Peter parker oneshot's

what you think I've done wrong

"And here I was, thinking you'd be a genius," Peter mutters. Howard flushes red, but Peter doesn't care; this is the man that's abused and manipulated his father since before he was able to speak (and considering he's Tony Stark, that was at a very young age).

"You can't possibly be my grandson, as you're implying. Anthony's never mentioned having a kid. No Stark would sit hunched over as you are, and they definitely wouldn't be so disrespectful to their elders!" Howard spits, jowls shaking as the anger reaches his nervous system. Peter just shakes his head, turning his eyes back to his homework and hunching down lower, moving to place his earphone back in. Howard moves forward before he can, slapping Peter's wrist and causing it to fall.

Peter looks up at Howard, eyes wide. His hand remains suspended in the air, wrist stinging, but Peter refuses to look at it, to cradle it, to acknowledge he feels the pain in any way. Howard glares back at him, unapologetic, unforgiving.

Any doubt Peter might've felt at Tony's recounting of stories of his childhood is proved to be false in this moment as Peter looks into the eyes of his grandfather, the man who had just slapped him, a tingling racing up and down the sensitive flesh of Peter's arm that he desperately wants to hold an ice pack to. He refuses to give Howard the satisfaction.

"You will treat me with respect," Howard demands, voice quiet, but no less threatening. "Now, why did Anthony keep the fact that he had a child from his own father?" He looks at Peter, as if Peter would know. "Are you a bastard? Is that it?"

Peter just grins. "I may be, but not one as great as you, that's for sure."

This time Howard smacks Peter right across the face and his head snaps to the side, cheek stinging. Tears involuntary rush to his eyes and Peter fights to blink them away. He will not cry, not in front of this man. Peter won't give him the satisfaction, no matter how much it stings, no matter how inferior he's being forced to feel right now-

"Sit up straight."

Peter's embarrassed to say he obeys, sliding his notebook off his lap and stiffening his spine to stare Howard in the eye.

"Much better. Now, if you're who you claim to be, tell me something about Anthony that only his son would know."

"I don't have to prove myself to you."

Howard raises his hand once more, and Peter hates himself for flinching, for squeezing his eyes shut and turning his head away. "Stark men don't cry," Howard tsks. "They're made of iron, which you, evidently, are not."

"You sent him a tie for the 50th anniversary of the company, but nothing for his 50th birthday," Peter says without meaning to. Why does he want to prove himself to Howard? Why does he want to prove himself worthy of being a Stark if this is what it means?

No, Peter tries to convince himself. You want to prove yourself worthy of being Dad's son.

But Dad would never ask you to do that.

Howard rocks back on his heels, sighing, as he takes in Peter. He must believe that Peter is who he claims to be because Howard looks to the sketchbook, cast aside. "Alright, let's take a look at these bluepr-" Howard freezes, picking up the sketchbook. Peter's stomach churns as Howard begins flipping through; seeing his property in this monster's hands sets his blood boiling.