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“I’m literally starved.”
Tony scoffs loudly, making sure Peter has time to process how ridiculous he sounds. “If you were literally starved, I can literally guarantee you that we wouldn’t be in this car right now.”
Peter whines and tips back against the passenger’s seat even further, holding his grumbling stomach in a dramatic display. Tony would be worried, except he knows for a fact that the kid spent the whole weekend clearing out his fridge, so he’s sure Peter can wait another two minutes to get to the restaurant.
“What is it with old people and never believing us when we say we’re hungry? Are you inside my stomach, Mr. Stark? How would you know if I was about to drop dead from starvation or not?” Peter snaps back, but there’s no bite to his tone. Tony doesn’t even know if it’s possible for the kid to get genuinely angry.
“You had seven pieces of French-Toast for breakfast-” The billionaire makes a big show of checking his watch. “-three hours ago.”
The kid gives him the stink-eye, but stays silent the rest of the ride, all the way to the front entrance of the restaurant.
Weekend sleepovers had somehow become a tradition for the pair, just as much as lab sessions every Wednesday and stopping by after patrol at least once or twice a week. Usually, Peter stays with him until Sunday evening, but since it’s one of the rare days that the kid’s aunt has managed to get off work, Tony is dropping him off early.
Even if it’s so the teenager can spend time with May, Tony can’t help but feel guilty for cutting their visit so short that he decided to take Peter out to lunch before dropping him off. There’s this upscale place in Queens, not too far from the Parker’s apartment.
“Woah.” Peter breathes as they walk in, looking around like they’re at the louvre. Tony would make a comment about it, but he doesn’t want to embarrass the kid. He knows that this is probably one of the nicer places that he’s been to, considering that he doesn’t come from much money at all. Tony has made it incredibly clear to both Peter and May that they can always come to him if they’re struggling, but they consistently refuse. Not being able to help them forms this untouchable inch under his skin, one that demands he do something to help his protégé and his family. Usually, he can ignore the itch, but every time Peter comes over and sheepishly asks to use the shower because their hot water ran out, it comes back with the force of a bull.
“Reservation for two. Stark.” Tony greets the hostess, whose eyes widen exponentially at the sight of them. Her eyes flicker between him and Peter, and Tony raises an eyebrow, as if daring her to say something.
“You got a reservation?” Peter hisses as she begins leading them to their table, at the very back. Tony has been famous for long enough (since he was born) to know how to avoid nosey press and unwanted pictures.
“Yes, kid, that’s what civilized people do.”
“Isn’t that, like, only for anniversaries, or something?”
He tries not to look too horrified at the statement. “No, kid.”
They take their seat at one of the tables, Peter quietly thanking the hostess as she places menus in front of them. The kid’s eyes widen exponentially when he gets a look at the contents of the menu, like he’s never heard of half the items on it before. Tony holds in a laugh.
“You better think of what you want now, I hear they’re very quick with the service here.”
Peter’s gaze snaps up to him, wide and fearful, and Tony can’t take it anymore. He snickers into his hand, snorting in laughter. “Jesus, I’m kidding. Just get the club sandwich, you’ll like it.”
“Just my luck that I have to go to lunch with the meanest person in the world.” Peter grumbles with a scowl that looks out of place on his baby-face. “I don’t even know why I hang out with you.”
“You hang out with me because you’re still trying to atone for the time you woke me up at four in the morning because you stubbed your toe while trying to go to the bathroom, which I still don’t know how that’s possible, by the way-”
Peter weaponizes his straw covering by folding it up and flicking it at the older man, effectively silencing him. “Quiet, old man.” The kid mumbles, and then Tony’s jaw drops and they’re both laughing hard, loud enough that a patron across the room gives them a look but then quickly looks away when she realizes who Tony is.
