HAPPY NEW YEAR!

It's crazy how time flies. I feel like I've grown a lot as a writer this past year, and it's been fun to open myself to new fandoms and experiment in writing for them too. Marvel isn't a fandom I've ever posted for on my main accounts, and it's not my usual cup of tea, but this new year I really want to expand myself and what I'm willing to post instead of worrying whether or not people will like it.

This one-shot is over a year old. It's something I originally posted on Patreon, just because I happened to have it on hand and I thought, well, why not. I didn't expect anyone to actually like it on there, but everyone was so encouraging and it really got me into writing more for the fandom. 

In honor of that, and of the new year, I thought I'd try posting something you guys have never seen from me before! This one-shot is cringey, self-indulgent, and was honestly never supposed to be seen by human eyes. It was just a second-hand-embarrassment inducing scenario in my head that needed to come out somehow.

Happy New Years, everyone! Cringey and unrealistic or not, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Peter is Tony Starks missing son. Peter doesn't realize this until he and his Aunt May see age progressions of the billionaire's missing son on TV. Age progressions that look just like him.

Third person pov

Everyone knows who Peter Stark is. He was, and still is, Tony Stark's everything. His son, no matter how long he's been gone.

Stolen at the age of six from their seaside Malibu mansion, Tony has never once waned in his efforts to find his son. He has exhausted every resource, has followed up on every tip, every clue, every whisper. Every year the reward for finding Peter or offering forth any viable information on what happened raises. Tony kicks up a fuss with the media over it every chance he gets, using any excuse he can for more screen time, more publicity. Anything to keep the word out and circulating fresh.

He won't let the world forget, and he certainly won't let himself forget. He'd never. Peter's his son and there isn't a day that goes by that Tony doesn't miss him: and he tells the press as such anytime he happens to see them. Tony Stark's love for his son has remained steadfast and present in the world throughout everything. Through his time in Afghanistan, becoming Iron Man, forming the Avengers, saving the world a few times-- Peter has still, always, been his number one priority.

That will never change. If there's a camera shoved in his face, Peter's name is on his lips. Simple as that.

Such is evidenced by the press conference he held less than a week ago that's still rerunning even days after. Tony made it abundantly clear that he was still turning over every imaginable stone in search of his son. Peter Parker hadn't even intended to watch it, really. He looks up to Tony Stark as a scientist and genius engineer, but he'll admit he's never looked hard into the guy's missing child. It felt awkward, with them sharing the same first name and all. Apparently that wasn't as much of a coincidence as he now wished it was.

"Peter." Aunt May was drilling holes into the side of his head. Peter pursed his lips and pointedly didn't look at her, eyes trained on the TV screen as Tony Stark pleaded with the people to keep looking. The man was offering even more compensation, a few detailed age progressions playing on the screen behind him. "Peter. That's definitely you."

"It totally isn't." Peter insisted immediately, his voice a few pitches higher than it was supposed to be. May glanced at the current age progression, which looked exactly like him, and then back to her nephew. Peter could feel himself begin to sweat. "Just because it kinda looks like me doesn't mean it is me."

"Pete. Honey." May sounded a little desperate. Peter took a bite out of his cheese and pepperoni slice. She waved a hand vaguely towards the TV, not phased by his efforts to brush it off. "That's literally you, dear. Do you remember that vivid, reoccurring dream have at least once a week? Where you and your dad are at the beach, and he's singing to you and calling you his bambino, and he helps you build a sand castle? And you guys have a picnic and eat ham sandwiches, and he pulls the crust off for you and helps you feed it to the seagulls? And then rubs sunscreen all over your face and you giggle?"

Peter curls his lips inward so that his mouth is just a line. He's in denial. This isn't happening to him. This is a hallucination. He regrets ever telling Aunt May about that dream. Which he's had since he was a young, young child. Oh, no.

"Yeah. It's a great dream." Peter still wouldn't look at his aunt, his heart thumping like a jack rabbit's foot. "Super fun. Makes me feel all nice and fuzzy on the inside. I'm so glad to have a memory of my dad, who tragically died in a plane crash when I was little."

