell is going on…”

“You go home. I’m going to Stonelore.”

“What the fuck, Peter? Peter, what the fuck ? What can—you know the drill. Tony and Pepper told you, I know they have. If there’s danger, go into lockdown. The Avengers, SHIELD, the SI team—that’s what they handle. What can you do?” 

“I need to save them. I-I can’t sit by and do nothing.”

Harley pulls against Peter’s grip. Peter reluctantly lets him go. Instead of pressing the beacon, Harley shoves at Peter’s chest, pummeling his fists against his brother’s well-muscled abdomen. “Fuck you, fuck you! It’s not doing nothing, it’s staying safe and knowing there was-- is nothing you can do in this situation. It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault.”

“Harley, this has nothing to do with your mom and Celine. Or you. I don’t have some fucking god complex or something…Fuck, I’m different, alright? I’m different, and I can make a difference. Do you get what I mean?”

Harley trembles. His head shakes back and forth once.

“Feel my arms.” 

Harley only stares.

“Damn it, feel them!”

Harley’s long fingers wrap around Peter’s biceps, squeezing. Peter tries not to shudder at the touch.

“I don’t work out that much. You know that. But...feel my biceps. You’ve seen my abs when we’ve swam in the pool, watched me run laps around you. I try to be careful, but you still saw it.”

“Different,” Harley echoes.

Peter’s eyes burn and his chest heaves. He takes a deep breath. He wants to say, Please don’t hate me. If I come back, please let everything be like it was before.

Peter is a coward, though. 

“I need you to trust me,” Peter says. “Please, Harls, I’m begging you. You need to let me go. I love you, okay?”

“What are you going to do?” Harley sobs, clawing against Peter’s chest. “Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go --”

“I have a plan. You’ll know what I mean when you see it. You can’t tell anyone--tell Pepper and Leo I ran off, that I freaked out and disappeared. You go back to the Tower and tell her. Be with her, okay? Be there when Leo gets back from Midtown. Harls, your job is just as important as mine.”

“Petey…”

“In one minute, I’m going to push away from you and start screaming. Chase me for a block and lose me in the crowd. Then turn on your beacon and fucking run back to the Tower.”

Harley pulls away. He cradles Peter’s tear-streaked face in his hands. He is only eight months older, but the motion is grounding. Peter sees that familiar shine in Harley’s eyes, that determined glint he’s seen in Leo’s every day for the past seven years. 

Big brother. Protector. That need to fight for each other…you gave me that

Peter stares into those wild eyes. 

Slowly and deliberately, Harley says, “I can’t lose another sibling.”  

“I can’t lose anyone else, either.” Peter sucks in a sharp breath.“The minute’s up, Harls…”

“Get ready to run,” Harley whispers.

Notes:

My wonderful beta is Astro_cat13.

If you want to, go take a look at my other WIP "Night Closes In.” It’s a Shameless-inspired Spider-Man AU.

my tumblr is @enchantingwriting.

I opened up my asks on Tumblr so you can send me anonymous hate about my writing now!!

HOLY SHIT, guys, there are over 50k views and 2k kudos??? THANK YOU!! I literally appreciate you guys so much, your love for this story and the characters means the absolute world to me. I constantly reread the comments. Seriously cannot thank each and every one of you enough. Thank you for taking the time to read this!

As this story wraps up, I would love to give you guys the chance to name the chapters. Comment a song lyric that you think fits the chapter and I'll choose my favorite one.

As always, feel free to further educate me in the comments as I navigate writing about sensitive topics. I love hearing from different perspectives and gaining access to new information. I do my best to research and be as accurate as possible, but there is always room for improvement.

Chapter 29

Notes:

trigger warnings for past physical abuse, past sexual abuse, and gun violence in a school

my awesome beta is Astro_cat13

check the end notes for links for fanworks inspired by this fic

I opened up my asks on Tumblr so you can send me anonymous hate about my writing now!!

my tumblr is @enchantingwriting

check out my other fic Night Closes In

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Only Will would befriend his uncle’s archnemesis’s son.

Deke, like the rest of his siblings, has occasionally heard Will mention Harry from Stonelore. Harry sounds cool--he likes rock music, drives a Jeep, and has a cat named Goblin. Will having any friends at all had been an exciting development, one they probably should have explored more. Deke and his siblings are so used to relying on each other that their outside friendships often get overlooked.

They should have asked what Harry’s last name was.

Honestly, Deke is not surprised. Will, ever the contrarian, would be the one to accidentally seek out a friend whose dad hates Tony and Pepper.

Tony’s face is unreadable as he shakes Harold Theophilus Osborn’s hand. Will’s face burns bright red. 

“So your dad is Norman Osborn? ” Will asks. Deke, Peni, Morgan, and Reese stand beside him, probably resembling a flock of lost ducklings. A line of Stonelore students wait by the Stark Industries booth in Stonelore’s gym, wanting to meet the Tony Stark.

Tony wears a long-sleeved black tee and dark jeans. His arc reactor glows through the fabric. Deke swears his uncle basks in the attention the kids give him. Five minutes ago, a first grader almost pulled off his shirt to show Tony his pacemaker, chattering on about his mom calls it his special superpower.

“Your uncle is Tony Stark ?” Harry counters, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Deke bites back a laugh. He imagines Harry and Will are well-suited for each other.

“I thought you knew. My face is all over the news--”

“So is mine! There are thirty-nine thirst accounts for me on Instagram. I keep track,” Will says.

“Ugh. TMI, Will,” Peni says. She herds her four younger siblings and Harry to the side to let Tony have some room to greet kids. Happy hover six feet away, glaring at second graders as if they are about to transform into a Chitauri soldier any second.

Reese’s eyes dart between Will and Harry. “You two are idiots,” she says.

“Blunt. I like it,” Harry says, reaching out to shake Reese’s hand. “Now, which sister are you…”

“Reese Parker. If you call me Teresa you will regret it,” Reese says primly. “Then the other sisters are Peni and Morgan. I wish there were more of them. You caught us on a day when the girls outnumber the boys for once.”

Harry’s eyes finally land on Deke. “Are you Deke?”

Deke nods and tries not to flinch away, forcing himself to shake the older boy’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“I thought your name was Zeke until Will finally corrected me,” Harry says. “You guys have some whack names.”

“Shut up, Harold,” Will mutters.

“Wilder isn’t even a real name--”

“Yes, it is. LIke Laura Ingalls Wilder! The writer, you know?”

“You were named after Little House on the Prairie ?”

“No, no, no. Originally William, after my granddad, you know? But then Peter was being named after our other granddad. And Mum, she’s reading Little House to Leo and Peni. She regretted not doing matching twin names, and she’s looking at the book, and she goes, ‘Wow, Peter and Wilder flow well together.’ So that’s where it comes from.”

“You’re still named after Little House on the Prairie , mate,” Peni says.

“Oh piss off,” Will mutters, soft enough that Morgan can’t hear.

“Will, we’re at school ,” Tony chides under his breath. He high-fives the second grader staring up at him in awe.

Instead of flinching back, instead of getting angry, Will grins. “Learned from the best.”

Tony signs another autograph and takes a selfie-- should a second grader really have the newest iPhone, Deke thinks--then turns his head back to his nephew. “Do as I say, not as I do, my Padawan.”

“So should I channel my inner Anakin Skywalker--”

Deke snorts. “And what, slaughter the younglings--”

Then a shot rings out, and Happy has a gun drawn before Deke can let out a gasp. Tony flicks a wrist, unfolding the Iron Man gauntlet he keeps strapped to his elbow. Will grabs Reese and Deke, while Peni picks up a shrieking Morgan. Everywhere, little kids are running around, screaming and crying. Teachers and visiting parents look around frantically. 

Happy points to the eight security guards. “Six of you, follow the evacuation procedure. Get these kids to safety.”

The security team fans out, guns drawn and faces alert. They’re agile, quick--they move like Granddad did. Lethal. Dangerous. Two stay behind, hovering at Happy’s elbows. 

Deke digs his fingers into Will’s elbow, feeling his brother’s pulse, the gooseflesh creeping up his muscled arms. 

Morgan squirms in Peni’s arms, inconsolable. Peni holds her tight, keeping her limbs from flailing around. That’s how Peni held onto Reese at their parents’ funeral. How she pulled Deke back as Ben beat their brothers black and blue.

“Tony?” Peni whispers, a quiet sob escaping. 

“See the guards, tesoro ? There’s safe rooms all along the gym, hidden doors in the walls. They’re escorting everyone, keeping them locked down.”

Happy nudges Will, Deke, and Reese. “Follow me. We’re going to our own little safe room. Osborn, stay with the group. Rumlow, Sitwell, with me.”

Two more agents take up a position next to Peni, Morgan, and Harry. Happy leads the group, while Tony stays at the end. Happy goes to the far corner and presses on the brick.

“IGLOO protocol,” Happy says gruffly.

The cinderblocks slide open, revealing a small room lined with metal walls. A shelf contains a first aid kit, dehydrated food, and gallon water jugs. The guards usher the kids inside.

“No wonder you pay all that money to send us here, Uncle Tony,” Deke says.

Tony stands at the entrance, watching all the kids get ushered inside.

“You stay safe,” he says. “I love you, okay? I love you guys more than anything.”

“What?” Peni says.

“I’m going to help--”

A violent shriek rips through the air. Reese, all elbows and knees and dark hair, throws herself onto Tony, practically crawling up his torso. His arms, even the one enclosed in the gauntlet, fly up to support her weight.

“Daddy, don’t go,” Reese begs. “Please, Daddy, you can’t go--”

Morgan joins in the pleading, clawing tracks against Peni’s arms. Deke stands in shock, clinging to Will like a lifeline. Will wraps his arm around Deke’s shoulder, pulling him close. 

Peni, her arms streaked with red cuts, sinks to her knees. She rocks Morgan back and forth, back and forth. Morgan’s little fists batter Peni’s face, all the while screaming, “Daddy,” with the force of a desperate war chant. Reese refuses to let go of Tony. Deke and Will stare, stare, stare. Harry is slammed into a corner, hyperventilating. 

Peni finally lifts her head up, nose dripping blood.

“Don’t leave me with these kids, Uncle Tony. I can’t--I can’t do it anymore,” she whispers.

Tony takes a step inside.

“Shut the goddamn door, Happy. Our guys--they’re the best recruits the military and SHIELD had to offer. They can handle this. I’ve got--I’ve got to look after my kids.”

Happy turns his back to seal the door. Tony’s face is buried in Reese’s hair, whispering to her in soothing Italian.

Deke should have noticed the little snip before the sickeningly sweet gas started filling the air. 

The last thing he sees is Agent Sitwell’s face lean over him, teeth pulled back in a draconian sneer.

“Hail HYDRA, little Fitzpatrick.”


Leopold Fitzpatrick to the principal’s office ,” the PA announces.

Leo jerks out of his Shakespeare-induced gaze as little oohs travel through his Advanced Literature class. Leo dislikes any class that is not science or math on principle, but his mum loved Shakespeare and he needed another English credit to graduate, so here he is.

His eyes flick to his teacher, who nods once. Leo stands up, moving robotically. The dozen kids in his class watch him leave. 

The panic doesn’t set in until he is alone in the hall. Tremors run up his arms. His hands feel all clammy and tingly. 

Case workers like to drop by during school hours. Two years ago, after May and Peter got “tied up” at the hospital and Ben slunk off to the bar, Peni and Leo forced the other kids to go to school the next morning. Leo was pulled out of second period AP Chem and interrogated by their case worker at the time.

Leopold, is your uncle hurting you?

Leo , he said instead. My name is Leo .

Maybe Mrs. Lahey still has to do a random check, even though his guardians are fucking Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. He honestly does not know how she has not been fired yet. Peni thinks that Pepper is launching a full-scale investigation against that cruel bitch.

Good. Leo hopes the full might of Stark Industries, led by his indomitable aunt, crashes on Deborah Lahey in a wave of sweet, sweet justice.

He steels himself. At least he does not have to lie this time.

Leopold, is your uncle hurting you?

No. He saved me .

Easy peasy.

Leo reaches the front office. He goes up to Miss Hazel’s desk, biting back a sigh. “Where’s my case worker--”

A woman wearing black combat gear melts away from the wall. Her dark hair is pulled up in a tight bun. Her eyes scan him up and down. 

Leo stares right back.

“Hi, Leo. I’m Agent Maria Hill with SHIELD--”

“You knew my mum,” Leo says. “And my granddad. You were at their funerals. Coulson’s, too. I remember.”

“I--”

“Is something wrong?”

“Come with me.” Hill’s face remains impassive as she pulls him into the hall. Leo’s own expression tightens. His fingers tremble.

She says evenly, “There’s a lockdown situation at your siblings’ school. Your aunt sent me to pick you up and bring you home.”

Leo’s knees weaken. Before he can buckle, two strong hands are gripping his shoulder. Rather than flinching from the unfamiliar touch, he drinks it in. Maybe it’s the SHIELD logo on her jacket or the dark hair. Leo stares into the dark eyes that he wishes were blue. “Is everything okay?” 

“The SI security team lost contact with Tony, Happy, and the guards with them twenty minutes ago. A group of hostiles have taken over part of the school. As far as I know, your siblings are in a saferoom off the gymnasium.”

“They’re safe?”

Hill puts a hand on his shoulder. He jerks away. “Let’s get you home, Leo.”

“Peni, Tony, Reese, Will--” Leo pulls out his cell phone, almost dropping it. “ Fuck, fuck --”

“We can’t get hold of them. Their phones aren’t working.”

 Leo goes through his contact list, thumb hovering above a name. He lets Hill nudge him towards the door as the dial tone rings on and on.

Leo? ” a gruff voice asks. “Hey, mate, aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

“Peni… There’s a gun at her school. Someone with a gun. People with guns. I don’t fecking know,” Leo sobs.

“What?”

“I don’t know, Kit, I don’t fecking know--”

“Hey, hey, mate, that’s alright. Where are you? School, home?”

