Melancholy Hope {Spiderson&Irondad}

Prologue

Peter's POV

It was a normal thing.

New Foster Home.

Again.

For the 11th time.

Taken from a group home and brought to a new house where they didn't end up liking me, but couldn't legally get rid of me for the first six-month time period where my lawyer would show up and ask me if they wanted to keep or if I actually wanted to stay. Both of us would say no, I'd be taken to a new foster home or taken to a group home until they could find a new place to keep me.

It's routine.

It's happened time and time again.

So I wasn't surprised when I was brought to a new group home where I was beaten half to death on my first day by one of the other kids.

It's not that I couldn't fight back, because trust me, I've got a lot of strength despite my scrawny composure, it's just not worth it. What's the point of fighting back when all it does is land me in juvie for a couple months.

They said I had a new host to come pick me up today, after 3 months in the group home. He supposedly is a cool guy or whatever, but I don't believe it. I don't know why people even bother with me with how bad my record is, I only have another year and a half until I'm 17 and I can leave all this behind and get myself my own place. I've got a half-decent job with photography but my boss hates me, and I know how to do my laundry and chores and cooking after being forced to do it since I was 7.

But when Tony fucking Stark walks up to the front desk, all tech and professional, my jaw drops. Why would a billionaire be looking to foster a kid, let alone a 15 year old idiot who's been in juvie 4 times and is known as one of the hard cases that nobody wants to deal with.

I walk up to him, raising an eyebrow. "Why are you here?"

"Are you Peter Parker? I've heard a lot of things about you, kid," he says, offering me a warm smile and pulling off his colored sunglasses.

"All bad, I'm assuming. I meant why are you bothering?"

He frowns, and I can't help but feel guilty. Here comes this guy actually wanting me, specifically me, and I'm already ruining my chances.

"It's not a bother, kid. You don't seem like someone who would really bother anyone. More like others bother you," he says, already looking through my defenses.

"What's it to you? Why don't you pick one of the little kids here? The good ones? Why would you bother picking the one with the track record? I don't want to go somewhere with you and have to come straight back when you realize you don't want me. Why bother with a hopeless case?" I demand, pursing my lips and rolling my eyes.

"A lot of people hate me for my past too, kid."

*

The car ride to the tower is silent, I just clench my teeth and stare out the window.

I hate the false hope I'm given every time. I do something wrong, they get pissed, they kick me out at the first chance they get. It's how it's been going since I was 4.

Tony leads me up to the 92nd floor of the tower and gives me a quick tour, ending at my bedroom.

"This is mine?" I repeat. The room is about as big as the entire group home was, and it's just mine. I don't have to share it with 7 others.

"Yep. If you need anything, paint or decorations or clothing, just let me know and I'll order it for you online. Is that all you brought?" he asks, frowning down at my ripped and tattered backpack that I've had for about 6 years.

"Yeah, they don't let you keep anything from homes, only clothing. Everything else is either left behind or thrown out from what I know. No knickknacks or personal items. I wasn't even allowed to keep my teddy bear when I first got put in the system and I was 4. It's a really strict rule they've got," I explain, figuring he must be a newbie to this whole foster thing.

"Oh... That sucks. Again, if you need anything, anything at all, I'll be in the lab, or you can ask Jarvis to order it for you. I'll come get you for dinner in a couple hours. Pizza sound alright?" he says, sounding nervous from some reason.

"Yeah. Cool."

Once I'm left alone, I leave my bag fully packed by the door, just in case I have to leave early than expected which wouldn't surprise me, and collapse onto my bed. I've never had a bed this comfortable, and it's been a long time since I didn't have to share a room. Different, but good different.

I have to push away the hope that worms it's way into my chest. I can't get used to life here. I can't pretend everything's going to last here. It never does.

*

Dinner's a little bit awkward as Stark explains everything to me. What school I'll be going to, who I'll be seeing more often than not, what the rules are around the tower (all the simple stuff like don't touch things in his lab without permission, chores, homework, curfew) and even goes on to explain that if anyone asks, I'm just an intern here. He says it's because he doesn't want me in he public eye, but I figure he's just ashamed of me or something.

I want to ask him again. What the point of fostering me is, why he's pretending to care, if he's planning on this being a long term thing or not. But in old homes, all that's gotten me is a good beating.

So I shut my mouth, eat the pizza and quietly thank him for taking me in.

"Hey, kid... I didn't want to ask, but where'd you get the bruises? If you're the kind of kid who goes fighting people on the streets, that would be nice to know ahead of time," he says, giving me a worried look.

I self-consciously slap my hand over the prominent bruise on my cheekbone, but I figure there's more on my face from the other kids in the group home.

Despite the desire to open up to the man, I roll my eyes. "I thought you read my file. There's like 3 pages just on how much of a delinquent rebel I am."

"Your file doesn't tell me anything useful. And half of it doesn't even sound real," he replies, and my heart swells a little bit. Nobody's ever believed my file is made up of lies.

"The kid's at the group home," I say, shrugging, to try to pass off the sympathetic look Tony sends me. "It's okay, really. It doesn't hurt."

"That doesn't make it okay. Did you tell anyone?"

"And risk getting killed? Yeah, I don't think so. Plus, what are they going to do? If I go to the police, they're not going to believe me. I'm the foster kid with the bad rep. If anything, I'll be punished for it," I reply, shrugging again and rolling my eyes.

Tony's face falls a little further, and I'm worried it's going to make him hate me for being such a wimp about it. I shouldn't care.

"Well that's not going to happen again. You've now got the best lawyers on your side," he says certainly, and I can't help the hopefully butterflies that fill my lungs.

*

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Lyss