Becoming Spider-Man // Son of Stark 1

Chapter 2

"Radioactive?" Tony echoed, turning his attention back to the road in front of him.

"I think so... I wasn't really paying attention though, most of the stuff wasn't nearly as advanced as what you make."

Tony's face reddened, "I'm flattered, Petey, but do you remember anything about the spiders, anything?"

Peter stared out of his window, watching as the skyscrapers and buildings went by in a haze of browns, whites and reds. What was it that Katie had said? He searched through the back of his mind, trying to cut out the conversation he had had with his friend; he only needed the background sound: the information the tour guide had given them.

"It's all to do with cross-species genetics," said Peter, finally.

Tony raised his eyebrows, glancing at his son out of the corner of his eyes. "What?"

"The section we looked at, Richard Parker's stuff: he was working on cross-species genetics."

Tony huffed, "If if bit you... You don't think you'd get the attributes of a spider, do you?"

Peter shrugged. It was perfectly plausible. Especially when you lived in a building, which is home to: an enhanced super soldier, a man with an arc reactor in place of his heart, a physical AI, a girl with awesome - and kind of weird - powers, a man who thinks he's a hawk, a man who thinks he's a falcon, a man who can grow real big - and real small, and an incredible assassin.

"We'll have to run some tests on you, kiddo. See what the bite's done to you, treat it before your Pops finds out," Tony informed his son.

"He's gonna kill you if he does find out."

Tony chuckled, "Why's he killing me and not you?"

"Because he loves me way too much," Peter replied.

A gasp filled the car, "He loves me too, Underoos. You do realise we're married?"

"You do realise I'm his one and only, super, amazing, awesome son?" mocked Peter.

Tony smirked, "It's a good thing that I made a few improvements to this car..."

"Why?"

"So I can do this." Tony flicked a silver lever beneath the steering wheel. A red interface system appeared on the dashboard, similar to the one inside his suits. "Fri, turn on auto-drive mode; take us to the Tower."

"On it, Sir."

Peter looked across at his Dad, his eyes wide as he realised what was about to happen. "Dad, don't. Please, don't..." The teen was cut off by his own squeals of laugher, trying to squirm away from his Dad's tickles.

"You deserve this, Mister," Tony stated whilst continuing to tickle his son.

For the next ten minutes of the ride home, Peter struggled against Tony, failing to escape from the painful torture being endured upon him. "Stop!" He exclaimed, after he could take no more. For some reason the tickles felt eleven times worse than usual - making it harder to stand the pain.

"Lucky for you, Pete, we're home."

Peter begrudgingly followed his Dad into the Tower. Every single sound, every little whisper, was amplified in his head. He could hear - and at the same time not hear - the words his Dad was saying to him. It was like being in a room and watching as people spoke, hearing the words, but not understanding any of it.

His senses were dialled to eleven.

"You alright, bud?" Tony asked, once he had noticed the teen's hands clamped around his ears.

Peter shook his head, closing his eyes in frustration. He wanted to be fine. He wanted to be brave. He wanted to be like his Dad and Pops. But he wasn't anything like them: he was plain, old Peter. Might as well just be Peter, no Stark or Rogers fame. That's all he was... Just Peter. Yes, he thought to himself, that's how he should start referring to himself: Just Peter.

As the father and son walked through the main hallway - the one that passed by the training room - Tony saw Clint peek his head out from one of the many doors. "Not the time, Barton," and when the man continued through the door, Tony raised his voice, "Did you hear me, Barton, or do you need me to go get the mind stone from Vision?"

That made Clint freeze in his tracks, clearly in pain from the sudden flood of old memories. He had tried to forget them, to lose them, within the heaps of good ones he had made. But Tony had to go and remind him. Tears filled his narrow eyes, leaving them glassy, and he headed back into the training room.

"Come on, Pete."

* * *

Tony put his arm around the teen, when they walked into the lab. He could see the anxiety building up beneath the boy's skin, showing through the creases in his pale skin. Peter had been trying to suppress the worst of it: the way he could feel this weird tingling sensation throughout his body, the way he could hear the conversations of people far away, the way he could barely focus on one point of view. And that had made it worse.

"Peter..."

"Yes, Dad," Peter replied in a muffled voice, after removing his cupped hands from his ears.

"Tell me everything, and I mean everything, that has happened since the bite."

Peter sat down on one of the hospital-like beds, shuffling up enough for Tony to sit beside him. Once he was seated next to his Dad, he said: "I can hear everything. I can hear the conversations of people in different rooms... in different buildings for that matter."

Tony nodded his head, scribbling something down on the piece of paper on his clipboard.

Enhanced Hearing

It read.

"At the moment it's  fine, but back when I was feeling worse. When there were loads of people, when I was feeling stressed... I could barely see. It was like looking into a kaleidoscope: everything was refracted and reflected and I couldn't concentrate."

Peter eyed his Dad, looking for a reassuring nod of his head, or any type of noticeable approval. Tony smiled back at him, a comforting smile - signalling the fourteen year old to continue.

"I feel... stronger. As if I could lift anything, like you can when you're int our suit, or like Pops can.  I can physically see the definitions in my legs and arms. They weren't there before. And I feel hungry, really hungry. And it's not like I haven't eaten in ages..."

Tony added more to his list, the paper now consisting of:

Enhanced Hearing
Overly Enhanced Vision - Too Much Input?
Super Strength
Super Metabolism
(Probably Enhanced Senses...)

"Anything else?" Tony cut in.

Peter nodded his head, "Yeah," he paused - catching his breath, "Throw something at me, anything, but wait until I'm facing the other way."

Tony looked at him, puzzled. "Why?"

"I don't know, I just have this hunch." Peter spun around on the bed, so that he was facing the wall, and Tony stood up.

The brunet walked over to his desk and picked up a stapler. He tossed it towards Peter's right side, staring in amazement as his son caught it without even looking at the flying stationary.

"Woah," they both said unison.

"Kid," Tony added, "I'm gonna take a sample of your blood. Afterwards, go to bed, get some rest. We'll see how you are tomorrow.

"Kay..."

Peter stuck his arm out and looked the other way, wincing when his Dad pulled the needle out. "It's all done, kid, you can go to sleep now."

"Alright, g'night, Dad."

"Night, Petey."