“Goin’ home. Leaving now,” Leo chokes out. Hill ushers him into a car waiting outside the school. Three armed guards are waiting inside. Leo huddles next to Hill, wishing 

“Okay, okay, that’s good. I’ll flick on the news, okay?” Kit pauses. “Feck, Joanie’s calling me--”

“Don’t go--”

“Hey, hey, I’m not. I’m not. I’m right here. Well, over the phone.” Frustration bleeds into Kit’s tone, tears making his voice thick. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know what’s happening, Kit.”

“Who are you talking to?” Hill asks.

Leo wants to tell her to feck off. “My brother.”

“Will, Deke?”

“N-no. He lives in Scotland,” Leo says.

“Put him on speaker,” Hill says.

Leo obeys numbly.

“Leo, who are you talking to?” Kit asks.

“Mr. Parker? This is Agent Hill with SHIELD.”

“I’m Kit. Um, Christian Ward. What the hell’s going on? My sister, the Parker kids, are they alright?”

Hill takes a deep breath. “There’s a situation at your sister’s school--”

The words quickly become lost in the roaring in his ears, and Leo curls into Hill’s side as he sheds tears with a brother that’s over three thousand miles away.


Police blockades should not be easy to cross.

Peter knows this, can comprehend it on an intellectual level. He might even appreciate the tight security if he were not trying to break through the fucking blockade. 

“Thanks, Stark Security,” he mumbles, half-wild with panic as he studies the scene below.

The National Guard, Stark Industries guards, and NYPD set up a three-block blockade around Stonelore Academy. Peter ditched his beanie and glasses with little regret and pulled on his Spider-Man getup about fifteen blocks ago. He perches on the top of an apartment building, praying no snipers catch sight of him.

He lets the noise of the city flood his senses, hoping to pick up chatter from the coms.

“Shift rotation in five—"

“Those army fucks are runnin’ late, don’t know a goddamn thing ‘bout how we run things here…”

“When can we have lunch?”

“There’s been no shots fired since that first round? What are we looking at, a hostage situation?”

Peter gnaws his lip until he tastes blood.

All he learns is that several Avengers are on the campus and no one is entering the building until they know if they are dealing with a hostage situation. Plenty of kids, teachers, and parents escaped, but about one-third of the student body is unaccounted for.

Including Peter’s siblings and uncle.

“Security breach was sophisticated—professional…”

Peter strains his ears, but the buzzing from sirens drowns out the rest.

Professional? What does  professional mean?

Peter picks at the fraying cuffs of his sweatshirt. The plastic of the ski goggles is digging into his face. His rock-climbing sneakers he found at Goodwill suddenly feel inadequate compared to the National Guards’ combat boots.

“I’m screwed,” he whispers.

But he’s been screwed since his parents’ car flipped on the interstate, so he shoves all those feelings down and remembers he’s half Fitzpatrick.

WWGD—What would Granddad do?

Peter combs through the scraps of bitching and reports he picked up. Shift change…fucks runnin’ late. He forgets who the fucks are, exactly. NYPD? SI? SHIELD? Peter keeps an eye on the various suits below. No one moves except for a couple NYPD officers, who are swiftly filled in by men in Army fatigues.

Twenty seconds was their idea of ‘late’?

Eyes burning, Peter leaps to another building, then another, until he’s moved a block north. Same setup—people patrolling the evacuated streets, the heartbeats of hidden snipers in buildings further down the block. Far away enough that they can’t see Peter, but close enough for him to hear them.

Peter stares at the blockade and cries for a bit. Maybe Granddad wouldn’t have cried, but the man also shot people for a living. Crying is healthy, Dr. Dumont says. Perhaps not useful when five of your siblings and your uncle could be dead, but healthy. 

Through his tears, Peter watches a SWAT van pull up to the blockade. The National Guard lets them through no problem. Lucky bastards. 

Wait. Wait, wait, wait! His eyes narrow. A still-forming plan swirling around his mind sends him leaping off the apartment building. 

Peter finds himself under a taxi parked on a narrow, deserted street. Most people are tucked away in local shops or crowding by the blockade. The constant wailing of sirens is a sharp reminder of the situation going on mere blocks away. Not even New Yorkers want to be on the streets right now. Their memories of the Chitauri invasion are too fresh, too painful.

 Peter is two blocks away from the blockade. He listens for a particular engine thrum. Each car sounds different, if you listen hard enough, 

There . A quarter mile of the way, sirens wailing. The few cars on the road let the cops pass by with no issue. 

Peter is fast, and he is smart. Tony told him to own it, so he does.

Peter can gauge the distance from here to the road. The van is travelling at seventy miles per hour. His mind swims. Closer, closer, closer --

He gathers his legs underneath him, his hands balanced on the pavement like a frog. He hovers half-under the taxi, hoping it provides him with enough cover to keep off YouTube.

The sirens are closer. Any second now--Peter takes a deep breath and grit his teeth.

Springing out like a frog, low and fast, Peter collides with the side of the SWAT van. His legs slip out behind him for a moment, useless and heavy, while his hands seal themselves to the reinforced metal sides. Peter hooks his legs under the van, then shimmies down the rest of the way. He wraps his hands around the fuel tank protective bar and his feet press against the transmission. 

His frantic breathing can barely be heard over the roar of the engine. The van surges forward, the driver unaware of the stowaway below.

Notes:

long time no see, bitches *metaphorical finger guns*

sorry it's been so long! I started a new job and summer has been keeping me busy. This chapter has been a doozy to write. Shoutout to the wonderful Astro_cat13 for helping me stay sane as we reach the end of this fic. only 2 more chapters, my friends!!

FANWORKS (idk what to call them lmao):
WinterJoy wrote an amazingggg song inspired by this fic. go give this work of art all it deserves here

mediocremartyy wrote the scene from chapter 19. read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32209246

a huge thank you to both of them!!!!!

thank you so much for the continued support on this story, the amount of kudos and comments this mess of a story has is mind-blowing. y'all are the best.

As always, feel free to further educate me in the comments as I navigate writing about sensitive topics. I love hearing from different perspectives and gaining access to new information. I do my best to research and be as accurate as possible, but there is always room for improvement.

much love~

Chapter 30

Notes:

trigger warnings for past physical/sexual abuse and gun violence

my awesome beta is Astro_cat13. read her new fic "Fall From Divinity" here

check the end notes for links to gorgeous fanart

I opened up my asks on Tumblr so you can send me anonymous hate about my writing now!!

my tumblr is @enchantingwriting

check out my other fic Night Closes In

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Peter’s hands are caked in shit and mud. 

He crawls along the darkest corner of the sewer tunnel, clinging to the shadows. He bites down bile as the smells threaten to overwhelm his senses.

The SWAT van pulled to a stop right in front of Stonelore. After listening in for several minutes—Steve and Nat were having one hell of an argument with a NYPD lieutenant—Peter figured there should not be voices coming from the sewer grate the van parked directly above.

He slipped down in the sewer and followed the voices. Now he has the privilege of watching six grown men fight like children while simultaneously trying to figure out if these grown men have already killed his siblings and uncle. 

“They used the wrong agent. They were supposed to use the long-lasting one,” one man in black tactical gear says.

“Great, so we’re thirty-five minutes into a sedation that lasts forty-five…” another mutters.

“I say we go anyway. Who gives a shit about securing the exit? Blow a hole in the floor and be fucking done with it,” a third says.

“We don’t go in until Rumlow gives the go-ahead,” the first one says firmly.

The six settle into an uncomfortable silence. Peter lingers, not daring to get any closer. This is his ticket in. This is the way he finds his siblings and uncle.

After ten minutes, the guy who said to wait for Rumlow, receives a message on his comm: “ We’re blasting the rest of the way out . Get ready .”

“Sitwell says to get ready for extraction at the rendezvous point. The hostages are starting to wake up—”

A loud boom shakes the tunnels. The smell of smoke and ash and burning fills Peter’s nostrils. His keen ears triangulate the source of the blast--a little over two hundred yards away. His nose will guide him through the mess of sewer tunnels. He doesn’t need these dipshits to take him to the ‘rendezvous point.’

Two quick web blasts secure three men to the walls of the tunnel. Someone fires a gun blindly in the dark. Peter avoids the bullets, dropping to the ground and rolling. He kicks at a man’s knee, hearing a distinct snap and scream. He webs that guy and tosses his pistol down the tunnel. Lights sweep out. The gunman closest to him aims, but Peter lashes out with a fist. 

The man drops like a fish.

The last gunman aims a kick at Peter’s chest. Peter dodges and grabs the foot. He pulls, sending the man flying on his back. A glob of webbing glues the gunman to the sewer floor. 

The gunman sputters up at him. Peter resists the urge to smash his face with his shoe. 

“You’ll suffer for this,” Peter vows. 

“Who are you?”

“A kid who’s in way over his head,” Peter says truthfully before sprinting towards the source of the blast.


If the smell of smoke and burning plastic--is that what C4 smells like?--weren’t enough to guide Peter through the dark sewers, Reese’s shrill screams would surely guide him there.

Peter approaches from the shadows. He sees a smoking hole blasted into the ceiling of the tunnel. A rope ladder dangles down. A man with a scruffy beard and hard eyes has a bound and gagged Will shoved against the sewer wall. A second man, short and bald, is shuffling down the ladder, a shrieking Reese secured under one arm. Peter might admire the bald man’s upper arm strength if not for the fact that he is actively kidnapping his baby sister.

The bald man drops to the ground, his boots making an audible splash in the sewer muck. He turns towards Peter, giving him a better look at Reese. His sister is bound and gagged like his twin. She looks so tiny in the man’s arms.

However, Reese is tiny and mighty. She writhes in the bald man’s iron grip enough that he lowers her to the ground. 

Teresa Parker grew up running away from angry hands. She is on her feet in an instant. She glares up at the bald man, eyes fierce and burning with hatred. Bill Fitzpatrick’s Irish fire and the infamous Parker temper are a dangerous combination. 

Her clothes are streaked with filth from the sewer, and her feet fling muddy water everywhere as she kicks against her attacker’s shin. Will lets out a muffled scream from behind the gag, face pressed against the wall. His leg is bent at a painful position.

The bald man grabs Reese’s arm, wrenching it back. She howls in reply. “Shut the fuck up, or I swear to God I’ll break it--”

Having been steadily creeping closer and closer to the two men, Peter springs from the shadows, flinging a web directly at the bald man’s face. The baldie lets go of Reese. His fingers claw at his face. A heartbeat later, Peter webs the gun out of the bearded operative’s hand and swings it against the wall. The sound of metal clanging against brick echoes in Peter’s ears. He pauses to rip the gag out of Will’s neck, steadying him against the wall.

Then Peter wraps his hands around the man’s throat. 

Will drops to the ground, chest heaving. Hands still bound, He crawls across the tunnel, towards Reese. Peter watches the man writhe in his grip, eyes wide and nostrils flaring.

Peter’s fingers tighten, feel the pulse thrumming beneath the fragile skin. One shake, and this fucker is--

“That asshole’s choking on your webs,” Will coughs.

Peter throws the man to the ground and turns to the bald man. The webs are sealed to his face, cutting off all airways. Fuck. Peter wrenches him out of the muck and rips the webs off. He throws the gasping bastard next to the other one. If he hears a bone crack, he ignores it.

“Where are they?” Peter says. “Will, where are they?”

“Up the ladder. They were still, like, half-asleep, so these prickwads grabbed us first,” Reese says quietly, face buried into Will’s filthy shirt. Will must have taken out her gag. She trembles. Peter crouches next to her. She lifts her head, but her eyes are still wide and fearful. 

“You’re Spider-Man,” Reese says.

“I am,” Peter says quietly.

You’re Spider-Man,” Reese says. 

Peter nods again. A tingling in his neck lets him duck a little swat.

You’re Spider-Man? Peter, what the fuck?” Reese hisses.

What the fuck, indeed .

“How’d you know?”

“That squeaky voice, the fact that you know Will’s name, the fact that you’re here …”

“Jesus,” Peter mutters. He reaches out and tears the bindings off her wrist. He wraps his arms around her and Will. He clings to them for a long moment, listens to their strong heartbeats. The three siblings shed grateful tears. Reese is half-frozen in shock, while Will trembles incessantly. From pain, terror, shock, or a combination of all three, Peter cannot tell.

“Peter?” Reese says.

“Don’t tell me to get off, Reesey.”

“I’m not,” she says. 

When Will lets out a little snort, she says more forcefully, “I’m not . I was gonna say, shouldn’t we get the others?”

Peter jumps to his feet. “Oh, yeah. Shit. They’re asleep?”

“Starting to wake up. They drugged us, but I don’t think it was long-lasting,” Will says.

“Of course your stubborn asses would be the first to wake up,” Peter says. “Reese, can you go in first? Tell them I’m here to help. Then we can get everyone down the ladder.”

Reese shoots him a shaky thumbs-up. He boosts her up on the rope ladder, waiting until her feet are planted and her muddy little fingers are wrapped around the rungs.

“And Reese?”

She looks down at him, a dark curtain of hair obscuring her face.

“Maybe don’t mention that it’s me. Okay?”

She nods once, then scurries up the ladder with ease.

“You can definitely tell she’s related to Spider-Man,” Will says.

“Will?”

“Yes, Petey?”

“Shut up.”

Will lets out a humorless laugh.

A moment later, Reese pokes her head out. “Harry and Peni and Morgan are pretty much awake, Deke and Happy are waking up, and Uncle Tony is bleeding.”

“How bad?” Peter asks, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. 

“Come look,” Reese begs.

Peter’s up the ladder in an instant. A small safe room is filled to the brim with people. Peni, ever the caretaker, is untying the others’ restraints. A kid Peter recognizes from Oscorp press releases leans against the wall.

Harry Osborn. Peter bites back a laugh. Only Will.

Morgan starts shrieking when she catches sight of Peter’s masked face. 

“The bad men are back! They’re back!” she screams.

Peni has her bundled up in her arms in an instant. “Hey, hey, hey,” she says. “Spider-Man’s a good guy, okay? He took care of us. Knocked out all the bad blokes.”

Peter can’t focus on her words. He is too busy watching Happy crouched over Tony. One eye is swollen shut. A cut slashes across his forehead. Dried blood coats his face. Peter knows from past experience that head wounds, even the minor ones, tend to bleed a lot.

