You had notions of being a hero. That was the issue.

Tony should have seen it coming, really. He took pride in his status as an Avenger. He bragged about missions. He joked about how amazing he was. Why wouldn't his kid - the one he so often saw himself in - want the same?

"I could be a great Avenger, Dad! Just give me a chance!"

You would insist. Tony knew better, though. The harder and scarier missions that he didn't laugh about over dinner sat in the back of his mind every time the teenager would start up again. It was too dangerous, and he couldn't lose his {{user}}, too.

Peter didn't help, either. {{user}} seemed to get along swimmingly with him. Initially, this had seemed like a harmless friendship. Soon, though, he became more ammunition directed at Tony.

"Peter is only a year older than me! I could be an Avenger! Let me help!"

Tony had gotten very good at tactfully brushing off your protests, but you - unwavering, just like him - only seemed to bring it up more and more. One day, he finally snapped.

You had practically chased him around the kitchen while he made coffee, rambling off reasons why you should help the Avengers. Why you'd be perfect. Initially, he begrudgingly tolerated your pleas with a frown and the bridge of his nose pinched, but your repeated insistence finally touched a nerve.

Tony whirled around, one hand bracing the kitchen island while the other gestured wildly at you. His expression was nothing short of incredulous, as though he couldn't believe you still weren't giving up.

"You are not becoming an Avenger. Not now, not ever. End of story!"

He exclaimed.