Title: Everyday Gifts

Chapter 1: Revelations

Trigger Warning: This chapter contains a description of a school shooting. It will probably come up a few times after that as well, but the gun violence theme isn't the main focus of this, not the way it was in Harrington's story. This fic is more about Peter and his journey coming to terms with being Spider-Man and how it has affected the people in his life.

For years after it happened, Peter woke up shaking from nightmares that he'd been patrolling in Queens, or trying to stop a mugging in the Bronx, or in class at Columbia University, instead of on his way to Stark Tower for his internship when the alarm went off. One second, he was leaping and gliding through the frigid air, enjoying a rare, snow-free February morning while comfortably heated by his suit's internal protocols. The next, he was speeding towards Midtown, his heart in his throat.

It was Mr. Harrington who had hit the panic button first, Karen informed him in her cool voice. It could have been any other teacher in that building, and he would still have rushed there just as quickly, but the gut-wrenching fear that came with knowing that it was his favorite teacher caught up in this stopped the breath in his lungs.

Peter wanted desperately to believe it was a false alarm, that some kid had hit the panic button on accident, or that Mr. Harrington had simply forgotten to warn them about a drill, even if that had never happened. But Peter's senses were screaming loudly at him, a sickening sense of danger tingling down his spine. He knew with bone-deep certainty that this was the real deal.

As he rounded a street corner and swung over the school gates, he heard the first unmistakable sounds of gunfire coming from the B wing buildings. He leaped towards the football fields, the familiar spaces which he'd once inhabited now seeming hostile and threatening. His entire world seemed to narrow as he caught sight of his former teacher through a shattered classroom window. Panic froze the breath in his lungs.

Mr. Harrington wasn't crouched on the floor or hiding under a desk. Instead, he was desperately grappling with a thin, pale-skinned boy for control of a semiautomatic rifle.

He was still forty feet away.

He saw the kid push Mr. Harrington, saw him stumble and fall to the floor, holding his side.

Thirty feet away.

He heard Mr. Harrington plead with the kid, his voice shaking as he told him it wasn't too late to stop.

Twenty feet.

He heard the bullets click in the chamber of the gun as the shooter reloaded.

Ten feet.

He saw the boy point the gun at his teacher; saw anguished resignation filling Mr. Harrington's eyes before he closed them, preparing to die.

And no, Peter thought furiously. Fuck no. This wasn't happening.

Glass shattered as he leaped feet first through the classroom window, jumping into the shooter's path seconds before his finger squeezed the trigger. He shot out a web, jerking the gun off course, but not fast enough. There was a streak of fire on his face as the bullet grazed him. Peter cried out, ripping off his mask as it burned against his skin. He could feel blood dripping from the wound freely.

He flicked his wrists again and easily disarmed the kid before he could shoot again, the rifle flying out of his hands in a sweeping arc. He webbed it high on the opposite wall before it could hit the ground, then pushed the boy back, away from Mr. Harrington, throwing him to the floor hard enough to make him lose consciousness immediately. Peter bound the kid to the floor, using so many strands of web fluid that it would probably take several heavy-duty industrial shears to cut him free again.

In the sudden hush that followed, Peter registered the Code Red announcement on the school speakers, the same disembodied voice he remembered from countless drills in his own childhood. The shock of recognition made him flinch, but he ignored it, dropping to his knees beside Mr. Harrington. The man blinked his eyes open, and the expression in them was terror-stricken and completely dazed. For a second, he just stared at Peter uncomprehendingly, as if he couldn't quite believe he was actually there.

