Peter Parker... Stark?

Call Me Nat

When Peter arrived at Stark Tower the next day, he never made it past the front doors. Black Widow was standing just inside, waiting for him to arrive, and she grabbed his arm and dragged him into a nearby alleyway. Everyone who saw averted their gaze--they knew better than to question an Avenger.

"Wait, uh, Ms. Widow, what's going on?" Peter said. His spider-sense was humming in the back of his mind as she pulled him into the shadows. "Did I do something wrong?" His chest was tightening with fear when suddenly, he was ducking as her fist flew at his face. He tumbled to the ground and stared at her in shock and fear.

"So," she said, moving towards him, "I was right. You're the Spider-Man."

"What?" Peter said, his voice cracking. "Me? Spider-Man?"

"I read an article yesterday about a certain apartment fire. You're pretty brave," she said, looking him up and down, "and pretty stupid not to get medical help after hurting yourself so badly."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She pulled out a knife and leaned against the wall, polishing the blade with her fingernail. Peter slowly stood up. His spider-sense was still buzzing. Suddenly, she threw the knife. It spun through the air, barely missing Peter's face, and lodged itself in a wooden beam behind him, severing a thin rope in the process. Peter watched as everything seemed to play out in slow motion. He hadn't noticed the strange structure in the alleyway--he'd been far too preoccupied with the woman attacking him--and now it was falling on top of him. Instinctively, Peter reached up, braced himself, and caught it.

"Ow!" he whimpered. He could feel the bruises forming already as he carefully maneuvered the massive piece of debris and let it drop behind him.

"I'm impressed, Spider-Man," she said coolly as she walked towards him. "Both that you managed to catch that so easily, and that you've hidden your identity so well." She retrieved her knife and hid it in her suit again.

"Are you going to tell Mr. Stark?" Peter asked quietly.

"Before I decide that, I have a question for you." She leaned against the wall again. "Why a mask?"

Peter looked forlornly at the ground. "Because I used to have to protect the people I care about," he whispered.

Black Widow frowned. "Used to?"

Peter could feel tears welling up in his eyes. "Yeah, um, my parents died when I was fourteen, and my..." he took a deep breath, "my Aunt May passed away a few months ago. She was the only family I had left."

Black Widow paused. "Tell you what, kid. I like you. I can tell that Steve and Tony do too. I'll keep your secret, but I'm also still under orders to unmask you. I won't hold back in a fight again, kid. Got it?"

Peter's shoulders sagged in relief, even though he'd caught on to her subtly hinting that he hadn't really seen her fight at her fullest capacity yet. "Yes, thank you so much, Ms. Widow, thank you!"

She frowned. "Okay kid, call me Nat. Ms. Widow is too long and makes me feel old."

"Um, okay, uh, Nat," Peter said hesitantly. She smiled, wrapped her arm around his shoulders, and guided him out of the alleyway.

~~~

"Hey Mr. Tony, what are you working on?"

Tony tore his gaze away from the whiteboard in front of him. "Hey Pete, wanna come help me with this?"

"What is it?" Peter asked, coming closer to get a better look at the formulas on the board.

"I'm trying to figure out Spider-Man's webbing. Got any ideas as to how it works?"

"How did you get these formulas in the first place?" Peter asked with a frown.

"Cap came in last night with webbing on his shield, so I tried out our new machine that you worked on to get an analysis on it." Peter slapped his forehead internally. How could he have been so stupid? It was becoming more and more obvious that last night had not been a real fight. They had effectively tricked him into revealing some of his secrets.

"I'm trying to figure out if this stuff is something he engineered, or if it comes out of his body," Tony said, tapping his chin with his dry erase marker.

Peter answered without thinking. "No, he's got these web-shooter things that he wears on his wrist."

Tony looked at him, confused. "How do you know that?"

Peter could feel the blood drain from his face as he shifted awkwardly on the spot. "He, uh, saved me from getting hit by a car once. I asked him about it and he showed me."

Tony looked impressed. "Nice one, kid. I'm glad you didn't become a street pancake," he said with a wink. "Now I want you to try and figure out how he does it. Surely he can't beat your brains."

Peter chuckled along with Mr. Stark, but inside he was panicking. He knew that if he 'failed' at figuring out his own webbing formula, it wouldn't take Mr. Stark long to figure it out himself. And then it wouldn't take much longer for him to realize that his intern just wasn't cutting it anymore.

Peter hesitantly reached up and slowly put together his webbing formula, as well as a few other isotopes that would hopefully distract Mr. Stark for a while.

"Boss, you asked me to inform you when dinner was ready," Friday said, interrupting Peter's scrambled thoughts.

"Thanks Fri. Okay kid, let's go get something to eat," Tony said. He glanced at the whiteboard, then did a double take. "Wow, Pete, that was fast. I'm impressed."

Peter grinned, trying not to let his stress show. When the elevator doors opened, Pepper was already inside.

"Hello, Peter," she said, smiling warmly, "are you joining us for dinner tonight?"

"Doctor's orders," Tony said, clapping Peter on the back.

"Good," Pepper said, "because I've invited a few other people you might be interested in meeting."