Strangely enough, even for being a fifteen-year-old who makes far too many pop-culture references, Peter is easier to get along with than most adults. He’s funny, respectful (except for times like these, where he’s encouraged to knock Tony down a peg or two), unbelievably intelligent, and, of course, almost annoyingly selfless.
He’s essentially a mini version of Tony, if Tony wasn’t a complete mess and had a father who loved him. It’s more than a little strange.
The rest of their lunch goes great. He mostly listens to Peter complain about the greasy, rich kid on his Decathalon team. Sometimes, the conversation will flit to Spider-Man, at which point, they talk in hushed voices and metaphors, to avoid anyone overhearing. The food is good enough to make Peter close his eyes as he gets a bite.
Peter’s face turns red when the bill comes, and he pointedly looks anywhere but Tony’s face. The older man can see the guilt written across his protégé’s face as he stares daggers at the table. He gives the boy a reassuring pat on the knee as they prepare to leave.
Due to a combination of the kid’s horrible thermoregulation and the January chill in the air, Peter is bundled up in this huge winter coat that both May and Tony make sure he’s wearing whenever he leaves the house out of Spider-Man gear. He still grumbles as he pulls it on, like a grumpy toddler who doesn’t want to be told what to do. Tony makes sure to tell him as much.
They’re just about to get to the front door, Tony’s face turned away to thank one of the hostesses, when Peter tugs on his sleeve suddenly. The billionaire looks down at the kid, who’s staring at the front window with borderline fear in his expression.
Tony looks up, and through the glass, sees dozens of paparazzi.
“Shit.” He mumbles, pulling the kid closer by the sleeve of his jacket. No cameras are going yet, but they’re very clearly waiting for someone to emerge, feet tapping impatiently against the sidewalk and fidgeting with the settings on their equipment.
“Are they here for... you?” Peter questions quietly, lips pinched together.
“Probably.” Tony hisses and pulls out his phone, thumb hovering uselessly over Happy’s contact. Either way, whether they wait for Happy to get here or not, they’re going to have their personal space grossly invaded. Tony has been used to it for years, and he knows they’re nowhere near as bad as they were twenty years ago, but the kid has never experienced anything like this before.
There’s also the pretty major issue of the cameras potentially giving Peter a sensory overload. Tony has seen how he gets when there’s too much input for his highly enhanced senses to handle. The poor kid practically goes into a panic attack, usually clasping his hands over his ears as he sobs. Tony’s witnessed it quite a few times over the last few months, and they never get less gut-wrenching.
“Shouldn't we wait for Happy?” Peter whispers, just as Tony starts leading him to the door, eyes zeroed in on his car. There’s less than a dozen steps between the door and the car, so as long as none of the paparazzi idiots do something stupid, they’ll get there quickly.
“Listen, kid,” Tony stops them before they can open the door fully. “I know it’s a lot, but just try to ignore them. Don’t speak to any of them and try not to look into the cameras, alright?”
Peter nods quickly, and Tony pushes open the door.
Shouts and clicks and flashes come from every which direction, accompanied by the blurry faces of the paparazzi. Tony keeps a protective hand on Peter’s upper back, gently pushing as he guides the boy through the crowd.
“Tony! Tony, who’s the kid?”
“Is this your son, Mr. Stark?”
“Look here, kid!”
“What’s the kid’s name?”
The invasive questions nearly get lost in the noise, drowned out by unintelligible shouts and camera clicking. Tony can’t see Peter’s face very well from this angle, but he can see the kid’s eyes screw shut against the flash of the cameras. A surge of protectiveness flutters through him as he walks faster, barely refraining from shouting at the vultures to leave the unknown teenager alone.
“Mr. Stark...” Peter mumbles, unsure and clearly a little scared. They’re at the car now, and Tony wastes no time stepping in front of him to pull open the passenger door. He guides the kid in, slamming it after him in an attempt to let the crowd know that they’re getting absolutely nothing from either of them.
