Archive of Our Own ^beta

Part I: Reasons not to adopt Peter Parker

1 Other kids need it more

There are many reasons not to adopt Peter Parker. Or rather, there are many reasons why Peter Parker hasn’t and probably won’t ever be adopted until he outgrows the system on his eighteenth birthday. Peter is aware that, on the surface, this line of reasoning might sound like the kind of self-deprecating shit his caseworker told him not to think about himself. But, in this case, it really isn’t. It’s just cold, hard facts – simple pros and cons. Peter likes to call it the ‘Peter Parker is not getting adopted’ game. A game everyone seemed to know the rules of from day one, while he had to learn and internalize them through years of cold, hard work.

Every half year, the group home, he lives in, organises a so-called adoption fair. It the kind of event that sounds completely made up – after all, there is no way practically ‘shopping for a child’ can be legal, right? - but is just insane enough to actually exists. The smaller kids love it, because they will be able to weaponize their cuteness to extract frankly alarming amounts of candy from strangers, who maybe skimmed a parenting book once and decided one of the kids might just be cute enough to look past all the screaming. The staff loathe it, because it requires weeks of meticulous planning – all for a single event where nothing is supposed to go wrong but most definitely will.

Peter feelings on the whole thing are somewhere in between. The idea of some strangers judging him based solely on a few minutes of conversation, makes his gut churn uncomfortably. By now, he’s one of the oldest kids, so the prospects of being adopted a virtually zero anyway- another thing that sounds like it originated in some story about a poor, Victorian orphan while, actually, Peter can cite numerous statistics that will verify his point. And it makes sense, doesn’t it? The younger kids are still… well, young, so they need looking after more than he does. And when he has gotten so used to the loneliness over the years - what does he care about a few more?

That’s why these events have always felt a bit pointless to him. Also - if he’s being honest - there is something kind of depressing about being an awkward background presence to people gushing about the adorableness of children, he gets to clean the poo off at least once a week.

On the other hand, he’s of course happy that the other kids are having such a good time. And he likes feeling useful instead of just sitting around, waiting for the others to go to sleep so he can go out patrolling.

Right now, he’s trying to secure Marty a piece of cake from the buffet. The whole area might as well be a warzone. Marty is clutching onto his leg, hiding his face in the folds of Peter’s jeans. The boy hasn’t been here very long - only a couple of months - but he has big, round eyes and adorable curls, which means he hopefully won’t be staying very long either.

Peter can relate to his distress, though. The room is full, loud and people keep bumping into his shoulder. He really needs a break.

“What does the picture on your shirt mean?”

Peter jumps at the sudden presence of a girl by his side. She is fixing him with a surprisingly intense stare. Peter has never seen her before, which means that she must belong to one of the visiting families. She’s small, her head framed by wavy, brown hair. Her red dinosaur pullover and bright-pink leggings are a clear sign of her parents’ belief in the free unfolding of character - or their unmistakable colour-blindness.

He looks down at his own shirt. It shows a cartoonish battery and lightbulb, both giving a thumbs up. The text underneath reads ‘Watt-ever makes you happy!’.

Peter frowns. “It’s science thing,” he explains, while having a subtle look around for any panicking parents. “A Watt is a physical measure for-” He trails of, unsure how much a seven-year-old really cares about his physics puns. “Actually, never mind.”

The girl hums. Her eyes scan along the whole length of his body, her eyebrows adorably furrowed. Peter can’t help but feel like he is being judged. What for he can’t say.

“I’m Morgan,” she introduces herself with the kind of importance only children her age put into their first names.

Peter nods with the same kind of gravity. “I’m Peter,” he says. “Where are your parents?”

She shrugs. “Around somewhere.”

That is not an entirely reassuring answer. “Do you want to go and find them?” he asks hopefully.

She shrugs again. “Okay.” She grabs onto his hand and starts hauling him along.

After what feels like an eternity of navigating through crowds of excited, prospective parents and their equally excited children, they finally spot what appears to be Morgan’s mother.

“Morgan!” She calls before hurrying towards them. When she finally breaks through the crowd, she exhales a deep sigh. “Morgan, I told you not to wander off.” She sounds like someone who’s had this exact conversation many times before.

Peter catches his first proper glimpse of her as she kneels to fix Morgan’s pullover. She looks exactly like Pepper Potts. Peter shakes his head – that can’t be right, of course. Why would Pepper Potts visit their adoption fair?

“I found her wandering around,” he explains, urging Morgan towards her mother. She refuses to let go of his hand, though.

Not-Pepper Potts smiles up at him. Her expression is warm and looks like it belongs on the cover of a 500-page biography with the word ‘Mother’ written beneath it. “That’s very kind, sweety.”

That’s when another voice is added to the mix and Peter’s pulse spikes a second time. “Oh, thank God, you found her,” a person, who looks and sounds suspiciously like Tony Stark, says. Peter looks back over at the woman and – yeah okay, that is definitely Pepper Potts.

Oh God, Peter just tried to explain a science pun to Tony Stark’s daughter.

Morgan rolls her eyes, finally letting go of his hand in favour of being picked up by her father. “No, daddy, I found him,” she says and gives Mr. Stark a meaningful look. Peter just isn’t sure what said meaning is supposed to be.

That’s when Tony Stark turns his attention to him, and Peter learns what it’s like to have two laser pointers focused directly onto his forehead. He’s freezing and exploding at the same time.

“Yes, I can see that,” Mr. Stark says, taking Peter in like Morgan did before.

The thing is - Peter isn’t really sure what to make of Tony Stark. He used to be a big fan, back when his aunt and uncle were alive and other things still held any kind of importance. Then his life got blown to pieces and the resulting void left no room for childish dreams of superheroes. Years went by. Peter became a superhero himself, and suddenly all of Tony Stark’s shortcomings felt impossible to ignore. While Peter was fighting for the safety of the people on the New York streets, Tony Stark sat high up in his tower, blissfully unaware of all the ways life down here got to you. And while Peter has to give him some credit for saving the world a couple of times, he can’t help but feel like there isn’t much point in the grand gestures, if he doesn’t commit to saving it in all the little ways as well.

In some way, Peter Parker and Tony Stark are polar opposites. While Peter is the underdog, the unlikely superhero fighting for the little guy, Tony Stark is the…overcat. Only they’re not actually animals, of course. See, Peter isn’t very good with metaphors.

And now Tony Stark is here, at the city’s only foster home in possession of a resident superhero - what a fucking coincidence. It infuriates Peter that the man apparently thinks he can simply barge into other people's lives, just because he happens to feel like it. What about all the other kids that don’t have a secret identity to make them of interest to the generous Mr. Billionaire? And Peter can only imagine what this visit is supposed to mean for Spider-Man. What if his identity is leaked to some shady government organisation where they lock him up and run dangerous experiments on him?

Peter tries to breathe through his growing anxiety. “You should keep a better eye on her. You don't want her to be adopted by mistake, do you?” he hears himself say. And, oh God, what is he doing? He might as well be digging his own grave.

The Starks share a look. “No, generally we were planning to take home one kid more instead of one less,” Mr. Stark jokes. He gives Morgan’s hair a playful ruffle. “But thanks for the tip…?”

“Peter,” Peter says cooly.

To his great surprise, no recognition flashes across Mr. Stark’s face. There is no gleeful spark, no poorly hidden smirk. Actually, his look has softened considerably, compared to the laser treatment from before. Now, he just looks kind of curious with a hint of something Peter can’t quite place. “Nice to meet you, kid.”

Peter expected them to leave quickly after that, but Mr. Stark instead looks around the room, rearranging his grip on Morgan. “So, you’re the oldest, looking after all the other kids? Peter Pan-style?”

Peter glares. “How inventive. Never heard that one before. Never gets old, am I right?” To be honest, he’s having a bit of an out of body experience. It’s like he’s clawing at his insides, while someone desperate to see him obliterated by Tony Stark’s laser pointers is spewing all this nonsense from his mouth.

Thankfully, he manages to regain control of himself. Instead of provoking his instant demise, he tries to go for a change of topic. “Have you guys met my friend Marty?” he says, pulling out the younger boy from behind his leg.

Despite Peter’s rude comments towards her husband, Mrs. Potts is polite enough to roll with his feeble distraction. She kneels to shake Marty’s hand. “Very nice to meet you,” she says and smiles.

Peter lets out a breath, he didn’t know he was holding. This is better known territory. He’s an expert at talking the other kids up. Even if it may be in front of Tony Stark. “Marty likes dinosaurs, don’t you Marty?” he continues.

Marty nods shyly.

Mr. Stark’s eyes still haven’t left Peter, though. “And what about you? What do you like, Pete?”

