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Spoo

Treason (Spider-Man: Homecoming, Tony Stark)

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I'd like to make a few announcements before you lovely readers dive into this fic. *clears throat and adjusts notecards* 

  1. I've never really written Tony Stark before outside of vanilla RP's, so please be gentle and don’t judge me too harshly on his probably terrible characterization. SOBBB.
  2. Peter's Spidey suit is more than likely equipped to handle fires/smoke, but let’s pretend that T Stizzle didn’t anticipate his Spiderling chilling in a burning building for like an hour, mmkay? :lol:  
  3. I headcanon that Peter still messes up from time to time even though he’s wiser about crimefighting now (he’s a teenager, come on!).
  4.  There WILL be spoilers for Spider-Man: Homecoming if you’ve not yet seen it. Fair warning!
  5. Please do not ask/request Peter Parker material from me, because I will not write it. He’s fifteen, my dudes, and I refuse to fetishize him in ANY way. Thank you kindly. 

With all of that now said... *tosses notecards out the window* Enjoy! :D

 

~ * ~ 

Treason

by Spoo

2eyjgk4.jpg

 

For the most part, things were awesome. Being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman wasn’t on ‘Avengers’ level or anything, but it still came with a thrilling sense of freedom and responsibility that Peter couldn’t get enough of. And yeah, okay, now that May knew about his secret the dynamics of the household had changed (Peter had to be home by midnight on school nights, but weekends were debatable so long as he didn’t ditch class or class trips anymore). So yup, things were awesome. 

…but soooometimes little ‘issues’ came up. They weren’t serious or anything! Just, you know, maybe going after a criminal that was a tiny bit out of Peter’s league (again), or stopping an out of control car from going off the Whitestone Bridge (and nearly falling off with it), or, in this particular case, webbing into a burning building and trying to save every single person on every single floor without passing out from smoke inhalation in the process. 

Karen dutifully monitored Peter’s oxygen levels and kept him aware of what was and wasn’t stable, but even that hadn’t been enough to prevent a hefty piece of debris from knocking an already woozy, somewhat disorientated Spider-Man out of the eleventh floor window and towards the unforgiving pavement below. Peter felt the rush of cold air enveloping him from all sides as he fell down stories upon stories, waiting for either his built-in parachute to deploy or the inevitable collision that would no doubt kill him. 

Neither happened. Instead, he vaguely sensed the feeling of arms enclosing around him before everything went as black as the billows of smoke rising into the sky. 

- - - 

The first thing Peter noticed upon waking sometime later was that he wasn’t alone. He could hear a voice, but it sounded like the voice was underwater. It occurred to him as he surfaced from the dark depths of unconsciousness that the voice belonged to a woman, but it wasn’t May or someone he regularly associated with. This lady’s voice sounded different. Kinda nice, actually. 

“…think he’s waking up now. No, you’re not going to kill him. Take a breather and get back here when you can.” 

Peter slowly opened his eyes; his blurred vision settled into focus, which granted him a view of a high ceiling. He flexed his fingers and brought a hand towards his face to see if he was still wearing his suit. Sure enough, the expensive red material clung to the digits as he curled them into and away from his palm. What wasn’t on him anymore, he realized with a frigid jolt of panic, was his mask. 

Fearful that he’d exposed his identity to whoever had kidnapped him, he frantically sat up and was surprised to see a familiar face looking down at him. 

“Don’t worry, Peter, it’s just me,” Pepper Potts reassured, easing the teenager’s anxiety. “You’re in a safe place.” 

Relief flooded through Peter, though as he went to respond he found himself doubled over and coughing instead of forming actual words. God, his chest hurt.

“You inhaled a lot of smoke,” Pepper informed, once Peter had managed to catch his breath. “At least more than your suit could filter out. It wasn’t made for longterm exposure to fire, but I have a feeling that’s going to change very soon. Here.” 

A glass of water from a nearby table was brought and handed over, which Peter gratefully accepted. He downed half the glass straight away and then took his time sipping what remained. His throat and chest didn’t feel back up to speed yet, but he was finally able to speak in a muted, hoarse version of his typical tone.

“How did I get here?” Peter asked, and then tacked on another question while he was at it. “And uh, where exactly is here?”

“Take a look around. You should be able to recognize it,” Pepper replied.

Peter turned his head and glanced about, taking in the chrome decoration and floor-length windows and that huge letter ‘A’ on the wall on the other side of the glass—ah. 

“Oh God,” he rasped in realization, transferring his gaze from the recovery room of the New Avengers Facility to Pepper again. Everything suddenly made sense. “Mr. Stark brought me here, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Pepper agreed, spooning a long strand of strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear.  

Noooo,” Peter groaned, knowing there was no way he was getting out of his current predicament scot-free. He foresaw another ‘disappointed dad’ lecture in his future. “I’m toast.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you’ll get it as bad as you would have if I hadn’t talked him down,” Pepper said. “He’s still not happy with you, though.” 

