Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

ACT 1 - TOUCH

He stares at the phone in his hand.

Flips it open. Thumbs the contact button. Hovers over Rogers; name. Flips it shut.

Tony Stark is conflicted. 

Rogers said it himself, or wrote it, actually. No matter what. If he needed the man, or his "team", he'd be there. And fuck, he does need him. It's been nine months and he has still made no progress. Tony is at a dead fucking end, and he can't keep doing it by himself. He needs Captain America and his highly observant allies with eyes and ears everywhere right now.

The kid needs him right now.

Because as much as he hates to admit it, Tony isn't very good at the whole lone wolf thing anymore. He is, or rather, he was a part of a team. They provided him with alternative ideas, different methods of thinking, unique skill sets, and… and more than he cares to think about right now.

He stares at the phone in his hand.

Flips it open. Thumbs the contact button. Hovers over Rogers’ name. Flips it shut.

Then again, Rogers is the one who is like…60% responsible for the Avengers breaking apart. He ripped and pulled at the threads binding them together, tenuous as they already were after the Ultron Incident. All over some stupid piece of paper they could amend after signing the goddamn thing. "The safest hands are still our own," he had the audacity to say, "I'm sorry, Tony."

Then he went and burned the remains of their familial tapestry for his hundred-year-old man crush on Barnes. A mass murder who was under Hydra's control way too long to be trusted. A suspect in the embassy bombing and death of the Wakadan king. 

Sure, he didn’t actually bomb the building or kill T’Chaka. But he killed a lot of other people. Tried to kill him. Killed his parents. Helped tear apart the Avengers and did absolutely nothing to stop or prevent it.

Sorry, Rogers said.

He had a lot to be sorry for. Tony just didn't know it at the time.

He flips open the phone again, rereads the note. His thumb and index finger traces his goatee, overgrown with a 5'oclock shadow that he's sure only adds to his gaunt, haunted appearance. He hasn't slept in 75 hours or eaten in 24. Personal hygiene isn't a priority right now, and Tony is sure that he smells of sweat and oil from his workshop after spending hours hunched over the kid's suit, looking for anything he could have missed. By now, he has memorized every gash, every rent in the suit. Every burnt discoloration and frayed wire. And that's just talking about the hardware.

The software is a mess, a tangled ball of yarn that refused to be unraveled. Karen is nothing more than a bunch of zeroes and ones scattered to the wind. The Baby Monitor shows nothing but small clips of Peter's “patrols,” fuzzy with static and interference. It’s as if someone took the world’s most advanced EMP, added a big “Fuck You” addressed to him personally, and wrapped it all in a neat little bow and blew it up in Peter’s suit. Specifically in his suit. There’s no way anyone could have bypassed the Faraday cage he installed outside of it otherwise. Right?

Right. 

Hell, that thing could have probably deflected a lightning strike from Thor himself.

Whoever did this was smart and had to have known about Peter’s powers beforehand. Otherwise, Peter would have been here right now, annoying him with his mile-a-minute brain going off about some new formula he developed for his web fluid or what he planned to do with Ted? Ned? this weekend. The kid was too fast, too smart, and with Tony’s tech and that Peter tingle sixth sense thing, he should have been next to untouchable. Hell, he had been after the whole Vulture thing. Tony made sure of it.

He stares at the phone in his hand.

And tosses it back on the workbench

He created an arc reactor with scraps from weapons in a cave. He can do this without the Star-Spangled Asshole’s help.

“Boss, Miss Potts is requesting to enter,” Friday’s voice, soft and lilting, sounds overhead, and Tony grits his teeth.

“Tell her no, Fri. I’m busy.”

There’s a pause before the AI speaks again, “I’m sorry, Boss, but it appears Miss Potts has overridden my controls and is coming in now.”

He hears the door open but doesn’t turn around, choosing to instead hunch over the kid’s suit, fingers twiddling with a loose wire. When Pepper’s voice sounds behind him, it’s soft and gentle. The same understanding tone everyone’s been using around him since that day so long ago. He’s getting pretty sick of it. “I’m sure you’re not busy with anything you haven’t done a hundred times before, Tony.”