"Actually, bambino is Italian, dear. Richard was as Caucasian as it gets." May sounded like she was just plain sad for him now. He appreciated it, really, he did. Genuinely. "He also had a crippling fear of the ocean, if you remember Ben telling you. Wouldn't go near it even if you paid him. You know who is Italian and likes the beach, though?"

Peter practiced taking deep breaths. Great. This was just... so incredibly fun. Also awkward, because what if he is Tony Starks missing son? If he is, then his parents aren't his parents, his Uncle Ben isn't technically his Uncle, and his Aunt technically isn't his Aunt. That, and it also means that he, May, and Ben failed to notice for several years despite Tony Stark's very public efforts to find his son. This isn't the first age progression he's ever done and it won't be the last.

(Or maybe it will be, depending on how things go.)

God, this isn't happening to him. Except it probably is, because that beach dream Peter has isn't the only off memory he has. For one thing, those early memories never have his mother in them. There's only ever his dad, even if Peter can never quite recall his face. Only his voice, which doesn't match up to Richard's in any way, shape, or form. Talk about a double whammy. Peter had never thought very hard about it, but now it's all rushing back to him.

Peter has always had a really, really good memory. It's one of his strong suits. It's why he's so good at Decathlon and other academic stuff in general. Some of his earliest memories don't line up with the ones he has of Richard and Mary, simple as that.

Wait, does this mean him being good at building stuff is partially genetic? Does that even matter right now? His whole life is like, a lie or something. Tony Stark is pouring his heart out over his son for the millionth time and Peter is just sitting here watching it like a douchebag.

Ugh. Ugh. This is so not okay!

What's worse is that now he's slotting Tony Stark's face into those early memories of his father, and it fits. It's feels familiar and right. Those memories are golden, tinged with something warm that's always made him feel bubbly and homesick on the inside. They're something he's always clung to with honey-sweet fondness.

Ben had said he never knew Peter existed until he was older. Apparently he hadn't been close with his brother in the years leading up to him and May getting custody. Which was not helping Peter's case even a little bit. Not even slightly. In fact, it was pretty much the final nail in his coffin!

"Great." Peter's voice cracked, and he finally glanced at May. There was a lot of sympathy on her face. And pity. Mostly pity, actually. Peter took a deep breath. "So the house I have dreams about--"

"Is probably the Malibu mansion you got kidnapped from. Yikes." May finished. Peter made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. May sniffed a bit, not looking as concerned as she probably should be considering she's sitting on a couch next to the missing child of one of the richest men in the world. Plus an Avenger. Yikes is a gross understatement. "I guess Ben and I's theory about you having been adopted was wrong. This is so much worse. No wonder we could never find an adoption certificate. Here we thought you'd been brought over from Canada or something and that was why."

"What?" Peter choked out. They had a theory and didn't even tell him? This can't be legal. Actually, it's not legal. He's a missing child. He's the missing child of literal, actual Iron Man and they're only just now realizing it. This sucks! How did he not see this sooner? How did literally no one in his life? "Wait, does that mean they didn't even change my first name? That's so stupid!"

May's nose scrunched up and she nodded, looking offended on his behalf. How hadn't Tony Stark found him? His name is still Peter. Actually, wait. He does remember his mom-- not his mom, actually, wow-- trying to call him Joseph. He also remembers screaming and crying and insisting his name was Peter. That tracks, he guesses. Man, so he was smart enough to retain his own name at six but not smart enough to realize he'd been kidnapped? Lame!

Peter's just going to-- take deep breaths. And stay calm. He's great at both of those things. This is all fine. Completely unprecedented and he has the reserved right to cry about it if he wants to, but you know! It's all okay! Peter will just... cope... probably very poorly, and things will work out however they're going to work out.

"I guess we know where you got your genius from. I'd always wonder where that came from. Mary and Richard were scientists, but not super great ones. No offense to them." May said it in a considering tone, her brows furrowing. "Or maybe full offense? Since they kidnapped you."

"This sucks. There's no way this is real, right?" Peter asked. When had this press conference happened? Tuesday or something? Tony Stark has probably had it looping on this channel ever since. Peter watched a photo of a younger him pop up behind the billionaire, holding a stuffed dinosaur he remembered explicitly. "Ugh. Fine. Now what do we do?"

