Peter watched anxiously as the iron man suit lowered to hover in the air in front of him. The jets on the feet just about keeping it above the ground. He didn't turn, mask clutched in his hand as nerves building in his stomach, eyes still fixed down on the river below. Dread and guilt kicking him in the lungs as on the water, rescue boats still circled the now welded together ferry. Around them the sky was just about turning golden with evening. "Previously on Peter's show, I told you to stay away from this", Tony's voice echoed through the speakers as the suit lowered. "Instead you hacked a multimillion dollar suit that my son helped me build so you could sneak around behind my back doing the one thing I told you not to do".

"Is everyone okay?" Peter asked instead of answering. Voice with a note of defeat.

"No thanks to you", Tony's voice was icy.

Peter whirled. "No thanks to me?" He turned and hopped off the wall onto the roof, one arm gesturing out to the cityscape behind him. "Those weapons are out there and I tried to tell you about it but you didn't listen. None of this wouldn't have happened if you had just listened to me!" He hated how high his voice got towards the end, how childishly pleading. "If you even cared, you'd actually be here".

With a metallic noise of gears shifting the front of the suit folded back to reveal Tony watching him. The man was dressed in a smart all black suit and his face was unreadable. Peter took a step back as he stepped out onto the roof and advanced a few steps. Peter retreating. "I did listen kid. Who do you think called the FBI Huh? Do you know that I was the only one who believed to you? Everyone else said that I was crazy for recruiting a fourteen year old kid"-

"I'm fifteen", Peter corrected in a small voice.

"No! This is where you zip it!" Tony's voice rose and he kept on walking slowly forwards. Peter watching his face as he kept on matching his steps back. "The adult is talking. What if somebody had died tonight? Different story right? Cause that's on you". He jabbed a finger in the air at Peter's chest. The boy gritting his teeth to not show emotion as Tony continued. "And if you died, I think that's on me. I don't need that on my conscience. Not after Tate. My son is a hero. A hero who will never be able to skate or walk without pain again. His legs are damaged badly enough to affect him for the rest of his life".

"But he has been recovering", Peter could hear the worry in his voice.

Tony sighed. "He has. Tate is nothing but a fighter but these injuries will affect him for the rest of his life. He will never skate again like he used too. He will never be able to walk without the concern of pain. And while he will get the use of his limbs almost back to the point of being normal, what do you think will happen when it gets cold? Or when he hits his knee at just the wrong place? Or if he has too much fun skating and wakes up the next day in pain? Injuries like that linger like a shadow. A constant reminder. I should know". He sighed and rubbed his fingers into the bridge of his nose, other hand brushing over his chest where the arc reactor heart glowed. Then he looked up at Peter again. This time his eyes were hurting and sad, the face of a father. "And that Peter, that pain that my son will have to face, does face everyday. That is on me. Because I gave him the suit and let him out there. And I know that Tate made his choices but as a father, I should have saved him. I should have saved Rhodey. But the fact is that I didn't and now my son will forever bare those scars. That will be on my conscience for the rest of my life and I will spend the rest of my life working to make that right because I was the one who allowed my son to be put in that positions where he had to make a choice about saving someone at the cost of himself".

Tony paused to take in a deep breath. "Now Peter. If you died, that would be on me too and I don't need another kid on my conscience. It's far too heavy in there as it is".

"Sir I'm sorry", Peter's voice was wobbly. The talk about Tate having cracked his thin walls. The guilt on Tony's face, the sorrow and love of a father. The weight it caused piled itself on the already sinking stone of guilt over his words to Tate earlier that day. The boy's expression played itself over in his mind. The widening of eyes, the thinning of lips and the colour slowly fading from his skin as the gaze averted to the floor as water welled up. Peter had known as soon as he saw the tears that he had made a mistake, yet he had still let Tate go.

"Sorry doesn't cut it", Tony snapped.

"I understand. I just wanted to be like you", Peter's voice was wobbly.

"And I wanted you to be better". There a second of silence as the words sunk in. "Okay. It's not working out, I'm going to need the suit back".