“I’m missing something,” he knows his voice is as hoarse as his appearance, but he doesn’t really care.

“You’ve missed nothing,” she puts a hand on his shoulder, “Come upstairs with me, eat some pizza. Rhodey brought your favorite.”

Tony glances behind his shoulder at his fiancée, “I’ll be there soon.”

It’s a lie and they both know it. He can feel the soft exhale against the back of his neck as she sighs, “Tony, please. Everything will still be here after you get some rest. Then, Rhodey offered to look it over with you with fresh eyes.”

He might not still be alive by then, he thinks.

He shrugs. “I can’t just leave, Pep. He needs me.”

You’re right. Peter needs you,” she turns him by his shoulders and gives him a pointed look, “He needs you at your best.”

Pepper is right of course, she always is. And he does not have the energy to really fight her on it. This is a long song and dance they’ve been performing for years now, and she knows when to pick her battles. He leans into her embrace, releasing a long sigh, “I’ll give you five hours, max.”

“Doctors recommend at least six hours of sleep a night, boss,” Friday sounds from overhead.

“I’m going to reprogram you,” Tony mutters into Pepper’s neck, no real venom in the threat. He programmed her like this for a reason, after all.

“Give it six hours, and I’ll see who else I can bring in to help you two,” Pepper says. He can hear the gentle smile in her voice, cautious but hopeful.

“Yeah? Who? I doubt the Avengers exist anymore, Pep."

Tony and Pepper both startle at the shrill ringing coming from the flip phone on his workbench. “Is that…?” Tony nods an affirmation, too stunned to speak. It’s been a year since he’s received the phone, and it’s been silent ever since, “Are you going to answer it?”

He doesn’t respond, torn between his bitterness and his curiosity. Instead, he stares at the little screen on the closed, outdated phone as it rings its shrill little ringtone. 

Steve Rogers, 678-136-7092. 

Then it stops. As abruptly as it began.

1 missed call.

And then…

1 new message.

Tony picks up the phone.

Flips it open.

“News from Wakanda. An Enhanced they call ‘Isigcawu.’ Means: Spider.”

He stares at the phone in his hand.

Flips it open. Thumbs the contact button. Hovers over Rogers; name. Pushes call.“You better not be shitting me, Rogers.”

“I don’t know where he is, Tony, but I know where he was.”

Chapter Text

The rest of their phone call is succinct, nothing more than clipped tones and short sentences about where to meet, when, and how. They’re not limited by Cap’s wanted status, nor by their lack of Stark technology, apparently. Tony supposed he had T’Challa to thank for that. T’Challa and his stealth fighters that could give SHIELD’s quinjets a run for their money.

He’d really have to set aside time and talk tech with him and his sister.

Tony quietly sits as he and Rhodey wait in the conference room, munching on cold leftover pizza. Rhodey paced around the room, motors quietly whirring on his braces as Tony sits and watches the door, wondering who Rogers would choose to accompany him. He didn't bother meeting the Captain at the helipad or walking him down to their destination - The man knows where it is.

“Are you really sure this is a good idea? Inviting a war criminal here?”

No, he isn't. The mere thought of seeing Steve again filled Tony with a strange sense of dread as well as anger. He saw the red, white, and blue crashing down on him like waves, threatening to slam into his throat. There had been nights when he had woken up with a dull ache filling his chest as a buzzing sound filled his head. Without fail, he’d wake up those nights clutching his left arm. 

“A good idea? No. Our best bet? Probably,” is what he says instead.

“Boss, Captain Rogers has arrived and will be in shortly,” Friday’s voice lilts overhead.

“Who’s with him, Fri?”

“Natasha Romanoff and Sam Wilson, boss.”

Rhodes raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, “We could take them.”

