Chapter Text
Having already gone through several gates and security checks, Peter is finally standing in front of the building. He pushes his glasses higher up his nose and straightens his shoulders. The building is big and old, built from heavy sand-colored bricks which are framed by ivy and other plants growing up the sides. He wonders if it looks any less dilapidated on the inside.
The young man walks toward the front door, where an older man already waits for him. The man is bald and wearing black pants and a black sweater under a heavy leather coat. But the most interesting thing about this man’s appearance is the leather eye patch he’s wearing over his left eye.
“Welcome to SHIELD Asylum, Dr. Parker. I’m Director Fury. Let me show you around.” Peter takes the man’s extended hand for a handshake before following him inside.
As Director Fury shows him around the building, he realizes that it does in fact not look any better on the inside than it does on the outside. The plants are even growing in here, the cracks in the stone floors and walls are covered in green. No one seems to deem it necessary to clean this place up.
When Peter has seen what feels like every room in the building and has been introduced to more people than he will be able to remember til the next day, Fury leads him into the office that will be Peter’s from now on.
“Please, have a seat, Dr. Parker. I’d like to go over a few things for your first day”, Peter sits in the chair behind his desk while Fury already occupied the one in front of it. “Have you gone over the files I sent you?”
Peter agrees. “Good, good”, Fury strokes his chin, evidently thinking about his next words. “Then you know none of the other doctors could get anything useful out of him. He’s hard to crack, likes to just sit there and smile and talk about anything but the answers we need.”
“I’m not sure, I can get him to talk, but I will try my best, Sir.” Peter is going to pull out all the stops on this job. He has to. After countless applications and just as many rejections, this was the only place that offered him a job and he wasn’t going to let it go so easily. After all, he has to pay rent and still has his student loan to be paid off. He quite literally can’t afford to lose this job.
“Glad to hear it. But be careful, this man knows just how to get into people’s heads. Don’t let him into yours”, Fury says and the dark tone of his voice gives Peter goose bumps. ”So, you want to meet him?”
Peter stands up, which seems to be enough of an answer for the Director, who follows suit. The older man makes his way through the door and along endless corridors, not once looking back, simply assuming Peter is following behind him. They don’t talk for the entire walk, which was fine by Peter. He is still mulling over the fact that Fury didn’t once use the prisoner's name, only referring to him. Why is that?
—--
“This is it”, Peter is being pulled out of his thoughts. “The guards will let you in. Knock against this bulletproof glass if you want out. The guards will monitor you through it.”
“Are there no security cameras or microphones?”
“No. He tends to destroy or hack those within an hour of putting new ones in. I don’t know how he does it. Unnecessary expenses is what it is”, he says matter-of-factly .”Okay, I’ll leave you to it. Come to my office when you’re done, I’d like to hear your first report in person.”
“Of course, Sir”, Peter nods. When Fury is out of sight, Peter turns to the two guards standing with their backs to a heavy steel door. “Barnes” and “Wilson” he reads on the name tags of their uniforms. They both hold large weapons - was that what a shotgun looked like?
Peter takes a deep breath, pushes up his glasses and nods. “Okay, let’s go. I can do this.”, he whispers to himself.
“Jesus, how old are you, kid?” That voice came from Guard Barnes. Peter quickly locks eyes with him. That is one attractive man. Dark eyes, dark hair and big muscles.
Quickly looking away from the handsome man, not wanting to stare too long, he answers, “I’m twenty-three.” He gets this a lot. He is, of course, young for a psychiatry resident, skipped a class or two and graduated early. But even though he looks even younger.
“Well damn, he’s gonna eat you alive.” That was Guard Wilson.
“I’ll be fine”, Peter says. However the confidence of the statement doesn’t quite translate in his tone. He would be a fool to not be nervous. The man on the other side of this door is the most dangerous man in all of New York City, probably the whole country. Peter’s heard about him, of course. Even before he got this job he knew of him. Mob-Boss Anthony Stark.
“I’m ready”, he says. This time his voice sounds quite a bit stronger as he looks to the guards.
“Good luck, kid”, Barnes says before giving the other guard a quick nod to open the door.
—--
The door closes heavily behind Peter. The cell he enters is grey and empty. There’s a metal table standing in the middle, one chair on each side. In the chair opposite the door, sits a man. His head slightly lowered, eyes locked on the smooth surface of the table.
Peter’s eyes fall to one strong hand lying on the table. Relaxed. Multiple Rings glinting in the harsh fluorescent light. How was he even allowed rings in here?
“Dr. Parker! How nice to finally meet you.” A dark, rough voice echoes through the cell.
Peter’s gaze flicks up to see into the darkest brown eyes he’s ever seen. They seem almost black. How does he know Peter’s name?
“Please sit.” The man gestures loosely to the empty seat. “And to answer your question: I have friends in here, you know? They are too afraid to say no to me.”
Peter sits. “And yet, you’re still here.”