May shrugged. Peter shrugged back, really not sure what the protocol for finding out you're the kidnapped child of a billionaire was. So much for a relaxing Saturday eating pizza and channel surfing. Ignorance really is bliss.

If only May had agreed to watch Star Wars with him again. This never would've happened. Or is that rude to think? Since Tony Stark really wants his son back. And Peter does really, really miss his dad. He's just thought his dad was... you know, dead and stuff. Sorta. Sorta not-- like, Richard was still dead, but he's not technically Peter's dad. Or something.

Peter thought really hard about it. He got stolen away from his father, who has desperately missed him for the past ten years, in summary. Wow. So the man in his memories is Tony Stark. Maybe. Wait, so Tony Stark doesn't like peanut butter toast?

Peter feels sort of sad now. His memories of Mary and Richard were slim to none-- he hadn't known them for a super long time when they died, only a few years or so. He'd always thought his memories were of Richard, because who else could they be of? He'd missed him for it too. Now, he was missing someone else entirely.

It was a smack to the face, that's for sure. Peter's surprised he's not having a full-blown existential crisis right now. Maybe he's in shock or something. They should probably call and tell someone. Or reach out some other way. As one is wonts to do when they find out they were kidnapped as a young boy.

How did one even reach Tony Stark? If Peter tried to call the tip line and say 'hey, this is kind of awkward, but I think Peter Stark is actually me' there was no way they were going to buy it. They probably got like, a million of those calls a day! And because his name was Peter Parker, it was even less convincing!

"We should drive over to that big, fancy tower of his." May decided with a snap of her fingers. Peter sent her a scandalized look. What? There's no way they'd be let in. "If we show them the age progressions and then your face, there's no way they won't at least consider it. Or we can just stake it out until someone is forced to come down and listen to us."

That... sounded like it could work. Which was terrible because Peter didn't really want to do it. Was that mean of him too? He's being insensitive. He's just had a really long week is all. Today was supposed to be restful and relaxing. Not emotionally charged, stress-inducing, and vaguely traumatizing.

"Man." Peter groaned, tipping his head back and digging the heels of his palms into his closed eyes hard enough to see colors. "Now I'm plugging his face into every old memory I've ever had and it totally fits, May. It's literally him. Tony Stark is my dad. Am I allowed to cry about this? I feel like I should be allowed to cry about this."

"Congratulations, kiddo. Cry away. You deserve it as consolation for the whole abduction thing." May stood up, cracking her back as she went. "Grab your shoes and bring the pizza. This seems like a situation we shouldn't wait on. Morally and legally. What if they think I did it? I don't need that sort of thing on my record, Peter."