Peter handed over the empty water glass and rubbed his face with his hands. “I was doing so good, too,” he sighed, and then coughed again when the gesture aggravated his smoke-hurt lungs. “I seriously feel like I can’t go a solid month without screwing up somehow.” He looked at Pepper through sad brown eyes; it was the kind of pitiful expression a guilty child who was dreading their father’s impending return gave. “I don’t want to lose this suit again. Not when Mr. Stark basically just gave it back to me.” 

“Like I said,” Pepper started, taking a step towards the door. “I’ve talked him down from the worst of it, but you’ll probably get an earful anyway when he gets back from putting out the fire.” 

Peter watched as she started to leave the room, and before she could disappear completely he called out as loud as his damaged voice would allow: “Is there anything I can say to him to make it easier on me? You know, like, compliment his shiny shoes, or talk about how epic and smart he is?” 

Pepper couldn’t fight away the amused, fond smile that upturned her lips. “Probably not,” she answered truthfully, hovering in the doorway for another second. “But that’s not all on you. He has a cold but swears he doesn’t, so he’s been extra grumpy lately.”

Oh great, Peter thought despairingly, sinking back into a state of unease as Pepper finally left. Not only was Mr. Stark pissed off that Peter had once again bitten off more than he could chew, but the billionaire also had the sniffles. Talk about the absolute best timing in the world.

NOT.  

- - - 

“Hey, Mr. Stark! You’re looking great today.Yeah…the fire. I totally had everything under control, but you know things start falling everywhere when they’re burning, and I know I should have been more careful, which I will be next time, so uh, no worries?” 

Nope. 

“Mr. Stark, hey! How you been?…yeah, things are alright for me. Just saving people from crazy fires, which I’m sure you’ve done plenty of times before, so you know how unpredictable it can be sometimes.” 

Seriously? 

“Hi, Mr. Stark! Glad to see you’re back! My bad about getting knocked out. Should have been more alert, you know?”

Ohh, he was dead. So, so dead. 

Rehearsing what he planned to say to Mr. Stark in his recovered voice wasn’t going very well, seeing as Peter couldn’t seem to settle on what he wanted to spit out. Two hours had passed since he’d woken up at the facility, and by then he’d nearly paced a hole in the floor. He’d heard no word of Mr. Stark’s return, and Ms. Potts hadn’t come back into the room yet, soooo there was little else he could do aside from practicing potential dialogue. 

Peter had briefly—and VERY briefly, at that—considered slipping out of the facility before Mr. Stark got back, but chances were that would put him in even more hot water than he already was. So he stayed put. 

He’d nearly convinced himself that Mr. Stark wasn’t coming back until morning when the doors suddenly opened and in walked the man himself. Peter, who had been perched on a high spot on the wall, jumped down and tried to put together the words he’d recited over and over and over again. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark! I—”

“Save it, kid. I heard every variation of you trying to suck up for the last hour,” Tony said, approaching the couch and sinking down onto the plush piece of furniture. His nose twitched to the right as he sniffed and waited for Peter to respond in three…two…one… 

“Wait, you heard me? Didn’t you just…?” 

“Get back? Nope. Been here for about an hour now. Watching you talk to yourself on camera was highly entertaining, by the way. I miiiiight have even felt a shred of that thing—what do they call it…” Tony snapped his fingers a few times in a feigned way of trying to recall a word “—sympathy? But then I remembered that you almost got yourself killed, again, after taking on more than you could handle, again, and I had to save you, again. Did I say again? Because boy, it’s definitely again.”

Peter could usually (sort of) handle Mr. Stark’s quick and sharp tongue, but in that moment the talking muscle felt ten times faster and way more lethal. How could Peter even respond to that? Fortunately for him, he was bought some time when his mentor turned to suppress a cough into a closed fist. 

Oh yeah, Pepper had said that Mr. Stark was sick. Made sense now that Peter was taking in Mr. Stark’s features beyond an anxious glance: his tired expression, the reddish tint to the man’s nose, the nasal undertone to his voice that Peter hadn’t noticed until then. His spectating stare must have been detected, because Mr. Stark wasted no time nipping Peter’s observations in the bud. 

“Look, whatever bogus hoopla Pepper fed you about me isn’t true. I’m running at full capacity here,” he defended, though the cough he gave after said defense didn’t exactly back up his not-so-believable argument. “Plus, last I checked this wasn’t about me. Spotlight’s still on you, Spidey.” 

Crap. So much for being bought some time. 

“I messed up,” Peter confessed, hoping that broadcasting his mistake right off the bat would make the situation a little easier to swallow for all parties involved. 

“Tell me something I don't know,” Tony replied, unimpressed, as he folded his arms across his chest. “Admitting your failure won’t earn you any brownie points at this stage.”

“But I couldn’t just stand there and not do anything! Those people needed help,” Peter protested, gesturing at the nearest wall as though it were the burning building he’d rushed into earlier that night. “I know I was really pushing it.”

“Oh, you pushed it alright,” Tony commented, rubbing his nose. 

“And I know I should have waited for backup or whatever, but I didn’t and things got worse and now you’re probably going to take this suit from me again, and I—”

Hhk’itschoo!