“Me?” Peter falters. By now, he’s pretty sure that Mr. Stark isn’t here because of Spider-Man, which makes the whole interaction a hell lot weirder. What are the chances of Tony Stark coming to this home of all places and talking to the only kid who just so happens to be a superhero?

Even more concerningly, it means that Tony Stark hasn’t taken in interest in Spider-Man, he has taken an interest in Peter Parker. And everyone knows that is something that never, ever happens.

“I dunno. I like… reading, I guess?” he says vaguely.

“And science,” Morgan adds with an important nod.

Stark is still giving him that weird look. “Yes, I can see that.” He motions at Peter’s shirt. “Physics, huh? ‘Watt’s up’?”

Peter rolls his eyes. The annoyance from before is making a strong reappearance. He can’t really explain it, but the whole interaction is grating on his nerves. He just needs the man to stop looking at him like that. And every of Stark’s jokes just fuels the fire through their smug and self-assured delivery.

Two can play that game, however.

“Re-volting,” Peter says, completely straight-faced.

A smile flashes across Stark’s face, before it’s quickly replaced by pressed lips and a raised eyebrow. “Shocking,” he sighs with a theatrical shake of his head, “and here I was, thinking we were making such a series connection.”

For several minutes now, Mrs. Potts and Marty have stayed eerily silent, instead following their repartee like a ping-pong match. Mrs. Potts clings onto her polite smile, while Marty just seems scared and confused. It’s that look in his eyes which takes most of the wind out of Peter’s sails. Who is he to sabotage what might be a real shot at adoption for the younger boy?

“Yeah, a real power couple,” he mumbles, without any real heat behind the words.

Stark must have interpreted Peter’s reluctance as a sign of defeat, however, as he shakes his head with a grin. “You’re good, kid, I’ll give you that. But I’m afraid you’re punching a little above your weight.” He takes off his sunglasses with a flourish. “You know, I’m kind of an expert at science myself.”

Peter grips Marty’s hand a little tighter. “Oh yes, I’m sure all those buildings were exploded pretty expertly.” He snaps his mouth shut as soon as the words leave his mouth. His heart falls back into a frantic gallop. What is he even doing?

But, instead of calling upon his amor and tearing Peter to shreds, Tony Stark grins. More than that, he looks pretty delighted. Peter gets the uneasy feeling that he’s going to remember this day for a long while to come. Either he’s just made a powerful enemy in Tony Stark, or he’ll drawn attention somewhere he really doesn’t want to have it.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, as if that would fix any of the horrible mess, he’s made. Suddenly, it feels as if the whole room is watching them.

Mr. Stark hoists Morgan up a little higher. “It’s all good, kid.”

Nothing about this is ‘good’, though. Peter Parker has never been ‘good’ at keeping out of trouble - and there is no one who spells trouble quite like Tony Stark. Especially when it seems he’s the first person in years not to understand the rules of the ‘Peter Parker is not getting adopted’ game.

2 He’s not the son they’re looking for

Saturday activities – as the name suggests – are Saturday-held, activity-based get-togethers, which give potential parents the opportunity to take their chosen offsprings for a day of fun while testing their compatibility as a family.

For Peter, Saturday activities are an opportunity to focus solely on himself for once. It’s nice, even if it a little lonely sometimes. Over the years, he’s gotten so used to the noise of the other kids, that its absence now makes him feel unnaturally nervous. But he gets to catch up on his homework and Spider-Man stuff - with his roommate unable to accidentally interrupt him - so that’s good. And it’s not like Peter is missing much anyway. He can take himself to the library or the park or…whatever, and he’ll probably have a much better time than if he’d have to engage in awkward small talk as well. It’s all good.

This time, though, when attendees are called over breakfast, he is surprised to hear his name among them.

“What’s happening?” he asks Marla, today’s supervisor, as he fights his way through the chaos of the kitchen.

She just shrugs. “Your name is on the list.”

He hums unhappily.

It’s been ages since Peter’s been to one of these. It’s all part of the ‘Peter Parker is not getting adopted’ game - the second level so to speak. And he’s never been the kind of player to make it through the tougher fights. All the families just try to take him to the bowling alley anyway. It’s not far from the home and the staff insist that it’s a great ‘bonding opportunity’. Peter hates its ambient noise, the bright, blinking lights and the pungent smell of fat that clings to his clothes even days after.

That’s not the only reason though.

Peter has never been entirely comfortable with the sort of chummy-buddy stick the men want to play with him. They always expect him to exhibit a sort of ‘son’-energy, he’s just never learned to have. He’s not the bowling type – not really the athletic type in general, despite what the packs of muscles all over his shoulders would suggest. Hell, he used to be the skinny asthmatic kid, who couldn’t run a single lapse. Sure, he likes tech and science, which some people might say is a ‘boy’ thing as well, but it’s never the kind the families are looking for. They want someone who can play on the school’s football team, someone who will do the garden work for them, someone…they can go bowling with. And Peter can’t even master the Wii version of that.

It's not hard to guess who put his name on the list, when he strolls into the lobby only to find Tony, Pepper and Morgan Stark, all standing in an orderly line before the exit. Morgan’s smile broadens and she starts waving enthusiastically.

Peter lets out a sigh. He was actually looking forward to spending a day all by himself - not getting into verbal arguments with Tony Stark.

“Don’t you guys have anything better to do?” he asks, perhaps a little harshly, as he shuffles over to them, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He is feeling surprisingly relaxed, if a little exasperated. Standing before Tony Stark in all his pretentious glory is not quite as life changing the second time around.

Tony Stark hides a smug grin behind frankly unnecessarily large sunglasses. “We thought you might want to have some time out, actually,” he says, sending a pointed look around the room. “And the princess here wanted to see you,” he adds, as an afterthought.

As if to underline his words, Morgan squeals as she jumps into Peter’s arms. “Petey!”

Peter can’t help but smile as well. “Hey, Morgan.”

He likes Morgan. She’s smart, funny and adorable. Incredibly, she actually seems to like him too. It’s not her fault that her dad is a pompous dick.

Mr. Stark gives him his, by now, signature, burning look. He’s probably concerned about his daughter being so chummy with a practical stranger. “So, how about it, sunshine and rainbows? You ready to have a fun weekend for the first time in your life?”

Peter is, once again, struck by a flare of irritation. First, they rob him of his much-needed alone time, and then Tony Stark dares to insult his home on top of everything else. Sure, the building might be a little run-down, but – unlike the adults in Peter’s life – it always managed to offer him comfort when needed.

“Sure, sound delightful,” he says, without sounding in any way delighted.

They don’t take him to the bowling alley. That’s the first surprise. It does make sense, Peter thinks - Tony Stark probably wouldn’t want his family associating with lowlifes and cheap fast-food smell. The second surprise is where they end up taking him, though. Peter swallows as he regards the impressive façade of the Science Museum. On his last visit, Ben had taken him for his seventh birthday. It had been the best day of Peter’s, admittedly, pretty short life. Ben had even gotten him a little dino plush from the gift-shop, which Peter had - creatively - named Dino. It still sits on his bedside table. After Ben’s death, May couldn’t afford the tickets. And, later, Peter’s small allowance from the home was barely enough for a few snacks from the school cafeteria.

Peter can’t get his feelings in order. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to be even angrier because Tony Stark of all people had to be the one to take him here, or if he’s just happy to be here at all. Currently, he’s kind of alternating between the two.

Morgan, who has refused to let go of his hand since they got out of the car, gives him a big toothy grin. “There is going to be so much science,” she promises.

Peter is pretty sure that it’s Morgan who he has to thank for this second meeting. So far, Mr. and Mrs. Stark are just indulging her wishes. Mrs. Potts probably doesn’t mind having him around. After being subjected to more than enough of her interviews by MJ, Peter knows that she’s usually a fairly level-headed person. He still feels a twinge of sympathy for her having to deal with him because of her daughter’s strange obsession.

Mr. Stark, on the other hand, is a whole different situation. Sometimes, Peter can’t tell whether the man wants to murder or examine him. There is a trace of obsession to him too – similarly childish even if whole lot less cute. Mrs. Potts seems to think so too. She always talks to Mr. Stark as if he’s the child of the family, which Peter is finding he might actually be. He wonders who of the two will lose interest in him first.

The thing is – Peter can’t let them take him. He can’t let them win. There is a whole lot of reasons, of course - Spider-Man being only one of them. It’s not how the ‘Peter Parker is not getting adopted’ game is supposed to work. If the Starks win, Peter Parker is going to lose. And, right now, might be his only chance at striking first.