Peter groaned again but did as he was told, grumbling under the breath his whole way. Peter Stark this whole time. As though the whole Spiderman thing didn't make his life crazy enough already.

~~~~~~~

Stark tower is about half an hour away with traffic. Peter sits like a deflated balloon in the passenger seat and systematically demolishes what's left of their pizza whilst ruminating on his memories in a whole new light. He feels sort of cheated now. This whole time he thought these were memories of Richard when they were, in fact, not. How had he been so stupid?

"You were six when you were taken, Peter. Nobody is going to blame you. You're a victim." May put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, reassuring. Peter made a face at her. "And before you say anything about how you remember things from that time, let me repeat. Six. Practically a baby, Peter! What matters is that you're here now. We'll get it all sorted."

"But what about you?" Peter didn't mean for his voice to come out whiny, but it did. He still let May lead him through the massive doors of Stark tower. There were people everywhere, coming and going, milling about. Most had very nice clothing on. Peter suddenly felt rather self conscious in his chemistry pun T-shirt. "What if they think you did something, or never let me see you again?"

The thought of his Aunt May getting dragged off in cuffs sent a shiver down his spine. Peter didn't care who his father was or wasn't. Aunt May had raised him, had continued to take care of him as her own even after Ben died. She hadn't known or played a part in any of this. She was trying to make it right! If they faulted her even after that...

"We'll cross that bridge when we inevitably get to it." Not reassuring, but okay. Sure. "We can't just sit on this problem, Peter. It's bad enough that we didn't notice until just now. I mean, come on. It was painfully obvious in hindsight. You talking about memories that didn't line up with Richard was the biggest flashing red flag ever, yet we somehow glossed over it."

Peter frowned at his Aunt's tone, realizing somewhat belatedly that she was blaming herself for this. Which was just plain stupid, because Peter hadn't noticed either. Neither had Ned or any of his classmates, many of which were science nerds and hardcore Iron Man fans by extension. This isn't on her and it isn't on Ben either.

They didn't know. How could they? Richard and Mary were distant right up until the point where they died, and yet they'd still taken Peter in and loved him like their own. May might've had reason to suspect but so did Peter. If anything, he's just as at fault. Or would be if he weren't stuck in the victim role. He's like, himself, though. He should've been the first in line to coin something as off.

The tower is just as amazing as Peter had imagined it would be, and suddenly he finds himself overwhelmed with nerves. What if they're wrong? Or what if they're right? Peter is pretty sure it's the latter, which is terrifying. He was regular (barring the... spider stuff), orphan boy Peter Parker not even an hour ago. Now he's suddenly having some sort of come to Jesus, re-walk down memory lane moment in which he's realizing that his story isn't as simple as it seems.

There are large, mounted screens that point down at the lobby from all angles. Peter eyes them speculatively, feeling tiny as the dooming press conference from earlier presses down on him and his Aunt. May has a brave face on, and he's beginning to see that her casualness about this whole thing is just as much for his sake as it is her own. It feels uncanny, like he's walking through some sort of fog. Is this really happening?

The age progressions stare at him, his own face reflected back at him with only minor differences in each one. Peter comes to the astute conclusion that this entire situation is fucked and that there's no way his life is real. He's the kidnapped son of Tony Stark and has a secret identity as Spiderman to boot? The whole getting bit by a radioactive spider thing had already been such a stretch to accept, but this is just goddamn insane. No, really, he means it. What the hell is even going on? Why is he here?

May nudges him, nodding to one of the security gate guards. Peter winces with his whole entire being but does as she says. He doesn't want to drag her into the spotlight. She's already being incredibly accepting of this, even though she's probably going to have to go through a painful amount of questioning later. The thought of his Aunt May closed up in an interrogation room for several hours is almost enough to convince him to back out and leave.

The guard looks up when he approaches and pauses, staring at him. Peter awkwardly crosses his arms, shoulders a bit hunched. He offers an attempt at a smile, but it comes off as more of a nervous grimace.

"U-Uh. Hi." Peter squeaks out. The Guard's eyes flicker over to one of the big screens, then to his face, and then to the screen again. He pales. Peter pales too. He's really going to be sick. "So I uh... I-I was watching that, and I uh... that really looks like me."

The guard stares at him, looking like he just watched someone kick a puppy to death. Peter feels like a puppy that just got kicked to death so maybe it works. Peter twists around to look over his shoulder. May stands a short distance away, offering a smile and a pair of thumbs up when she sees him looking. Peter's respectful and doesn't give her the finger. She's just as stressed as he is, he's sure.

