Worth It

Three

PETER'S APARTMENT (Tony's POV)

We decided that it'd be better if just I went up, less suspicious. Our cover was that one of peter's projects was going to be funded by me through the September foundation. He was quite the amateur inventor so this wouldn't be difficult.

"Ok, tony" I mumbled to myself as I made my way up the stairs to the apartment "you got this. Just go in, get the kids, get out. Simple." I climb the last of the steps and make it to the door. I knock and wait for an answer. I hear someone yell "I'll get it!" followed by quick footsteps.

"Hello?" The kid at the door greets me. He's about average height, athletic build, with fluffy brown hair. I notice his eyes widen slightly and he looks down at his phone to send a quick text before looking back up at me with a worried look.

"Are you Peter Parker?" I ask the young boy in front of me.

"I- uh- yes?" He Is clearly worried about something.

"Final answer?" He looks confused before responding

"Um, I think so."

Man, this kid is awkward.

I look over his shoulder and search for (Y/N) but she's no where to be seen.

"Can I come in?" I ask the panicky kid standing in front of me. He thinks for a second before opening the door a little wider and stepping aside.

Before I can start talking to him, an attractive woman walks in from the other room and starts speaking.

"Hey, Peter! Where did (Y/N) go-" she stops mid sentence and stares at me. I get it, I'm pretty breathtaking.

The boy starts talking "Hey, aunt May. Mr. Stark is here to talk to me about..." he looks up at me hoping I'll finish his sentence. Luckily, I came prepared.

"The September foundation, Peter here applied for a position and was accepted."

"Yep!" May looks at us wide eyed and caught off guard.

"Well, that's-"

I cut her off "I know, it's pretty great. Is there somewhere just the two of us could talk?" I ask Peter. He thinks and then responds.

"I mean, there's my bed room but I have a friend over. But I can ask him to go."

Him?

"Sure, sounds great."

Peter opens the door to his bedroom and I spot a boy, who looks to be the same age as Peter, sitting on his bed. He looks weirdly shaken up, as if he had just seen a ghost.

Where's (Y/N)?

"Hey, Ned, could you maybe come back later? It turns out I'm busy tonight." Ned nods silently and starts walking towards the door. He looked at me for a second but didn't look vaguely phased.

Rude

"So, Peter" I said as I closed his bedroom door behind me "let's talk."

(Y/N)'S FOSTER HOME ((Y/N)'S POV)

It took me a few minutes to run home. It's getting late so there weren't many people out to see me. I climbed into my bedroom through the window and slumped down on the floor. That was close.

After around an hour of thinking, I finally decided that I'm going to leave. There is nothing making me stay. I graduated high school last year (only good thing to come from my useless sperm donor) so school's not an issue. I walk around the small, bleak room and stop in front of my full length mirror. I drink in every one of my features, finally landing on my eyes. I've always hated my eyes. They're my fathers eyes, dark and rich like a good cup of coffee. I shake off the nasty feeling I get when ever I think of him and instead focus on something else. My hair. I've been growing it out for around two years and it's finally long enough to put into a neat bun. It has to go.

I reach the bathroom and rummage around until I feel the smooth handle of the clippers. I find the right attachment for the length I want and start buzzing.

I've gotta say, I like it. Long hair was pretty but right now, pretty is not a priority. I run my hands over my head and feel the short hairs. It feels nice.

I exit the bathroom and tiptoe back to my room. My duffle bag is tucked away neatly in my closet, I pull it out and start packing. Clothes, toiletries, a picture of my mother and I. I pack only the necessities. Once I'm done I give my room a once over to make sure I didn't miss anything. Seeing as I didn't, I leave a short note explaining how much I hate them and hop out of my window.

It's dark out. There's only a few stragglers who have yet to return home from their night out. It's quiet too, I can hear myself breathing.

I walk for a while until I stumble upon an abandoned building. It has a front porch complete with a bench and a few chairs. It's in surprisingly good condition for no one living here for eight years. This was my house. I lived here with my mother.

I walk in, remembering how to wiggle the handle just right so the lock fails. It looks pretty much the same. There's a few cobwebs here and there and everything that made it my home is gone. There's no furniture, no artwork on the walls, no pictures of my mom and I at the park on a sunny day. It's barren. There's nothing left of my old life. I suppose that's fitting. The only thing I have left from my old life is myself.

I walk up the rickety staircase to the second floor. There's dust on the floor. In what used to be my bedroom, there are leaves that blew in from a broken window. Well, free house plants? I sit on  the floor and look around the empty room.

"Home sweet home"