It’s like they’re still on the fence about him. So, Peter has to smash the fence to pieces and dig up the whole garden, before they can even think about planting it. Only he can’t do any gardening work, and the Starks are actually much too big to fit on top of a fence. See, he’s not very good with metaphors.

Peter answers Morgan’s enthusiasm with a shaky smile. “Oh, I’m sure.”

They make it right up to the first information board before the first argument breaks out. Morgan demands to see the ponies, which her parents comment only with a tired smile, while her father wants to see something more technology related. “Sweety, don’t you think Peter should have a say in this as well?” Mrs. Potts suggest carefully.

Mr. Stark claps his hands with a gleeful grin. “Right - finally, my long reign as the family’s sole man has come to an end.” He slings an arm around Peter’s shoulders with exaggerated affability. Peter flinches at the unwanted contact. “How about we two do a little boys-trip, and go see some cars, while the girls here look at the ponies, huh, Pete?”

“I-” Peter wants to say that he really doesn’t care about cars at all. He’s a New-Yorker. He can count the times he sat in a car on one hand – today not included, of course. Actually, he would much rather see the ponies with Morgan. Ponies can lock their legs to avoid collapsing when sleeping. That’s pretty cool. Cars can’t sleep at all.

But Mr. Stark is already breezing through the rest of the discussion, before steering Peter towards of the engine exhibition.

He grins. “You’re gonna love this,” he promises.

Peter can only smile weakly. “I wouldn’t have minded seeing the ponies,” he tries.

Mr. Stark just gives him a condescending pat on the shoulder. “It’s all good, kid.”

Nothing about this is ‘good’, though. Peter has never been a ‘good’ son. He’s never been a particularly ‘good’ boy either. And if Mr. Stark is refusing to see the truth of this game, Peter will have to teach him the hard way.

3 He’s not that smart

On Wednesday Mr. Stark invites him to ‘lab time’. Peter isn’t entirely sure what said lab time is supposed to entail – whether they’ll experiment on something together or if Mr. Stark will be experimenting on him. Not in the illegal, human experimentation sense, of course, but… Peter has noticed the looks the man keeps sending him. He knows Mr. Stark is trying to figure something out and – unfortunately for Peter Parker – there are a lot of things he doesn’t want anyone to figure out. Least of all Tony Stark.

Peter isn’t entirely clear on why the rest of the family was asked to stay away either. It’s not like Mr. Stark needs any privacy to satisfy his weird obsession. More likely, so Peter suspects, it keeps Mrs. Potts from stepping in when the interrogation will undoubtedly grow uncomfortable and gives Mr. Stark an opportunity to do a more rigorous background check on the stranger who is uninvitedly corrupting his daughter. Whatever the reason, the whole thing puts Peter on edge - especially with the man’s too-interested stare never leaving his back.

On the other hand, lab time gives him some much-needed reprieve. If Tony Stark is going to insist on spending time together, being a mechanic is at least a ‘boy’ activity Peter is actually pretty decent at.  Or so Peter thought, until he stepped foot into the lab and Mr. Stark started spewing instructions at a hundred miles an hour.

Peter is smart. That’s the one thing everyone has been telling him from a very young age. So much in fact, that, somewhere along the way, it became his one identifying attribute. He might not have been able to run as fast as the other kids or hold his own against the bullies on the playground, but at least he was always smarter than them.

It’s easy to think you’re smart, when the people you’re measuring yourself against are kids whose parents can barely afford the textbooks, let alone any private lessons or tutoring. That confidence fades pretty quickly, though, once you’re surrounded by peers with clothes and minds sharp enough to put some of the world’s best scientists to shame. Peter’s still doing pretty great, but it’s hard to feel adequate about being ‘pretty great’ when everyone else is doing exceptionally. And after years of telling himself he’d be fine—as long as he had his intelligence to fall back onto—realizing you’re not actually that exceptional is…pretty damn sobering.

It doesn’t help that ‘smart’ is still the label forced onto him by everyone else. At the group home, that’s all he is: the smart kid. It’s the card his caseworkers continue to play, despite their dwindling hope for him. Everyone wants a smart kid in their family, after all. Sometimes they talk like he’s halfway to an MIT scholarship already. It makes him wonder if he was ever really smart at all—or if he was just good at believing the lies, they sold him. And now he’s stuck playing the part, hoping that no one will look too closely.

No wonder then, that he’s not getting adopted.

Sure, Peter is smart - but he’s not exceptionally smart. He’s…normal smart. He can understand your average math problem faster than most highschoolers and can comprehend most code given enough time, work and proper documentation. But keeping up while Tony Stark is assaulting him with unfamiliar words left and right, is where his limited abilities end. To be honest, his brain logged off several minutes ago.

Peter tries to keep himself guarded, not showing how excited the sight of the lab is actually making him. Who can say that they got to see Tony Stark’s personal lab, after all? It’s hard though, when the whole situation is so unnerving at the same time. So, for the last couple of minutes, Peter has just been alternating wildly between annoyance and indifferent detachment.

Peter isn’t sure whether this is all part of the experiments. Maybe Mr. Stark is trying to test his limits by pointing out his weak spots. Maybe Peter should simply admit his defeat and end this miserable game right there and then. He’s too afraid to speak up, though, so he just nods as the man breezes through the rest of his explanations with exaggerated hand movement.

It’s cruel in a sense, because the whole situation feels like something plucked straight from Peter’s fantasy: Tony Stark as someone who shares Peter’s interests and is willing to be a guiding presence in his learning process. A pat on his shoulder. A proud smile - reward enough for fighting for recognition for so long.  

While Peter isn’t smart, he isn’t stupid either. He can use a search engine. He knows the whole ‘losing four parental figures in the span of only a few years’ will mess with your brain. He knows he has issues. Attachment. Abandonment. The one thing he’s still getting straight A’s in.

On the other hand, Peter is pretty sure that Tony Stark won’t be the person to solve them, despite whatever stick he is currently trying to play. He’s never had the proper tact where other people’s feelings are concerned.

It’s like they’re at an intersection and, instead of doing an orderly zipper merge, Tony Stark is the guy who forces his oversized BMW into the lane by flashing headlights. Only Mr. Stark doesn’t actually drive a Beamer. See, Peter isn’t very good with metaphors. It might just be another sign that he isn’t very smart.

Mr. Stark grins as he pulls out some blueprint - probably for the thing he’s been explaining that Peter didn’t pay any attention to. He points at some detail on the paper, before pausing to look at Peter. It takes Peter a second to realise that he is waiting for an answer.

Peter swallows uncomfortably. “Um, what were you saying? Sorry, I kinda zoned out a bit.” He feels a little strange, apologizing for such a triviality when showing no remorse for insulting the man so many times earlier.

“All good, kid.” Mr. Stark grins, before launching into the same explanation a second time.

Nothing about this is ‘good’, though. Peter isn’t ‘good’ at engineering. He’s not even particularly good at being smart. And Mr. Stark still doesn’t seem to understand any of the rules of the ‘Peter Parker is not getting adopted’ game.

4 He’s not always happy

The next Saturday, the Starks ask him to stay over. Peter isn’t entirely sure why, seeing as all he’s done so far is show them the reasons for why they should do the exact opposite. He considers pointing this out to them but – then again - there is always the very real possibility they’re just doing this as a sort of adventure for Morgan anyway. And it would be highly embarrassing if he tried dissuading them from what could very well be the worst mistake of their life, only to find thy weren’t seriously considering adoption in the first place.

Peter has never made it to this level before – a relief if you ask him, seeing as there isn’t a single good thing that happens during nighttime. In the light of day, he can be the happy-go-lucky Peter who hosts tea parties with Morgan and helps Mr. Stark build a swing on the roof terrace. At night, though, there is nothing to hold back the shadows lurking in the corners of his mind. Night-Peter is the Peter that he can’t let anyone see. Night-Peter is the one who struggles, who remembers.

It’s like Day-Peter is the sun and Night-Peter is…a dark sun. See, he’s not very good with metaphors.

Mrs. Potts picks him up from school, smiling as she lifts his bag into the backseat. She asks him casual questions about his day, while they thread through the busy New York after-work traffic.

Mrs. Potts is actually really nice, but there is a sort of polite distance in everything she does. She insists on asking Peter’s opinion, instead of just dragging him everywhere like Morgan and Mr. Stark are so fond of doing.

Dinner is the part he dreads the most. He’s never been great at small talk, despite what numerous videos of him as Spider-Man might suggest. Strangers make him uneasy. Instead of saying whatever comes to mind, he overanalyses every sentence, so that he’ll be exhausted after only a few minutes. He can never seem to find the right balance between oversharing and saying nothing at all.

