Becoming Spider-Man // Son of Stark 1

Chapter 10

This made Tony angrier than he could possibly imagine - if he were Bruce, he was pretty sure he would of already turned into Hulk and destroyed the entire building. "I'm not putting him in danger, Rogers," he spat, standing up hastily. "I have never, and will never, do anything to harm my son."

"Our son, Tony, our son." Steve looked across to the judge, who appeared to be scribbling something swiftly across his paperwork.

"Mr Rogers, have you anything else to add," the judge cut in, eyeing Tony, "Before Mr Stark, here, says anything else?"

Tony sat down, slightly embarrassed with himself. What if all of his frustration led to Steve getting custody of Peter, forever? That would tear at the brunet's chest - leaving an empty space, a theoretical one that could never be patched up, or filled in. He could hide it - just like he hid the real hole in his chest, the one that kept him alive. But it would be useless, the only way the man could hide his problems was with drinking: something he was trying to stop.

The Captain nodded, "The final point I'd like to make is that Tony has been keeping stuff from me, stuff about Peter's well-being. I'm not sure what but I know he's hiding it. Even if it was just a bug, I'm pretty sure Tony should be informing me."

"The kid's fine, Steven, let it go. You didn't need to know at the time, it's not important," Tony exclaimed, sure now that this was his final chance to keep his son's custody.

"Doesn't matter, you should still tell me everything about him. You've probably gone and tested some of your crazy inventions on him - gone and got him injured..."

"Objection, your honour!" Tony said loudly, outraged by his former partner's accusations.

"Objection overruled," announced the judge, "Mr Rogers is correct, matters concerning your child should be shared, whether or not you believe they are deemed 'important'."

"That is all, your honour," said Steve as he walked back over towards Bucky. The man received a pat on the shoulder from the brunet and a friendly smile.

"You okay, Stevie?" he whispered, willing to wrap his arms around the shaking soldier - the only thing stopping him being the formality of the event.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, watching the judge intensely as he spoke to one of the jury members. Hopefully, this time tomorrow Peter would be moving into his new room: ready for a new start.

A few moments later, the judge got the three men's attention. "Alright, we have come to an agreement," he paused, inhaling and exhaling once, before resuming, "We believe that Mr Rogers and Mr Barnes should take custody of Mr Stark-Rogers. However, we would like to keep an eye on how he settles in with you, before making it a permanent arrangement."

"And how long will the temporary stay last, exactly?" Tony asked, trying his upmost best not to show his emotions. It was something he had mastered, not just from being famous but, from having Howard as his father. Howard had always told him to man up, prove that he was a Stark because: 'Stark men are made of iron.' Any show of weakness made his father mad at him, normally ending with him being punished; to be honest it was the only time Howard really interacted with him, even though it was in a negative way.

"Two weeks," the judge answered, "Now any further questions, before we can end this session?"

There were none.

Tony left the courtroom distraught. He had two weeks to prove that old Capsicle wasn't good enough to look after Pete. That would be challenging, though, seeing as the man had been rather great at raising the boy.

* * *

"Come on, kid," Clint exclaimed, tugging the teen off of the couch, "Your Dad would skin me alive if you don't finish your work."

"He wouldn't," Peter mumbled, getting up anyway, "He needs someone to teach me Spanish."

Clint laughed. "And why do you need to know Spanish, Mister?"

"So I can be a better Shield agent than you."

"You think you could be a better spy than me? Doubt it, kiddo. Keep on dreaming, though."

"I mean you did just reveal you were a spy..."

"You've know me your whole God damn life, Peter, it's not breaking news."

"Still, isn't like the first rule of being a spy not telling anyone you're a spy?"

Clint ruffled Peter's hair, "You talk too much."

"Pops says that too... so does Dad."

"Maybe," Clint grinned, "Just maybe, they're trying to tell you something."

"Like what?"

"Like to shut up and do your freaking Spanish assignment!"

"Fine," Peter said, scowling. He sat down at the desk, which had been bought specifically for his new schooling, and began working on his Spanish assignment.

Tony stormed into the lounge, throwing his briefcase onto the countertop. He ignored both Clint and Peter's greetings and headed towards the kitchen area. He picked up a bottle champagne, opening it in an instance, before taking a swig.

"Dad," Peter repeated, standing up and pushing his chair beneath his desk. "What's wrong?"

"Go pack your bags, Pete," he muttered, waving his hand in dismiss. He went back for another drink from the bottle.

"What?" the boy asked, stunned. He shifted on the spot, looking at Clint for the answer his father wasn't giving him. He got none.

"You heard me, Peter, go pack your bags."