Tony's expression turns to one of forced nonchalance as he watches the door, the shadows behind it reaching for the handle. He was accustomed to maintaining this mask of apathy when dealing with Congress and Homeland Security, even though deep down he knew it wouldn't be enough to fool “Team Cap.” Nevertheless, pretending he owned the room was a skill he has long since mastered, and doing so would keep him somewhat sane. "Yeah," he responds in a bored tone. "The dynamic duo."

The door swings open and the trio walks in. He notices, with some satisfaction, that Sam glances at Rhodey’s legs with something akin to guilt, before looking away. Tony raises his eyebrows at Steve, and without prelude, he goes straight to business. “Whatcha got?”

“They’ve been calling him ‘Isigcawu’,” Steve says with a frown, his voice heavy as he and his companions sink into their respective chairs, “It means ‘Spider’ in Xhosa. From what I’ve been told, he sneaks around by going through vents and crawling on the ceiling, and then attacks from above. His attacks are typically non-fatal, usually webs them up and sticks them to the ceiling, but when pushed, he has killed before. Usually with brute force rather than a weapon.”

Tony feels the buzzing in his head and chest return, anxiety pulsing through his heart and brain. The kid was strictly non-lethal. He was insistent on it, and even chewed out Tony for installing an “Instant Kill” mode. 

“Honestly, Mr. Stark, why would you even think about installing something like that?”

He had laughed at Peter’s indignant look as the young vigilante busied himself in his suit, probably attempting to uninstall it. “You never know when you might need it.”

“Spider-Man doesn’t need it. I kind of pride myself on it, you know.”

There is no feasible way this new enhanced could be Spider-Man. No power on Earth could get Peter to purposely step on a bug, let alone kill someone. Hell, he even risked his own life to try and save Toomes when his wings began to malfunction, despite the multiple attempts the Vulture had made to kill him. Peter is a far better person than Tony ever was, and he doubts anyone, or anything, could change that.

Steve must see the reluctance, bordering on disbelief, on his face because it is Tony whom he makes eye contact with. “I haven’t seen the webbing anywhere else, or even his abilities. It’s too much of a coincidence for Spider-Man to disappear and then this new enhanced appears checking all the boxes.”

“Who is Spider-Man, anyway? Steve’s been a little skimpy on the details,” Natasha speaks up, her tone even as she leans back in her chair and places her feet on the table.

Steve sighs, a long-suffering sound that gives Tony the idea they’ve had this conversation before. “I told you, I’m not entirely sure. All I knew was he was from New York and that he sounded young. Tony and I were supposed to recruit him together, but…” the Captain glances at him before continuing, “It seems like he beat me to the chase.”

Tony represses the urge to roll his eyes until he can see his brain and instead shrugs his shoulders in an act of nonchalance, “Things change. It was a need-to-know basis, and I needed to know.”

He rises from his seat and approaches the projector screen, phone in hand. After connecting the device to the screen, he opens the file with a few taps of his finger. He could recite every detail and nuance of it by heart, as if it were embedded into his brain. It was an old case file, but one he had visited frequently enough that it was as familiar to him as his own name. Videos pop up, old ones of Peter in his old onesie swinging around New York. He’s stopping a bus in one, ripping open a car trunk and helping a kidnapping victim out in another. Just Pete’s old, everyday friendly neighborhood activities he did after school. Then, there’s a street map, highlighting Peter’s patrols routes and patterns, triangulating back to his apartment in Queens. And finally, a profile a buddy of Tony’s in the FBI whipped up for him after sending the agent some research. 

SPIDER-MAN PROFILE ASSESMENT by DAVID ROSSI, SSA 

• SPIDER-MAN (identity unknown) is possibly a young, white male in his late teens to early twenties, as suggested by his voice and actions. He appears to be attending college due to the timing of Spider-Man's activities. His suit looks homemade and further examination of videos reveal that the devices on his wrists are where his “webs” come from -- showing that he is knowledgeable in engineering and mechanics. In his personal life, he may appear distant and secretive from family, explaining away long absences and potential injuries to an extra job or extracurriculars, like sports. The subject is highly knowledgeable of the city, strongly indicating the subject is a lifelong native of New York, likely more specifically in Queens.
• Subject appears to have a strong moral code which separates him from normal vigilante justice. His preference is for nonviolent means, demonstrated by his other activities such as community service and other charitable works. It would be unwise to rule out the potential for more severe criminal activity if the situation calls for it at some point in the future; however, this does not appear to be his primary intention when looking at his behavior up until now.