“Is he okay?” Peter can’t stop himself from asking.

“Pulse is steady. I think he knocked himself out when they released the sedative gas,” Happy says. He looks at the hole in the floor of the safe room. “They probably have additional reinforcements coming any second--”

“Six guys were waiting a few hundred yards away. I took ‘em out--um, they’re still alive, just webbed up…”

“What about Sitwell? Rumlow?”

“That was Sitwell ?” Peter hisses, thinking back to the bald guy he nearly choked up to death a couple minute ago.

Sitwell had been one of his mother’s best friends at SHIELD. Once he got higher up in the administrative arm, he brought Mary along with him. Better missions, access to additional training. He got her connected to Phil Coulson, which ultimately led to her assignment on the Helecarrier. 

“Are you SHIELD?” Happy asks, voice low.

“No, no,” Peter says hurriedly, making his voice sound lower. “A-a-a long time ago, I knew some agents. I’m a… concerned citizen, you know?”

Happy looks unconvinced, but Deke cuts in before the chief of security can interrogate Peter anymore:

“Our mom and grandpa were SHIELD. Sitwell knew me. I didn’t even recognize him, he had hair back when we knew him. He told me, ‘Hail HYDRA, little Fitzpatrick.’”

“HYDRA? Like from Uncle Steve’s stories?” a tearful Morgan asks.

Happy looks troubled. He glances around the safe room, lips moving as he counts the kids. “We need to get out of here. Where is Will?”

“Down below,” Reese says.

“The sewers are secure. I hear pretty well, so if trouble comes, I’ll know. I can carry T-Mr. Stark down the ladder,” Peter says. “Um, do any of you need help?”

“I’ve got Morgan,” Happy says. “You take Tony down first and cover me while I assist the kids down the ladder.”

Peter nods, happy to let Happy take point on this one. He crouches down by Tony, carefully lifting his uncle bridal-style. He repositions Tony over his shoulder, hardly noticing the additional weight. 

Before Peter goes down the hole, he glances around at his terrified siblings--and Harry. Fucking Harry Osborn. Reese looks at him from the protective crook of Peni’s arm with a little smirk, while the others regard the vigilante wearing ragged, shit-stained pajamas with outright suspicion.

“We’ll be alright,” Peter says. “I’ll keep you safe. By any means necessary.”

With that, he shimmies down the ladder.

Peter sets Tony down next to Will and positions himself by the ladder. First comes Deke, as nervous and twitchy as a newborn colt. Harry drops down with four rungs left, splashing shit and mud everywhere. Reese is a pro by now, making it down in record time. Then Peni, trembling and terrified. Happy, with Morgan bundled against his chest, shimmies down the confidence of a professional. 

Peni crouches down by Will. “You’re alright?”

“Leg hurts like a bitch,” Will admits. “Rumlow wasn’t too gentle with me.”

“They’re both unconscious?” Happy growls, staring at the two bodies webbed to the sewer floor.

“Yeah.” Peter can hear the reinforcements bickering amongst themselves. Mostly swearing and blaming one another. “The six guys I took down are waking up.”

“I’ll send people to collect them after we get out of these disgusting sewers.”

Peter nods.

“Any injuries? Peni, Harry, Deke, Reese, Will, you guys okay?” Happy barks out.

They all shake their heads. Reese looks at Peter. A low tingle in his neck has Peter taking a subtle step towards her.

“Are you okay, Pe—” Reese is cut off when Peter kneels by her side.

He whispers, “I’m good. Not now, Reesey. Later, okay? I promise. Do I break my promises?”

“Not lately,” Reese says.

Peter flinches. He knows her anger about Quentin, about her big brothers lying to her, will take a while to fade. 

Give me a lifetime to make it up to her , Peter prays. To the universe, to the Norse gods, to whoever the fuck else might be listening to him.

“I love you,” Peter says. “And I’ll do better.”

A little hand grips his. “You already have.”

“What are you doing with her, Spider-Dude?” Peni cuts in, tense and sharp.

“We need to get moving. Peni, take Reese and Morgan. Harry, Deke, you help Will. I’ve got Mr. Stark. Huh—um, Mr. Security Avengers Secret Service Man, you need help?”

“No,” Happy says gruffly. 

“How do you know our names?” Deke asks, letting Will lean on him. Harry keeps a steadying hand on Will’s back. Peter’s twin leans heavily on his cane, his face as white as a sheet.

“You’re Iron Man’s kids,” Peter says, slinging an unconscious Tony over his back. “You do realize you are rather famous?”

“I guess,” Deke says dubiously. “It’s still kind of weird, man.”

Peter chooses not to respond to that. If they want to think he is some weird fanboy, great. Far better than them learning the truth. 

“I want to exit this sewer via the grate right by the school. It’s more secure there. I’m not sure if HYDRA will be in the surrounding area. There’s a blockade for several blocks, but I want to be safe.”

“Which Avengers are on site?” Happy asks.

“Captain America and Black Widow,” Peter says. “Once you guys are safely aboveground, I’ll dip out another way. Sound good?”

“We’ll need you to make a statement—”

“Oh, come on, Happy. Let the poor guy keep his secret identity. I mean, he did save our asses,” Will says.

The other kids agree.

“We’ll mention you, of course. I’m sure the publicity will be good for your street cred,” Harry says.

“Thanks,” Peter says.

They continue on, the constant sound of squelching accompanying their trek. Rats keep a wary distance away, their beady eyes tracking the bedraggled group’s every move. Peter keeps quiet about the rats, almost positive that no one else can see them. Meanwhile, Harry and Will keep up a steady, if shaky, commentary on their adventures through the muck. 

“Man, I am glad to be five foot seven. Poor Deke is up to his ankles in shit, while Reese’s calves are coated in the stuff.  Peni isn’t much better off. And no offense Spider-Boy, but you look like you just competed in sewer sludge wrestling. Oooh , is that a rat?” Will says. Peter hears something scurrying away and a distinctive squeak. He fights the urge to throw up again.

“Maybe we should take him home with us. You know, to commemorate this special day,” Harry says. 

“We are not bringing a sewer rat back to the Tower with us,” Peni says gruffly. She’s been crying, but there is a hint of amusement in her tone.

“What if Will named it after you? Aspen the rat has a nice ring to it,” Harry says.

“You might be the worst person to get kidnapped with ever ,” Reese tells him.

“What about Snappy, here?” 

“At least Happy knows hand-to-hand combat.”

“Quit the squabbling,” Happy snaps.

The silence lingers until they reach the desired sewer grate. Peter eyes the narrow space between the van and the grate. Happy or Peni would have a hard time fitting through it. He could go back up, but the idea of being mowed down by fifty dudes with guns strutting around Stonelore freaks him out.

Peter looks at his siblings. “Anyone still have a working beacon?”

Reese and Will shoot him twin scowls. Before Peter can comprehend, Peni asks, “How the hell do you know about that?”

“Um, well, your—your, um, Iron Man, he’d probably give you some way to send for help, right? Like a beacon on your phone or something?”

Our Iron Man,” Will repeats, sounding amused. “Well, we did have something like that, but the HYDRA baddies smashed ‘em.”

“I kept mine in my pocket,” Morgan says into Peni’s chest. “It’s ‘mashed, but…”

Peter gently sets Tony down, so that his back is against the wall and his legs stretch out before him. He sets a hand on Tony’s shoulder and takes a deep breath. God, he wishes his uncle were awake right now. 

“May I see it, Morgan?” Peter asks.

She reaches into her jeans pocket and pulls out a little pink watch that cracked right down the middle. Peter takes the watch, keeping an eye on Peni. She watches his every move. Peter fiddles with the watch, trying to get an idea of the damage. He twists two bits of copper wire together and nudges a gear back into place. He pops out the tracking chip and tosses it to Deke. His youngest brother is the best with computers.

Deke catches the chip at the last minute. Shit. Peter needs to remember that most people do not have enhanced hand-eye coordination. 

“You think the chip would fry if I activated the beacon?” Peter asks.

Deke fiddles with the chip for a moment. He finally says, “She’s scratched and bent, but I think she’ll hold up.”

Peter snags the chip back from him. His nimble fingers pop the chip back into place. He studied the schematics of the watch enough to roughly reconstruct the wiring. Finally, he hands the watch over to Happy.

“This should get you out of here. Nat will be here in a matter of seconds,” Peter says. “I’ll take off now. You guys stay safe, alright?” His voice cracks with emotion he didn’t want to convey.

Will’s face is pale. His clenched jaw and tense shoulders tell Peter all he has to know about his twin’s pain level right now, but Peter wants nothing more than to bury his face in his brother’s chest and never let go.

The thought of losing his twin brother, losing any of them, is crippling. Unimaginable. Yet coming so close to losing Will for the second time in his life is scarring. All Peter can think about is a tiny eight-year-old, bruised and battered from a car accident. 

He chokes back a sob. Safe . They are all safe.

“We will,” Reese says quietly. “Maybe—Maybe we’ll see you around?”

“I think I need to keep a low profile for a while,” Peter says.

“You should. The cops will be looking for you,” Happy says. His bruised face is unreadable, but his next words carry a hint of approval: “You did good, kid.”

“Thanks.” Peter looks at his sisters, at Will and Harry, at Happy. Safe. Safe, safe, safe. He brushes past Peni. He takes one last look at the muck-coated group and sees Morgan staring at him with huge eyes. “Thank you, Miss Maguna. You saved the day today.”

The memory of her toothy grin warms him as he sprints through the fetid underworld of New York City.


An hour and a half later, Peter lurks across the street from the Tower.

After leaving the sewer, he broke into an empty apartment to shower and get all shit off him. His suit, coated in mud and blood and vomit, is webbed to the roof of a building three blocks away. Peter will need to wash that at some point. Or get a new suit entirely. Being the nephew of a billionaire should make it easier to update his current set-up.

Staring up at the Tower, Peter figures that he will not be able to make another appearance as Spider-Man until college . Disappearing into the streets of New York City while five of his siblings and his uncle were getting kidnapped will probably get him grounded for life, if not worse.

Peter shivers at the memory of Quentin’s reaction to him sneaking out. Tony is nothing like Quentin, but Peter has also never fucked up this badly before. 

A tingle in his neck distracts him from his thoughts. He hears Natasha’s rustling footsteps, but fakes a surprised flinch when she says, “You’ve got a lot of people worried, kid.” 

“I know,” Peter says. When she puts a hand on his shoulder to guide him forward, he ducks out of her grip. He wheels around to face her. She wears a dark wig. Her features are obscured by a hat and sunglasses. 

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you, considering,” Natasha says.

“Considering what? That I got molested for six months? Or maybe the fact that I got the shit kicked out of me by my uncle and my foster dads?” Peter’s voice rises. “Tony told you, didn’t he? He fucking told you.”

“Do you think Tony Stark, the man who did not let his closest friends meet you for two months , until he knew you guys were settled in and okay, would go blabbing about your personal details?” Nat tilts her head. “Anything I know is what your sister revealed when she freaked out on live television.”

“Don’t bring Peni into this,” Peter growls.

“I’m not. I would have guessed your…history, anyway. Takes one to know one, after all,” Nat says.

Peter’s head hurts. He’s tired and thirsty, and all he wants is a hug from Peni or Leo and a long nap. “You’re not here to pick apart my childhood trauma.”

“I’m here to bring you home,” Nat says.

“Yeah,” Peter says. He gnaws his lip, staring up at the Tower. “Is everyone okay?”

“Peni and Tony were unconscious when they got to the med ward. Peni’s sleeping in her room, and Tony is being monitored by Dr. Cho.”

“Peni passed out?”

“She was dehydrated and exhausted. The men who attacked them administered an airborne sedative. Drugs like that affect people differently.”

“She’s alright, though?”

“Dr. Cho gave her an IV. She wanted to keep Peni under observation, but Leo insisted that she would do better waking up in her own room.”

Peter keeps looking up at the Tower. Tears of exhaustion drip down his face. All he wants to do is sleep, yet…

“You ready to go in?” Natasha asks.

“I—” Peter flinches. “I don’t know.”

Rather than grab him by the arm and drag him inside, Natasha only smiles. “I have to admit, you impressed me.”

Peter tears his eyes off the tower. “ What ?”

“You’ve been missing for almost three hours. I’ve got at least ten SHIELD teams on the ground in every borough, not to mention four Avengers. Tony has FRIDAY running at full throttle, not to mention drones, satellites, and every other tool in SI’s belt looking for you. Yet no one found you.” Nat shrugs. “I’m impressed.”

“I freaked out. Had a panic attack in a back alley and passed out,” Peter says. “I came back here as soon as I woke up.”

“So why not come inside?”

“Because Tony will kill me.” Peter shoves his hands in his pockets to hide the trembling. “Then Peni will resurrect me and kill me, Leo will bring me back and kill me twice , and Harley won’t ever speak to me again—”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Nat says. “You know what I think?”

“What?” Peter says.

“When I was your age, I would have killed to have a single person care a fraction of the amount that literal zoo up there has for you.”

“I’m not in trouble?” Peter whispers. “No one’s—no one’s mad?”

“If they’re mad, it’s because they love you. Not because they want to hurt you.”

Peter turns his face towards the sidewalk, unable to handle the eye contact.

“Let’s go in,” he says.

When Nat places her hand on his shoulder again, he doesn’t pull away.

Notes:

my awesome beta is Astro_cat13. read her new fic "Fall From Divinity" here

@andromedianexistence on Tumblr made gorgeous art for this fic, check it out on Tumblr here: https://andromedianexistence.tumblr.com/post/657257265581195264/heres-a-drawing-of-peter-parker-i-did-a-few-weeks

sorry for leaving everyone on a cliffhanger for a month or so. work was crazy!!

chapter 31 is in the works, I have about ~2k works for that already. keep an eye out over the next week or so.

thank you so much for the continued support on this story, the amount of kudos and comments this mess of a story has is mind-blowing. y'all are the best.