Tony rounds to the driver’s door, glaring at the handful of press that are too close to Peter’s door, still trying to take pictures of him through the window. Peter is hiding his face, looking at Tony instead, eyes wide as saucers as they continue to shout.
“Who’s the kid?” One of them continues to shout the same question over and over, just as Tony slides into his seat. He scoffs and peels away from the curb, leaving the crowd to stare after them in bewilderment.
-
Sometimes, Peter can’t breathe.
It’s probably a combination of his enhanced senses, general anxiety disorder that he was diagnosed with at the ripe age of ten, and working himself to the bone while trying to balance school and Spider-Man and his minimal amount of personal life.
Today is one of those days.
After an incident involving a prominent gang in Queens last night, Peter was out as Spider-Man until two in the morning, throwing punches that seemed to get heavier and less coordinated every time. It’s a miracle that May was working the night shift again, because he’s genuinely terrified every time he comes home ten minutes past his eleven o’clock curfew, let alone three hours. If Tony got the notification that Peter was up all night (which, let’s face it, he definitely did), he hasn’t said anything about it yet. He’s probably just waiting to tear into him this afternoon, during their Wednesday lab session.
He’s been absolutely exhausted all day, nearly passing out at lunch. The only thing that kept him awake was MJ unsubtly kicking him under the table and raising an eyebrow when she noticed the deep bags under his eyes. Both Ned and MJ have been giving him the look all day, the one that indicates he should probably be taking better care of himself before he ends up actually passing out at school one of these days.
Tony will probably end up giving him the same look in about twenty minutes, when the final bell mercifully rings, and Peter is free to spend the rest of the day at the tower. For whatever reason, Tony is always the first one to know if the teenager is in any sort of emotional turmoil. It’s like he has his own version of Spider-Senses, dedicated exclusively to Peter and his distress.
It’s the last twenty minutes of fifth period, and Peter could burst at the seams with anticipation. He just wants to take a long nap on the couch Tony keeps in the lab, and then spend the evening upgrading the suit and destroying old circuit boards. He decides to text Tony, to keep himself occupied.
Me: is it you or happy picking me up tdy????
Megaton: Why don’t you put some more question marks and I’ll let you know.
Me: ur actually the worst person ever
Megaton: Aren’t you supposed to be in class right now?
Me: i'll give you twenty bucks to just answer the question
Megaton: I know for a fact that you don’t have twenty bucks. I’ve seen the inside of your wallet, you only have Dairy Queen gift cards.
Me: plsssssssssss
Megaton: Happy’s technically driving, but I’ll be there too.
That at least puts a smile on Peter’s face, as he shuts off his phone and tries to pay attention for the rest of the lesson. Even if the older man usually ends up embarrassing him in some way or another, the teen likes having Tony be in the car with him on the drive back to the tower, because it means they can spend extra time together before he inevitably has to go back to the apartment, later tonight.
In the almost-year since Germany, Tony has been one of the few constants in his life. On the days where everything is too much, the days where Peter feels like he’s lost his focal point in life, Tony is there with his dumb jokes and soft smile and the constant reassurance that Peter will have someone in his corner, no matter what; even when he messes up so thoroughly that he genuinely wonders if Spider-Man is a blessing or a curse.
Peter doesn’t deserve Tony’s guidance, but he selfishly craves it like a junkie craves his next hit. Even if he rolls his eyes and scoffs every time he gets lectured or shouted at for being a reckless idiot, a part of him loves it. He loves the unbidden confirmation that his mentor cares about his safety enough to put his own at risk.
That’s what terrifies him beyond belief. Tony has made it beyond clear, on several occasions, that he’ll (almost gladly) put himself in any kind of dangerous situation, if it meant keeping Peter safe. It’s not right. Peter is superhuman, Tony is not. The world needs Iron Man because they won’t survive without him, but the world doesn’t need Spider-Man. The sun would still rise and set, and the earth would still turn if Spider-Man was gone, but Peter is almost positive that the whole universe would cease to exist without Tony.