The security guard doesn't take his eyes off Peter for even a second, blindly slapping until his hand finds the phone at his booth. He rips it up and brings it to his ear. Peter's pretty sure he hasn't once blinked which is a little awkward. Peter can't help but let his gaze wander, his heart beating so hard it feels ready to fall right out of his chest. This is so scary. And he thought decathlon tournaments were fear-inducing. He'd go to ten of those just to avoid this situation.

Only he is a Tony Stark fan, and everyone knows how much Iron Man misses his son. He gave up making weapons, invested in green energy, birthed entire charities just to try and better the world. The Peter Stark Initiative had helped so many: an effort of collective good acts Tony Stark had committed to try and make the world a better, safer place for his son to live in. The thought of taking that away from Mr. Stark just because Peter was afraid to see him? It was cruel.

That, and he missed his dad too. He just hadn't realized Tony Stark was that dad. Until now. Which is dizzying and Peter is still half-convinced he's making this up, but you know. Is he about to vomit right now? Wait, no, thinking about it is only going to make it worse.

"C-Code P-247. I repeat, Code P-247. I-I need someone with authority down in the lobby as s-soon as possible. I mean as soon as possible. Code P-247, possibly 248. This is serious. Th-This is really, really serious, man." The security guard's voice shook like a leaf in the wind. Peter shuffled his feet, and the guy looked like he'd had a heart attack. He held a hand up like Peter was a stray animal. "Don't move, kid. Don't-- what's your name?"

"...You're not going to believe me." Peter said, honestly. The man stared some more, and the teen winced. Someone come put him out of his misery now. He should've brought a jacket. It's cold in here and he wants to cry. Can spiders die from stress? They seem like they'd die from excessive stress. "It's... It's Peter Parker."

The man made a noise you'd expect to hear from a dying whale. Peter at least has the decency to look both guilty and sympathetic.

Time seemed to drag as he stood there. People continued to move around him, May maintaining a steady distance behind him, a silent supporter. The guard looked like he may start crying, which was so not fair. Peter was the one with justified tears. His whole life's a lie and of course it took him a whole ten years to notice.

He feels pathetic, small, and like he wants to melt into the floor and stay there. What the heck was he even thinking, coming here? He's probably imaging it. Those memories, no matter how many there are or how weird they happen to be, are still blurry. He could probably slot anyone's face in and it would fit. He's just a Tony Stark fan, that's all.

He's always been drawn to Iron Man. He loves Tony Stark! Who doesn't? He's easy to admire. He's a smart man, successful and seamlessly charismatic. Everything Peter wants to be one day and more. He protects people and saves, and the thought that Peter could be related to that? Probably is, unless his brain is tricking him? It's all so confusing. Peter feels dizzy trying to deal with this sudden realization that's clicked in him.

The massive elevator behind the security post dings and several people file out, one moving more briskly than the other. Peter can hardly keep his jaw from dropping. That's War Machine. That is a literal Avenger right there, walking up to the booth Peter is stationed a few feet from. He's dressed in casual clothing and has a Starbucks cup in one hand, something like alarm in his expression.

His eyes meet Peter's and he stops walking completely. Halts in his tracks and stares, letting the suited men and women slide past him. He looks stunned, like someone just dumped a bucket of ice water over him out of nowhere.

Peter stares back, breath caught in his chest as the man slowly approaches. He does so like he thinks Peter is about to disappear. Like he might be a figment of the imagination, or something else along those lines. Peter watches, and something in him... clicks.

A memory sparks up in him, and Peter's jaw actually does drop this time. War Machine comes to a stop ten feet from him, if that. As many times as Peter's seen him on screen in action, seeing him in person is entirely different. Something blooms forth in his chest, and Peter is gasping before he can stop himself, his hands flying up to clap over his mouth in shock. This is different. This is new, this-- he remembers him. Vaguely, but he does. He's sure he does.

"You... Y-You're Uncle Platypus." Peter wheezes, and the man's cup slips from his hand and lands on the ground with a thud and splash of coffee. Peter blinks rapidly to try and keep his tears at bay, suddenly feeling like he can't breathe. Holy shit. Holy actual shit. He was kidnapped as a child, out of a loving home and family, by a couple of wack job scientists. "Y-You-- we danced. We danced in the kitchen and you made me cookies. They... I was told me you were an i-imaginary friend when I brought you up but-- I-I remember that. I remember y-"

Rhodey lunges at him like he's some sort of Five Nights At Freddy's animatronic, and were Peter in less shock, he may have screamed in terror. Instead all he can do is stand stock still as Rhodey's arms wrap around him. He smells familiar too, though Peter can't quite place it. The warmth is welcome-- something he thinks he might know. War Machine is hugging him. His not-so-imaginary friend is hugging him. He used to dream about him too, but the name 'Uncle Platypus' didn't exactly sound like a real person.