Where in their first meetings he was snarky and rude, he’s quiet now. The unfamiliar surroundings of the apartment are a constant static in the back of his mind. He doesn’t know where to tread and hates asking for directions every time, he needs something. The furniture looks so expensive that he’s afraid just touching it the wrong way might break it already. He still gets little flares of irritation, but they feel more like a wounded animal lashing out. Actually, he can’t remember why he was so angry in the first place anyway. None of this is the Stark’s fault. It’s just Peter’s fault for being an emotional wreck and waste of space.

They have Pizza. It’s not as awkward as Peter feared it would be, which is mostly thanks to Morgan filling the silence with lengthy recounts of her primary school gossip. She insists they watch Frozen afterward. Peter has already seen it—and judging by the tired look Mr. Stark gives her, her parents have too—but it’s still nice. The steady flicker of the TV calms him, and for a moment, the only thing he has to think about is a princess and her ice castle. Then, halfway through the film, Morgan settles into his lap and slips her hand into his, and his chest is filled by an unfamiliar warmth.

After the credits roll, Mrs. Potts puts Morgan to bed, despite her pleading to stay up a little longer. Peter excuses himself too, not willing to make it through any more of Mr. Stark’s interrogations. The bathroom is enormous, the light weirdly bright on its sleek tiles. His new toothbrush feels awkward on his teeth and the bedsheets don’t smell like his own. It reminds Peter of the times when he used to have sleepovers at some friends’ house, and his parents had to pick him up because he got scared by the unfamiliarity of it all. Only now, there is no one to pick him up.

Peter can’t remember the last time he hasn’t been woken up by nightmares. Usually, it’s someone dying - his aunt, his uncle, his parents. There is a lot to choose from after all. A sea of blood, clogging his nostrils until he can’t breathe. Watching helplessly, as the airplane tumbles to its death. Shadowy figures that reach for him with fingers of darkness.

He’s heard people refer to themselves as ‘broken’. He doesn’t like the word. He doesn’t feel broken. He just feels a little insane sometimes. Scared. Angry. ‘Damaged’ is another one of them. Like he’s some machine that needs to be fixed. He’s tried fixing himself many, many times, but unfortunately, humans don’t work like that. He knows it’s some mental health thing - he can use a search engine, after all. PTSD probably. Anxiety disorder. Another thing to add to the long list of things he’ll deal with once he stops feeling like he’s just surviving from day to day.

Another card to wield in the ‘Reasons not to adopt Peter Parker’ game.

It’s around one in the morning when he’s woken by the familiar terror gripping at his throat. He startles awake, his heart hammering against his rib cage. He needs a minute to connect the shadows around him to the unfamiliar surroundings of the Stark’s guest room.

He gets up to get himself a glass of water from the kitchen, after his legs have stopped shaking like he’s just run a marathon. When he stumbles downstairs, he is surprised to find the lights still on. Mr. Stark is sitting at the kitchen counter, scrolling through something on his phone.

He looks up when Peter enters. “Hey, Pete, you still up?”

Peter tries to even his breath. He busies himself with filling up a glass - the simple motion calming his panicking brain. “Yeah, sorry. Just thirsty,” he says, smiling shakily. He holds up the now full glass as if showing proof.

Mr. Stark nods. “All good, kid.” He smiles. “Sleep well.”

Peter makes it back to the guestroom on unsteady legs. It takes him another half hour to fall asleep again.

Nothing about this is ‘good’, though. Peter is not ‘good’ at keeping it together. He’s not even particularly good at pretending to. His only hope is that Mr. Stark isn’t very good at looking through him either.

5 He gets people in trouble

Sunday evening finds Peter climbing down the tower’s outer wall, hastily dressed in his Spider-Man suit. It’s a stupid idea. He knows the risks he’s taking by bringing Spider-Man here —the kind of trouble his work invites. One might argue that Tony Stark, of all people, should know the sacrifices the greater good demands. But those people have clearly never seen him interact with his daughter. With every trip to the playground, the grey in his hair seems to spread just a little further. It’s frankly a miracle she’s not permanently encased in bubble wrap already.

It’s not that Peter thinks that Mr. Stark would have similar feelings about him – he’s not their son, after all – but there is something to be said about letting a dangerous vigilante near your precious daughter. It’s no wonder then, that Mr. Stark hung up his cape a long time ago.

It’s like Peter is the bait, drawing in a pack of hungry wolves. He might not be dangerous himself, but he will still put everyone else in danger. Only Peter isn’t actually bait-sized, and there’ve never been any wolves in New York. See, he isn’t very good with metaphors.

All of this is to say that they’d probably think twice about inviting him over again if they knew he was Spider-Man. Not that Peter wants to visit them again but-

There is no time to worry about that anyway, when there is a giant lava monster that keeps exploding things somewhere around mid-town.

It takes Peter five minutes to reach the site. By then, most people have already abandoned their homes, fleeing in the opposite direction. There is barely any time to take in the destruction, before he’s already diving into action. He gets thrown around a lot, debris raining down on him every time he hits a wall. The ash burns in his lungs. His muscles scream. The last of his breath is forced from his lungs when he’s smashed into a car.

The world spins. The broken glass of the wind shield digs into his back.  It takes him a moment to regain his bearings. He frowns when instead of a burning street an all too familiar face swims into focus.

“Hello,” Morgan Stark says, with a big toothy grin.

The thing about Peter Parker – or probably more accurately Spider-Man- is, that he gets people in trouble. He never intends for anyone to get hurt, of course, but intentions don’t stop blood from spilling. That’s why it’s all his fault when Ben dies at the hands of a criminal that he didn’t stop. That’s why it’s all his fault when some lunatic explodes a house just to bury May beneath the rubble. If he hadn’t been there, maybe none of it would have happened. If he’d been stronger, faster, better - maybe he could have saved them.

Just as it is all his fault when Morgan Stark follows him right into the arms of a dangerous lava monster, because he didn’t think to look over his shoulder.

“Oh my god, Mo-kid, what are you doing here?” Peter asks, pushing himself back up with a bit of a struggle. He sends a nervous glance in the direction of the living lava lamp which is currently battling a fire hydrant.

Morgan shrugs. “What’s that symbol on your suit supposed to be?”

“It’s a spider,” Peter says before being interrupted by the swift approach of a gigantic fireball. He manages to swing both himself and Morgan to safety, before the car, he was laying on only moments before, explodes in an impressive display of boiling lava.

Morgan seems little impressed by the whole ‘mortal danger’ thing.

“Listen,” Peter says, gripping her by the shoulders. “Where are your parents?”

She shrugs. “Around somewhere.”

That’s not an entirely reassuring answer. Some part of Peter was hoping that Mr. Stark might have followed her here. It’s stupid, of course. He doesn’t need Tony Stark’s to help him. He knows how to handle himself.

He pants, throwing what remains of the car at his opponent. The flames lick angrily. “Why don’t we try and find them together, hm?” he asks hopefully.

Morgan shrugs again. “Okay.”

Some more throwing and several bruised ribs later, they finally make their way back towards the tower. Morgan is happily babbling about their awesome fight, while Peter limps several steps behind her. His gut is churning, only now catching up with the very real danger, she had been in. His brain helpfully supplies a long list of things that could have gone wrong, had he acted just a little differently. And that’s not even counting the many nightmares she will probably have.

He feels even worse when they arrive to find both Mr. and Mrs. Stark already waiting for them. Mrs. Potts lets out a relieved sob as Morgan hurries into her arms.

Peter awkwardly hovers in the background. “I found her wandering around,” he explains. “I’m so sorry, she must have followed me.”

Morgan comments his statement with a disgruntled frown. “No, daddy, I found him,” she says, giving Mr. Stark a meaningful look. Peter just isn’t sure what said meaning is supposed to be. “Even though the Lava monster was reaaal scary.”

Mr. Stark lets out a deep sigh. He, too, seems pretty shaken. His breathing is fast and his hands just the slightest bit shaky. He squeezes Morgan’s shoulder with an unsteady smile. “It’s all good, Morguna,” he affirms.

It’s just as obviously a lie as it has been the many times before. Nothing about this is ‘good’. Morgan could have died - and it would have been all Peter’s fault.

Peter swallows before quickly excusing himself and swinging onto the nearest rooftop. There are tears burning behind his eyes which have nothing to do with the continuous sting of the smoke. Peter Parker isn’t ‘good’. No good kid gets their little sister in trouble.

It’s the whole reason he started the ‘Peter Parker is not getting adopted’ game in the first place - to keep people safe. If only the Stark had listened to him, if only they had stayed their distance - then no tears would have had to be shed.

Still, Peter can’t help but feel like even the Starks might have finally reached their ‘Game Over’ screen.

Interlude I

The next Wednesday, Peter learns that the foster home, he is living in, is being dissolved.