Peter opened his mouth to say something reassuring, but Mr. Harrington beat him to it, choking out a question about his injured cheek, and Peter felt his chest tighten at this show of concern for him, now, when it should have been the last thing on the teacher's mind. Then he was sitting up on his haunches, looking wildly around the room as he tried to locate his students. Unbidden, a memory rose from seven years ago: Mr. Harrington, bursting around a corner in the middle of an attack in Stark Industries' Science and Technology Museum, looking for Peter with that same desperate, terrified look in his eyes. Disturbed by the comparison his mind had just drawn, Peter reached out to calm Mr. Harrington, to reassure him that his students were fine, that he had saved them…

...and watched in horror as he dissolved without warning into heaving, gasping sobs, collapsing back onto the floor as if his world had just ended. The sense of wrongness of seeing this man, who had been an unshakable rock for Peter all through high school, break down so completely was unbearable. Peter heard himself babbling nonsensical words, trying to offer vain comfort, but his former teacher was beyond listening, curled over himself with his face in his hands.

Then, Peter heard the sound of Ironman's propulsion systems in the distance. He arrived minutes later, flying in through the same window Peter had just destroyed on his way in. His helmeted head swiveled around as he took stock of the room and then his gaze landed on Mr. Harrington and Peter. He stepped out of his suit immediately, eyes horrified as they flew to Peter's face, lingering on his bloodied cheek. Then, he looked towards the five kids who Peter hadn't even noticed until this very moment, who were all standing there, recording every moment of this on their phones.

It slammed into Peter, then, what had just happened. He'd been unmasked, right here in Mr. Harrington's classroom, his bare face caught on camera. He felt a crushing dizziness envelop him, alarm and panic rising as he suddenly grasped how completely everything had just changed. For one frozen moment, he and Tony both stared at each other, caught together in the same awful realization. Then Tony shook it off and shot Peter a steadying look before he strode forward and crouched in front of Mr. Harrington, murmuring reassuringly.

The next hour unfolded like a strange, terrible dream. First, the NYPD arrived, and Tony pulled the gaping cops aside immediately, his voice low and authoritative as he tried to explain Spider-Man's presence. A few seconds later, Principal Morita came rushing in. He started forward when he spotted Mr. Harrington, his expression stricken, but then his eyes landed on Peter's face. He stilled in the doorway, staring at him as if he'd seen a ghost. Peter's face heated, and he felt suddenly like a fifteen-year-old about to be called to the principal's office and told off for sneaking away on a field trip. To his credit, Principal Morita shook his surprise off quickly, focusing instead on calming the students.

Through it all, Peter stayed at Mr. Harrington's side, trying to block the shooter from his sight, not that Mr. Harrington was looking at anyone right now. He seemed completely oblivious to everything around him, the sounds of his harsh sobs filtering through the room, his shoulders shaking. Peter could see he wasn't the only one disturbed to see him this way. The seniors looked just as shocked as he felt and God, he thought suddenly, taking in their pale, tear-stained faces, they all looked so fucking young. Had he really been that young himself, only three and a half years ago?

When the room was finally clear of all the students including, thank God, the shooter, Principal Morita motioned towards Peter and Tony, his lips pressed tightly together in a thin, displeased line. Reluctantly, Peter moved away from Mr. Harrington, who was by now sitting hunched in a chair instead of on the floor, his eyes vacant and bloodshot but finally dry.

"I think it's time for you to leave," the principal told them bluntly once they'd moved to the far end of the classroom. "Not that I'm not grateful to you for stopping this, but the police will want to question Roger soon, and I need to go and deal with the parents outside. You being here, in the middle of all that, will only complicate things."

"But..." Peter's gaze drifted back to his former teacher, his heart clenching again at how devastated he looked. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving him here like this.

"He'll be fine," said Principal Morita, surprising Peter with his sudden sharpness. "He's a strong man, and even if he wasn't, he's always been good at faking it. A lot better than I realized, apparently, though that's probably down to you."

"Hey," Tony protested, even as Peter blanched at the accusation. "That's not fair. This isn't Peter's fault."

Principal Morita opened his mouth as if to argue, but then stopped himself from whatever he was about to say with a visible effort, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. "I'm sorry," he said, looking defeated and worn in a way Peter had never seen him. "It's just been a hell a day...and it's not even close to over yet."