Peter's arms come up tentatively to hug back. This is actually happening to him right this very second. Rhodey sounds like he may be hyperventilating, which like, same. Peter shares a wide-eyed look with the stunned guard, wishing he could genuinely ask 'what the fuck' and get an answer that explained all of this.

"Oh god, oh god. Oh my god." Rhodey breathes out, ripping away and reaching shaky hands up to cup Peter's face. Peter stares, just as shocked as War Machine is. Rhodey searches his face, gaze picking him apart piece by piece. "Peter? H-Holy shit. Peter. Y-You're-- you're alive?"

"...Yeah?" Peter squeaked out. His face flushes with sudden embarrassment, and he feels insecure for no reason at all. He averts his gaze away from Rhodey's gawking. "This is really awkward. I-I uh, I saw the press conference. And that's like, totally me, I think? Especially since I remember you which is sort of a dead giveaway. Or something. I-I don't know. Please don't sue me."

Rhodey stares in disbelief, looking like he's about to cry. The guard still looks the same. Peter reaches up to wipe at his own eyes. Crying would be really humiliating. Still justified, but he's not going to be the first to shed tears. As long as someone else does it first he totally has the go-ahead, though. Wow. Wow, this is actually insane. How did he not know sooner? How did nobody notice this?

Peter lets Rhodey stare at him in silence for the next three or so minutes, the man trembling all over. Looking at him again, it's harder to see the Avenger. Peter's memories feel crisper now that he has a real, solid face in front of him.

Cookies that were warm and would melt on his mouth. Silly voices telling him bedtime stories to stop him from crying for his dad-- stories he had made Richard, and then Ben read him in the exact same way. A stuffed dinosaur presented to him at a birthday party with red streamers all over and a cake that tasted like apricots.

"...Peter?" Rhodey asks again, voice small and disbelieving. Peter feels uncomfortable that War Machine's still touching his face but is determined not to make things too weird.

"U-Um, yeah. For sure." Peter's nose scrunched, and Rhodey made a very concerning choking noise, still staring at him like he thought he was hallucinating. Peter twiddled his thumbs. "I'm really sorry. I think you, uh... you used to read to me with voices, and you got me my dinosaur. Bernard, I think? Or Bernie? I'm sorry, I really don't remember that--"

Rhodey was hugging him again before he could finish, cutting him off. Peter shared another look with the guard, who looked a step away from cardiac arrest. Peter was in the same boat. He wished he could turn around and ask his Aunt for an assist, but the hug was... it was actually really nice. Really, really nice.

"Peter. Oh my god. Holy shit, holy shit. You're here. You're actually here. You're still alive." Rhodey breathed, sounding absolutely terrified. He squeezed Peter, taking in a rattling inhale, clearly on the very verge of a breakdown. Twins. "You're okay. You're here. I-I've got to call Tony. You're alive. You're actually... after all this time, you're still alive and you're okay. You're actually okay! Peter. Peter, Peter, Peter. Y-You're so big now. Oh my god."

Peter wanted to nod and say yeah, that was definitely true, but that felt like it might be insensitive and rude. Instead he let Rhodey pull away, the man wiping his eyes in a way that showed just how shaken he was by this whole experience. Peter felt even more self conscious as Rhodey stared at him, the man gazing at him like he was the sun, moon, and stars all combined. He still did his best to give a smile, though it came out more hesitant than he'd hoped.

"Yeah... Yeah, this is super weird. Can, uh, can my Aunt come with us? I swear she didn't kidnap me." Peter blurted it out without really meaning to. Rhodey looked so fond and hurt and scared and happy. "She actually drove me here. She's really nice. Her name is May."

Peter twisted around and waved at Aunt May. Aunt May was crying, beaming at him and waving back. Did that mean Peter had the clear to start crying too?

"Yeah, kid. Oh my god. Yeah, of course she can. Holy shit." Rhodey rasped the words out, turning and never taking a hand off of Peter's shoulder. He beamed at the guard like he'd done him a personal favor. Peter had a feeling said guard was set for life after this one. "I'm taking them up. Don't... Don't let this get out."

"Yes, sir." The guard managed to squeeze out. Peter sniffled, feeling mortified as his eyes began to sting. Especially when Rhodey dragged him into his side, arm around his shoulders. Aunt May briskly approached, taking up Peter's other side and giving an encouraging smile. Peter felt himself relax minimally, taking a deep breath. This was chill. He'd just pretend this was a first person video game and roll with the punches.

Rhodey didn't look away from him. He took them to a smaller elevator off to the left that nobody was using, hand grasping Peter's shoulder so hard it would hurt if not for his spider mutation. Peter didn't mention it or do anything to dissuade the man. He stared right back, soaking in his face. Suddenly having a face to put to some of his earlier memories was odd, but cathartic at the same time.

Aunt May didn't say a word, but Peter definitely saw her snap a photo. Downright traitorous if you ask him. Peter can't believe this is his life. Ned's going to freak! Okay, he's got to calm down. Channel his inner Spiderman. He's so chill right now. So chill and level-headed that it isn't even funny. Missing Stark son? Hilarious and laughable. A walk in the park in his expert, mature, calm opinion.