At least, Peter’s whole universe would cease to exist without Tony.
Finally, the bell rings, and the teen springs out of his hard plastic seat so fast that his head spins. Excitement pushes away the exhaustion for a moment, and he eagerly gathers his books and shoves them into his bag, nearly skipping down the crowded hallway.
He’s barely fished his jacket out of his locker, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He assumes it’s Tony letting him know that they’re here or almost here, so he finishes up and digs his Stark-phone out, a little confused to see a frantic text from Ned, instead.
Nedward: something is going on outside
Me: ???
A stone of apprehension settles in Peter’s chest, as he clutches the straps around his backpack tighter, making his way to the end of the hallway. His phone buzzes again, just before he reaches the door, which is being fairly crowded with students.
Nedward: idk theres this girl thats walking around with a camera
Peter huffs in frustration at his best friend’s vagueness. He hardly thinks some girl walking around with a camera is anything noteworthy, so that must mean there’s more to the story. There’s no point in trying to think about the endless and somewhat scary possibilities, because he’s out of the front doors now, stepping out into the chilly early-spring air.
There’s indeed a girl in the front lot, pacing around with a fancy camera in her hands, scanning the crowd intensely. Based off of Peter’s quick assessment, the girl is more of a woman. She looks to be around her mid-thirties, with long brown hair that reminds him of May’s and eyes hidden behind big glasses.
He’s maybe half-a-step out of the door, when he suddenly makes eye-contact with the camera-wielding woman, and her expression morphs into something that can only be described as pure, unfiltered glee.
“Peter Parker!” She screeches with a grin, and Peter jumps in surprise at the sound of his name coming out of her mouth. Every single set of eyes on the staircase turn to him in shock, some of them looking between Peter and the woman, like they’re wondering if this is some kind of joke.
Peter doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe, really. He stands and stares, mouth opening and closing as his brain tries to formulate what to say. He’s always been quick-thinking, but this is entirely different. This is a social situation in front of all his peers and this strange woman and probably every adult in the parking lot.
Isn’t Tony supposed to be here? He thinks, wildly, scanning the parking lot for his mentor to show up and offer some kind of advice or save him or maybe just handle the awkward situation for him. In the time that he’s looking around, the woman has begun jogging towards him, pushing past students to reach the teenager
“Mr. Parker, could I just get an interview- one interview; I just have some questions about Tony Stark-” She literally breathless as she speaks, so fast the boy can barely make out the words flying from her mouth.
Finally, Peter puts together what seems to be going on.
It’s been two months since the paparazzi incident at lunch. Within hours, it was splashed across every social media imaginable, all asking the same question: Who is the boy with Tony Stark? Some articles had claimed Peter was his biological, secret son, while others tried to say that they were on a date. The secret relation ones were sort of funny, but the theories about them dating were absolutely horrifying and disgusting and made Peter want to cry. The initial uproar had eventually died down for the most part, but the media is still deep in speculation.
So, it sort of makes sense why she’s here, it just doesn’t explain how she managed to find Peter’s full name and school. Tony had threatened to sue just about every company that tried to publish pictures with Peter’s face in them, on the basis of him being a minor who definitely didn’t consent to the photos being taken.
“Uh...” He says, unsure. The woman is up in his face now, asking him questions that he can’t really understand.
“What is your relationship with Tony Stark? Is it- there's rumors about being secretly related-” Her mouth is still moving, but Peter can’t hear her over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. He decides the best course of action is to do what Tony would tell him, and he carefully starts to sidestep her, trying to get away.
She steps in front of him before he can. “Just a couple questions, Mr. Parker.” She begs, eyes wild and unkind.
There’s a pair of figures moving through the crowd, mounting the stairs. Peter quickly realizes, with all consuming relief, that it’s Tony and Happy, who both look furious.