Tony nodded, his face softening into understanding. The three of them were silent for a beat, and then the principal turned to look at Peter. "You were really doing this, all through high school?" he said, gesturing towards his suit.

"Yeah," said Peter, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

"And Roger, he knew all along?"

The hurt and confusion in Principal Morita's voice sent a pang through Peter's heart. He was suddenly reminded of something he'd always known but had never really paid much attention to back in high school: Mr. Harrington and Principal Morita weren't just coworkers; they were also close friends. He'd seen them talking and laughing together in the hallways all the time when he was a student, and the principal had often been in Mr. Harrington's classroom in the mornings before school began. Peter wondered with a sense of consternation what this revelation might do to their relationship. "He did it to protect me," he said.

Principal Morita shook his head and looked again to where Mr. Harrington sat slumped over with his elbows on his knees, staring unseeingly at his hands. "I can think of so many better ways," he said, speaking more to himself than to them. Then, he shook himself and refocused. "You both really do need to get out of here. With the police, the parents, and that video of you that's probably going to go viral any minute now..."

Peter hesitated again, looking towards Mr. Harrington even as Tony nodded swiftly in agreement. "Of course," he said. "Come on, kid. You can check in with Mr. Harrington later."

"Yeah," Peter said reluctantly. He looked towards Mr. Harrington again, his stomach churning with a fresh surge of worry. He walked over to him quickly and bent so they were face to face. "We're heading out. I'll call you later, okay? Everything's... everything's going to be fine, Mr. Harrington."

Mr. Harrington looked at him with a dull, leaden expression in his eyes, then nodded once. Exchanging a troubled look with Tony, Peter grabbed his mask off the floor and put it on, wincing a bit as the burnt edges hit the gash on his cheek. Tony stepped back into his suit, and then they were taking off through the same shattered windows they'd entered, leaping into the cold New York sky.

As he swung towards the school entrance, Peter caught sight of crowds of anxious parents, teachers, and kids milling around near the school gates and soccer fields. It was a tableau of heartbreak and chaos, and it was awful to see his old school suddenly caught up in this particular nightmare. It was the kids' faces that really made his breath catch, though. They all looked so achingly young, ripped jeans and brightly colored sweatshirts and cell phones with shiny, sparkling cases clutched tightly in their hands. Some of the freshmen seemed especially tiny; a few could even have been in middle school. It was hard for Peter to believe he'd been that age when he first became Spider-Man.

As they flew through the city, Peter heard Tony jumping straight into damage control, talking rapidly through their internal communication link as he instructed Steve and the rest of the team to meet them at Stark Tower. He switched channels, told Happy to pick May up from the hospital immediately, and then he was back to business, demanding to speak with Nick Fury at SHIELD.

And oh God, Peter thought with sudden dismay, May. What the hell was she going to say when she found out he'd just blown his secret identity? And all of his classmates and friends, and his teachers at Columbia and...and people like Mr. Delmar, too, just random acquaintances- how would they all react when the video went viral? It would happen within a couple of hours, and he realized with a jolt that he had to warn Ned and MJ before they found out about this on the news. He told Karen to text them both, deeply glad now that he'd made the decision to tell MJ his secret two years ago. Peter couldn't imagine her finding out like this.

They arrived at Stark Tower, entering through a well-hidden private elevator and riding up to Tony's penthouse. As soon as the doors shut behind him, Tony stepped out of his Iron Man armor and immediately pulled Peter into a tight, rough hug. Peter was startled- Tony was always slinging an arm across his shoulders or clapping him on the back, but actual hugs were pretty rare. He returned the embrace with equal fierceness, though, grateful to have an anchor after everything that had just happened.

When they pulled back, Tony left one hand on his shoulder while the other one probed his bleeding cheek through the damaged mask. There was a slight tremor in his mentor's fingers, betraying how rattled he was.

"I'm alright," said Peter. He took his mask off, letting Tony inspect the injury more closely. "I promise. It was just a graze."