There is no big announcement, no life-altering revelation, just a brief comment from his case worker over breakfast. Peter still feels like the rug has been pulled out from under him. Losing the group home means losing his… well, home. He’s always imagined growing old here—partly because he never expected to be adopted, partly because he’s been here so long that the crowded halls started feeling safer than anywhere else ever had.

The plans are still up in the air. Most of the kids will be moved to other homes. Names like Arkansas and Texas are being thrown around. It makes Peter nauseous. He can’t leave New York. If this building is Peter Parker’s home, then New York is Spider-Man’s. There is no place for Spider-Man in a quiet Texan town. And leaving New York will also mean leaving the last memories of his family behind.

There is an obvious solution to his problem, of course. One that is making him just as nauseous as the alternative: getting adopted. But there is little time left and the only candidates even remotely likely to do so at this stage are the Starks. That idea alone makes him want to throw up again.

Peter knows that he shouldn’t go through with it. It’s selfish of him to put them all in so much danger just so he can continue the way it was before. On the other hand, there are also his Spider-Man duties to consider. And can he really weigh the safety of the whole city against Morgan’s?

So, despite the crippling guilt, he starts to prepare.

If the Starks are meant to take him in, he will have to do a considerable amount of convincing. Which means he will have to become the perfect son they’re looking for. No complaining, no nightmares, no danger - all smiles and perfect innocence. He’ll have to adopt all the traits they desire, so they’ll adopt him in return.

He sighs, flipping opening up his note pad.  Reasons to adopt Peter Parker, he writes at the top.

Up until now, he has never been the one fight for a level-up. Fortunately, he happens to know the cheat-codes.

Part II: Reasons to adopt Peter Parker

1 He’s Spider-Man

Unfortunately, Peter’s best chance at convincing the Starks is currently also the one least likely to do so. Spider-Man might be the one unique connection he shares with Mr. Stark – because, while Peter Parker is, on the whole, a pretty average boy - not many people can claim to be Spider-Man. Currently, though, the Morgan incident stains his secret identity like the blood he can’t seem to scrub from his suit. How could they even consider adopting him when he was also the one to get her into trouble? How could they trust him, when he abused their trust so carelessly?

It's like that old movie, Aunt May used to love, where the guy, this woman is dating over an online forum, is also the greedy millionaire, trying to close down her bookshop. Only Peter isn’t actually a millionaire, and they aren’t online dating either. See, Peter isn’t very good with metaphors.

So, he decides to bench the decision for now.

A week passes, during which he tries his best not to think about the whole situation. Every time he does, his stomach twists painfully. It’s hard being so helpless for once. As Spider-Man, no challenge seems impossible. But, pitched against the rusty machinery of bureaucracy and without his mask to hide behind, he’s still just a little kid.

With every day, the sensation of falling intensifies. And he doesn’t know how to stop it.

On Thursday, a team of estate agents comes over, inspecting the premises with the help of a few members of staff. They examine the walls in Peter’s room with disgruntled frowns. Peter sits on his bed, trying to bodily shield what little remains of his possessions from them. Maybe they will change their mind about buying the place, if he just glares hard enough.

The deal goes through on Friday, which means that Peter can’t postpone his plans any longer. He texts the Stark’s before leaving for class, mostly so there won’t be any time to check his phone every five minutes. He still delays actually sending it about ten times.

Hey, Mr. Stark, can I come over again this weekend? he writes. He can’t help but feel like he’s sounding disgustingly over-eager. The shame burns all over his neck.

He pulls out his phone at lunchbreak, his fingers uncomfortably jittery. His locks screen shows three new messages from Mr. Stark, which, unfortunately, doesn’t make Peter feel any better. MJ sends him a questioning glare from over her fries.

Of course, kid. I’ll have Happy pick you up after school.

Sorry, we would have invited you, of course, but there was some incident involving a certain spider.

I’ll tell you about it later.

His words give Peter little of the hoped-for relief. Instead, they set him off into another spiral. Peter rests his forehead on the table and tries to take a deep breath.

Mr. Stark does tell Peter about it later. In fact, it’s the first thing he says when Peter walks through the door that afternoon. “Hey, kid. Sorry about the delay.” He sighs. “Morgan decided to become best friends with our friendly neighbourhood vigilante, and…it’s all been kind of a mess.” He takes Peter’s backpack before ushering him inside. “How was school?”

Peter tries his best imitation of a frown. His heart is beating double time. Over the entire ride here, he had plenty time to work himself into an anxious frenzy. He’s not sure his acting is entirely convincing. “What happened?” he asks anyway.

Mr. Stark runs a hand through his messy hair. He looks tired. Peter feels absolutely horrible, knowing he was the one to cause him this distress.

“You want something to eat?” Mr. Stark asks, instead of answering Peter’s question. He turns towards the kitchen. “No, don’t answer that. I know you teenagers are always hungry with your…hormones and all that.” He opens the fridge and starts making a sandwich.

“It was nothing really,” he huffs finally. “Morgan decided she needed a little adventure, so she followed the next best vigilante right into the hands of some lava monster.” He waves his knife around in a vague gesture. “Nothing happened, of course. Brought her back and everything, but… still.” He sighs.

Peter tries to nod and make appropriate noises of shock and surprise. Really, he feels like he’s floating a few feet above his body. It’s honestly a miracle he’s made it this far. He has always been a terrible liar.

When Mr. Stark finishes his story, Peter only swallows. “So, are you planning to do anything about the Spider-guy?” He tries not to sound too freaked out by the idea.

Mr. Stark shoves the finished sandwich into Peter’s hands. There is peanut butter all over the plate. He seems to contemplate the question for a second, picking breadcrumbs from the kitchen counter. “Honestly, I don’t think the guy had much fault.” He sighs. “You know - she’s that age where she would follow literally anyone around.” He shakes his head again, now also setting a glass of juice in front of Peter.

Peter’s heart beats hopefully. “So, you’re not angry with him?”

“Nah,” Tony laughs drily.  “Actually, it might have been even worse if he hadn’t been there.”

A careful smile creeps onto Peter’s lips. The beating in his chest grows steadily. This time it’s not due to panic, though.

Reasons to adopt Peter Parker:

1. He’s Spider-Man

Before he can get out another word, however, a small bundle of something barrels into his legs. “Petey!” Morgan squeals, tugging at his pants. Her shoes have left a suspiciously colourful pattern all over the carpet.

Peter smiles softly. “Hey, Morgan.”

Mr. Stark takes a look at the chaos, letting out a tired breath. “Morgan, what did I tell you about that finger paint?” He rubs his eyes. “You know what? Never mind. I need to clean up this mess here anyway.” He motions at what remains of Peter’s sandwich.

As soon as he’s left the room, Morgan’s head snaps back to Peter. Her expression is suddenly deadly serious. “So, did you defeat the red glowy thing?”

“W-what?” Peter stammers.

She gives him a look, like he’s being particularly thick. “The red, glowy thing, we fought against last week,” she clarifies.

“Morgan,” Peter hisses. All the colour drains from his face. “H-how did you know it was me?”

She rolls her eyes. “Your voice, silly.”

“Ah, right,” Peter says, actually feeling a little dumb. How did he never think of that before?

She regards him with furrowed brows. “Daddy says you’re giving him grey hair. He says it’s irresponsible for someone who sounds as if they’ve barely made it out of diapers to jump into burning buildings.”

Suddenly, the beating of Peter’s heart is back. The bad kind. “You-your dad said that?”

She hums, apparently oblivious to his panic. “Maybe you can convince him to make you a new suit, though. Maybe he would still let you go then.”

Peter tries to take a deep breath. Suddenly, his perfect plan doesn’t seem so perfect anymore. Sure, Spider-Man might still be the most compelling reason for the Starks to adopt him. But what’s the point if adopting him will mean he’ll have to give up being Spider-Man anyway? Isn’t he better off trying his luck in Texas in that case? He shakes his head.

No, he can’t let himself think like that. He’ll have to convince them without talking about Spider-Man. That way, he’ll be able to stay here and still be Spider-Man. Instead of cheating, he will have to learn how to upgrade. For his sake. For Spider-Man’s sake.

“Morgan,” he says carefully. “You can’t tell your parents I’m Spider-Man, okay?”

She frowns. “Why not?”

Peter swallows. “I-I it’s hard to explain. It’s-it’s a big brother secret, okay? You’ll have to trust me.” He tries to catch her eyes, the way he’s seen Mr. Stark do many times. “Can you do that?”

She gives him a long, hard look, before nodding solemnly. “Okay.”

Peter tries for a smile as well.

