Chapter Text
Tony has really got to calm down his bleeding heart. Being a hero was draining, he got worn out. He retired. But the kid looks rough. He’s got dirt under his nails and greasy hair, a gray hoodie that’s far too big swallowing him whole. Maybe it fit him at one time. Probably not, he’s short. Shorter than even Tony. His jeans are baggy in a way that definitely isn’t a fashion choice and his left sneaker is missing a shoelace.
He looks homeless.
He also looks like he’s seen a ghost.
“Look, kid, I’m not gonna call the cops or whatever. Stop looking at me like that. Just thought you’d want out of the rain.”
“I’m not scared of you,” the boy growls.
“Never said you were.” Though the way he had nearly jumped out of his skin when Tony had called out to him suggested otherwise. “Just wanted to do my part. Keep people safe. It’s been a real stormy season, this year.”
“Is that what you say when you lure children into your office?”
Tony grimaces, “Please don’t say shit like that. That’s how you lose out on a sandwich.”
And how you get Tony Stark arrested in Oregon. Wouldn’t that make the front page?
“I think I’ve got a spare in the break room. Jasper never eats his full lunch. Let me go check.”
Tony stands, popping his back with a groan. God, he’s getting old. Is he going to be one of those old men? Who sit on their porch and feel the rain coming with their knees? Not like there’s an absence of that on the coast. He could probably lie and seem wiser and kookier than he was.
“Who’s the girl?”
Tony’s got his hand on the doorknob. He can see his mechanics definitely not peeking through the window looking into the garage. He pauses, turns back. The kids not looking at him, but at the photo on his desk.
“My kid,” he says, always ready to talk about Morgan.
“She looks happy,” the boy says. Tony supposes she does. He’s got nicer photos, but he prefers to leave them at home, where he spends most of his time anyways. The one on his desk is from last year. School picture day. He’s still waiting on Pepper to send him the new batch.
He goes to respond, but stops. There’s something wrong with the kids tone, and he’s got a flinty look in his eyes. He’d been picking at his fingernails for the past ten minutes, but now he’s still. Intent.
“She is,” Tony says, suddenly very uncomfortable in his own office.
“Would be nice if she stayed that way.”
“What are you implying?”
The boy just shrugs, one shouldered.
“Are you- are you threatening my kid?” Tony asks, incredulous. And a bit cautious. He’s spent enough time with the worst of people to realize anyone’s capable of harm.
“Never said anything like that,” the boy shrugs again, turning his attention to Tony. His eyes are wide, like he’s trying to seem innocent. But there’s a downward tint to his mouth, a pout he can’t quite seem to find the energy to fake.
“Nah, but you implied it,” Tony glared. “I’m old kid, not stupid.”
“‘Course you ain’t stupid,” the boy grins, feral and malicious. “Stupid people don’t keep their kids happy.”
“The fuck you want?” Tony isn’t playing this game. Not when it involves Morgan.
“Nothing. Don’t want anything from no one.”
“Clearly that’s a lie.”
“Well I guess I don’t want to be lured around by old and stupid men with sandwiches.”
Tony yanks the door open, “Get the fuck out. Wasn’t gonna call the police and I told you that. But if you stay here any longer I will.”
He’s barely done speaking before the boy is dashing past him. He doesn’t even have any belongings. Not on him. Just the clothes on his back. And no sandwich.
“And don’t come back!” he calls, watching the small figure dash through the garage door and out into the rain. Jasper clears his throat from under the hood of a Ford.
Tony really doesn’t need this bleeding heart.
-~-
It’s nearly a week later when Tony sees the boy again. It’s not at his garage, fortunately, seems the boy took that to heart. Unfortunately, it’s when he’s driving home, on the curve of the bluff that overlooks the rocky bay. The boy is propped up against the railing, feet definitely a rung too high, still and staring out across the ocean.
He makes a split second decision before pulling onto the shoulder. The rain is back, and it’s whipping around, dousing Tony as gets out of the car and walks at a completely casual pace.
He can taste the salt from the bay as he speaks.
“I didn’t think a sandwich was so important.”
The boy doesn’t startle like he did last time, for which Tony is glad. He doesn’t need him going overboard. He does glare the same, though.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” he says. “Not everything revolves around you.”
“Oh, I’m aware. My ex-wife and I had some long talks about it.”
The boy scoffs, looking back at the water. Tony sticks his hands in his pockets and shivers. It’s way too cold for June.
“So, whatcha doin’?” God, could you be any more awkward, Tones?
The kid looks back at him, “Can’t a guy just enjoy the ocean?”
“In this weather?”
The boy rolls his eyes. Tony sighs.
“Come on kid, I’ll order us a pizza.” He walks back to his pickup and opens the passenger. Yes, Tony Stark drives a pickup. It’s helpful going up the hills.
The boy gives him a deadpan stare, “Now you’re trying to drag me to your house?”
“Ain’t dragging,” Tony says. “Just offering.”