“Hey!” Tony yells angrily, making it to the top step, where Peter is, and stepping in front of him. He pulls Peter behind him, like she’s holding a gun instead of a camera, and starts arguing with her when she tries to defend herself.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, harassing a child at school? You know I can have you charged with stalking, you fucking creep. Leave the kid alone.” There’s none of that signature snark in his tone, it’s all anger and worry. She responds, and Tony says something to Happy, and then Tony is guiding him down the stairs, away from the crowd and the school and the woman.
Peter realizes that he doesn’t even take a full breath until they’re sitting in the back seat on Tony’s Audi, his mentor keeping a steady and comforting hand on his back as he speaks to him.
“Jesus, Pete, I am so sorry. I can’t fucking believe she just approached you at school like that.” Tony says, looking into his eyes intently. It occurs to the teen that he must be serious, because Tony is usually the last person to say I’m sorry. He’ll apologize in different ways, like letting Peter stay for an extra hour on lab-day or giving him a new suit upgrade without prompting.
“It’s okay, Mr. Stark.” He responds sincerely. “She just caught me off guard.”
“That’s the understatement of the century.” Tony mumbles, sounding and looking at least a little less angry than he was a second ago.
“You know how you could make it up to me?” Peter says, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “A jumbo combo from Burger King.”
Tony huffs in amusement, but when he speaks, his voice is edging on sincere. “Whatever you want, kid. Whatever you want.”
-
There’s something Tony can’t help but love about May Parker’s apartment.
It has this home feeling that Tony’s childhood house could only hope to have. It always smells like whatever takeout they ordered from the evening before, or a little burnt if May tried to cook anything. There are pictures all over the walls and scuff marks on the floor and little things that make Tony’s chest warm with an unknown feeling.
Right now, there’s a small mess spread across the washroom, cluttered with hair-gel and shower products and just about the entire inside of one of their cabinets, strewn across the sink area instead of messily tucked away. Tony’s standing in the doorway of the washroom, arms crossed over his chest and a fond smile on his face as he watches May rake gel-covered fingers through Peter’s hair, trying to tame his wild curls.
“I swear to God, he wasn’t even born with hair like this. It just happened when he was, like, seven?” May rants as she puts the finishing touches on her nephew’s head. Peter’s face is scarlet, refusing to make eye-contact with either adult. It’s been nearly an hour since they first started getting him ready, and his face hasn’t returned to it’s normal color.
“May, please...” The teen mumbles, barely audible.
“Awe, c’mon, kid.” Tony teases with a smirk. “Your curls are cute.”
Peter’s gaze snaps to him. “I’m not supposed to be cute. I’m almost sixteen-years-old, not six.” He whines, literally whines, burying his face in his hands. May grins broadly, and Tony can barely hide his quiet snicker at the kid’s petulance over something as simple as being perceived as cute.
“ Done!” May announces a few seconds later, stepping back to admire Peter’s now-tamed curls as she cleans her hand with a towel. Even if he would never admit it, the billionaire can’t help but feel a lingering sense of melancholy over how grown-up the teenager looks. Between the suit and the lack of crazy hair, his baby face looks a lot less prominent.
When it came time for this year’s fundraiser Gala for a company that SI is partnered with (meaning Pepper forces him to go), Tony decided to bring his favorite intern along, even if it’s probably considered a form a cruel and unusual punishment because of how goddamn boring they are. Even through the kid’s eagerness at being invited, Tony could sense the hidden anxiety at being around dozens and dozens of adult businessmen who are only going to hassle him.
Surprisingly, May had agreed very quickly, on the single term that Peter is kept away from the brunt of the press and paparazzi. It’s been four months since that creep found the kid’s school, and both Tony and May have been reluctant to have him anywhere near the public eye. They’ve avoided going out to lunch, got the kid to start taking the back entrance when leaving the tower, and taken extra security measures to prevent Peter’s identity from getting leaked further.