Nothing is okay, though. The boss fight is drawing closer and he’s rapidly losing HP. After all, if he isn’t being Spider-Man - what other reasons do they have to keep him around?

2 He’s okay-ish smart

As the week progresses, the group home grows steadily barer. When Peter leaves for another lab session on Wednesday, his roommate has already cleared out his side of the room. The sight triggers a fresh surge of anxiety. Despite repeated reminders from his caseworker, Peter can’t fathom the idea of fitting his life into just a few boxes.

So, instead, he visits the Starks again – not that the place carries much better emotion these days. The session had actually been Mr. Stark’s suggestion, still Peter can’t help but feel like he’s forcing his way into the family’s life.

It’s like their roles have been reversed, and now Peter is the guy in the oversized BMW with no regard for road safety. Only he doesn’t own a car, and he doesn’t even have his driver’s licence. See, he isn’t very good with metaphors.

He thinks they can feel it too, if their recent shift in behaviour is anything to go by. Mr. Stark is not as outrightly blunt as he used to be, Mrs. Potts not as outrightly caring. Instead, they keep a cautious distance, shooting him looks that all but scream they want him gone, but haven’t figured out how to tell him yet. The guilt eats Peter up from the inside. He knows what he’s doing is cruel and manipulative, even more so if they have finally seen the mistake they were making. But he can’t give up – he just can’t. Not this time.

Right now, Mr. Stark is trying to explain a piece of circuitry to him, pointing out different features with his pen. Peter is nodding along but not really comprehending any of his words. Most of his brain is too busy panicking. He knows the universe is generously offering him a second chance. He may not be a genius but he’s still pretty smart. And being pretty smart is only one step away from pretending to be one – especially when everyone else seems so convinced of the fact already.

Perhaps his social worker was right to play the ‘smart kid’ card all these years. Everyone wants a smart kid in their family, after all. Especially someone like Tony Stark.

Some part of Peter truly believed he could do it. Usually, he’s pretty good at getting a grip on a problem. But now, sitting next to Mr. Stark, his confidence all but slips away, replaced only by the awareness of his hopeless deception. How is he supposed to keep up the act for three more years without them realising that he isn’t actually smart at all? Are there return policies for children adopted under false assumptions?

“How about you put in the piezoelectric transducer, and then we can fire this baby up?” Mr. Stark asks, rolling back to his own desk and typing something into the holographic interface.

Peter is left with a circuitry, he doesn’t understand, and a growing bubble of panic inside of him. He looks at the heap of appliances on the desk. A few of them he recognises from science class. Others he’s never seen before. He wonders what a piezoelectric transducer is supposed to look like. If only he had time to prepare for every eventuality. He could have read a book on the topic or at least skimmed the Wikipedia article or…

“Do you need help?” Mr. Stark asks, having magically appeared next to him.

Peter jumps. He must have been so lost in his spiralling that he didn’t notice the time passing. “I-” he thinks about lying, but then there is really no point if it’s just going to make everything so much worse. “I-yeah,” he admits, his ears turning flaming red.

Mr. Stark laughs. “I’m shocked – the great Peter Parker needs help with something?” His laughter dies at the look of embarrassment on Peter’s face. Still, his lips twitch. “I’m only joking, kid. It’s all good. Here,” he pulls something from a little box, buried under stacks of different metal tubes. “This is the transducer.” He raises an eyebrow. “Do you know how to use it?”

Hesitantly Peter shakes his head. The burning hole of shame inside his chest screams angrily.

“Okay, look,” Mr. Stark positions the small, ring-shaped component on his palm. It looks almost like a miniature arc-reactor. “This thing in the middle is a crystal which, when deformed, produces an electric voltage. This voltage can then be picked up by…these contacts.” He points at the two wires attached to its side.

Peter nods slowly. “So, it converts pressure put onto the crystal into electrical charge?”

“Exactly.” Mr. Stark smiles. “Do you feel up to connecting it?”

Peter nods again, if a little more hesitantly.

“Great.” For a second, Mr. Stark’s hand hovers over Peter’s shoulder - almost as if he’s going to give it a comforting pad - before catching himself and forcing a smile instead.

Peter can’t help but feel like he’s just lost another battle. In the beginning, Mr. Stark used to touch him all the time. Then, over the weeks, the contact became less and less. It’s obviously another sign of Peter’s failure and that, instead of growing closer, they are actually growing apart. An achievement in of itself, considering they were never particularly close to begin with.

He needs to fix this. Now.

Carefully, he starts sorting the wires of the circuitry. “I’m sorry,” he tries, as Mr. Stark hands him the soldering iron. “This is like - basic stuff. I should have known.”

Mr. Stark gives him a funny look. “It’s okay, Pete. You can’t know everything.” He turns on the extractor fan. “And that’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? So, I can show you things?” He chuckles. “I know I can get a little carried away sometimes. But you can always ask if you don’t understand something, okay?”

Peter only gives a vague hum.

Nothing is okay, though. The boss fight is drawing closer and he’s rapidly losing HP. After all, if he can’t be smart - what other reasons do they have to keep him around?

3 He’s the son they always wanted

The Starks ask him to come over again the next weekend. Peter is pretty sure it’s mostly Morgan’s doing, as she’s the one to call him late on Thursday evening. His roommate left for Washington a few hours before, and Peter spend most of the evening staring at his empty half of the room. Even over the phone, Morgan is insanely excited to see him, recounting her whole school day while Mr. and Mrs. Stark try to stop her from crawling into the phone screen.

Peter really likes Morgan. She’s smart, funny and so very nice to him. Being with her gives him time to turn off his brain and not really think about what he is or isn’t supposed to be.

He still hasn’t figured out the whole ‘being the only other man in the family’ thing. He doesn’t understand what Mr. Stark wants him to be. Peter’s only experience with father–son relationships comes from movies, where they always seem to involve throwing a ball back and forth. He’s pretty sure Mr. Stark doesn’t want that, though. Peter would probably just drop the ball anyway—just like he dropped the ball on this whole adoption thing.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t understand what he wants himself either. If he doesn’t even know which things the Starks consider to be ‘boy’ activities, how is he supposed to know how he feels about them? Sometimes he thinks he can be a ‘man’ who protects those in need, other times - when he’s curled up in his bed in one of his weaker moments - he just wants someone to protect him. The whole thing is giving him a headache.

It's like he’s the Hulk, only instead of being a scientist and an insanely cool superhero, he gets to switch between an average superhero and a scrawny teenager. See, he’s not very good with metaphors.

It’s pretty easy knowing what Morgan wants, seeing as she’s always very vocal about it. And she doesn’t really care about the whole ‘being a boy’ thing – she’ll be happy as long as she has someone to play with. Over the weeks, her playroom has become Peter’s safe space. Here, he can try out every activity without any fear of judgement - including his own - as he can always tell himself he’s just doing it for her sake anyway.

Yes, he really, really likes Morgan. It’s not her fault that her brother is a manipulative liar.

“Can we watch Frozen again?” Morgan asks, when they’ve relocated to the living room after a relaxed dinner.  She’s doing that wobbly lip motion, she knows will get her exactly what she wants.

Mrs. Potts smiles patiently. “Sweety, don’t you think Peter should have a say in this as well?”

Morgan huffs. “Okay,” she turns towards him with an unhappy frown. “Petey, what do you want to watch?”

“Um-” They all stare at him expectantly. Peter feels like a deer in headlights.

The thing is - he really likes Frozen. He had seen it several times before visiting the Starks, as it had also been a great success with the kids at the group home. But ever since getting to know Morgan, the movie has taken on a new meaning. Watching it now reminds him of sitting on the Starks’ sofa while Morgan provides excessive commentary and hugs her Elsa pillow to her chest. And the moment at the end, when Anna is saved by sisterly love, always makes him tear up a little—because he can’t help but feel like he’s been saved by sisterly love as well.

He knows that the Starks expect him to choose a different movie. Mr. Stark, for one, is so sick of watching it that he offered to bribe Peter several times. And a movie about an ice princess doesn’t exactly scream ‘son’ material either. He should probably want to watch…Cars or something.

On the other hand, choosing a different movie will make him seem selfish. Who is he to deny a little girl’s wish, after all? No matter which path he chooses, he’s always going to lose. That’s the rules of the Peter Parker game.

In the end, it’s not really a choice anyway, when Morgan keeps flashing her annoyingly effective puppy dog eyes at him. He clears his throat awkwardly. “I don’t mind. We can watch Frozen again,” he says.

Morgan cheers, while Mr. Stark groans somewhere in the background.