Tony nodded, dropping his hand and releasing a shaky sigh as he stepped away. "That was too close," he said. "I can't believe a kid that age would just..."

Peter's mind couldn't help wandering back to Code Red drills and ALICE training sessions, to practicing how to throw books and test tubes at imagined intruders, to the morning when they'd all sat in Art class, painting signs for the 'March for Our Lives' walkout. "I can," he said quietly.

Tony flinched visibly at the words. "I guess Harrington made the right call back then, insisting on all that extra security for the school."

"What are you talking about?"

"The NDA," Tony answered. "As one of his conditions for signing it, he asked me to pay for ALICE training."

"Wait, that was his idea?" Peter asked in shock, "but all the schools in the district were doing it. I thought that was just..."

He was cut off by the elevator doors opening again. Steve, Scott, Bruce, and Sam stepped out into Tony's living room. They were the only Avengers currently in New York City. Peter blinked- even for superheroes, that had been impressively fast. Steve strode forward and grasped Peter by the shoulders. "You okay, kid?" he said, searching his face.

"I'm fine," said Peter, then added with a weak grin, "Well, aside from the fact that I was just publicly unmasked and then filmed by a bunch of high school seniors, that is."

"You what?!" Steve's voice rose in alarm.

"What the hell happened?" Sam asked, his eyes wide.

"School shooting," said Tony, and Peter watched Scott, whose daughter Cassie was in high school herself, go suddenly pale and still. Tony continued wryly, "Peter decided it was a good idea to jump directly into the path of a semi-automatic and take a bullet to the face."

"Hey, I told you it was just a graze," Peter protested mildly. "What was I supposed to do, just let the kid shoot Mr. Harrington?"

"Your old science teacher," Steve remembered, looking dismayed. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," said Tony, then exchanged a dark look with Peter and amended, "Well, physically, at least."

"The shooter was one of his students," Peter explained at their questioning looks. "He was pretty upset."

Steve looked pained. "I can imagine this must have hit him hard," he said. "He always struck me as someone who cared a lot about his students."

"Wait, when did you ever meet him?" Peter asked, surprised.

"I didn't, not in person," Steve clarified, "but we did speak on the phone a few times. It was during those weeks after Thanos when Tony was in a coma. I could tell he was very worried about you- well, so was I, if I'm being honest. It's not every day you find out the superhero who stood at your side for four weeks fighting an all-powerful alien army is actually a sixteen-year-old kid."

Peter winced. He still remembered those dark weeks all too clearly. He'd known Mr. Harrington had been concerned about him, he'd even known that he'd spoken to May a couple of times on the phone, but Peter had never dreamed that he might also be communicating with Steve behind the scenes.

Tony was also staring at Steve with surprise. "I didn't know you ever spoke to him," he said.

Steve shrugged matter-of-factly. "Well, someone had to keep an eye on the kid, especially with you in a coma."

Tony shot Steve a grateful look. Peter looked between them, feeling strangely unsettled. The way Steve had just called him kid, the way they both looked so fiercely protective of his teenage self- it reminded Peter strongly of another moment years ago, when Mr. Harrington had asked him to step outside of his own apartment so that he could talk to May and Tony in private. He'd been wearing that same expression on his face, too.

"Well, what are we going to do now?" Bruce asked. "If his identity's out in the open, he's not going to be safe out there. Not anymore."

"Maybe if he joined the Avengers?" Scott suggested.

"No," Peter and Tony said at the same time.

"Sorry," Peter continued, grimacing apologetically at Steve. "It's not that I don't love working with you guys. I just don't want to be answerable to SHIELD or go global the way the Avengers are. I'll always help when you need me, of course, but the rest of the time, I think I belong on the streets of New York."

"That's going to be hard to pull off," Sam pointed out. "I mean, not that I disagree with you, but with your face out there now? Everyone's gonna want a piece of you."

"That's true," said Steve. "They'll at least want you to sign the Accords."

"He is not doing that," Tony snapped fiercely.