Sam huffs quietly, “Yeah, we got the young part.”

Tony waits for the information to be absorbed before he swipes up, sending Peter’s yearbook picture to the middle of the screen. He doesn’t look to the Rogues for their reactions, but he can hear Steve suck in a breath. “His name is Peter Parker. He’s 15 years old, and he just wanted to look out for the little guy.”

There are a few moments of silence, with Tony staring at the picture of the smiling teen on the screen instead of making eye contact with anyone else. 

Steve’s the first to break the silence, with a stern but quiet voice, “You brought a 15 year old to Berlin.”

It’s not a question.

“Actually, I brought a 14-year-old, and yeah, I did.”

Natasha lifts her chin up as she crosses her arms, “Why?”

“Let’s just call it a ‘tactical advantage’, Nat. He was supposed to web you up, boom. That’s it. Done. And I’m not the one who dropped a bridge on him, not knowing if he could even catch it.”

“No, Tony, I knew he could. I watched the same videos as you, remember?” Steve takes a breath, “But that’s not what this is about. We’re here to find him and stop him.”

“Stop him from what, exactly?” Rhodey says before Tony can. 

Wilson slides over a tablet to Tony, with a map that is marked with different colored X's signifying different caches. “He got on Wakanda’s radar by going after the vibranium that Klaue left behind, but we still don’t know why" Wilson says, “Wakanda was only able to recover some of it before he got to it.”

“T’Challa saw some of the footage some of the Dora Milaje captured last week, and he recognized him from Berlin,” Steve remarks before Tony swipes up on the video on the map, “It’s him, Tony. Bucky and I both knew it when we saw it.”

Tony bristles at the sound of the name, but he can't tear his eyes away from the video. It is startlingly clear and has obviously been taken from some kind of armor camera. In it, he sees webbing shoot down from the ceiling, hoisting up a woman who then disappears from view. He watches as a figure dressed in black with similar goggles to Peter's original drops to the floor in her place. Three women, including the one wearing the camera, rush towards him with their spears. He easily dodges and blocks them with impressive agility and strength. One woman takes a fierce punch to her stomach that sends her flying backwards, while the other is pulled off-balance by a web before he quickly delivers another blow to her chest. Then it is the turn of the woman with the camera; his legs quickly sweep hers from under her as another web hits its mark, trapping her in place. There are shouts in Xhosa, a metallic bang, and then… nothing.

The video ends.

“Shuri, was able to analyze the webs before they dissolved, and was able to recreate the formula. Sam said it was exactly like the one… Peter used on him in Berlin,” Roger’s voice is softer than before, “After everything we’ve been learning about this guy, Tony…  don’t think it could be anyone else.”

Tony rubs a hand through his hair, “Yeah. That’s… that’s him.”

And it must be him. He knows it. He can feel it. There’s no one else it could be. “So, where is he now?”

“As far as we know, near Wakanda. We should have a location soon,” Natasha answers for Steve, her voice similarly soft, “We could use your expertise. You know him better than us.”

Tony laughs, a humorless sound, “I don’t know if I do. That might be Peter, but he’s not…”

In his mind, he sees Peter laughing as he repairs DUM-E, joking about gluing some googly eyes on him. He sees Peter excited about working on the Iron Man suit, eagerly learning everything he can about the repulsor technology. He smells popcorn and hears Star Wars quotes. He tastes Chinese food and Fruit Pebbles with chocolate milk. 

He sees a kid, wearing a plastic Iron Man helmet on his head and a toy repulsor on his hand, aiming at a Hammer Tech drone. Ready to take on the world in order to help his hero.

He’s not my Peter.