“Come here, kid.” Tony holds out a tie that’s been draped over his forearm as he waits. God knows Peter can’t do it himself, so the older man doesn’t hesitate to offer, “Let me tie it for you.”
Peter grumbles under his breath as he makes his way over, scowling but not resisting as Tony begins tying with expert hands. “I could've done that myself, you know. I can tie a tie.”
“No, you can’t.” May says with amusement. “Ben did it for you every band recital.”
Tony laughs loudly, unable to stop himself from wheezing at the image of middle-school-age Peter playing the trumpet in band, clad in a suit and tie. “You’re adorable.”
“I’m not adorable, I’m Spider-Man.” The teen professes and pulls away, once Tony finished, both with the laughing and tying. “Does that mean anything to you people? I’ve caught buses with my bare hands, I’ve held a Ferry together and I’ve lifted parking garages off my head.” He looks off into the distance in an exaggerated manner, and Tony doesn’t bother holding back an eye-roll at his antics. “I am the ruler of this city. I’m a genius by day and vigilante by night. I exist in the shadows. I’m the less-rich Batman of this universe.”
May sighs loudly and walks past him, to the kitchen. “Alright, Batman, you done? You’re going to be late.”
“Yeah, I'm done.”
“Good.” She envelopes her nephew in a tight hug, kissing the side of his head lovingly before pulling away and fussing over his suit for a moment. Peter backs up before she can continue, embarrassed. Tony chuckles and opens the front door for the kid.
“I’ll have him home in one piece.” He promises, shutting the door behind them.
-
Peter’s anxiety seems to have increased tenfold on the drive to the venue, as he’s currently sitting in the back seat next to his mentor, leg bouncing quick enough to blur in Tony’s vision. Tony pats the kid’s knee in reassurance, catching his attention. The venue is busy, with paparazzi crowded around the red barriers as guests make their way in.
“Hey, kid, just relax, alright? I’m not just gonna’ throw you in there, you’re sticking with me all night.” He shifts into a more teasing tone. “You’ll be sick of me in an hour.”
“I know.” Peter leans in closer in what seems to be a subconscious search for comfort. “I just don’t want to... embarrass myself, or anything.”
It breaks Tony’s heart, just a little, to hear how vulnerable and self-conscious Peter is in this environment. “You won’t.” He promises. “God, Pete, you have more potential in your pinkie than most of these guys have in their whole bodies.”
Peter smiles a little. “I don’t, but thank you.”
“You do.” The billionaire insists. “Imagine how jealous they’ll all be in a few years' time when you take over SI and they all get shown-up by a kid.”
Last month, Tony and Pepper came to the agreement that once Peter is old enough, and once Pepper is ready to step back from CEO duties, Peter will take over the company. The kid already plans to build a career off of chemical engineering, and he’s spent enough time around SI that he’s starting to learn the ins and outs of running a fortune 500 company. When Tony had told the teen as much, Peter looked like he could've passed out in the middle of the lab.
“Right, so this is just practice so I get used to all these guys secretly hating me?” The boy raises an eyebrow and grins.
“Sure is.”
They slide out of the car together, Happy coming around from the driver’s seat to walk behind them. The press goes absolutely insane when they appear, and they only get more excited to see the famed mystery teenager walking in-step with Tony. As always, Tony doesn’t let them get much of a look. He blocks Peter from the camera’s view with his body on one side and keeps a flattened hand on the opposite side of the kid’s face.
He can practically taste their disappointment when they realize that they won’t be getting any good shots of Peter.
Once the three of them are inside, Peter already looks flustered. Before Tony can even open his mouth in comfort, at least half the room notices them. A handful of suit-clad men and their wives already start making their way over for introductions and bland small-talk. Tony audibly groans and motions for the kid to move away from the door and prepare for the vultures.
It takes a solid twenty minutes for the pair to move through introductions with the small crowd. Each of the stranger’s eye Peter up-and-down before asking for his name, then proceeding to give Tony the strangest look possible when they find out that the kid is in high-school.
