Bruised But Not Broken - Irondad/spiderson

Waking Peter

Stark POV

Pepper and I spend most of the evening cooking together.

It is simple. Pasta boiled to the right texture. A sauce made from fresh tomatoes, garlic, and basil. No takeout boxes. No rush. Just the two of us talking about our day, moving around each other like we have done a thousand times before.

It feels normal.

While the sauce simmers, I find myself watching it instead of Pepper, my thoughts drifting back to the kid upstairs.

"Pep," I say carefully, "I think he would make an incredible intern in my lab."

She glances at me over the counter.

"I can't explain it," I continue. "But there's something about him. I feel connected to him. Can you trust me on this?"

She sighs and sets the spoon down.

"He's not a project, Tony," she says. "He's a fifteen year old kid who's been through hell. If you think you can fix him like one of your suits, this ends badly."

I shake my head.

"I'm not trying to fix him. He's lost. And I think I could help."

Then I add, because it matters.

"I looked at his test. He was the only one who passed. He scored ninety five percent. I made one question unsolvable, and instead of skipping it, he tried to solve it anyway. That's not normal intelligence. That's instinct."

Pepper folds her arms, studying me.

"Fine," she says finally. "He can work in your lab. But you take care of him. He is a child, Tony. And I will be watching."

Relief hits me harder than expected.

Dinner is ready soon after. I call Nat, Clint, Bruce, and Wanda down. May can't join us. Twelve hour hospital shift.

I ask FRIDAY to bring Peter down.

"Yes, Boss," she replies.

We sit. I explain things plainly.

"Peter's staying here for now," I say. "Room across from mine. He took the intern test. I want him in my lab. Bruce, take a look at his results."

Bruce studies the paper.

"This is impressive," he admits. "But are you sure about letting a teenager work here?"

"When are you guys going to trust me?" I ask tiredly. "I'm not going to burn him out or scare him off."

Nat tilts her head.

"We've just never seen you around a kid before."

"Yeah," Clint adds. "You're kind of grumpy."

I open my mouth to respond when FRIDAY interrupts.

"Sir. Peter is not waking up. He appears to be in distress."

My chair scrapes back.

I am already moving.

The hallway feels too long.

I hear him before I see him. Soft, broken sounds leaking through the door.

"FRIDAY, open it."

The door slides aside.

Peter is curled in on himself beneath the blankets, gripping his pillow like it's the only thing anchoring him. His face is twisted in pain. Tears soak into the fabric.