As they settle down on the sofa, Peter can’t help but be overly aware of the gap between him and the rest of the family. For a second, it seems as though Mrs. Potts might sit down next to him, but then she makes a beeline for the place next to Morgan instead. The idea that even someone as unbelievably patients as Mrs. Potts would grow tired of him, makes Peter intensely nervous.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers when the first scene flashes across the screen and Morgan is engrossed in singing along to the music. “I know Mr. Stark hates this movie.”

Mrs. Potts only smiles, throwing a glance in the direction of her husband. “It’s okay, honey. He’ll get over it.”

Peter gives a discontent hum.

Nothing is okay, though. The boss fight is drawing closer and he’s rapidly losing HP. After all, if he can’t be the son that Mr. Stark wants - what other reasons do they have to keep him around?

4 He’s always happy-go-lucky

Over the rest of the weekend, Peter tries to be his best, polite, happy self. He indulges Morgan’s every whim - reading her books in funny voices after which they have extensive pillow fights all over the living room sofa. In the evening, he helps Mrs. Potts restock the flowers tubs on the roof terrace. The grainy dirty runs through his fingers and he finds himself laughing at something she says. He thinks he’s actually getting pretty good at this – being happy. By now, his pretending has become so convincing that even he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is real. He only hopes it will be enough to convince the Starks too.

Maybe this will enough then – being a fun presence in Morgan’s life. Helping out in the household and not making any problems. Tipping the scales just slightly in the direction of having more advantages than disadvantages.

Sleep is never easy these days. Ever since his roommate moved out, the room feels just a little too silent. The lights of passing cars draw shadowy figures onto the barren wall. His room used to be the place where he felt safe. If he closes his eyes, he can still recall the familiar sounds of another person’s breathing and the dusty smell of the wooden floorboards.

Now everything feels different. Cold. Empty.

Peter can’t remember the last time he hasn’t been woken up by nightmares. Usually, it’s someone dying - His aunt, his uncle, his parents. There is a lot to choose from after all. A sea of blood, clogging his nostrils until he can’t breathe. Watching helplessly, as the airplane tumbles to its death. Shadowy figures that reach for him with fingers of darkness. Watching the silhouette of New-York disappear in the distance as he’s moved to a group home in Texas.

He tries talking to Ned. He’s not stupid, of course. He knows these things will eat you up from the inside if you don’t have an outlet from time to time. And it does help - but it’s different, talking to someone your own age, who has to carry just as much emotional baggage. How can he say all that he needs to say while also worrying whether he’s putting too much onto Ned’s shoulders? It’s days like these that he misses May and the way she used to pull him into her arms. Somewhere he can stop carrying the responsibility for just a second.

He thinks about the word ‘broken’ more often these days. Not in the sense that he considers himself to be. He doesn’t feel broken. He just feels a little insane sometimes. Scared. Angry. But he does see a sort of connection to the concept. While he might not be able to fix himself, he can at least try to patch - paste over the cracks.

It’s like he’s a broken mug that somebody taped back together in the hopes of still being able to sell it. Peter doesn’t like to think about what the mug buyers – the Starks – are going to say once they find out he’s actually just a taped mess. Only they’re not actually trying to buy him, of course. And Peter isn’t a mug. See, he’s not very good with metaphors.

It’s around one in the morning when he’s woken by the familiar terror gripping at his throat. He startles awake, his heart hammering against his rib cage. He needs a minute to connect the shadows around him to the familiar surroundings of his room at the Stark’s apartment. He grounds himself by tracing the silhouettes of the clutter all around him. The pinecone that Morgan brought from school last week still sits on his nightstand. Parts of the circuit, he was working on with Mr. Stark, are strewn across his desk. He takes a deep breath.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.”

Peter muffles a scream at the sudden appearance of Morgan right next to his bed. He claws at his chest, his heart refusing to stay inside. “I-” he tries to breathe. “W-what are you doing here?” he finally manages. His voice is wobbly at best.

Morgan climbs into the bed next to him. “You were screaming like a baby,” she says matter-of-factly.

“N-no, I wasn’t.” Peter tries to force back the tightness of his throat.

Morgan lets herself fall onto his legs with a sceptical huff. She doesn’t seem very impressed by his lie. “Yes, you were. I can’t believe you didn’t wake mummy and daddy with your wailing.”

Peter can’t really complain about being insulted by a seven-year-old, when the mention of her parents nearly sends him into another panic attack. His fingers scratch uselessly at his bedsheets. “Morgan, y-you can’t tell your parents about this, o-okay?”

She frowns. “Why not? I get nightmares too. Like all the time.” She hums. “Daddy always gives me a popsicle despite mummy saying I can’t have them this late.”

Peter swallows. He doesn’t think there is much point in trying to explain that, while she is actually their child, Peter very much isn’t. Parents are always concerned about the wellbeing of their own children. But the Starks certainly aren’t looking to expand their family by adopting someone who can barely hold it together on a good day. “I-I it’s hard to explain. It’s-it’s a big brother secret, okay?” He smiles shakily. “You’ll have to trust me. Can you do that?”

She gives him a long, hard look, before nodding solemnly. “Okay.”

Afterwards, she clambers under the blanket with him. It doesn’t take her long to fall back asleep. He pulls her close and lets the sound of her breathing calm his racing heart.

Nothing is okay, though. He can hear boss music, and he isn’t even wearing his armour. After all, if he can’t be happy-go-lucky Peter - what other reasons do they have to keep him around?

Interlude II

Morgan Stark is exasperated. That is because everyone, as usual, is being rather silly, and she is slowly but surely growing tired of it.

First, her parents were being weird about the whole adoption thing. Morgan knew they’d been talking about it for months, but when they finally brought it up with her, they spoke as if the idea might upset her - as though there could be anything wrong with having a sibling! From the kids at school, Morgan knows what having a sibling is like. It sounds totally awesome! Kathy’s brother always takes her swimming, and Julia’s sister can braid her hair. Morgan’s parents can do that too, she supposes, but it just isn’t the same.

Then, Morgan found them the perfect candidate right on their first day. She knew Peter would be perfect because he likes sci-en-ce, just like her dad, and is polite, just like her mum. Also, he got another kid a piece of cake from the buffet, so she knew he would be perfect for her as well.  

And that’s what all of this should have been – a piece of cake.

But, instead of taking Peter home, Mummy and Daddy said they needed to get to know each other first. To see if they were actually com-pa-ti-ble.

And now, they’re making a whole mess out of it, like she did when she took the kitchen scissors to the living room curtains. Petey is refusing to talk to their parents, and their parents are too stupid to see that something is up with Petey. Sometimes she feels like she’s the only one who actually knows what’s going on. Her parents should pay her more popsicles for all the work she does.

“I’m so glad the kid is finally opening up to us,” her daddy is saying just now. Him and mummy are sitting around the kitchen table, having a glass of that red drink Morgan isn’t allowed to have. Some boring adult music is playing in the background.

Morgan was actually supposed to be in bed hours ago. She thinks she might have slept for a bit, but then she started thinking about popsicles and couldn’t sleep any longer. She knows her dad will cave if she manages to catch him without her mum. That’s why nighttime is the best popsicle time.

But, instead of popsicle fun, her parents were having this boring serious conversion, saying all that stupid stuff about Petey. So, Morgan took it upon herself to watch them from the stairs.

“Did you see the way he was with Morgan? He seemed so much happier,” her dad continues. He is making this pleased expression. he usually reserves for when Morgan says something clever. “And, last lab session, we actually started working on a project together.”

“That’s great, Tony.” Her mother hums thoughtfully. “I think you were right about the touch thing, though. He looked pretty freaked out when I tried sitting next to him on the sofa.”

Her dad smiles. “Yeah, but we’ll figure that out too,” he promises. They do some icky thing where they push their lips together. Then, her dad sighs his nervous sigh. “Do-do you think it’s time to ask him?”

Her mother shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

That’s when Morgan can’t take it any longer. With loud, stomping steps she barrels down the stairs. “You are all stupid,” she announces. “You-you’re so busy trying to figure out whether you’re com-pa-ti-ble that forget all about s-showing com-pass-ion.”

With that, she stomps back upstairs, feeling her parents confused looks in her back. She really hopes that will be enough for them to figure it out. For everyone’s sake, but especially for her cake supply’s.

5 He really, really needs it

Peter can tell that something is up long before he even arrives at the Starks’ that weekend. These are supposed to be his last days in the city, so their invitation doesn’t come as much of a surprise. Neither does Mr. Stark’s suggestion to go onto the balcony for a quick talk. What bothers Peter, is that he can’t predict which way the conversation will turn. He can’t say he likes either prospect.

Failure sits in his gut like a lead weight. The idea that he failed to be likeable for even a few weeks, pulses in time with the great big cloud of misery around his heart. He’ll have to move to Texas, never to see any of them again, upgrading his Spider-Suit with a stupid cowboy hat.