“You gotta stop offering me stuff. It’s suspicious.”
“Look, kid. I’m surprised the wind hasn’t knocked you overboard yet. Just come along, get some dry clothes and half a pizza, and then you can be on your way. I’ll even let you eat on the porch.”
The stare at each other for a wet and blistery second before the boy hops down from the ledge and follows Tony to the truck. He still doesn’t have any belongings. No backpack or sleeping bag. Tony waves him inside, trying not to grin when the kid has to use the handle to pull himself up. He clothed the door behind him. He rounds the hood and climbs into the driver’s seat, shaking his head like a wet dog.
“So what’s Tony Stark doing on the West Coast?”
“You recognize me?”
“Pretty sure everyone in a twenty mile radius does,” the boy smiles something crooked. It would almost be teasing if there wasn’t still a glint in his eye. And if he wasn’t soaking through his one pair of clothes into Tony’s polyester seats.
“You’d be surprised. The Avengers are far less popular once you leave New York.”
“Are you even still an Avenger?”
“In the way you’re still always a doctor,” Tony sighs, putting the truck into drive.
-~-
The kid, surprisingly, follows Tony into the house. He takes the towel Tony hands him from the mudroom and even wipes his feet on the mat. Not that it seems to do much. Tony’s pretty sure there’s an ecosystem growing on those shoes.
“Small house,” he says. “For a Stark.”
“Isn’t it charming?” Tony grins.
The house is actually rather nice. It’s on the more rural edge of town, an old farmhouse that was probably built in the nineteenth century. He has neighbors, but they’re a decent distance to not be overbearing. There’s floorboards that still creak and he struggled with roof leaks the first two years.
Who knew Tony Stark would enjoy something so cozy?
“Dad.”
His daughter is standing in the doorway of the kitchen, the look on her face similar to one her mother used to give Tony whenever he did something stupid.
“Hey Morgan, this is-.” Shit he doesn’t even know the kid’s name.
“Peter.”
“Right, Peter,” Tony smiles at his daughter. “He’s going to be having dinner with us.”
“I want macaroni,” she says.
“You can have macaroni tomorrow. We’re doing pizza tonight.”
Morgan sighs in the way only a child of double digits and a Stark can. Then she looks at Peter.
“Do you play Mario Kart?”
“Sometimes,” the boy shrugs, seemingly undeterred by the sudden change in topic.
“Good. Dad sucks at it. Play with me.”
“I take offense to that,” Tony says.
“Don’t take offense to the truth. That’s how you become old and lonely,” she says, before walking out the back door.
“The game’s not actually out back,” Tony explains, pulling out his phone. “She likes to see if there’s frogs after it rains. What you want on your pizza?”
“She looks older. Than she was in the photo.”
It could almost seem conversational, if the kid wasn’t nearly an exact replica of how he’d been at the garage. Oh right, the threats towards his child.
Tony glares, “Don’t do this shit, kid. I’m offering you free dinner. Just relax and stop hissing at me like a feral cat. What do you want on your pizza?”
Before the kid can answer, the back door slams back open. Peter glances back at Tony.
“Morgan?” Tony calls.
“I’m not allowed to bring the frog inside,” she calls back. “Come look, new boy.”
-~-
Morgan takes an immediate liking to Peter. Tony wouldn’t be surprised if it’s out of spite for the one time he set up a playdate with the neighbors kid. Apparently, she’d spent the whole time talking about boys and Justin Beiber, and Morgan vowed to never return.
Peter, it seems, is far more entertaining. He’s good competition for Mario Kart, he goes outside with Morgan to look for frogs, he keeps up with her growing amounts of sass. Tony should probably bring that up with Pepper.
It’s dark by the time Morgan seems done enough with Peter’s company to let him leave, so Tony offers him the guest room. And then he keeps offering it. It’s been nearly a month and the kid hasn’t really said anything about leaving. He comes with Tony on the days he goes to the garage. Morgan may like him, but Tony isn’t going to forget that their first interaction ended with vague threats to her wellbeing.
The kid sits in his office most of the time, lounging across the couch and staring at the ceiling. Or reading one of Tony’s engineering books. He’s not even sure the boy is actually reading them, he gets through them so fast. When the lobby is slow, Peter will go out and watch tv until another costumer comes in.
It’s been weeks, and Tony still knows precious little about his new houseguest. He still doesn’t have a last name, but they manage to pry out that he’s fourteen. Morgan seemed delighted that they were so close in age, even though the boy is four years older. He never comments about what he likes, but Tony would place Mario Kart towards the top of the list.
He doesn’t seem interested in sports, but he’s taught himself how to keep up with the baseball and football games that play in the lobby, if for nothing but an escape from sheer boredom. He likes to watch out the window on the drives home. When it’s sunny out, he’ll crane his neck to watch the light reflect off the water.
