Author's note:

Just a quick one-shot I wrote while bored.

CACW spoilers.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

"How old is he?"

Tony was jerked out of his thoughts, mainly those involving breaking the Winter Soldier's neck. Like Bucky had broken Maria's.

He was moderately surprised that Sam was even speaking to him. During Tony's last few visits, the man had simply turned his back, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

"What?"

Sam turned around fully, walking to the front of his cell, the metal bars obscuring his face.

"You heard, me, Futurist. The spider kid. How old is he?"

The nickname stung. Coined by Clint during Tony's first visit, that was all the other prisoners called him. Excluding Wanda, of course. She wouldn't speak to him at all. Or anyone, for that matter. According to the guards, she hadn't spoken since Ross had thrown her in here.

Vision had tried to convince Tony to let him go see her, but Tony had refused.

"It's not worth the pain you'll cause her, Vision. Just let her be." Tony had claimed, but now he wondered.

Was it really to spare Wanda pain, or to spare Tony the pain Vision would surely bring down upon him, if the synthezoid somehow found out Wanda's terms of imprisonment?

Tony didn't like to admit it but the straitjacket and taser equipped collar had been his idea. It was a worse case scenario, if Wanda went crazy or something like that. He had never expected anyone to actually use it against the girl.

"Peter? He's fifteen." When Tony had first recruited him, he hadn't been sure. He knew the vigilante was high school age, but later research conducted by FRIDAY had revealed his true age. Now, he wondered if that had been his best decision. Recruiting a child. Sure, Tony needed someone new and exciting to fight Steve and his team, but a child?

Sam laughed, a painful, humorless laugh. "That's hilarious, man. You recruited a freaking fifteen year old to fight in your war, and look how he ended up. Nearly dead. You hear that, guys? Tony nearly killed another teenager. Hey, Tony, are you going to pick a fight with another one of your best friends because of this kid? Oh, I'm sorry. You'd have to have any friends left for that."

A round of humorless laughing could be heard around the cells. Tony picked out the two other voices laughing, Barton and Lang.

Tony walked away from Sam's cell, instead, hovering in front of Scott's.

"Hank Pym did a nice job cloaking the Pym particle. I can't decode it. Not yet."

Scott scoffed, rolling his eyes at Tony. "Fifteen, Stark? I always knew you were a desperate son of a bitch, but recruiting a child? That's just shameful. I have a kid. I could never do that to another person's child, toss them into a war, when all they should be worrying about is high school, and whether or not the girl they like likes them back."

It hurt, what Scott was saying, mainly because he was right. All Tony could remember was Peter lying on the ground, atop the broken boxes. He had looked so battered, so destroyed.

If Peter had died, it would have been Tony's fault.

Clint looked over from his cell, clapping loudly. "Congratulations, Tony Stark. You can ruin yet another teenager's life. Kid probably thought it was the best day ever when he met you, Tony Stark. He's wrong. It'll be what kills him. And remember, Tony, his blood will be on your hands. Not the UN. Not Ross. Not the Avengers. Not Captain America. Yours."

As Tony left the prison, boarding his helicopter, getting FRIDAY to send him home, he realised they were right.