As always, feel free to further educate me in the comments as I navigate writing about sensitive topics. I love hearing from different perspectives and gaining access to new information. I do my best to research and be as accurate as possible, but there is always room for improvement.

much love~

Chapter 31

Notes:

trigger warnings for past gun violence, physical abuse, sexual abuse, car accidents, suicide and discussed deaths of parents & siblings.

my awesome beta is Astro_cat13. read her new fic "Fall From Divinity" here

my tumblr is @enchantingwriting

check out my other fic Night Closes In

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The anticipation of the elevator ride is the worst.

Peter shuffles back and forth, watching as the floors fly by. Finally, FRIDAY announces that they have arrived. Before the door flies open, the AI says, “I am very glad you are safe, Mr. Peter.”

“Thanks, FRI,” Peter says, feeling sick to his stomach.

The doors open with their usual ding

A pack of brunet kids, flanked by Happy and Pepper, are bunched around the elevator. Strong hands are reaching through the doors before they even open all the way, pulling Peter into the foyer. Harley, Will, Pepper, the younger kids, they are talking and crying at once, but all Peter can focus on is Leo. 

Peter’s older brother stands barely an inch above him, but Leo’s intense, watery gaze and the relief etched into every premature line on his face makes him look a decade older. The weight of his grip is a comfortable pressure, a reassurance rather than a warning. 

The two brothers stare at each other for a long moment. 

-- At Mary and Richard’s funeral, Peter ran out of the chapel. Burying your parents sucks, but an overwhelming need to pee makes it even worse. When he went back to the mass, Leo was waiting right by the door. Ten years old, somber in one of Grant’s old suits, Leo laid his hands on Peter’s shoulders. In a low, raspy voice, Leo asked him a simple question--

“You good?” 

Peter’s knees start to buckle, and he bursts into tears. There are plenty of hands to catch him and propel him towards the couch. Then there’s Pepper, leaning over and kissing his forehead. 

There are tears and laughter. But mostly tears.

Morgan is curled up in his lap. Reese and Deke are burrowed under each arm. His aunt and the rest of Peter’s brothers--Will, Harley, Leo, they all hover above him, like he might disappear again.  

“I freaked out. Had a panic attack, passed out in some alley,” Peter says. He looks right at Harley. “I’m sorry.”

Pepper hugs him again. Peter tastes absolution in the salt of her tears.

“You’re okay? Everyone’s okay?” Peter says, looking around at his siblings. Leo has the pallor of a vampire, while Pepper looks like she has aged ten years. Her hair is unbrushed and her makeup is smeared all over her face. Harley is ready to keel over.

“Getting there,” Leo says roughly.

The others nod in agreement.

There’s a brief tension, a moment of hesitation...

Then they all pile on the couch. What Peter thought would be a big deal, what should have led to fists flying and screaming and yelling--doesn’t. Instead, they snuggle together and breathe. Just breathe.

Nat joins Steve, Clint, and a woman Peter recognizes as Agent Hill from SHIELD in the kitchen. He could focus on their whispered conversation, but he’s too tired. So he leans into Pepper and closes his eyes.

He can’t fall asleep, not yet, but he relishes the chance to rest his eyes. His ears pick up Peni’s heartbeat, slow and steady. Sleep-slow, not near-death-slow. There’s someone else in the room with her, their heartbeat frantic and erratic. Peter does a sweep of the rest of the penthouse, picking up three more in Leo’s bedroom. Strange. Leo dislikes having people in his private space, at least people who aren’t family--

“Is someone else here?” Peter asks.  


Peni’s head feels ready to split open as she is propelled into consciousness, accompanied by a rush of pain and nausea. She jerks her head around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. There’s no way—

She lets out a relieved breath as she takes in the sight of the antique dresser and mirror she got on a shopping trip with Aunt Pepper and Deke. She lets out a deep breath. Thank God. 

Thank fecking God.

She’s home. She’s safe. They’re all safe. 

It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a fecking dream—

The voice that booms out across the room makes her question reality all over again: “Fecking hell, Pen, I’m never making one more school shooting joke to your American arse again. I jinxed you.”

Peni looks up at her oldest brother’s face and lets out a startled cry. “Kit?”

Kit’s face crumples. He leans down, gathering her up in his arms. She hangs there, limp from shock, then brings her arms around his shoulders in a bone-crushing hug. He lets out a little “oomph,” then lowers her back onto the king-sized bed. 

“Kit. You’re here. How the feck are you here ?” Peni whispers, bringing her palm up to cradle Kit’s jaw. He feels comfortingly solid beneath her hand. Warm. Real.

“Pepper flew all of us out as soon as we heard the news.”

“But you have med school, Joan and Grant and Tommo have their classes—”

“Turns out your uncle has quite a few connections in Scottish academia. We’re exempt from all classes and schoolwork for two weeks. Tony even offered to pay all of our school fees, but I told him to let Alastair keep footing the bill.” Kit’s smile is a little unsteady. He brings his hand up to his jaw, covering Peni’s much tinier hand. “I’m so glad you’re safe, Pen. You have no idea.”

Peni’s cheeks are damp. “I missed you, Kit. I missed you so much.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there—”

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Kit’s eyes cut to the window that looks out over Manhattan. “Leo flinched when I got near him the first time, Pen. I mean, he warmed up right after, but I’m his big brother, and I scared him. I’m sorry, but I saw the video at the courthouse. I know what happened to him, and that happened because I wasn’t here—”

“No, you don’t. You have no fecking idea,” Peni snaps. “Don’t pull that. You don’t get to.”

“I feel so guilty—”

“I was living in the same house , Kit. Leo and Skip were in the room across from mine. That monster took videos of my eleven-year-old brother while I slept right upstairs.” Peni stares up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. 

“Any guilt you feel, any shame that you have, I carry it, too. But don’t go blabbing that bullshite around Leo or any of my lads, you hear me? That’s not what they need, or even what they want. Guilt does nothing. Shame does nothing. But you being here, this? ” She squeezes his hand. “This is what matters. This is what helps.”

“I hate that this is where life took us,” Kit whispers. “That this is what they turned us into.”

“Me too,” Peni says.

“But at least this is where we ended up. That we were brought back here.” Kit runs a hand along her sweaty hair. “Do you want me to get the others?”

Peni nods. She tries to dry her eyes while Kit steps out of the room, but the sight of her not-so-little Tommo rushing in sends her right back into hysterics. Tom crawls into bed next to her and buries his face in her chest. Grant almost leaps on top on her, gripping her face between his hands. Joanie grabs her left hand. Leo and Kit hover near the door, a little unsure.

“Get over here,” Joanie orders. 

“The feck are you doing?” Peni adds. 

Never one to disobey their fearsome sisters, the last of Alastair Ward’s children get onto the bed.

The six of them, once separated by a cruel father and an ocean, dogpile together like they did when they were little.

With her head on Grant’s shoulder, Tom curled up in her lap, Joanie’s sharp elbow digging into her side, and Leo and Kit staring at her like she may disappear any moment, Peni has never felt so safe. So protected. 

“Never again, alright?” Grant says thickly. 

Peni curls a little closer to him. 

“Never again,” she agrees.


“Hey, Uncle Tony,” Peter says, announcing his presence before he enters the hospital room. His uncle’s bruised and cut-up face lights up. He sets the tablet he had been fiddling with down. For good measure, Peter adds, “You look like shit.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Clint and Happy. I’m rescinding Clint privileges immediately.”

The Avengers were staying in the guest rooms on the floor below for the time being. They seemed intent on stuffing the various Starks, Keener-Stark, Fitzpatricks, Wards, and Parkers with enough food to feed an army. Natasha whipped out three different Russian desserts in thirty minutes, while Clint baked four different types of Midwestern casseroles over the course of an evening. Peter finished three bowls of borscht and half a pan of cheesy potatoes by himself.

Pepper’s solution to six of her eight kids being placed in life-threatening danger was to never let them out of her sight. The Wards, eager to make up for lost time, were hard-pressed to leave Peni and Leo’s sides. The lot of them ended up camping out in the living room last night with Nat. Steve and Bruce kept a silent vigil outside Tony’s hospital room, while the other Avengers poked around the guest floor.

Finally meeting Wanda and Pietro Maximoff for breakfast went as well as expected. At first a little intimidated and confused by the veritable army of siblings—with the older ones attempting to explain who was half, adopted, or biological—had been rather confusing for the Sokovian twins. Finally, Pietro threw up his hands and said, “You are family. Simple as that.”

Kit was half in love with Wanda by his second glass of orange juice, while Morgan latched on to Joanie and Tom with the enthusiasm of a baby koala. She only spoke in a horrendous imitation of a Scottish accent, and Peter knew his tenacious little sister would not let up anytime soon.

Between the Wards, Tony and Pepper’s gaggle of kids, and the Maximoffs, the penthouse was starting to feel a little overrun with teenagers. And Peter was a teenager. So when Dr. Cho cleared Tony for visitors—“one at a time,” she ordered the crowd of Avengers and kids with a stern look—, Peter was excited to go.

“What about Happy privileges?” Peter asks, settling into the chair by Tony’s bedside.

“That’s not a privilege. He is an… inevitability.”

“What does that make you, then?”

“Exhausted,” Tony says, a little more subdued than before. Peter’s heart clenches. “Dr. Cho gave me walnut date loaf. Have you ever had walnut date loaf?”

“May tried making that,” is all Peter manages. The memory of her cooking makes him want to gag.

“I almost threw up,” Tony says. “But enough about me. How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” Peter says.

“Even after your little trip to the sewers? You aren’t sure the fumes are messing with you?”

The breath should leave his lungs. His knees should collapse underneath him. Something should happen. Yet the silence lingers, growing heavier with each passing second. Uncle and nephew eye each other, a thousand unspoken words hanging in the space between them.

Ben did this, sometimes. Getting backed into a corner, endless questions, the belittling and bullying—eventually, Peter learned to shut up and wait for the inevitable. The others fought. Of course they did. But Peter and Ben, they understood each other. Both knew how the situation would play out.

Tony’s eyes are tired. Hazel, just like his and Reese’s eyes. The color came from their father, though, not their mother. Any similarities between his father and uncle end there. Richard had dark brown, almost black, curls. He was broad and tall, with layers of muscle from all his years in the Air Force. Richard Parker was quick to smile, though, always willing to give a hug or swing his kids up on his shoulders.

Back then, Peter welcomed the physical affection. The fear and caution came later, a learned behavior from a monster who resembled Richard too much.

Ben may have been Richard’s brother, but Peter never even compared the two men. Only the brother of another parent could come close to his dad. 

Tony and Richard are different, but Peter feels the same way about them. He loves them the same. 

But Richard isn’t here, and Peter lost him.

Tony is here, and it might kill Peter to lose him, too.

Tony must be tired of the lies and the secrets. Quentin, the Westcotts, Spider-Man, Ben, all the bullshit that came along with six fucked-up kids. 

Peter takes a deep breath. He’s fifteen, and he’s Spider-Man, but, most of all, he is so very tired. 

He says, “I’m not sorry.”

Tony tries to speak, his lips form the first syllable of Peter’s name, but Peter takes control for once: “I won’t apologize. I did what I did to protect my family. Even when I lied to you, I did it so my siblings wouldn’t have to go back to fucking foster care. Once I was under your roof, I didn’t go out as Spider-Man unless I fucking had to. 

“I’m not some little bitch anymore. Not that little kid who sucked Skip’s cock or let Quentin treat his twin brother like shit. I’m Spider-Man, and I’m not fucking sorry.”

Tony leans his head back against the pillow. And he laughs.

He fucking laughs.

“You definitely are related to me, kid. Seems I was an even worse influence on you than I originally thought.”

Tony throws the tablet, and Peter catches it without thinking.

“Look at it,” Tony says.

Peter flips the tablet. A holographic video pops up, showing him dressed as Spider-Man and swinging through Queens, two blocks away from Delmar’s. The video switches to Peter catching a car before it collides with a bus. 

Peter pauses the video.

“I had a panic attack after that. Made me think of my parents and Will,” Peter says.

“Makes you wish you were there to save them, right?” Tony replies, his voice cracking a bit. His hands are trembling when Peter passes the tablet back.

“Yeah,” Peter says.

“But we weren’t, so we do what we can now.”

“Exactly.” Peter picks at his knuckles. “So, uh, you got that off YouTube?”

“I keep an eye on all the vigilantes in New York. As long as they aren’t causing trouble, I let them be. But then a kid from Queens emailed me, and I’ve been a little distracted,” Tony says. “I didn’t pay enough attention, Peter. I’m sorry.”

You’re sorry?”

“I should have guessed Spider-Man was a kid. And if I had discovered your identity and learned you were in foster care, maybe—“

“I think everything worked out the way it was supposed to,” Peter says.

Tony nods.

“Have you told Aunt Pepper?” Peter asks.

“No,” Tony says. “Who knows?”

“Nobody,” Peter says. Tony raises an eyebrow. Peter bites back a sigh. “Will.”

“That’s all?”

“Yeah.” Peter pauses. “Aunt Pepper, Harley, the others. Are you going to help me tell them?”

“We can wait—“

Peter shakes his head. 

“Keeping secrets has only hurt the people I love. Aunt Pepper, Harley, everyone else—they deserve to know.”

He takes a deep breath. When he speaks, he is surprised at how true, how right , his next words are: “I want them to know.”


Tony stares up at the ceiling, biting back the urge to scream. Steve’s presence—oh, poor, earnest, sweet Steve—does little to district Tony from the increasing tightness in his chest. Not even Fury’s tactical choice of a messenger, nor Peggy Carter’s eighty-year-old lessons in diplomacy to a Brooklyn street brawler, could calm Tony down after finding out his kids are still in danger.

His day had been pretty good. Each of the kids visited. Leo and Peni introduced the Scottish branch of their family. Tony always thought of his oldest two as the caretakers, the proud older siblings who thought they could take care of anything. Yet seeing Kit Ward with an arm thrown around each twin, Tony had to wonder how much of the Fitzpatrick bravado was an act.

At this moment, Tony’s own bravado—Stark, Fitzpatrick, who knows?—has been ripped in half by the earthquake of Steve’s news. 