A dark laugh booms through the room. “Oh, you’ve got a sharp tongue, Dr. Parker. I like that. I think we’ll get along just fine.”
A wide grin is directed at Peter, the prisoner's eyes twinkle expectedly at him.
“So what do you want me to tell you? You want to know about my childhood? My first drug deal? My body count?”
Peter decides to start simple. “People call you “The Iron Man”. Why do you think that is?”
“Oh, is that so? I had no idea.” Another wide smile. Peter’s sure that the man was lying, but he is going to let it slide. For now. He needs to get this man’s trust first.
“Well, what do you want me to call you?”
The man leans forward in his seat, eyes never straying from Peter’s. “You can call me Mr. Stark.”
“Okay, Mr. Stark. Why are you in this asylum?” Peter has a plan. Slow and steady wins the race, that was how he was going to crack this man.
The other man, still leaning forward, rests his chin on both hands. A rattling sound draws Peter’s attention to the cuffs on Mr. Stark's wrists, metal chains connecting them to the chair.
“I’m sure you’ve read my file before coming here, because everything else would be pretty dumb. And while I can’t argue with the pretty part, I don’t think they would send someone dumb to try and fix me. So why ask me something you already know, Dr. Parker?”
The compliment makes Peter’s heart stumble. He has spent years focused on school and then uni. There was no time for dating and relationships, and Peter was not interested in casual sex. So being complimented does things to him. But he needs to be professional and not get distracted by something like that. Especially when the person in question is not only a notorious drug seller but has also killed more than a few people. Peter needs to stay on track.
“I have read your file”, Peter agrees. “But the files were made by the police and while I do respect their work, I’d really like to hear your take on things.”
“You want my version?” Mr. Stark asks, leaning back with a questioning look in his eyes. “That’s dangerous, Doctor.”
“Why?” The sound comes out more like a breath being released.
“Because people usually leave this room believing me.” Peter forces himself to not break eye contact. Trying to not let his gaze wander to the crinkles on the outer corners of Mr. Stark’s eyes, the meticulously groomed goatee (how can he even do this here?) or the cocky smile on his lips. He pushes up his glasses.
“You’re nervous.” It’s not a question.
“Most people would be.”
“No”, Mr. Stark states. “Most people would be afraid. And you… are trying very hard not to be.”
Peter leans back just a bit and lets his eyes stray from the other man’s to try and win back his composure. “I’m here to evaluate you, Sir. Not the other way round.”
“Sir?” Mr. Stark's smile grew even wider than before. “Damn, they got me a pretty young thing AND he’s got manners? I guess they do know me after all.”
Peter is not sure how to react. He stays quiet, trying to figure out how to turn the conversation around.
“Tell me, Dr. Parker. How old are you?”
“Twenty-three.”
Mr. Stark lets out a soft hum, gaze turning almost predatory, but he doesn’t say anything. Just stares at Peter.
“I’m qualified”, Peter adds hastily, feeling like he needs to justify himself. All the times of being called “too young” and not being taken seriously because of it. He hated it.
“Didn’t say you weren’t. I just expected someone older.”
“How old are you, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks instead of commenting on the statement.
“Forty-eight”, the man answers, surprising Peter with it. He was sure Mr. Stark was going to turn this question around too. “Though prison life has been very moisturizing.”
Peter snorts a laugh before even thinking about it, quickly trying to put on his professional face again.
“You don’t think so, Dr. Parker?” Mr. Stark's amusing gaze locks him in. “Take a good look. I’m a fucking catch, even for my age. Don’t you think?”
Instead of dismissing the joke, Peter makes the mistake of looking. Really looking. The sharp line of Mr. Stark’s jaw. The silver threaded through his dark hair. The confidence somehow still clinging to him despite the ugly orange jumpsuit and chains around his wrists. Even here, in this room, he looked put together. Intentional. Dangerous. Peter’s gaze briefly flicks to the open collar of the jumpsuit before he catches himself and forces his look away again.
“It was a joke, doctor.” Mr. Stark smiles, this time it seems almost genuine. “But you don’t need to answer. The blush on your cheeks tells me everything I need to know.”
Peter clears his throat. “Why are you in here, Mr. Stark?”
“Fine, I’ll bite”, the man sighs. “Apparently the people don’t really support my line of business. Twenty years of running this city, cops always three steps behind, but then they got a mole inside my ranks. I clocked it fast, but the cops got to me faster.” A pause. Then a shrug. “And now, they put the mole in charge of guarding me here.”
“Barnes?” Peters guesses carefully.
“Smart boy.”
The two men lock eyes, neither one of them saying anything.
Suddenly a loud knock echoes through the room, making Peter jump slightly in his seat. He whips his head in the direction where the sound came from and sees Barnes behind the bulletproof glass gesturing for him to come out.
“Well, it seems like the session’s over. Same time tomorrow, Dr. Parker?”
Peter doesn’t answer. He just stands from his seat and walks to the door, which is being opened for him by Guard Wilson. When the door closes behind him again, he takes a deep breath.