"The amended version we signed in 2019 wasn't as bad as...well, you know, the first one." Steve dropped his eyes, looking uncomfortable with the painful history this was dredging up.

"He's not like the rest of us, Steve, you know that," Tony said. "If he signs the Accords, it would be the same thing as joining us. Global, not local. Not the way he wants."

"So...what am I going to do, then?" Peter couldn't keep the note of fear and panic from his voice. It had hit him again, how much everything had changed.

Tony looked toward him reassuringly. "I told you, kid, I do have contingency plans in place," he reminded him. "New York loves you, and both the governor and the NYPD know you're the reason the crime rate has been so low the past several years. There's a lot of powerful people who want you to keep doing what you do. I was already working with a few lawmakers to try to get you official permission, and this will just accelerate the process."

Looking into his mentor's steady, determined eyes, Peter let himself believe for a moment that Tony really could fix this, that his life wasn't going to be completely wrecked because of this mess.

"Alright then," said Steve briskly. "It sounds to me like Tony already has things in hand. But we should all stay here the next few days, in case we're needed at short notice. If that's okay?"

"Of course," Tony answered. The Avengers all lived scattered across the city in separate apartments of their own, but they each had their own rooms in Stark Tower, always ready for use.

"Thanks," said Steve. "I'm going to contact the others to see how fast they can get back here. Peter will probably have to do a press conference soon, and I'd like the Avengers to be there to present a united front whenever that happens." He looked at Peter, his eyes lingering on his cheek. "That'll come later, of course. Right now, you should probably get yourself cleaned up."

"Oh, yeah." Peter made a face as he registered the blood drying on his injured cheek.

As the Avengers dispersed in their different directions, Peter escaped to his own room at Stark Tower, sagging in relief when he entered the welcoming familiarity of the space. He didn't rush immediately to the bathroom to clean up, instead sitting down on the edge of his bed. He breathed out shakily, trying to process the events of the tumultuous morning.

An hour later, he wandered in the direction of the kitchen, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, his hair still damp. Despite the downtime and the hot shower, his sense of fear and panic were back in full force. In the quiet of his room, the images of his old classroom all shot up and damaged by bullets had felt haunting and inescapable. The sight of Mr. Harrington's terror-stricken, wet eyes kept lancing through him painfully, to the point that he'd actually cracked and tried to call him, unable to stand it anymore. Even though he'd known it was too soon, he'd wanted nothing more than to hear that warm, steady voice. Of course, Mr. Harrington hadn't answered his phone. He was probably still at school, talking to the cops.

Peter couldn't help but feel a deep sense of guilt that he hadn't been to see Mr. Harrington since graduation. He'd wanted to, more times than he could count. In that first year out of high school, when he'd still been adjusting to the transition to Columbia and adulthood, he'd almost given in and gone to see him a few times. But each time he'd come close, he had stopped himself, thinking of all the other students the man was responsible for. A widely known friendship with Peter would pose too great a risk to Mr. Harrington and to the school, he'd told himself, and so he had kept his distance.

Now, though, he wished he hadn't listened to those misgivings. If Mr. Harrington had died today, if Peter had been too late, if the last time he'd seen his teacher alive had been at his high school graduation, he would never have forgiven himself for that.

Turning the corner down the hallway leading into the kitchen, he heard murmured voices. It was May, talking softly with Tony. She'd probably arrived only a few minutes ago. Peter wasn't intending to eavesdrop on them, but when he registered what they were saying, he stopped in his tracks, shock jolting through his body.

"It could have been much worse, I guess. If this had happened when he was in high school, I don't even want to know what that would have been like. At least now that he's an adult, no one can try to take him away from me."

"He would have webbed up anyone who tried," Tony said with a rueful laugh. "But yeah, you're right. I used to worry about that too."

