Busted

                                    

                                          
"Yo, Iron-dad, what's going on?" I walk in much more confidently than I felt, but that's the thing about us Starks; we don't exactly always show our emotions.
                          
"Someone tried to hack us." He says, not bothering to look up from his work on his tablet, no doubt investigating the attempted hack.
                          
"Do you know who?" I ask innocently, trying not to anxiously move from foot to foot.
                          
"Unfortunately no. The hacking software was surprisingly very advanced. Luckily it wasn't advanced enough to beat my firewalls, but still,  we're lucky they didn't get any information.I'm not able to trace it. The most I could get was the software name." He looks up at me, "who in their right mind would name their hacking software 'Ketchup Chips'?"  
                          
I shrug and advert my eyes, "Maybe they were hungry..." I shake my head, "anyway, what file did they try to hack?"
                          
My dad freezes, "...just some old file from the old Avengers Tower. Nothing important."
                          
"Then why did it have such strong protection?" I ask, tilting my head.
                          
"Because it was one of my files. I do that to all of my stuff."
                          
"Sure. What file though?"
                          
"Why so curious?" He looks up at me.
                          
"I'm a curious girl." I shrug.
                          
"So it seems."
                          
I roll my eyes. "Okay, whatever. Can I go now?"
                          
My dad puts down his tablet, "do you have somewhere you need to be?"
                          
I sigh, "well, no actually, I guess not. I was out with friends until I was called home for absolutely nothing!" I answer, a little bit irritated.
                          
"It wasn't nothing. You could've been in danger."
                          
"But I wasn't."
                          
"I didn't know that."
                          
"I thought you knew everything."
                          
"I do now." He sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose, "look, better safe than sorry, right?"
                          
I furrow my eyebrows and give him a 'seriously?' look, "since when is Iron Man's slogan, 'better safe than sorry'? Since when is Tony Stark's?"
                          
"Since it's with my daughter!" He raises his voice a little.
                          
"I'm not in any danger! I'm fine! We're all fine!"
                          
"And if they try again?"
                          
"They failed, dad! Why does it matter?"
                          
"ENOUGH."
                          
I freeze, and so does my dad, because he basically never, ever yells at me. Ever. Unless it was something extremely serious.
                          
I take a step back subconsciously, and a horrible memory fills my head of Dave and that one day at the hospital.
                          
Why are you even thinking about him?
                          
I don't even notice the tears brimming my eyes until my dad walks over and engulfs me in a hug, "hey, hey. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
                          
I quickly rub my eyes, "no, no. It's not you. It's just....memories. Y-you didn't do anything wrong. But, dad?"
                          
"Yeah?"
                          
"When are you going to stop lying to me?"
                          
A moment of silence passes between us. "I'm not lying to you," he says, finally.
                          
"Yes you are! I can tell! Why can't you trust me? I thought we were honest with each other!"
                          
"We are!"
                          
"THEN WHO IS PETER PARKER?"
                          
He freezes and looks at the ground, "I-I already told you-"
                          
"You lied."
                          
He meets my eyes, and our staring contest begins.
                          
"You want honesty?" I breath, "I am the one who hacked you. I'm the one who found a file on Peter Parker from the Avengers Tower. A S.H.I.E.L.D file."
                          
We remain in silence, until my dad finally speaks, "...You hacked me..."
                          
"You lied to me."
                          
"You hacked me?" He asks again in a slightly angry tone.
                          
"You lied!"
                          
"Young lady, that does not give you an excuse to hack me!" He raises his voice again.
                          
"It seems that was the only way I would be able to get any information from anyone, since you all lied to me!"
                          
"(Y/N) MARIA STARK, GO TO YOUR ROOM." He yells.
                          
"WHY? WHAT'S SO SPECIAL ABOUT PETER PARKER? WHY WON'T YOU TELL ME? WHY ARE YOU LYING TO ME?!"
                          
"NOW."
                          
I stand there, my facial expression nothing but a poker-face, with tears running down my eyes. I march back to my room and slam the door.
                          
I lean my back against it, slightly shaking, my breath quavering.
                          
"Are you alright?" Thursday's voice echos in my room.
                          
I hate that I'm like this. I hate feeling weak. I'm not just a weak little girl. I am a strong, independent women. I do not cry. I do not-
                          
My thoughts come to a halt as I break down into a sob. "What-what is wrong with me?"
                          
I am a Stark. I do not cry. No body can break me. I am a Stark.
                          
But what does that even mean anymore?
                          
"Your vitals seem perfectly healthy. May this have something to do with your father? Or Peter?"
                          
I choke back the sob that was about to come out. The tears of sadness turn to tears of anger.
                          
I wipe my tears, "Thursday? Where is my dad right now?"
                          
"He is in his office."
                          
"Doing what?"
                          
"Sitting. Drinking."
                          
I shrug, "sounds like a plan, dad." I mutter.
                          
I stand up, and go to my walk in closet. I pull on a wine red, slightly off the shoulders belly-top. And ripped jean shorts that end just above mid-thigh. I throw on some open toed wedges, and slightly struggle to walk back out to my room.
                          
I put on the tiniest bit of make-up, which feels weird since I usually don't wear any, pinkish red lipstick, and mascara.
                          
"Why are you dressing up?" Thursday asks.
                          
"Don't tell my dad." I say as I shove pillows under my blankets to make it look like I'm in my bed sleeping. Oldest trick in the book, I know. I'm going to need to lock my bedroom door too.
                          
"Okay."
                          
I put in my P.T.E (portable Thursday earrings) and slide on my weapons bracelet. I also bring my phone, and slide $200 into the case.
                          
"We're going out, Thursday. Lock my bedroom door, and open the window, please."
                          
"How are you going to get down?"
                          
"Please. Natasha's trained me in all sorts of real-world situations, in case my dad ever lets me join S.H.I.E.L.D. Including how to scale a building."
                          
I start to slide out of my window.
                          
Good thing we don't still live in the Avenger's tower.
                          
I scale down the building, almost flawlessly, but it's slightly more difficult with my wedges on. I manage to not break my ankle on the way down, or the landing, so I consider it a win.
                          
"Thursday?" I whisper as I sneak to the garage.
                          
"Yes?"
                          
"You can self-drive a car, right?"
                          
"Yes."
                          
"Good."
                          
I get into one of my dad's most regular looking cars, in the passengers seat. "Okay, Thursday. Let's go. But drive well. I'd rather not get pulled over by the cops and have to explain this."