Peter felt his face pale and his eyes widen. "For how long?"

"Forever".

"No. No! Please, please, please, please. You don't understand. This is all I have. I'm nothing without this suit".

"If you're nothing without this suit then you shouldn't have it. Okay?" Then Tony cringed. "I sound like my dad".

Peter looked away, voice small. "I don't have any other clothes".

Tony sighed. "Okay we'll sort that out".

——

When Tony got back to the apartment, Tate was waiting for him in the kitchen. The boy was leaning half on the kitchen isle dressed in a a pair of boxers and a large tshirt. Tony paused in the action of dropping his blazer and tie over the back of a chair. His iron man suit already put away and the reclaimed Spider-Man suit in his lab awaiting fixing. In the bright white lights, he could see the white scars over Tate's knees. The lines standing out more than usual against the golden tinged skin tone. The knowledge that there was a matching on across the boy's abdomen was swimming around in Tony's mind.

"Dad", Tate looked up as he entered. Big black eyes wide with worry. "Is Peter okay? Any casualties?" From down the hall, there was chatter echoing from Tate's bedroom. Tony vaguely remembered a text from earlier today about his son's friends coming over for a sleepover.

"He's fine. Absolutely fine, don't worry yourself. No one was injured other than the bad guys". Tony dropped his blazer and strode round to the fridge. Tate's deep sigh of relief arose suspicion in his mind as he pulled the fridge door open. He cataloged it along with the other weird things that his son had been doing over the last few weeks as he perused the food. "The kid drives me up the wall somethings", he huffed loudly. "He's irresponsible, cocky, has no self preservation. I had to take the suit back before he gets himself killed".

Tate had been reaching for a chair to sit down on but at the last sentence he stumbled and cracked his knee against the metal leg. Tony turned at the cry of pain and was around the table in the blink of an eye to catch Tate under the arms as he fell. He pulled the boy up and into the chair as Tate hissed in pain. (Tate was still too small. 5'6. Small fry. He needed to eat more). "Tate? Are you okay? What hurts?"

"Shit", Tate hissed as he rubbed his hand over his knee. "Just hit it in the wrong freaking place. Wasn't paying attention. Fuck". The skin was rapidly turning red. Tony knew that it would bruise spectacularly later. His words to Peter earlier must have been a jinx

"Where's you cane?" He asked.

"In my room", Tate scowled down at his knee in betrayal. "My legs were feeling better. Now they're being bastards. What did you mean you took Peter's suit?"

Tony rose to get a ice pack from the freezer. They always had about four on hand as prescribed by Tate's physical therapist in case his legs played up or he overdid it. "I mean that I took it back. He was being reckless and endangering himself and others. He didn't listen to me so I took the suit back".

"But dad!" Tate's voice was shocked. "Pete loves being Spider-Man! He needs it!"

"He needs to stop putting himself in danger", Tony replied as he returned and pressed a gel filled ice pack to the red skin. Tate hissed at the sensation and huffed loudly. His dark hair falling in his eyes. Tony sighed as he held the pack there. The limbs still thin from loosing their muscle tone during the weeks Tate had spent in the wheelchair. Muscle tone that they were only now beginning to rebuild.

"He's not going to stop", Tate spoke quieter now after a minute of silence. "He's stubborn like that. He's not going to stop because he still has his powers. He's Peter Parker. With power comes responsibility, so he is still going to try. He can't not. He needs that suit".

"If I catch him patrolling without the suit then I'm going to tattle to aunt may", Tony snapped. "The kid needs to learn that he can't always be the hero".

"He knows that", Tate's gaze was sharp. "Don't you think he knows that? He's a orphan and his uncle died less than two years ago. Dad give him a break. He just wants to make the world better".

"But he needs to learn how to handle himself before he can take on the world".