"On my way here, I kept thinking about those three terrible days when we were waiting to find out if Mr. Harrington would sign the NDA," May said. "I was out of my mind- Peter was too. I was so sure I was going to lose him. I thought, this is my fifteen-year-old kid who I'm supposed to be raising and taking care of, and here he is, running into burning buildings and getting into firefights and going up against fully-grown superheroes in Europe, and meanwhile I'm just letting him? I looked at it from Mr. Harrington's point of view, and I couldn't see why he wouldn't report it to CPS."

"When he refused to sign the NDA in my office, I started making plans the same day," said Tony. "My legal team was already drafting opening arguments for a potential custody hearing by the time we sat down with him that weekend."

"Thank God it didn't come to that," said May with feeling. "Though honestly, it's a miracle it didn't, given the kind of crazy conditions you put in that thing. Seriously, if it had been anyone else but Mr. Harrington...we're damn lucky he signed it."

"It wasn't that bad," Tony protested half-heartedly.

"Yeah, Tony, it really was," she said drily.

They trailed into silence. Peter stayed where he was, feeling winded and out of breath. He'd always been aware that Tony and May had worried over him in high school, but the way they were talking about it now, it was clear it had consumed both their lives a lot more than he'd ever realized. Neither of them had ever mentioned CPS to him, not once in all those years. If they had, he acknowledged to himself that he probably wouldn't have taken it seriously, not back then.

Now, though, fresh off seeing all those young, teary-eyed kids being clutched close by their terror-stricken families, Peter felt cold as he realized that it had once been a real possibility. If someone had found out who he was, if Ned had slipped up or if he had slipped up or if Mr. Harrington had chosen to report him, he really could have been taken away from May at fifteen. The mere thought of that made him shudder.

A few more beats passed. Peter knew he couldn't stay here forever, hovering silently in the hallway. He straightened, tried to smile in a way that wouldn't show how perturbed he was, and walked into the kitchen. "Hey, May."

She stood from her seat at the counter and stepped towards him quickly, scanning his face, one hand touching his injured cheek gently. It was already healing, and Peter knew it would probably fade away within a day or two. "I'm so glad you're okay, baby," she said shakily.

"Me too," Peter returned.

They took a seat at the counter while Tony busied himself with pouring them all mugs of coffee, turning away to give them a few moments of privacy. Peter cleared his throat. "So, uh, sorry about the…" He gestured towards his face. "I never wanted to put you at risk, and I know this does."

"It was bound to happen eventually," she said, shrugging it off, and Peter was startled because it was the exact same thing he'd said to Mr. Harrington only hours ago, only he'd said it to assuage the man's concern, not because he'd actually believed it. "It's going to be fine," she continued. "It'll suck for a while for both of us, but you have only a few months left to graduate anyway, and then you'll be working at SI full time. As for me, I know I won't be able to work at the hospital anymore, but Dr. Cho's had a vacancy on her medical team with my name on it for years."

"She has?"

For maybe the third time that day, Peter found himself blinking in surprise at this glimpse into a part of the past he'd never known, this revelation that there'd been conversations and plans made years ago by the people who cared about him, all for the sake of keeping him safe and happy. He wondered suddenly what else he'd missed, what other quiet sacrifices they had made for his sake.

By now, Tony had finished pouring out the coffee. He set mugs down in front of May and Peter and took a seat at the counter and shot them both a mischievous smirk. "I made that offer the day I met your aunt," he said. "There'll always be room on my medical team for hot Italian nurses."

"Ew, can you please not?" said Peter, wrinkling his nose, while May just laughed gently, rolling her eyes at the old joke.

The three of them sipped their coffees in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Then Tony said, "So about your apartment. It obviously won't be safe for you to live there anymore. I'm having movers sent over today to pack your things up and move them here today." He glanced sideways at Peter and added, "I'm sorry, kid. I know you loved Queens."

Peter accepted the loss of his childhood home with a nod, knowing it was inevitable. He would miss Queens, but their safety was more important, and besides, he loved the Tower, too. "What about Mr. Harrington?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I've told FRIDAY to make sure his address and contact information are either locked down or taken offline," said Tony. "The reporters won't be able to find him. And…" He hesitated. "If he needs it, he knows he has a job waiting for him here."