Sometimes, he stares off out Tony’s office window or the open garage doors. He’ll do it for minutes at a time, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. Sometimes, he’ll get shaky afterwards and snappier than usual. Tony figures it’s some form of anxiety. Which is fair, the kid’s been living on the streets. Tony should probably buy him his own clothes, the one’s he’s lended are just a bit too big. Not that the boy seems to mind.
“Morgan will be going home in a couple of weeks,” Tony says on the way home. “She’ll fly out of the city in August, and then we can look for somewhere to take you.”
“The fuck you mean?”
“They’ve got homeless shelters around here. People more equipped to deal with your situation.”
“I don’t want to go with “people”,” the boy scowls.
“Look kid, I’m a bit out of my depth here. You could at least get some help from an outside source. Some therapy or job advice or something.”
“So just because your little goblin is gonna be gone you don’t wanna play kidnapper anymore?”
“Is that what you think this is,” Tony asks. “Kidnapping?”
The boy doesn’t respond, just turns back to stare out the window.
-~-
Tony wakes to the sound of Morgan crying. He almost convinces himself he’s dreaming. It’s been years since Morgan woke up crying from a nightmare. But it’s not coming from her room, it’s coming from the hall.
He pushes himself out of his bedroom. He can barely see Morgan over Peter. She’s frozen further down the hallway, staring in horror as Peter points a gun at her.
“What the fuck?” Tony breathes. The fuck is he supposed to do? Should he tackle the boy? Would that cause the gun to discharge? How fast can Morgan duck into another room?
But, no, Peter isn’t pointing the gun at her. He’s pointing it above her, further down the hall. Tony looks, but he doesn’t see anything. Only the window at the end. The boy stands like he’s only seen guns held in movies, arm out steady and the other one limp at his side. Where did he even get a gun? Tony recognizes it as the one he keeps locked up at the top of his wardrobe. Shit.
He pushes himself past the kid, standing at an angle between him and his daughter, “Come here, Morgan.”
The girl rushes forward and tucks herself against her Tony. The boy doesn’t even look at them as he drags her back towards the stairs.
“Do you see it?” he asks.
“See what?” Tony blinks. There’s still nothing in the hall. Did he something outside? Is this some form of mental breakdown?
“Of course you don’t see it,” the boy scoffs. “No one ever sees it!”
He sounds hysterical. He’s shaking all over except for his gun hand. Tony can barely see in the darkness, but he knows the boy is fixated on point in the hallway. There is a screeching noise. Morgan cries out and covers her ears. Tony watches as the wallpaper scratches itself off down the hall, coming towards them. Like a claw mark.
Hell no.
He grabs Peter, dragging him back towards the stairs. Together, the three of them race to the garage, climbing into the truck. Tony backs out before he even remembers changing gears, and they come to a halt at the edge of the driveway. They watch. Nothing happens.
“The fuck was that?” Tony tries not to panic anymore than he already is.
The kid shrugs, “Did you see it?”
“I saw the wallpaper rip itself to shreds, yeah.”
The kid scoffs, looks away. Tony blinks.
“But you saw it,” he says. “What was it?”
“I don’t know, but they’re everywhere.”
“They?” Shit there’s more?
The boy shrugs again. “Normally they don’t do anything. They’re just upsetting to look at. But sometimes…”
“Sometimes?”
“Sometimes they’re mean,” the kid looks down, picking at the upholstery of the seat.
“Was it gonna hurt me?” Morgan asks from the back seat.
“I don’t know,” Peter says.
Tony frowns.
“Don’t look at me like that!” the boy explodes. “I didn’t bring that thing here!”
“Never said you did.”
“I’ve seen movies,” the boy tenses up. His eyes are blazing and erratic. “This is where you burn me at the stake for being a witch.”
“This isn’t Salem, kid. As far as I’m aware, you were protecting Morgan.”
The boy breathes out, slouching back into his seat. “I don’t even know if it would have done anything.”
He’s still got the gun in lap. Tony doesn’t have the energy to be concerned about it.
“What do we do now?” Morgan asks. Tony taps his fingers against the steering wheel. They continue to stare towards the house.
“Is it safe to go back in?” he asks. Peter shrugs. Tony’s not entirely sure he wants to go back in either. Not when there’s a demonic poltergeist tearing up his real estate.
“You know what? Road trip! You’re mom’s got that conference in South Carolina right?” Morgan nods. “Then we’ll meet her on the way back. Drop you off a bit early.”
“Why don’t we just fly?” Morgan asks.
“Can those things get on planes?” The boy shrugs again. Not a boost of confidence. And Tony would rather not be stuck with one for several hours.
“You really think Pepper Potts is gonna be able to do anything about it?” Peter asks.
“Pepper Potts can do anything,” Tony says. “Besides, I’m mainly just trying to deal with Morgan first. The less of you I have to worry about by myself, the better.”
Peter and Morgan look at each other. They probably think Tony’s lost his mind. Well tough luck, this is a mind losing experience, and he’s the adult.
“Buckle up, kiddos! No time like the present!”