“Capsicle,” Tony says, his frustration making each syllable a staccato note. “Explain it again. My massive brain is having issues…computing.”

“Processing,” Steve says.

“Excuse me?”

“Processing, pal. You’re a man, not a machine.”

“Not helping,” Tony bites out.

“The unit extracting Sitwell and Rumlow was dirty,” Steve says. “Jack Rollins took the lead on that op. He and Rumlow, they rose up in SHIELD together. They were the best of friends. Rollins said he needed to be the one to bring him in. Bring him to justice.”

“Who gave the go-ahead on that brilliant plan?”

“Fury,” Steve says. 

“And the six additional agents? The ones waiting for Rumlow and Sitwell’s signal?”

“Killed themselves. Cyanide capsule in their teeth.” Cap’s expression is grim. “They haven’t changed much.”

“You really think so?” 

“A lot of things confuse me since I came out of the ice.” Steve walks to the window. His shoulders are broad and his arms bulge with muscle, but the clenched jaw and balled fists are a habit that predated the serum. “The past is one of the few things I have left. HYDRA, I know. I know HYDRA very well.”

“What does this mean for SHIELD?”

Steve says, “For now? Nothing. Only Level 10 agents, the ones Fury trusts, know the full details of the situation.”

“Fury doesn’t trust anyone.”

“The people he distrusts the least,” Steve amends. “As for your kids, Nat’s talked with them. Let them know to stay quiet about the details of the mission. The Wards, too.”

“We need protection details on them when they go home. Possibly Alastair and Viola Ward, too,” Tony says, even though that last statement nauseates him. Spending money to protect the man whose kids Tony is raising should not even be a thought that crosses his mind.

But for Peni and Leo, he will do it. He will grit his teeth and sign the check. 

“Happy’s seeing to that already,” Steve says.

“But my kids—none of them know? Realize what the presence of even eight HYDRA agents means for SHIELD?” Tony asks. 

“Not to the extent that we do. Fury thinks—“

“Fuck what Fury thinks. These are my kids. Most of them were manipulated and abused for years. I can’t start lying to them to protect them. My sister was a SHIELD agent. Their grandfather was a SHIELD agent. Leo wants to work for SHIELD. This is their family legacy. They need to know.”

Fuck , Tony, it’s not lying to them. It’s compartmentalizing. Not in an asshole way, but in a they-are-children-and-survivors-of-abuse-and-trauma way. There’s no need to place intel meant for level-ten SHIELD agents on their shoulders. You’re a parent, Tony. Sometimes parents protect their kids from these sorts of things.”

Tony thinks of Peter, of the daunting task that lies before the two of them. Breaking the news to six kids, his wife, who are all recovering from a traumatic situation, that their brother, their kid, is Spider-Man will complicate their family dynamic enough. Throwing in the uncertainty of HYDRA and what that means for their safety might destroy the ten of them entirely.

Tony looks at his old friend, a man out of time who learned to survive in a whole different century. Steve can be an irritating tightass, but he was also a five-foot runt from Brooklyn who wanted to fight the Nazis, to neutralize the same people who attacked Tony’s children. 

“I trust you, Steve. I trust you, Nat, Clint, and Happy. My kids, my Pep, they mean the world to me. You’re right, they are kids. They’ve been through too much already.” Tony rests his head back on the pillow. “Level Ten only.”

“Level Ten only,” Steve repeats, his eyes haunted and broken. 

Notes:

my awesome beta is Astro_cat13. read her new fic "Fall From Divinity" here

I'm getting so emotional as we approach the end of this story. The final chapter and the epilogue will be posted together in 2-4 weeks. As always, I am insanely grateful the outpouring of love and support for this story and the characters. Thank you for sticking around and loving these kids as much as I do.

As always, feel free to further educate me in the comments as I navigate writing about sensitive topics. I love hearing from different perspectives and gaining access to new information. I do my best to research and be as accurate as possible, but there is always room for improvement.

much love~

Chapter 32

Notes:

trigger warnings for discussed deaths of parents/sibings, drug/alcohol abuse, past sexual abuse, past physical abuse, eating disorders, and suicide

my awesome beta is Astro_cat13. read her new fic "Fall From Divinity" here

my tumblr is @enchantingwriting

check out my other fic Night Closes In

subscribe to this work's series to get updates on the upcoming Leo-centric sequel, "a complete man"

please check out this info on the Iron Dad Creator Awards 2022. This fic was co-runner up to the Best AU Story Award in 2021. I'm so grateful to the admins who run these awards and create the prizes. they work so hard, so make sure to take a look!!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

On an intellectual level, Peter understands that traumatic situations affect people differently. Being in a large family let him understand that concept within the scope of his own experience. For each sibling, for each bad experience, he has a different frame of reference. Will buried his pain beneath anger and sarcasm. Leo has averaged three hours of sleep a night for over two years. Peni focuses on everyone and everything except herself. Harley hides away from everyone else.

None of his siblings are necessarily predictable, but Peter can eventually understand them. Will picked up Ben’s anger issues. Leo shared a room with his abuser. Peni’s parents died, leaving her in charge of too many kids at a young age. When his parents fought, Harley fled to their garage to be alone.

Peter may not know how his siblings will react to him being Spider-Man, but he loves them enough to understand and forgive whatever they might say to him when they do find out. 

When Reese knocks on his door at three in the morning and tells him, “I think you’re an idiot for not telling me about Spider-Man,” he desperately tries to remember his earlier resolve. He had been replaying his earlier conversation with Tony again and again while Will half-heartedly thumbed through a book.

Resisting the urge to clap a hand over her mouth, he steps aside and lets her stroll into the room.

Will looks up from Red Rising . Whatever expression Reese is wearing must be perplexing enough for Will to put the book down and watch the situation unfold.

Reese climbs in Peter’s unmade bed. She fluffs the pillows to her exacting standards, then leans back with her arms crossed. Wearing Lord of the Rings pajamas and her hair in two braids, she reminds Peter of some modern-day version of Lyanna Stark. Peter leans against the wall, preparing himself for the youngest Parker to hold court.

Will is not keen to wait. He taps his watch and asks Reese, “You do realize it’s three in the morning?”

“Brilliant observation, Wilder,” Reese says. “I’m glad you know how to read a clock.”

“Don’t, Will,” Peter says when his twin opens his mouth to snap back. 

Reese lets out an irritated sigh. “You both know why I’m here.”

“I can hazard a guess,” Will says.

“You sound like a Jane Austen character,” Reese says. She locks eyes with Peter, her smile growing wider when she senses his growing irritation. “Peter. I’ve watched about five hours of Spider-Man footage tonight–”

“Doesn’t Tony have a screen time lock on your tablet?” Peter bursts out.

Reese flaps a hand. “I’ve learned a thing or two.”

“From who– the CIA? He’s Tony Stark!”

“You, Deke, Peni, Harley, and Leo are my older siblings. Your interminable ranting has taught me a thing or two about computers,” Reese says.

“Interminable is a pretty Jane Austen word,” Will says. “And don’t think I noticed me being the only older sibling you didn’t mention–”

“You’re garbage with technology,” Reese snaps. “Anyways, Peter, I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re an idiot. I could have helped you with Spider-Man. Why did you only tell Will?”

“We shared a room,” Peter says.

“That’s your first mistake. Every vigilante needs a guy in the chair. Why would you only tell the brother who can’t figure out Microsoft Excel?”

“I thought you were here to roast Peter,” Will says.

Reese massages her temples. “I’m getting to him. Let me finish!”

Will inclines his head.

“If you told me, I could have been your guy in the chair. Tell me, did you even think to hack the police communications? 9-1-1 calls? SHIELD’s database to get in contact with Daredevil or any of the other Defenders?” Reese asks, naming the league of vigilantes who handle local NYC crime. 

“No,” Peter says.

“So what was your strategy?”

“Since the bite, my hearing has gotten really good. I’d sit on the fire escape and listen until I heard screaming or gunshots.”

“In that part of Queens, I suppose there was no shortage of that,” Reese says. “But your strategy was to go in blind ? What if someone got hurt? What if you got hurt? You should have been communicating with someone, someone who could get help if something went wrong. Not just leave Will alone in that shoebox room, waiting for you to come back.”

“He’d text me,” Will said. Under Reese’s intense glare, he admits, “Sometimes.”

Reese throws her arms up. “Exactly!”

Peter regards the mulish ten-year-old with a mixture of annoyance and admiration. Not even Peni can lecture like this, and she’s given him dozens of ass chewings over the years. Peter can think of a lot of things he would like to say, plenty of reasons and excuses, but the only one that seems adequate enough is, “I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” Reese says. Her face is unreadable, but her jaw is clenched and her eyes are misty. Peter takes a few cautious steps forward until he is at the foot of the bed. He opens his arms wide, and Reese leaps into them with the force of a howler monkey. Peter catches her easily and hugs her back. 

“This was easier when you were five,” he whispers in her ear.

“Shut up. You didn’t have super strength back then,” Reese whispers back, her voice roughened by hitching sobs. Peter settles on the bed, gently rubbing her back until the tears have subsided. Reese ends up back on the pillow throne, staring up at the ceiling with reddened eyes.

“That was embarrassing,” she says.

“That was normal,” Will says. “I’d actually prefer it if you cried more.”

Peter reaches for her hand, half-expecting her to swat him away. Her hand is dwarfed in his palm. 

“I should have told you sooner,” Peter says. “Skip, Spider-Man, Quentin–I didn’t mean to keep so many things from you.”

“You need to stay safe. Not telling anyone, not having anyone to back you up, put you in danger,” Reese says. “I–We can’t lose you.”

Peter takes a deep breath. He says, “Uncle Tony guessed, too.”

Will sucks in a sharp breath. Reese’s eyes well with fresh tears.

“We’re safe,” Peter says. “No one–he’s not sending us back.”

“I know he wouldn’t,” Reese says with surety. 

Will says, “What did he have to say about it?”

“He’s going to help me tell the others,” Peter says. “Aunt Pepper, Peni, Leo, Deke, Harley.”

“Not Morgan?” Reese asks.

“Too young,” Will and Peter say in unison. 

“And I’m not?” she says, clearly amused.

“God, no,” Will says. “You’ve had the temperament of an eighty-year-old man since before you could walk.”   


Reese falls asleep around three-forty-five, curled against Will’s side like a cat. Peter feels too wired to sleep. Sick of staring at the ceiling, Peter braves the kitchen at five in the morning despite hearing Tony’s heartbeat at the table. His uncle’s tired face softens when he catches sight of Peter.

“Morning, kiddo,” he says.

“Hey,” Peter says. “So, they let you out of the med ward?”

Tony runs a finger along his butterfly stitches. “I’m cleared for a concussion. Bruce says the cuts might scar. But your aunt thinks scars are hot, so…”

Peter covers his ears. “Nope. Nope. Not talking about this.”

Tony dons that shit-eating grin of his. It falters a little as he says, “Can we talk about yesterday?”

Peter’s chest is tight. He has done a lot of talking in the past twenty-four hours. “I-I…”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright—“

Peter thought and thought about his conversation with Tony yesterday. I’m Spider-Man, and I’m not fucking sorry. Not to mention straight-up lying about Will not knowing his identity. His stomach twists with shame at the thought. 

“If you want to get rid of me, I understand, but please let Peni and Deke and everyone else stay.”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold it right there, kid.” Tony holds up a hand, slowly and deliberately so as not to make Peter flinch, making Peter hate himself even more when he twitches back in unison. “Nuh-uh. Your brain isn’t allowed to go there, because that never crossed my mind for a minute. You’re my kid, and nothing you could do can ever change that.”

“I’m strong. I can bend metal with my bare hands. Doesn’t that worry you? Don’t you worry I’d hurt one of them?”

“No,” Tony says.

Why? ” 

Peter has thought and thought about this all night.

Why put up with six traumatized kids spawned by a half-sister you never met? How do you deal with parenting kids who have gone through sexual abuse, physical abuse, who have years of repressed grief and anger and half the mental illnesses in the DC:0-5?

“Because you have never hurt anyone in your life. And when you did, you did it to protect your siblings,” Tony says. “You could have snapped Quentin’s neck with your bare hands, but you chose to be better than him. You put up with his shit for the sake of your brothers. You made the sacrifice call. You laid down on the wire and let the others crawl over you.

“You know the saying—hurt people hurt people, but you chose to rise above that. Rather than give in to all the shit the adults in your life have heaped on you since eight years old, you went out and protected innocent people. You became the hero you should have had growing up. And I admire you so fucking much for that. I know I’m not your father, and I’ll never try to replace him, but I love you like a son and I am so goddamn proud of you, Peter.”

Peter sinks to his knees, but for once, someone is there to catch him. Tony half-hauls him to his feet and deposits him on the couch.

“I always idolized you, even before Granddad spilled the beans,” Peter says. “You saved New York, you were a genius and an inventor. You changed the world. You made me feel like I could do anything, be anything.

“I became Spider-Man because I wanted to be like you. A hero. A savior of New York.”

Peter brings his hand up to Tony’s shoulder, gripping it gently. “I don’t idolize you for that anymore.”

Tony’s eyes widen imperceptibly. 

“Once we came to live with you, I realized there was more to you than Iron Man and money. Honestly, we would have been happy with the bare minimum. But you—you actually gave a shit. You read the books Reese gave you, navigated Will’s moods, got us into therapy and listened . Iron Man made me a good superhero, but my Uncle Tony is the one helping me become a good man.”

“Oh, Peter,” Tony says thickly.

“I don’t know what your parents were like. I think not that great, based on what you’ve said. So you did the same thing that I did—rise above it. You don’t hit your kids or make them feel worthless. You make them feel like the center of your fucking universe.”

Peter leans into his uncle’s shoulder.

“I love you, too, Uncle Tony. You don’t have to be my dad. You’re great all on your own.”

Tony says nothing. He simply wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulders and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

Peter burrows into Tony’s side, and the two of them watch the sun rise over Manhattan.


After an awkward breakfast with all the visiting Avengers and various Parker relations, Peni is the person Peter believes can successfully assemble his biological siblings. She can figure out how to lure Leo away from Kit and Morgan, gather up Deke and Reese without making Harley or Joanie feel deliberately excluded. 