"Wait, what?" Peter straightened in shock. "Why would he need a job? You really think he's going to be fired over this?"

"I hope not," said Tony, grimacing, "but the principal seemed pretty mad, and seven years is a long time to conceal something like this."

"But...he only lied to help me," Peter said, feeling dismay and guilt curdling in his stomach. "They can't do that, can they? He literally just tackled a school shooter and saved all his students. You can't fire someone who does that."

"He did what?" Tony asked, his jaw going slack in shock, and Peter realized belatedly that his mentor hadn't actually seen what happened.

"He grabbed the gun and forced it upwards, so the bullets would only hit the ceiling," he explained tightly. "I wouldn't have made it in time, if he hadn't done that."

"God," said May, stunned and pale. "That's completely..."

"Yeah." Peter swallowed hard, his throat suddenly tight. "I keep thinking about the day after Parkland, when we discussed the shooting during class. Just, you know, how we were feeling, and what we would do if it ever happened at Midtown." He released an uneven breath. "I'll never forget the look on his face when Betty asked him if he was willing to die for us. He said yes, of course he would, as if the question wasn't even worth asking, as if he knew that was how it might play out someday. As if he'd been prepared to die like that for years." It had been a terrible thing to hear, even then, when it was all hypothetical. Now that it had almost happened in reality, it was unthinkably horrifying. "If I'd gotten there even one second later…"

"You didn't, though, Pete," said Tony, reaching out to clasp his shoulder comfortingly. "You made it there in time, and he's still alive. You're going to call him and talk to him soon. He's fine."

Peter nodded. He wrapped his fingers around the comforting warmth of his coffee mug and took a sip of the bittersweet liquid. "I guess I shouldn't be that surprised," May remarked. "He pretty much said he'd do the same for Peter when he signed the NDA. Remember that?" She looked towards Tony, who winced.

Peter set his mug down a little too hard, causing a splash of coffee to slosh over the rim and onto the counter. This was the third time Tony or May had mentioned a clause or crazy condition in the NDA, and he'd had enough. Just what the hell had Mr. Harrington even signed that day? "I want to see it," he said.

"What?"

"The NDA," said Peter forcefully. "I want to read it for myself. I have to know what he was willing to…" The image of Mr. Harrington, closing his eyes in resignation on the floor of his classroom, rose once again in his mind. "I have to know," he repeated.

"Peter." May exchanged a troubled look with Tony, who was sitting very stiffly in his chair, refusing to meet Peter's gaze. "I'm really not sure that's such a good idea. It's only going to upset you more, and right now, in the middle of all this? You don't need to be worrying about that. It was a really long time ago."

"If he's going to get fired over it now, then I don't care how long ago it was," Peter said, leveling them both with a hard look. "It still matters, you know it does. Stop trying to protect me from it."

Again, they exchanged a loaded look, and then Tony sighed and nodded, deflating in his chair. "Fine," he said. "I'll have a couple of my lawyers go over it with you tomorrow."

Peter blinked. "That's okay, I can just read it myself; I'm sure I don't need-"

"Yeah, you do," Tony broke in grimly. "Trust me. You're going to need all the help you can get."

And just what the hell was that supposed to mean? Looking from his aunt, who was staring down at the dregs of her coffee with a pensive expression on her face, to Tony, who had turned away from Peter again, scrolling busily through his phone, Peter felt his sense of trepidation grow. He knew with a feeling of certainty, now, that this was going to be even worse than he was imagining.

He wasn't sure if he was ready to face it.

TBC…

Up Next:

"It was still too much, Tony. He would never have signed this if he'd actually understood what you were asking of him."

"Oh, he understood." Tony looked back at him then, and Peter could clearly read the certainty in his eyes, and the deep-seated respect and admiration he had for Mr. Harrington after seven years of loyalty and upheld promises. "He knew exactly what would have happened if he broke his word, Peter. He did it anyway. He did it for you."