Thinking of staying is terrifying as well. The idea that he actually managed to manipulate Tony freaking Stark into thinking he’s a person worth keeping around, is excellent fodder for the slimy ball of self-hatred inside of him. He’ll either have to keep pretending for the rest of his life or they’ll finally see him for the immense disappointment he really is.

“So kid, you know how you’re supposed to leave on Monday,” Mr. Stark starts, giving him a measuring look.

Peter can hear the blood rushing in his ears. He gives a curt nod.

“We were thinking-” Peter resist the urge to close his eyes. “You could maybe stay here instead? If you want?”

This is it - the moment Peter has been working towards for all these months. This is all he could have hoped for. But, instead of accepting the offer with a big smile and riding off into the sunset, he fucks it all up again by bursting into tears.

The thing is - Peter still isn’t really sure what to make of Tony Stark. He used to resent the man, back when he was nothing more than a glossy photo on the cover of some tech magazine. Then his life got blown to pieces and the resulting void left no room for childish feuds. Years went by. And while Peter tried to grapple with not just one but four unspeakable losses, Tony Stark became a family man, blessed with exactly the kind of happiness Peter could never have again. And while Mr. Stark might have been a bit of an insensitive asshole when they first met, Peter can’t help but feel like there isn’t much point holding onto his grudge, if Mr. Stark was still willing to safe Peter in all the little ways that mattered.

In some way, Peter Parker and Tony Stark are polar opposites. Where Peter Parker descended, Tony Stark rose from the ashes. And, in offering Peter this opportunity to ascend, Mr. Stark will have, unwittingly, sealed his own fate to descend once more.

The thing is - over the weeks, Peter has grown to actually like the Starks. He loves the way Morgan will wake him by jumping onto his bed with an excited squeal. He loves the way Mrs. Potts knows exactly how to make his tea and what cookies he takes with it. And he doesn’t even mind Mr. Stark’s insistence to drag him everywhere all that much. The thing is – Peter can’t tell when all of this stopped being a game to him and became something he desperately needed instead. In more ways than one.

And, if nothing else managed to persuade them, then maybe that will have to do.

“I-oh-okay,” Mr. Stark stammers. “You good there, buddy? I’m sorry. This is a lot to spring onto you, I know. And you don’t have to say yes, if you don’t want to, obviously, but-”

“You can’t adopt me, Mr. Stark,” Peter sobs. “I-I tricked you.”

Mr. Stark gives him a confused look. “Tricked us? What- Pete-” He, once again, reaches out like he’s about to touch Peter’s shoulder but stops himself at the last second. Somehow that makes everything even worse.

Peter can’t stop the ugly sobs tearing from his chest any longer. He feels a little delirious as the words tumble out of him at lightning speed. “I knew they were going to d-dissolve the home and I-I really wanted to stay here. So, I-I made you adopt me. I had a whole l-list, and I pretend to be this nice person, b-but I’m not actually a nice person, Mr. Stark. I-I’m a horrible person who wanted to trick you into keeping me here and-” He has to cut himself off as he’s running out of breath.

“Okay, um,” Mr. Stark chuckles a little uncertainly. “There is a lot to unpack there, buddy.” He scoots closer, so that their legs are almost touching. He wrings his hands a couple of times, like he isn’t sure what to do with them. “First, you’re not a horrible person, Pete. Whatever part you think you’ve been playing - I don’t think it will change how we feel about you.”

Peter shakes his head. “But-but I don’t actually like cars,” he insists.

Mr. Stark frowns. “Okay, not sure how that relates to anything, but I can confidently tell you that don’t care whether you like cars or not. And I’m pretty sure Pepper and Morgan don’t either.”

Peter hiccups. “A-and I’m not smart.”

“Of course, you’re smart, Pete,” Mr. Stark says. “Who told you that you weren’t?”

Peter hides his tearstained face somewhere in the collar of his hoodie. “I-I don’t understand all the stuff that’s in your lab.”

A strange look passes over Mr. Stark’s face. “You don’t have to understand all that stuff, kid. I mean, even I had to learn how to use it over years of practical experience. Not knowing about something doesn’t mean you’re not smart.” He gives Peter a hard look. “And even if you weren’t smart, it doesn’t matter.”

Peter is starting to feel a little light-headed. His eyes are dry and tear filled at the same time and his cheeks burn with the embarrassment of having such a breakdown in front of Mr. Stark. “B-but I’m not actually happy all the time. I get nightmares a-and sometimes I feel like I’m dying and-”

“Jesus, kid,” Mr. Stark runs a hand through his hair with a weak chuckle, “you’ve been holding back on all of this?” He shakes his head. “I don’t care what problems you have, okay? Morgan gets nightmares too. Hell, I get nightmares too. It’s just a human thing.”

Peter feels like he’s running out of arguments. He doesn’t understand why Mr. Stark can’t see what a monumental mistake he’s making. At the same time his chest warms with every of Mr. Stark’s reassurances.

“I-you-you could have a better kid. Someone who is more fun,” he suggests weakly. “Someone who’s pros and cons balance better.”

To Peter’s surprise Mr. Stark looks entirely horrified by the notion. He opens his mouth several times, before closing it again. Then he sighs. “Look kid, this is not a rational thing, okay? We didn’t decide that we like you based on some weird pro- and contra lists, whatever that is even supposed to mean. We just like you.” He gives Peter a long look. “You don’t choose your friends based on their advantages either, do you?”

Peter carefully shakes his head.

“Good, because that would have been a real revelation otherwise.” Mr. Stark laughs, before quickly sobering again. “We-I like you, Pete. Sure, there are tons of other great kids out there. But you’re the one this crazy universe decided to bring into our lives.” He pauses. “And we wouldn’t want it any other way.” He smiles. “So - if you decided to stay here - you would make us all very, very happy.”

Peter swallows carefully. He feels like the whole conversation is actually happening to someone else, while he is floating several feet above his body, staring down on the sniffing mess next to Mr. Stark. It’s the only way to cope - otherwise he would have passed out several times already. The ice encasing his heart has burst open and, for the first time in a long time, he feels entirely vulnerable.

“Y-you’re serious?” He asks, because he still can’t believe that this isn’t a dream. A dream or a very vivid nightmare.

Mr. Stark smiles softly. “Deadly.” He nudges his shoulder against Peter’s, before flinching. “Sorry, sorry, I know you don’t like to be touched.”

For a moment, Peter is so confused that he forgets all about the crying. He frowns. “What?”

Mr. Stark frowns as well. “You don’t, do you?” He hesitates. “Do you?”

Peter tries to think back to all the times he thought the Starks didn’t want him anymore. Slowly but surely, a picture is beginning to form. “I-I thought you hated me and that’s why you-” He trails off.

“Lordy,” Mr. Stark massages his forehead. “You do have a way of twisting reality, don’t you?” He chuckles humourlessly. “We don’t hate you, kid. We were just trying to give you some space. You always seemed really uncomfortable when we tried to touch you, so.” He shrugs. “Please don’t tell me you were actually dying for a hug this whole time.”

Peter can’t help but laugh. He’s still crying so it makes for a really ugly mess. “It’s fine, Mr. Stark.”

Mr. Stark doesn’t seem to agree. He only pinches his nose. “God, kid, this really is a whole mess.” He opens his arms and motions for Peter scoot over. “Come here.”

The hug is good and solid. Peter takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent he’s gotten so familiar with over the weeks. It’s like coming home after a cold winter day and finally feeling the warmth of a fireplace. It’s bright and comforting and - yeah, actually it’s exactly like that. He might just know how to do these metaphors after all.

With a sigh, he burrows deeper into Mr. Stark’s chest who rest his chin on Peter’s head. For a moment, Peter feels the weight of responsibility lift off his shoulders. For a moment, he feels like everything might just be okay. Except-

“I’m Spider-Man,” he says, after silence has enveloped them for a comfortable while and he feels like he’s not immediately going to start crying again.

“What?!” Mr. Starks breaks their embrace, holding Peter just far enough to search his face for any trace of dishonesty. When he finds none, his own face moves through several different expressions in quick succession. Peter thinks he can see him sprouting grey hair in real time.

“Okay,” Mr. Stark says a little faintly. “Yeah, yeah, sure we’ll make that work as well. Yeah.” He pulls Peter back against his chest. “We’ll make that work,” he repeats, maybe also trying to convince himself.

Peter can’t help but smile. Maybe everything will actually be okay. Maybe Mr. Stark winning the ‘Peter Parker is not getting adopted’ game, can also mean a win for Peter.

After all, if the Starks don’t care about him being Spider-Man - they might just be honest about liking Peter Parker.