Peter loves the Wards, but the truth is that he barely knows them. His mother’s relationship with Alastair was frayed at the best of times, even back when they all lived in Scotland. After they moved to Queens, Peni and Leo went to spend the summer in Glasgow alone. All six-year-old Peter could think about was how the Wards were stealing his beloved older siblings for three months.

Then Alastair cut off contact, and Peter didn’t have to share his siblings for over five years.

Grant and Kit are interesting enough. Peter’s chest tightens if he, Deke, or Will is alone with one of them for too long, but he can make it through meals and movie marathons without his vision tunneling. Kit’s enthusiasm for biology has spurred several interesting conversations. Grant understands enough of Star Wars to keep up with Peter and Tom’s prattling. 

Tom is a cool kid. Younger than Peter and Will and older than Deke, he shares their hero worship of Leo and Obi-Wan Kenobi. When Thor accidentally shatters a glass and Tom flinches back, Peter wonders if he has more in common with the boy than a set of half-siblings.

Peter catches Peni before she slips back into her room with Joanie. 

“Pen,” Peter says. She glances over her shoulder, and he has to suck in a sharp breath–she really does look more like Tom’s twin than Leo’s. Feeling guilty, Peter says, “I need you to get the six of us in the lab. Subtly. Can you do that?” 

Peni’s eyebrows pull together. Peter expects a torrent of questions, but she only asks one: “Why?”

“There’s stuff we need to talk about,” Peter says. “Stuff that predates the Starks.”

Peni hesitates. “Handling ‘stuff’ all on our own tends not to work out well.”

“Tony’s done a lot of the handling,” Peter stammers out, feeling awkward all the sudden. “He’s letting me do the telling.”

Peni remains unconvinced.

“Trust me,” Peter says. 

“After this is all over, will some things start to make sense?” Peni asks.

Peter doesn’t even want to know what she is referring to. These last few years have been such a shitshow that he would have trouble even narrowing down which events in his life make any sense.

So, Peter makes a risky promise, echoing, “Some things.”

Peni appears thoughtful. 

“Please, Pen,” Peter says. Begs.

Peni smiles at him. “Go to the lab, Peter. You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

Peter manages to smile back. God, he loves her. Having her, having Leo, having someone actually give a shit about him has made all the difference these past seven years. Leo, Peni, Harley–Peter hit the jackpot with his older siblings, biological or otherwise.

Before he can reconsider, Peter says, “Pen? Can you bring Harley, too?”

She nods. Peter throws her arms around her and squeezes as tight as he dares.


Reese and Will feel like Peter’s personal bodyguards. They sit on the battered couch Tony keeps in the back part of the lab, Reese on his left, Will on his right, waiting for the others to arrive. Reese tentatively reaches for Peter’s hand when someone knocks on the lab door.

Peter, not having to pretend anymore, mutters, “It’s Harley. I know his heartbeat.”

For the first time in years, Reese watches him with open admiration. “You’re like Dovewing from Warrior Cats. You have super hearing.”

“Come in!” Peter calls, choosing to ignore the fact that his little sister just compared him to a fictional cat.

Harley better resembles a cat; the lean boy slinks into the lab, curls right up on a beanbag Deke stole from some neglected corner on the rec floor. Harley blinks, long and slow, observing the trio crammed on the sagging couch.

“Peni summoned you, too?” he asks.

Peter nods, not trusting himself to speak.

“When she calls the banners, I tend to not ignore her,” Will says.

“Ignoring Peni would be suicide,” Reese chimes in. Peter sees Harley’s gaze go somewhere else for a moment and bites back a sigh.

Leo moseying in lessens the awkwardness. Leo’s shoulders are tense, his jaw set tight. He struts over to the couch, plopping down next to Will. In a foul tone, he asks, “Anyone know what this is all about?”

Will hitches a shoulder. Harley’s eyes bore into Peter’s.

Peter stares down at his lap. This will all be over soon , he tells himself.

Peni and Deke arrive last. Leo lets out an irritated huff. Deke takes one look at Leo and chooses to join Peni on the loveseat opposite the couch.

“What’s this all about, Peni?” Leo says sharply. “Are you done being so fecking secretive?”

“Are you done being a dick?” Peni retorts.

“Quit it,” Will says. He jostles Peter with his shoulder. He mutters, “Let the shitshow begin, pal.”

Peter drops Reese’s hand and rises to his feet. He needs space . Something difficult to find with this many siblings, no matter how big of a penthouse they live in. All six watch him expectantly. They wait, though some of them don’t know what to anticipate.

His opening words may even surprise Reese and Will: “I’m sorry.”

“For what? Stonelore?” Peni frowns. “You passed out, Peter. What happened–none of that was on you. We’re just glad you are safe.”

“I left Harley alone.” Her premature absolution is a balm to his soul, but Peter forges on, fixing his brother a pleading look and saying, “I’m sorry, Harley–I didn’t think. I didn’t know how…”

“Didn’t know what?” Harley asks.

“How to explain. How to tell you what I had to do,” Peter says.

“You asked me to trust you. For me, that was enough,” Harley says.

“I asked Peni that, too. For you, for her, for all of you, I know that is a lot to ask. When you’ve seen the shit that we have… trusting anyone , even your siblings, is hard,” Peter says.

The others nod their agreement. Peter half-expects someone to call out Amen , like this is some twisted version of a Sunday homily. But he is not a priest, and his siblings know better to trust in an unseen power with good intentions. He is only a boy with a secret to share.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know how to trust people. I’m still learning. I won’t ask you to judge me by the merits of my intentions, but I’m begging you to consider the consequences of my actions.” Peter sucks in a shaky breath. “I’m Spider-Man. Nine months ago, a spider bit me on a field trip. Harley, you didn’t know me then, but the rest of you definitely remember when I had a terrible flu for over a week. It was around the same time I–”

Peter rips his shirt off, exposing his abs. Too afraid to stop, he hurries on and says, “The same time I put on all this muscle. It was literally overnight. Super strength, super healing, super senses–I couldn’t keep up. I had to wear soundproof headphones at work. Riding the subway was agony. I lost weight unless I crammed like four thousand calories down my throat.”

Peter swallows. “So yeah. That’s my secret.”

Rather than freak out, or cry, or maybe even scream, Peter’s siblings simply offer blank stares. Then he catches Peni’s gaze and his Spider Sense does all the screaming for him. She stands up, stalks across the space between the couch and the loveseat--

And, hugs him?

Peter leans into the familiar embrace. “This is nice,” he mumbles into Peni’s shoulder.

He lifts his head up and finds Leo glaring at him from the couch. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Four thousand calories?” his oldest brother says flatly.

“That’s why you were anorexic?” Reese asks.

Will wraps an arm around her shoulder to shush her, albeit a bit too late. Peter’s lips press into a thin line and his hands curl into fists. He’s grateful for the reassuring pressure of Peni’s arms around him, as the urge to scream at his other sister builds and builds.

Instead, Peter reminds the littlest Parker, “I wasn’t diagnosed—“

“So fecking what?” Leo bites out, his temper rivaling Will and Reese’s. “We all knew what it was. Hell, even Quentin made you eat more for a while.”

Will says, “It wasn’t until—“ He swallows, then tries again, “It wasn’t until after Skip. When he got bit. So it wasn’t the metabolism.”

Peter’s face feels hot and his hands don’t seem to be attached to his arms anymore. Darkness creeps in at the edge of his vision, reminding him of a dark basement and sweaty hands. “Stop. Stop.

“Leo, Will, shut the fuck up before I kick your asses,” Deke growls.

Peni’s shoulders hitch as she inhales, probably to admonish Deke, but Harley beats her, snapping, “Quit fucking yelling, Leo.”

“We’re–I’m piecing together the timeline,” Leo says.

“Which involves making Peter feel like shit?” Harley shoots back. “He just saved all your asses.”

“He should have told us—“

“Yeah, and I should have told someone that my mom’s druggie husband was cooking meth in the shed before it exploded and the fire killed him, my mom, and my baby sister. Yet here I fucking am,” Harley says. “Don’t pull that shit. You guys have hidden shit from each other for nearly ten years to protect each other. How is this any different?”

“This isn’t something you carry by yourself—“

“I had Will, and I kept my mouth shut about Skip for six months. Being Spider-Man is nothing compared to that,” Peter says.

Leo and Harley still stare each other down, shaking like angry dogs. Two older brothers, both at odds and united by their love of Peter. Divided over how to protect him.

“Be grateful you don’t have to bury a sibling or an uncle, Leo,” Harley says.

Uncowed, Leo levels a glare at Harley. “I’ve lost enough family members to know how lucky we were that day, Harls.” Peter senses the affection buried in the nickname. Leo’s gaze cuts to Peter, sharp and intense. “Feckin’ hell—I’m sorry, okay? Petey, you need to eat enough. Seriously. I don’t give a rat’s arse about you being half spider or whatever. I’ll make you goulash every goddamned night if you eat enough of it to satiate your radioactive Teenage Mutant Ninja Spider metabolism.”

Peter lets out a dry chuckle. “I will. Anything to keep your pushy ass off my back.”

Leo moves forward, wedging himself between Peni and Peter. “I love you. In the sewers, you did good. Really fecking good.”

Peter blinks furiously at the words. Those words from Leo mean as much to him as they would from Richard or Tony. 

“We all did good,” Peter says. “We’re a family, and we protect each other. That’s not just your and Peni’s job anymore, Leo. It’s all our jobs—Harley, Aunt Pepper, Uncle Tony, Will, me, Deke. Maybe just not Reese and Morgan. They still have some growing to do.”

Reese flips Peter off. Deke swats her hand a couple times.

“That’s what happens when you have a crapton of older siblings,“ Reese says smugly.

Harley scrubs a hand across his face. He says, “Maybe there’s hope for Morgan, yet.”

“With people like you and Will for brothers?” Deke scoffs. “Doubtful.”

“You’re our brother, Dekey. What’s that say about you?” Harley snarks back.

Deke glances around the room, his lips twitching into a grin. His words echo the thoughts of all seven siblings in the room: “That I’m the luckiest kid in the world.”


The sight of Peter standing alone is rather jarring.

His back turned away from the door, the boy stares out over the wide expanse of New York City—the flowing Hudson, the forest of skyscrapers, a tribe of cars at war on the city streets. So far away, so distant. Up in their penthouse, the rest of the world feels far away. Pepper has done her best to create a microcosm of love and acceptance in their rooftop home. 

Even so, the past four months have turned the penthouse into a little world not unlike the city below—loud, boisterous, crowded. Morgan made plenty of noise before, but six additional kids changed the whole dynamic of their family.

Those first couple weeks, Pepper saw the siblings as a unit, a solar system governed by indisputable scientific laws. Leo and Peni were the twin suns of Peter’s much-beloved Tatooine, the lodestones who could keep fretful Deke and wary Peter and stubborn Will and fractious Reese in a devoted, if chaotic, orbit.

If someone so much as scowled or raised their voice, Leo’s icy eyes burned across the room, somehow looking in four places at once. The six of them had an ability to hide emotions and fears and anything that could help Pepper understand these fascinating, wonderful kids. A survival trick learned from their days with Ben, or was Leo’s leadership that undisputed? Were Tony and Pepper even needed?

Then Deke had a nightmare, and Pepper made him a cup of tea. His sweet, hesitant can-you-stay , even though Peter was already at his side, was the first crack in his defenses. The first shift in Pepper’s perception of how to parent these confusing kids.

Harley and Morgan were night and day. A high schooler and a preschooler. She loved them equally, but she approached them differently. She knew their likes, their dislikes, their personalities, their triggers. To have six biological siblings thrust into her care was a shock. Their mannerisms, their features, their personalities shared enough similarities for her to overlook how startlingly dissimilar they really were. 

Closeness did not imply cohesiveness or stability.

Their closeness meant survival, a frantic codependency that began the day their parents’ car flipped over and shattered Will’s leg. Closeness also meant policing each other’s actions, vicious fights, anything and everything to stay together and keep the secret .

Deke resented the constant fretting from his oldest siblings, yet ran to Peni for comfort at the first sign of distress. Reese and Will chafed under Leo and Peni’s authority, but Peter accepted it due to years and years of guilt, from feeling like he could never measure up to the siblings a scant two years older than him. 

Even planets orbiting the same star take different paths.

“Peter?” Pepper says. “Where is everyone else? I know they were all in here half an hour ago. Tony told me to meet you guys here.”

The kids have been a mess for the past forty-eight hours. Morgan wet the bed for the first time in months. Her youngest refuses to let her out of her sight. Selfishly, Pepper wishes the others would do the same–instead, Deke clings to Peni with the enthusiasm of a baby koala. Leo and Peni stay within ten feet of each other, and the Wards don’t stray much further. Reese has been rotating between Will and Peter or Tony. If the others let him, Harley would refuse to leave his precious bedroom hidey-hole.

Pepper worries the most about Harley. He has experienced a loneliness in his life that the others can never comprehend. That type of pain, that crushing isolation, lingers on despite adoption papers and over half a dozen new siblings.

Being left alone on the streets of New York while the world– his world–fell apart for the second time in his short life had to be incredibly scarring. 

Yesterday, when Peter and Natasha walked in, her first thought was thank God he’s safe.

Her second thought was more selfish than a mother who almost lost five of her children that day had the right to be: Why the fuck did you abandon Harley?

Peter turns around to face her. Staring at that young face, Pepper cannot summon a drop of yesterday’s anger and frustration. Which reminds her of yesterday’s third, and perhaps most inaccurate thought– I am a horrible mother .

Pepper’s second thought was horrible, yes, but she was not Peter’s mother. Not in the ways that counted. Not the way she wanted to be.

“I asked them to leave,” Peter says. “I wanted to talk to you alone. Thought it might be easier.”

“Tell me what?” Pepper asks. 

“Well…” Hesitating, Peter walks over to the lab table where a coffee maker sits, surrounded by Tony’s dirty coffee mugs. There, a steaming cup of tea waits. Peter picks it up. He hands it to her carefully. “Um, this is for you.”

