Spider-Son & Iron Dad two shots

Substitute + Boom = Dad

a/n: me vs giving peter the jason todd treatment

Spooktober 29: Cave In

On Friday, Peter's last class is Geometry.

"You won't get away with this," one of his classmates spits out, "they have cameras, and evidence, and—"

"Be quiet," Peter rasps to them quietly, his arms shaking to hold himself up. It was truly the worst day for him to be dealing with an injury.

"I don't need to get away with it," his substitute teacher snaps. The same guy that's been setting off his senses for the whole week. He grins sourly. "I don't care about getting away with it."

His last class is Geometry, and, little detail— the damn substitute won't let them leave, and Peter can smell the malicious intent coming off him in waves.

A classmate of his sobs. Peter tucks his arm close to his chest, an unconscious effort to shield his broken rib, and steps forward.

"Hey, just let everyone go," Peter says calmly, his other hand outstretched in front of him like he's taming a wild animal. "We can talk this out. What do you want? You want money?"

He's not entirely sure why his substitute geo teacher is attempting to kidnap a bunch of high schoolers, but he's definitely not going to just let it happen. He's gotta play this carefully, though. He's not Spider-Man. He's a very normal guy who does normal things in his spare time, like build legos and procrastinate on his ap chem homework.

"Money?" The man laughs, crazed. "You have no idea... how long I've waited... and you think I want money..."

The man continues to laugh, doubling over, and tears come to his eyes. He looks miserable. He looks... not in his right mind.

"What are you talking about?" Peter asks carefully.

"You," the man snaps. His gaze goes sharp, the smile dropping in an instant. "You. Peter Parker. You have in internship with Stark, don't you?"

Shiiiiit.

Peter swallows. He nods, slowly, cautiously. "You wanna talk to Tony Stark?"

The man takes a step toward him. The students behind Peter are shaking, he can hear how their hearts race.

"You know I read the news, Peter Parker?" The man says instead. His green eyes look yellow in the light, and Peter feels afraid, his hair is standing on end. He wishes he had a mask to hide behind.

"According to the tabloids," the man sniffs disinterestedly, "you're the son of a certain Tony Stark."

...Wait, what?

Peter freezes. "I am?"

Everybody behind him freezes.

It's so quiet they could hear a pin drop.

"I mean," Peter coughs loudly, and oh, he's about to perform the most Oscar-worthy performance of his life. "I— I am, but how did you know that? That was... a secret, that's supposed to be— that's supposed to be a secret."

The man looks pleased by his sudden discomfort, grinning snidely. "Well, you've been figured out. I know all about you and your rich Avenger dad. Everyone knows how he fawns over you, twists himself into knots when you need saving. He's a good dad, isn't he?"

Peter had a weird, squirmy feeling in his chest, because he knows Tony isn't his dad. The very notion, actually, is ridiculous. But, tabloids are notorious for being ridiculous, and somehow they've ended him in the precarious situation of thinking of Tony as his...