"FRIDAY." Rhodey says, still not looking away. Peter startled slightly, flushing a little when Rhodey beamed tearfully at him like he did something worth praise. "Tell Tony to get to the Tower right now. Tell him it's about Peter and that it's incredibly urgent. Like, seriously urgent. Not... Not kidding around."

"Message composed and sent, Colonel Rhodes. Is there anything else I can help you with?" FRIDAY asked. Rhodey didn't respond, and Peter tried to contain his excitement. FRIDAY was Tony Stark's personal AI and she was so badass and cool. She was the most sophisticated of her kind and the only machine that had the capacity to learn on an emotional level. Her coding had to be insane. Peter'd kill a man just for a chance to look at it. Ned would kill two.

The silence should've been nerve-wracking but it really wasn't. Rhodey couldn't seem to formulate many words, not able to tear his gaze from Peter to acknowledge Aunt May. To be fair, Aunt May was staring at Peter too in a whole new light. Probably since this whole thing had just become ten times realer than it was the first time they realized it. Peter was so glad he'd eaten before he came here. He'd simply die if his stomach growled at a time like this.

The elevator opened even though nobody had ever said what floor to go to or punched any buttons. Peter felt like he was in a daze as Rhodey dragged him in, Aunt May all but skipping after them. At least someone was having a good time. Peter was having a good time too, sort of. Depends on what we're classifying as 'good' and what we're labeling 'batshit insane'.

They were in some sort of penthouse, and the first thing that caught Peter's eye was the giant wall of photos. His heels dug in without him realizing, his attention stuck on them. Rhodey jolted to a halt too, pausing to see what Peter was looking at and then letting out a breathy, almost hysterical laugh. His excitement and joy as palpable, and he gave Peter another exuberant squeeze. Peter blinked at all the pictures.

"Oh my god, Peter. Look!" Aunt May gasped, leaning forward. Peter looked and felt his heart rate increase. "Isn't that the sandcastle you have dreams about? You've drawn it a few times and it looks exactly the same!"

"I-- yeah. Yeah, it is." Peter said, dumbfounded even though he probably shouldn't be. Rhodey's grin was so wide it looked like it hurt, and-- yep, those were definitely tears. Peter gave him an alarmed look. "Or uh... no, it isn't? Totally not? I've never seen it before in my entire life."

Rhodey laughed out loud, and it was a familiar sound too that shook Peter down to his core. He smiled and ducked his head, staring at his shoes for a moment. This felt good. Unrealistic and like a dream, but it made his chest swell. He wanted to cry. This was his uncle. His uncle was War Machine. Peter's been missing for nearly ten years and his uncle is War Machine. And his dad is Iron Man.

Aunt May wiped at her eyes, sniffling a little as she looked over all the photos. Peter did too, trying not to think too hard about the hand still on his shoulder. Colonel Rhodes was staring at him like he thought Peter was going to vanish into a puff of smoke right before his very eyes. Which was fair, since he sort of did vanish to begin with. Peter's still half-tempted to pinch himself to see if this is a dream.

"Mr. Stark is on his way. ETA: two hours." FRIDAY relayed. "He would like to report that he's going as fast as he can and 'then some', in his words."

Rhodey also didn't respond to that. He just... stared. So creepy, but Peter also couldn't help but stare back in slight awe, so you know. It's just that Peter remembers him. He has memories of an Avenger that like, aren't from a television. Do you know how absolutely insane that is? It's literally crazy! Not just a little crazy, either. Super insane. Upper levels of the highest threshold of absurd. Peter woke up this morning thinking he and May were going to end up in the middle of a Golden Girl's marathon gorging themselves on cheap, overly-greasy pizza.

Instead, he finds out he's a victim of kidnapping and his long lost father is Iron Man, who somehow hasn't found him yet.

"Oh, man." Peter groaned, running his hands down his face. Rhodey's grin grew. A little weird, but he's got spirit. "Remember Stark Expo, when Mr. Stark saved me that one time? He was right in front of me, May!"

"I'd forgotten about that. You almost gave Ben a heart attack, you know." May said it mildly, but Peter could see that she was screaming on the inside at the realization. Peter gave a little huff, his eyes ticking back over to where Colonel Rhodes was still standing. He still had Peter by the shoulder, like Peter was a runner who'd bail the moment he was released. Peter was almost half tempted to at this point. "You know, Peter, why don't you tell Mr... Rhodes about yourself a little? Since you... well, you know."

"Got kidnapped?" Peter filled in. May made a distasteful humming sound, but Rhodey seemed to find it funny at least. Or maybe he was just choking on his tears again. This is awkward, right? It feels awkward. He's not all that special. He's just Peter Parker, normal teen from Queens. Peter eyed Rhodey, not sure what to say. "Well, uh... my favorite color is red?"

Rhodey hugged him again. Peter decided that hugging him back was probably the best course of action.