“Cream and half a teaspoon of sugar?” Pepper says.

“Yeah,” Peter confirms with a nod. 

They settle on the lab couch. Pepper has found a snoring Tony passed out on the disgusting leather monstrosity countless times. He was usually drunk, as he tended to be when their relationship was nothing more than that of a playboy CEO and his overworked assistant. After their marriage, after the Battle of New York, he only passed out after not sleeping for three days. 

When they became parents, when Harley and Morgan entered their lives, Pepper issued what she knew was an unneeded but required ultimatum: “If you ever start drinking again, I’ll leave and take the kids.”

He nodded, and that was that. 

Pepper sips her tea, lost in thought. Since Peter seems to be struggling to form words, she asks, “When did you figure out how I prepared my tea?”

“Second day. I sat at the island and watched you make it,” Peter says.

“Why?” asks Pepper, not unkindly.

“When Ben–” Peter cuts himself off.

“You can tell me, if you feel comfortable,” Pepper says. This line of conversation feels important, somehow–a needed prelude to whatever bombshell he is going to drop on her next.

“Ben liked to have a drink when he walked in the door. Johnnie Walker, neat. Sometimes I’d pour it for him, so he’d have it as soon as he got home. It made him happy,” Peter says.

“Happy?” Pepper says.

“Quentin liked Miller Light. April Westcott liked Diet Coke–she thought alcohol was demonic. It made them happy,” Peter says.

“Peter, you aren’t responsible for my feelings. My ability to control my emotions depends on me , not your actions,” Pepper says. 

“I know. In my head, at least.” Peter taps his chest, left of his sternum. Right where his heart beats. “But here, I don’t know that. Not yet.”

“You will,” Pepper says, and means, I wish I had given birth to you myself.

His life would have been so much easier, had he always been hers. Less painful. 

She sucks in a ragged breath. “Peter, whatever you tell me, I won’t hurt you over it. I never will. I might get upset, I might yell, but I will never hit you or belittle you.”

Peter’s mouth opens and closes. 

“I promise, Peter,” Pepper says.

Peter’s crying, now, and the sight of his tears is so heartbreaking that Pepper barely registers what he says.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, so I have to just say it–I’m Spider-Man, Aunt Pepper.”

I think of you as my son , and I can never tell you, she thinks. Those statements are disjointed. Conflicting. Yet–

Spider-Man saved her children. She will always owe him a debt. A debt of love and honor, one she would honor to her dying breath. And Peter is her… Peter is hers , to love, to protect. 

Pepper has eight children and a husband to look after. Peter being Spider-Man eases a lingering fear that went unsaid until now–

Who would look after her children when she was gone? Who could protect them if the Avengers were defeated?

Peter would. Peter already had.

Everything makes sense. His strange disappearance right before the sighting of a skinny vigilante Deke described as an “awkward fanboy.”

The future is so uncertain. The events at Stonelore and HYDRA’s reappearance proved that at any moment, a threat could come out of the sewers or the sky. Even sending the children to a maximum-security prep school meant for children of the elite could not keep them safe. 

Raising a family was a bit like running a Fortune 500 company. Pepper could plan and strategize all she wanted, but deals fell through or trusted colleagues betrayed her. Corporate spies could be hiding in plain sight, the same way Sitwell and Rumlow earned Happy and Fury’s trust.

Had she given birth to Peter herself, Pepper could have planned his life out from the moment she knew she was pregnant. Which schools to attend, which friends to make, which sports to play. Tony would have insisted that his educational path would lead to MIT. But she could not have accounted for him being a twin. 

She wouldn’t have wanted to have a child with Tony Stark fifteen years ago. Not with the type of man he was back then. 

Peter being her biological child might have saved him a world of hurt, or brought on different types of heartbreak. She would never know. Nor should she want to know. 

Pepper wraps her arms around the boy– Mary’s son, May’s son, Peni’s son, her son? --and squeezes tightly.

“Thank you,” she whispers.



Notes:

my awesome beta is Astro_cat13. read her new fic "Fall From Divinity" here

this is the final "real chapter". an epilogue will be posted soon. you may have noticed that this work is now a series--look out for a sequel featuring Leo's adventures at the SHIELD Academy of Science and Technology in the next few weeks. this story will heavily feature Jemma Simmons, Grant Ward, Joanie Ward, Alphonso Mackenzie, Phil Coulson, Bucky Barnes, and Steve Rogers. A few despised HYDRA baddies may appear as well :)

thank you to everyone who has supported this story over the past two years, via comments, kudos, and even some BREATHTAKING fan works!! your support has meant the world to me.

a huge shoutout to my beta again--this fic would not be anywhere close to complete without her support and insight. her writing is absolutely gorgeous as well!!

As always, feel free to further educate me in the comments as I navigate writing about sensitive topics. I love hearing from different perspectives and gaining access to new information. I do my best to research and be as accurate as possible, but there is always room for improvement.

Chapter 33

Notes:

trigger warnings for past sexual abuse, physical abuse, eating disorder and a suicide attempt

there will be a SEQUEL- pls subscribe to the series so you don't miss out!!

my awesome beta is Astro_cat13. read her new fic "Fall From Divinity" here

this story was nominated for Best Adoption Fic and the Best AU in the Irondad Creator Awards 2022, you can find more info about this wonderful event here: Iron Dad Creator Awards 2022.

my tumblr is @enchantingwriting

check out my other fic Night Closes In

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Standing in Leo’s room, Reese resembles a stranger in a strange land. Eyes tracing over NASA diagrams and a framed periodic table– my brothers are so weird, she thinks with all the vitriol of a preteen. Reese gets the distinct feeling that she should not be in here. Leo would not want her in his space.

He shared a room with Peter, Will, and Deke for years. Two sets of Craigslist bunk beds crammed into a tiny NYC apartment bedroom, with a milk crate for a nightstand and a closet that held all six kids’ clothes. One could reach a hand across the room and touch the other bunk. That room was dark and narrow, crammed with memories of Ben trying to break down the door and punish them for some imagined slight.

Then his roommates were Skip and Peter. 

Their first visit after Leo and Peter’s arrests, Leo looked pale and drawn. 

“How do you like Quentin’s?” Peni had asked.

“I have my own room,” Leo replied, a shadow of a smile playing across his chapped lips.

A boy with eleven siblings enjoying his own space is not unsurprising. But Leo is willing to sleep in Deke’s room to be there for the nightmares, or stay up talking with Joanie and Peni until they fall asleep at three in the morning. 

I don’t deserve him , Reese muses, glancing over the picture frames on Leo’s dresser. The Wards brought pictures from Scotland–Leo sitting on Kit’s shoulders, the twins and Joanie posing in front of a Christmas tree, newborn Tom propped up between Peni and Leo on a flowered sofa. Photos of the Parkers are displayed as well–a portrait of Mom, some of Peter’s snapshots of them, Leo holding newborn Reese. The Starks, too. 

Her favorite picture is the one from her first day of kindergarten. Twelve-year-old Leo holds her hand in front of her elementary school. Ben and May both had to work, so Leo volunteered to walk her to school that morning. Reese remembers his promise to buy her ice cream if she didn’t bite any kids on her first day. She ended up biting some kid who spilled his juice all over her. 

Leo still bought the ice cream anyway.

Reese backs away from the dresser. She goes to Leo’s nightstand, where two battered books sit– Ulysses and The Great Gatsby . She knows better than to touch their mom’s copy of Ulysses . Reese remembers little about her mother, but she knows Mary Parker always kept that blue book on her nightstand.

Mary named her oldest children after her favorite author and her favorite literary character. She picked Leo’s first name and Alastair picked his middle name. Leopold Alastair Fitzpatrick. Alastair picked Peni’s first name and Mary picked her middle name. Aspen Joyce Fitzpatrick.

Peter and Will were named after their grandfathers and their uncles. Peter Benjamin Parker and Wilder Anthony Parker. 

Deacon was a family name on Granddad Fitzpatrick’s side of the family. But Leo is always quick to point out that Richard loved Queen. Whether after a distant uncle or John Deacon, Deke was given the name Deacon Richard Parker.

Reese dislikes her full name–Teresa Elizabeth Parker is an old lady name. Yet as horrendous as the name Teresa is, Reese is grateful that she will alway carry a small piece of her mother with her. Her mother was Mary Teresa Fitzpatrick, named after her own mother Teresa. 

Mary Teresa and Teresa Elizabeth–two generations of motherless daughters. Reese grits her jaw. She plans to let the name and its bad luck die with her.   

Reese opens the copy of Great Gatsby . On the first page, only two sentences are highlighted, the opening lines–

In my younger and more vulnerable years, my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. ‘Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,’ he told me, ‘just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had ,’” Leo recites.

Reese refuses to jump. She looks over her shoulder. She asks, “Did your father ever give you any advice?”

“Nothing worth repeating,” Leo says.

Reese sits on Leo’s bed. “Why highlight anything, then?”

“Richard told me a thing or two,” Leo says.

“Like what?”

“Ummm…Never watch a movie twice in the same week. Star Wars is the only exception. Floss before you go to the dentist. Granddad likes his pancakes extra crispy. Learning to fly a plane is easier than figuring out the New York subway,” Leo says, counting off on his fingers. He laughs. “He was such a weird bloke.”

“Explains a lot about his sons,” Reese says.

“His daughters, too,” Leo says. He drops down next to Reese. He frowns when he catches her eye. “Something’s wrong?”

“No, I wanted–” Reese glances at the framed map of Scotland above his nightstand. “I know you were bummed about the Wards leaving yesterday. I wanted to…check on you.”

Leo cried for hours after they dropped the Wards off at the airport. There are already plans in place for a Christmas and summer visit, but parting after five years of estrangement was a particularly brutal separation. Even Reese teared up when Leo and Kit finally stopped hugging.

“Oh, we both know that’s total bullshite, Reesey. Come on,” Leo cajoles.

Reese pokes him in the ribs. “How would you know? You’re not Peter. You can’t read my mind.”

“He can’t read minds…” A crease appears between Leo’s brows. “He can’t read my mind. Wait. Can he read my mind?”

Reese laughs.

“Oh, that was evil. So evil,” Leo says. He pokes her back. “So, lass, why are you here?”

“I want to ask you something. And you can’t get all pissy like you did with Peter, okay?”

“Well, when you lead with that –”

“I’m serious, Leo! Hear me out, okay?” Reese’s voice is sharper than she intends. She bites back a frustrated sigh; that happens more often than she’d like. Parker temper be damned, Reese doesn’t enjoy shouting at her siblings all the time. Sometimes the anger in her chest becomes unbearable, and awful words thoughtlessly pour out of her mouth. 

Dr. Dumont calls anger a secondary emotion. When people get angry, there’s usually some reason behind it. Staring up at her big brother, Reese admits her primary emotion is fear–the fear of disappointing him.

Leo nods, his expression betraying no emotion.

“I want to be your sister again,” Reese says.

Leo laughs, and Reese resists the urge to chuck a pillow at him.

“My whole life,” she says, then stops, because that isn’t entirely right. She takes a deep breath. Secondary emotion. A secondary emotion. “Since I was three, you have been the closest thing I’ve had to a father.”

Leo’s eyes swim with a lifetime of hurt. Was he always so tired–

“I can’t remember,” Reese says, answering herself and informing her brother, “a time where you weren’t protecting me. When you didn’t have to protect me.”

Leo swallows, clearly mulling over his words. “I should have–”

“Peter’s a hero, but you started the family tradition,” Reese says. “Everything I am, everything I will be, will always be shaped by you and Peni.”

Her next words ring with vindication for her oldest siblings and bitterness at their circumstances–”You did your best with what you were given–which wasn’t much, as we both know–and you still did a pretty damn good job.”

Leo won’t look at her.

“You talk about Mom and Dad the most. Out of the six of us, you remember them best. Everything you did for their kids, you did to honor them. So I owe you this. You deserve to–”

“You owe me nothing , Reese,” Leo says fiercely. “I did what anyone would have done.”

“Sacrifice deserves recognition,” Reese replies. “Let me give you that. Please, Leo.”

“Okay,” he says.

Reese sees the love in his eyes, and knows nothing could erase such devotion.

“When they pulled the guns on us, Tony was going to help secure the school. I lost it, Leo. I didn’t want him to leave–I begged him. Leo, I called him ‘Daddy,’” she says in a rush. “And, and it felt right . Like, I know he’s our uncle, but he’s–he’s an adult. He didn’t have to take us in. No one forced him. There’s no guilt, Leo. Not…

“You’re my brother. I love you as much as Deke and Will and Peter and Harley. But things are different between us. And it reminds me about how shitty everything was back then, why you had to be more than a brother for so long,” Reese says. “It wouldn’t be all the time, but I think if I let myself call him ‘Dad,’ again, it would… it would make things easier to process. I will always love our mom and dad. But I love Tony and Pepper, too. They’re–they’re so cool , and they’re nice, and they don’t get mad and Tony reads my books and Pepper braids my hair… And they give you and Peni a break.

“If I call them Mom and Dad, you guys might start to feel more like my siblings again, in the way Peter and Harley and Deke do. I think we would all be happier if that happened,” Reese finishes.

Leo’s jaw works up and down, eyes unreadable as he regards her. Reese has a keen sense of misunderstanding, in the way the youngest child can never fully understand the oldest child’s experiences. Nor will he ever comprehend all that she has gone through.

“That–that you even asked me is… surprising,” Leo says. “You aren’t much up for talking, these days. Not about these sorts of things.”

“I’m trying to get better,” Reese admits. “Um, therapy helps.”

Leo’s lips twitch into a wry grin. “In my therapy sessions, Dr. Dumont says I have control issues. She says that’s why I butt heads with Tony and Pepper so much.”

Reese fiddles with her shirt sleeve. The silence grows in tandem with her nerves.

“I think this is a good first step,” Leo finally says.

Reese’s head shoots up. The two siblings stare at each other for a long moment.

“You do ?” Reese says.

“Why–why wouldn’t I? Why would you even ask if you thought I’d say no?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I figured we’d both get mad and then we’d never talk about it again. That’s what usually happens, but I thought this was worth a shot.”

