Stark Men Are Made of Iron

Taken

Weeks passed. Peter was careful to keep his eyes open while patrolling for the team, and the team was constantly trying to catch him while he was out. They already knew too much for Peter's liking, and with them watching his schedule so carefully, they were learning more every day.

There was a big list written in one of the conference rooms of all the things the team knew about Spiderman, and Peter was acutely aware of how long it was getting. Right below 'vigilante' and 'spider-powers' were the words 'student, science fair winner, likes Ironman, lives downtown'. It was Peter's fault, really, he let too much slip when he was firing off comebacks and sassy remarks.

"I really am sorry!" Peter called over his shoulder as he ran from yet another fight with the Avengers. He hated being the one to take them down, he hated using his dad's weaknesses against him on the street, he hated the way Natasha looked at him with a snarl, he hated the way Steve would try to use his PSA voice on him. He hated those things because they were all things he felt as Peter Stark, not as Spiderman. They were personal.

"Ned, please give me some good news."

"Sorry, Pete," Ned said over the headset. "No new leads on HYDRA. How was that last showdown with your dad?"

"Not so good, dude. Not so good." Peter swung through the city, trying to get the look of disgust his father had thrown at him out of his head just minutes ago. "Could you do a sweep for any and all weapons manufacturers in the area and cross-reference private flights to and from any warehouses they may have?"

"We did that 3 days ago and got nothing," Ned sighed. "We've tried pretty much everything. I don't think we're going to find them."

Peter stopped to catch his breath and wracked his brain. "Have we checked recently leased office buildings?"

Ned furrowed his brows on the other end of the phone. "Why?"

"They were in the city the first time I ran into them. It'd be too predictable to be in some warehouse or abandoned canning factory on the coast. I think they're trying to lay low."

Ned typed quickly, the sound of muffled keyboard clacks coming through to Peter's end. "There's been a few. It looks like some were expansions of already existing businesses, but there are a few that are either brand new or virtually unknown names."

Peter smiled under his make-shift mask. "Perfect. Get me an address."

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Spiderman crept through the 7th window that day, acutely aware of of how sore and tired he was. Ned had gone to bed long ago, and Peter was supposed to be home some 9 hours ago, but this was the second to last one. He was so close to finding those men who were plotting against his family.

His family.

It hadn't taken long for Peter to star considering Steve, Clint, Thor, Bruce, and Natasha part of the family. Especially Natasha. She was quickly settling into a hole in Peter's life. She was the one he came to with girl problems and embarrassing stories about Flash. She was the one he talked to when Tony was being overbearing and controlling and too much to deal with. She was the one who helped him scrub oil and strawberry jam and grass stains out of his nice shirts.

Peter shook the thoughts out of his head. He was vaguely aware of the shadows rolling along the wall, cast by a lazy fan over a vent in the opposite wall and the dull hum of machines. They would help mask his movement if anyone else was there. The teen made his way over the wall and up onto the ceiling, pausing only a few times when he thought he heard something in one of the rooms flanking the hall.