That…that was a sneeze. Peter looked at Mr. Stark, who was ducked into one of his palms, and said: “Bless you.” 

His polite statement was ignored, but it didn’t appear to be a deliberate action. The wealthy genius was far too busy sneezing twice more to respond. “Ihk’schhoo!—ihhschhoo! 

Peter looked around for a tissue box and didn’t see one in the nearby vicinity. Sheesh, for all the attention, detail, and money that went into the New Avengers Facility you’d think there’d be some kind of high tech tissue distributing machine built into each room. 

“Bless you,” Peter ended up saying again, and this time his courtesy was met with a waving hand of dismissal. 

“Still not—hh!—earning you any brhhhhownie p-points—ihk’tschhoo!

The fourth release appeared to be the last in the sneezy spree, and following its execution Tony kept a knuckle pressed below his septum while he reached into his pocket with his free hand. Procuring what looked like a small stack of folded tissues, he pressed them to his decidedly redder nose and snuffled into the cluster.

Silencio, Parker,” he demanded afterward, not needing to look to know that Peter had another ‘bless you’ fired up and ready to go. “Any comments from you are considered treason.” 

Peter nodded, eyes wide. “Yeah, okay. No comments here.” 

Tony gave his nose another swipe and pocketed the tissues with a clearing of his throat. “Anyway, back to you groveling.”

“What? Oh! I’m reallyreally sorry, Mr. Stark, and I promise if I’m ever in that kind of situation I won’t—”

“Change of plan,” Tony abruptly interjected, rubbing his temples as though he were nursing a killer headache. “Let’s skip the groveling and fast-forward to my sagely advice. Saves time and gets me into a bed quicker.” Sniffing once more, which sounded like a damper ordeal than before (at least to Peter’s ears), Tony concluded: “Don’t do it again, and I am taking your suit back. But only to give it an upgrade so smoke isn’t an issue next time you decide to be an irresponsible punk. Capiche?” 

Peter gaped in disbelief. He hadn’t expected Mr. Stark to be so forgiving and cool about everything—he seriously didn’t deserve it after the reckless stunt he’d pulled—but here the guy was, giving Peter a Get Out of Jail Free card. 

Not even a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade or brightly lit Christmas could compare to the huge smile that seized Peter’s boyish face. “Thank you, Mr. Stark! Seriously, thank you! You will not regret this!” 

Tony stood up from the couch and reintroduced the tissues from his pocket; his breath started to shake as he brought the handful to his flaring nostrils. “Leave your suit with Hahhh…Happy—hhk’ighschoo!—before you bounce.” 

“Will do, and bles—”

Treason,” Tony said firmly, eyeing Peter sharply over the rims of his aviators before the two of them headed out of the room together. 

 

END.

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Ohhh my god.  I made a weird strangled screechy noise and now my cat won't come near me.  Ohh my god. 

I love mentor Tony.   I love sick Tony.  I love sick Tony in denial.  And I LIVE sick Tony in denial having to deal with being a mentor.  And this was just right up my street holy crap.  Your characterisation is perfect and believe me,  I'm fussy about reading Tony,  if something doesn't strike me as quite right I'll stop reading.  This was so good.  And the descriptions,  the little touches like having the folded tissues in his pocket.  We must have very similar tastes when it comes to his character because I swear this almost feels as if it was written FOR me it comes so close to what I love!

I'd like to point out more that I enjoyed but I am getting ready for work,  but man thank you for posting this,  it brightened up a Monday morning! 

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Oh wow this is very good loved reading this.

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@SleepingPhlox: Thank you so much for your lovely comment! :D (Hopefully your cat has forgiven you by this point, hehehe). I was actually TERRIFIED of writing for Tony, because not only is it new territory but his character also has veeeery specific mannerisms and dialogue. He's basically just...Tony, you know? :lol: I did like figuring out his voice on my own, sothere's a good chance I'll write a second part to this~ :whistle:  

 

@pikachu78: Thank you! ^_^ 

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5 minutes ago, Spoo said:

@SleepingPhlox: Thank you so much for your lovely comment! :D (Hopefully your cat has forgiven you by this point, hehehe). I was actually TERRIFIED of writing for Tony, because not only is it new territory but his character also has veeeery specific mannerisms and dialogue. He's basically just...Tony, you know? :lol: I did like figuring out his voice on my own, sothere's a good chance I'll write a second part to this~ :whistle:  

 

Well I hope you do because, yeah, like I said I'm really fussy about reading Tony because like you said, his character is very specifically him, but this has rapidly become one of my favourite fics of him, fetish or otherwise, and I have read it many times since it was posted.  It is just so perfectly him.  Which actually makes my jealous ass wish I could hate it a little bit because it's so far beyond anything I could have ever done!  But I can't hate it even a little because it's just too damn good.  :D  Seriously, long may inspiration strike you because it's so great to see an awesome writer bring my favourite characters to life

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I LOVE THIS!!!! I really hope you continue! 

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Yes please continue!

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