“So you came in here, fully expecting me to get pissed off?” Leo laughs. “I wouldn’t have the bollocks for that.”

“You’re a little less intimidating than Uncle Ben,” Reese says.  

“He’d’ve had me slammed against a wall if I tried to call him Dad,” Leo says. 

“He hated all of us, I think, but Will and you pissed him off the most,” Reese says.

“Will and I always got it worse! Remember when Peter slammed the door, after he and May got in a fight over the dishes, and then he got slapped across the face? When Ben and I got into it about me applying to Midtown, I slammed a door. Game fucking over, he… I think he grabbed one of those hangers we had in the coat closet.” Leo snorts.

“I spilled hot chocolate on the carpet. That was hanger-worthy,” Reese laughs. “Then you tackled him from behind, and you were rolling around on the floor. You remember that, right?”

“‘Course I do. Punched him right in the jaw, it was great,” Leo says, kissing his knuckles dramatically.

Reese shakes her head. “I can’t… Could you ever imagine Tony doing that?”

“He’d be worried about you burning your hands, or stepping on something sharp,” Leo says in a much somber tone.

“Softie.” Reese is quiet for a moment. “What did you mean, when you said it’s a good first step?”

“Peni and I’ll be going to college next year,” Leo says. “Might make the transition a bit easier.”

“That will be good for you guys. You need to go to different schools, too. It’s kind of sad how codependent you are. Maybe try making some actual friends, too,” Reese says. 

“You–God, you’re fecking roasting me right now.”

“I’m being honest .”

Then Leo’s hugging her, and while Reese is irritated, she leans into the embrace. He tucks her head under his chin. “You’re a good kid, Reese. I love you.”

“Love you,” she mumbles. When he doesn’t let go, she says, “Okay, cute sibling bonding moment is over. Get off, Leo, you’re so lame!”

He squeezes her one last time and lets go. 

Reese stands up. “I’m going to find Will. He promised to watch Pride and Prejudice with me. Are you coming?”

Leo shoots her a look that says who’s the lame one, now , but rises to his feet. 

“I’m coming,” he says, and Reese knows that even if the whole world hated her, if she had no one else, as long as he looked at her like that, everything would be okay in the end. 


“This is madness,” Happy declares.

“You like Cuban sandwiches,” Peter says cajolingly as Happy attempts to parallel park their ridiculous fifteen-passenger van on a snowy Queens sidestreet. Morgan, secured in her Captain America booster seat and wearing a Santa hat, claps her hands to encourage her Uncle Happy.

“You don’t know what I like,” Happy says. “What if I was vegan? What if I had a ham allergy? A lactose intolerance? You’re so presumptuous. So audacious. Just like your uncle!” 

“That’s an audacious statement within itself, Hap,” Tony says from the driver’s seat.

“Delmar’s is the best sandwich shop in Queens,” Leo adds.

“I have to get ten of you down the block safely, secure the sandwich shop, then we have to go back to the car–”

“You could pick us up,” Peni says in a mild tone. “Maybe curbside? I can go with you, help you back out.”

“You,” Happy says, “are the most considerate person I have ever met.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” Deke mutters, but there’s a smile in his voice. 

“I heard that, Parker,” Happy says.

Parking the van may take longer than it should, but Pepper gets a funny video of Happy muttering about the ineptitudes of New York City snow plows. He stalks behind them like an angry bear as they hurry down the block to reach the bodega, clad in hats and gloves with snowflakes swirling around them. Pedestrians look their way, but no one stops them; this is Queens, after all. A handsome man a few years older than Leo and Peni leans against the store window, clearly waiting for their arrival.

“You little cabrón ,” the young man yells, and he’s hugging Peter and spinning him around. He grips Peter’s face, staring at him intently. “You aren’t emaciated anymore. Clearly still a runt though; I think Murph’s heavier than you.”

Leo’s brows pull together in the beginning of a scowl, but Tony swings an arm around his oldest nephew’s shoulders and laughs. Leo relaxes at the touch, and then Beto Delmar introduces himself to everyone. He even endears himself to Happy by complimenting his parking skills. 

Pepper, who has Morgan propped on her hip, smiles more at this charming young man than she has at Tony. Tony starts to sympathize with Leo’s earlier irritation, but Beto ushers them all into the deli shop. 

A man whose features closely resembled Beto’s was leaning against the counter. He’s already moving forward as soon as the door opens–

Señor ! Peter runs back behind the counter and flings himself at Delmar. Tony’s eyes burn as Delmar curses at Peter for over a minute–in Spanish, though Tony assumes that is mostly for Morgan and Reese’s benefit. 

A brown-and-white mop of fur is carefully scooped up and cradled in Peter’s arms. Morgan, who Pepper reminded to be ‘nice and quiet around the kitty’, begs to be let down. She runs to the counter and throws her arms around Delmar’s legs.

“Hello, Uncle Delmar!” she says brightly. “Petey says you make the best sandwiches in Queens.”

Delmar fakes a frown–Tony can tell by the smile in his eyes. “Just in Queens?”

“In the world , Uncle Delmar” Morgan amends. 

Peter presses a kiss to Murphy’s head, and Tony decides that he needs to add a couple kittens to the mountain of presents he plans to have for their first Christmas as a complete family. 

“Morgan, he’s Señor Delmar, not Uncle Delmar,” Peter says with a laugh.

“I’m Uncle Delmar if Miss Morgan says I’m Uncle Delmar,” Delmar snaps back, and Peter laughs even harder.

“The sandwiches must be pretty good, for Tony Stark to book the entire place for an afternoon,” Delmar says. With Morgan still lurking in his shadow, he goes over to shake Tony’s hand. “Oliver Delmar. Good to see you again–Christ, I should have know you were his uncle, you look just like Will. And this lovely woman next to you must be the famed Ms. Potts,” Delmar says, shaking Pepper’s hand. “Now, I already have the misfortune of knowing Leo and Will, but let’s meet the rest of the herd–are you sure you aren’t Catholic, mijo ?” 

Delmar directs that last jibe at Peter, who has Harley, Deke, and Peni clustered around him.

Maybe three kittens, Tony thinks. 

“We are Irish,” Will says.

“Are we going to eat soon?” Happy mutters.

Beto, Peter, and Delmar preparing everyone’s sandwiches is more chaotic than the penthouse at dinnertime. Deke claims Murph while the rest of them push together tables. Leo and Will lurk at the counter, catching up with Beto and Delmar. Their familiarity with the Delmars, while Peni, Deke, and Reese hang back awkwardly, is a stark reminder of how separated these kids used to be.

Eventually, thirteen people are sitting around a cluster of tables meant for two or four, talking and laughing over each other. Beto talks about his engineering classes with Leo and Peni, who listen with wide-eyed fascination.

“Leo, are you going to college next year?” Delmar says, eyes darting to Tony. “I know you said it wasn’t likely, but now–”

“He and Peni got into Columbia. Engineering and computer science,” Peter says with a big grin on his face, while Tony’s heart plummets at the implications of Delmar’s words.

Leo cried when he read the acceptance letter, and he broke down when Peni brought him her own acceptance letter. But the most tears were shed when SHIELD Academy of Science and Technology accepted him into their doctorate program.

Tony had known that the twins worried about paying for tuition, especially when considering getting custody of the younger kids, but he hadn’t known that college had not even been on Leo’s radar at all. Pairing that image of Leo opening his acceptance letters with the boy with a black eye he met in September makes Tony physically sick. 

“Columbia?” Delmar says. “Christ, I knew you kids were smart, but I didn’t know you were geniuses.”

“Look at who they’re related to,” Pepper says with an eye roll, jabbing Tony in the ribs with her elbow. “Clearly they didn’t inherit the ego, though.”

“Will you get an apartment near campus?” Beto asks.

“We might,” Leo says, even though Peni has decided to move in the dorms while Leo commutes from the penthouse. Going off Dr. Dumont’s advice, Pepper and Tony are slowly easing the twins into separation. “I’m doing a three-semester program to finish my Bachelors and Masters, then I’ll be getting my doctorate upstate.”

“Leo’s going to work at SHIELD,” Morgan says in a faux whisper. 

“You’re a secret agent?” Delmar says.

Leo’s face reddens. “I’ll work in their R&D programs, I’m not a secret agent–”

“He’s totally a secret agent,” Peni says.

“Just following in the family footsteps,” Deke says.

“No offense, but Mr. Stark’s not a secret agent. You told everyone you were Iron Man right away,” Beto says. 

“He’s not very subtle, either. He started a gunfight with some crazy fire people in my hometown’s town square. It was Christmastime, too,” Harley says, immediately launching into the well-rehearsed saga of the Potato Gun Kid and the Mechanic. Morgan corrects him when he gets details wrong.

Tony’s phone begins to vibrate in his pocket. He checks the contact name– Capsicle .

Tony stands up. “I have a call, I’ll be right back. Harls, make sure to specify that I did not melt the water tower and ruin Christmas.”

“Dangit, Tony, you spoiled the best part–”

“Most of this is common knowledge, Harls,” Will says.

“Not this version–I have a firsthand account!”

The phone weighs heavily in Tony’s hand as he steps out of the bodega. Pepper shoots him a concerned look, and Tony gives her a tight smile in return as he presses the phone to his ear. 

We’re three kilometers out from the first Austrian HYDRA base ,” Steve says. “ Hill thinks we need to go through them systematically, figure out if any of the old bases were active after the war.

“Has Nat heard anything about Sitwell and Rumlow?” Tony asks, even though he just spoke to her this morning.

“Nothing. She’s exhausted her whole network–even a convicted lobotomist in Liechtenstein, if you can believe it,” Steve says. Despite the attempt at humor, he sounds exhausted.

“Tell Clint and the twins to kick ass,” Tony says. “If you need me, I can be there in six hours–”

“Christmas is a week away. Enjoy this time with your kids,” Steve says.

Tony looks through the bodega window. Harley, who they almost lost forever a little more than a year ago, has the whole group captivated, his hands flailing around wildly. While sudden motions still make Deke nervous, the youngest brother stares at Harley with the same adoration he has for Peni or Will. 

Will sits with Morgan on his lap and Reese at his elbow. Tony knows they have a while to go–all of them do, really–, but the sight of his rambunctious Maguna with her most closed-off siblings gives him hope, though nothing will beat Reese asking him, Dad, why won’t you admit Ender’s Game is a shitty book?

Leo and Peni sit next to Pepper. Peni has her head resting against Pepper’s shoulder. Leo is folding a napkin into an origami crane. They will be starting college in six months, they turn eighteen in February, but Tony looks at their young faces and wonders how they looked after four kids for so many years.

And Peter. Sweet, clever, stubborn, Peter, who fights crime in pajamas and loves a bodega cat who resembles a feather duster. When Tony met him, he was a scrawny kid working in a sandwich shop. Even with all the shit going on in his life, Peter still took the time to write a thirty-five page report on the arc reactor, an invention made by a rich uncle he had every right to hate, every right for abandoning him to the system. 

Tony’s logical side reminds him that he had no idea these kids existed until four months ago. Yet when Deke wakes up screaming or Reese refuses to do her homework until Peni intervenes, he feels like a failure. Not only for HYDRA, but for the years they spent living with monsters when they really belonged with him, Pepper, Harley, and Morgan.

Tony can’t change the past. He couldn’t save his sister and her husband from a car crash, or his parents. He will never get to ask Bill Fitzpatrick why he gave him up. Couldn’t stop them from killing Yinsen. But after Afghanistan, after he found out about Peter and the others, he changed. He made a difference. He built the suit, he called the lawyers, he changed. He stopped an alien invasion, for God’s sake.

Maybe Pepper was right about his ego.

The truth is, Tony doesn’t deserve a kid, much less eight that are as brilliant, stubborn, and traumatized as he is. He can’t always protect them–especially Peter. His extensive security measures did not stop HYDRA from taking Stonelore. 

Tony will never be able to change the world. But he has eight children who depend on him, kids who were hurt over and over again by the people who should have protected them. But he can build robots with his boys, and pretend to like the fantasy books Will and Reese give him. He can read Morgan bedtime stories– there once was a little alien named Maguna who went to bed, the end –and design a suit he’ll give to Peter on his eighteenth birthday.

It all has to count for something.

“Spend the holidays with your family, Tony,” Steve insists.

Tony says nothing, basking in the warmth that had been growing inside him ever since that gaggle of teenagers had emerged into his life. 

For once, there is no doubt in his mind. He feels complete. 

“Go,” Steve says.

“I will,” Tony replies, and steps back inside.

Notes:

a huge thank you goes out to my wonderful beta Astro_cat13. this story would have been abandoned if not for her support and encouragement. I'm so lucky to have someone who cares about the characters as much as I do.

also, I need to thank all the people who have commented encouraging words, left kudos, and most importantly tolerated my inconsistent updates over the years. I fucking love the ao3 community so much. (also whoever nominated me for the Irondad Awards, THANK YOU!!!)

lastly, I want to dedicate this story to my dad. he passed away shortly before I began this story. he was my best friend and the greatest person I have ever know. he was my biggest supporter--he always joked about being my book agent. he was my Marvel watching pal, and on his birthday I marathon Captain America or Ant Man.

there will be a sequel to this story titled "A Complete Man". this story will be a mixture of a college AU, Stucky angst, and kicking HYDRA ass. get ready and subscribe to the series!

if you hate the ending, yell at me on Tumblr @enchantingwriting

check out my other fic Night Closes In

check out the IronDad Creator Awards here: Iron Dad Creator Awards 2022. I encourage you to read the nominated works, literally all of them are so amazing.

Thank you all, and much love~

Notes:

This is just something that's been sitting on my hard drive for a while. I'm a little nervous to share it with the world, but I just wanted to post it and gauge.

This story is going to be very intense, especially as we dive into the past of Peter and his siblings. Trigger warning will be posted before each chapter.

Also, for fans of my Merlin fanfic: I plan on updating that in the next two weeks or so. It's going to be a long one, I promise!

Comments made me SO happy. Also, if you write your own fanfics comment the names below so I can read them. We STAN shameless self-promotion here.

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