~~~~~~~~~~

By the time two hours had passed, Peter, May, and Mr. Rhodes were all seated around the kitchen's island bar chatting. Peter couldn't stop his excited rambling. They'd gotten to talking about school, which he originally hadn't been super into. May had started bragging about him though and Rhodey had asked about Peter's love for science, and how could he not ramble about that?

"Ned and I were talking about it after seeing Ant Man on TV, and it's so possible! If there is a quantum realm-- which there probably is-- then it could be entered if you made yourself small enough-- like, subatomic levels of small." Peter insisted, eyes wide and shining. Rhodey was positively beaming at him, watching him with all the pride in the world plastered across his face. "There's no telling how time works there, though. I mean, there's so much we don't know a--"

There was a loud crack from behind them. Peter whirled around in his seat, eyes growing wide. There, coming in from the massive balcony, was Tony Stark. He'd just dropped his phone, which had slid halfway across the room in the process but somehow hadn't cracked. Rhodey leapt from his seat and onto his feet, eyes big.

"Tony." Rhodey breathed. Peter popped out of his stool like it'd stung him, not sure what he was supposed to do but knowing sitting wasn't it.

Tony Stark looked different here than he did on TV. His limbs were locked with apprehension and shock, his eyes wide as saucers and his lips parted in surprise. There were no carefully set smiles made specially to charm the masses, no straight-spined posture meant to make him appear damn near regal. He looked painfully human, and something sharp shot through Peter's chest like a lance because shit, he recognized him too.

The sparse memories his mind had clung to came back full force and bathed in new light, Tony Stark's face slotted into the bubbly warmth Peter had always associated with the brief flashes. New things, things he'd forgotten, rushed back to greet him like an old friend. This was a familiar face, one he knew, that a part of him associated deeply with safety and home. Peter swallowed heavily and ignored the sting in his eyes.

The reality of his situation crashed into him like a tidal wave. Because Peter had accepted that he was kidnapped as a child before, but this was different. It was raw, it was real, it hurt. Never in a million years did Peter think he'd stand face to face with one of the richest men in the world and have the word 'dad' click into place like a missing puzzle piece. Yet it did. And when Peter's mind ran over it a few times, testing it out, it didn't feel anything but right.

Mr. Stark stared at him like he was seeing a ghost. He was trembling, the shake most visible in his hands and shoulders. Peter held his breath, his mind racing. Waffles with whipped cream, a bubble bath that smelled like grapes, being spun around a blue-walled bedroom and giggling, playing patty-cake, building a bottle rocket-- there was so much there. Brief snippets and impressions, but it was enough.

"...H-Hi?" Peter squeaked out, wincing when his voice cracked. Mr. Stark flinched and fuck, that was his dad. This is his dad. Peter's got a dad and he's alive and he's right there, and he's also super rich and an Avenger. What does Peter do in this situation? He should've asked Reddit on his way here. They'd have known. "I... U-Uh... you don't like peanut butter on... your toast?"

Mr. Stark's expression crumbled like a house of cards. Peter met him half way.