"I know!" Tate threw up his hands. "Dad! I know! I watch his patrol footage. I watch his fights. He gives directions and stops petty thieves and muggers. He stops car crashes and helps lost children. He almost got stabbed last month because he broke up a gang fight. Just two weeks ago he was punched in the face by a man trying to sexually assault a girl younger than me. He is reckless and he puts himself in danger. I know that dad but he won't learn by you taking the suit away. He can't not stop helping people. He's amazing like that. Pete sees people in trouble and he has to help. We just need to be there to make sure that he is protected and trained and supported for when he is injured. We can't stop him".

"But what if he gets badly injured. I can't have another child under my responsibility injured", Tony exclaimed. His hand moved and Tate winced as it pressed harder against the bruise. "Sorry", Tony adjusted his hold.

"Dad", Tate smiled at him gently. It was a expression Pepper sometimes gave him when his head was getting too loud. It was a expression Ira had given him too, back in college when he missed sleep and she had to tug him away from the lab. It was an expression that made Tate look so much like his mother. His father, who even Tony didn't know the name of, wasn't present in his face. Tate looked so much like his mother that he could have been her clone. "Dad. I made my own choices. None of that is your fault".

"It is my fault because I am your father. I put you in that situation, I gave you that suit. Because I thought it smart to put two teenagers on a battlefield against heavily trained people at lest twice your age. So yes, it is my fault".

"Dad. Could you have known that vision would fire on Sam at that moment?" Tate's voice was firm. "Did you know that Sam would have seen it coming and dodged? Could you have known that the laser would have short circuited Rhody's suit? Even then, what if it had hit Sam instead? Or you? If it had hit you then it could have short circuited your heart. You could have died in the air before you even hit the ground. Now if it had hit Sam? My choice would have been the same. I knew what would happen if I went at those speeds. I knew what I was doing so no, it was not your fault".

"But you almost lost your legs!" Tony almost shouted.

"But if I hadn't then Rhodey could have!" Tate retorted in a voice loud enough to match his. "Rhodey could have been paralysed or dead and you would still be here blaming yourself for something that wasn't your fault! I made the decision to put on that suit, to join you a Peter at that airport and to catch Rhodey. If there's any blame then it's on me but there is not blame in this situation. It's merely a fluke accident".

"You don't understand", Tony breathed heavily and rose to place his hands on Tate's shoulders. "I will always have guilt over this because I am your guardian. Ira left you to me so I could protect you. I failed then".

"The stop letting it weigh over you", Tate met his gaze pleadingly. "Peter and I are going to get into danger and we are going to get hurt. That is what happens in life. Everyone gets hurt. What I'm asking you dad is that you just do your best to support us and path us up when we stumble".

Tony inhaled deeply as the words drifted into the air, then closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "When did you get so wise?" He asked tiredly. He opened his eyes to see Tate smiling at him.

"Since I realised that being the son of Tony Stark was not all about gadgets and gizmos". He stood up, putting the now mostly defrosted ice pack on the table. His legs were steady under him but he kept a hand on the table ledge just in case. "Dad. Peter will need his suit back. It's better he goes out to be a hero in a million dollar super protective suit rather than the four dollar Panama set he had before".

Tony's shoulders sagged in defeat. Tate had won this argument. "Fine but I'm making some upgrades first. Let him stew for a week while I fix what he hacked. I have designs for a new suit anyway. I'll give it back when I'm done".

"Good", Tate grinned.

"None of that", Tony wagged a finger at him as he walked round the the fridge. "Now was it me or did you call Peter amazing a few minutes ago?"

"No!" Tate blushed. Tony paused. He had never seen his son blush like that before. A gleeful smirk tugged at his lips and Tate took a nervous step towards the door.

"Oh? You're blushing. I didn't know that you and the kid were so close".

"We're friends. Of course we're close".

"Yeah but you don't blush around Abe, or Jason, or Callum. Do you perhaps like Peter?"

"I think Callum is calling me", Tate squeaked. "Bye dad!" Then he was limping from the room as fast as he could. Tony chuckled at the sight then turned back to the fridge. So his son had a crush on Peter Parker. Interesting. He hoped that it was reciprocated. Peter was a good kid.

Unedited