At some point, Pepper finally gets the chance to come over, after being held-up with small-talk for over an hour.
“Peter, honey,” She greets warmly, pulling the teenager into a tight embrace. “It’s so nice to see you. I’m glad you could make it.”
Peter’s response is muffled into her shoulder. Even if they don’t get to see each other very often, with Pepper being as busy as she is with work, they have a good relationship. Every time Tony sees them interact like this, he gets this inexplicable warm feeling in his chest, where the Arc Reactor used to be.
“Listen, there’s this neighboring business that I think you’d really like talking with.” She gently nudges the teen.
“Is that okay, Mr. Stark?” Peter turns to his mentor before he can even take a step. He looks eager, but slightly reluctant to leave Tony’s side.
“’Course, kid.” Tony pats his shoulder. “Go mingle. You’re in good hands.” He presses a kiss to Pepper’s cheek before watching the pair walk across the room to a small group of clients and partners that Tony doesn’t bother remembering the name of.
There’s an entire ten seconds of peace, watching his two favorite people with a dopey smile spreading across his face, when it’s interrupted by a figure in his peripheral. Tony turns, and quickly notices another suit-clad man standing too close for comfort. He takes a subtle step backwards.
“Can I help you?”
The man blinks and smiles. “No, sorry. Just walking around, y’know.”
Tony definitely doesn’t know, but he nods a little and turns away, back to carefully watching Peter shake hands with a handful of almost identical-looking men.
“Is that your intern?” The man asks, following Tony’s gaze. The billionaire’s head snaps to him, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from telling the guy to fuck off and mind his business. Pepper would probably freak if he made a scene, and he’s really trying his best to not upset Peter at all on the night of his first Gala.
“Yes.” He replies stiffly.
“Y’know, Mr. Stark,” The man starts conversationally. “People tend to talk; especially about people like yourself. It’s human nature to... assume, so to speak. Gossiping seems juvenile, but it’s natural.”
Tony can barely hold back a laugh at the dramatics. “If you’re done with that, I’m gonna’ head to the washroom-”
“-But I can help you with that, sir!” The man continues, a little frantic. He’s sweaty and red and clearly doesn’t belong here. “Just one conversation, and I can clear up any speculation about your intern-”
Even if it took embarrassingly long, the billionaire quickly puts two-and-two together. “Who’s paying you?” He asks, no preamble.
His only response is a harsh blink.
“Who’s paying you?” Tony repeats, angry. “I swear, I’ll have security over here in two second flat, and I don’t think they’ll take kindly to having some punk sneak in.”
“It’s a good pay!” The man whisper-shouts, and Tony’s already waving security over before he can finish his next sentence. “Some journalism company in Brooklyn, they just want one interview-”
The security team is over in the next second, hauling the man away, who keeps yapping on like a noisy lapdog. Tony catches Peter’s wide-eyed and confused stare, from across the room, and knows that he would fight every goddamn reporter in the city for that kid.
Pepper’s fury at, indeed, causing a scene, is worth it.
-
“There’s four pretzels left.” Ned announces halfway through the movie. It's some 80’s slasher that neither Peter nor Ned has any interest in watching, but MJ swears by it.
It’s the very end of August, where the summer heat is just beginning to fall into more bearable temperatures. Several times over the course of the last two months, Peter has come home from patrol and sat in a cold bath, to relieve the sweat still sliding down his back. He’s spent the majority of summer walking around Tony’s penthouse in just a t-shirt and boxers.
Like most nights in the summertime, he’s at Tony’s instead of the apartment. May still works ridiculous hours, so it’s easier (and less lonely) to stay at the tower unless May is off work.
“So?” MJ pauses the movie, like she does every time Ned dares to open his mouth while it’s playing. Peter is smarter and has kept his mouth shut. He doesn’t know why Ned bothers to continue speaking, considering there’s just about two minutes left before the credits mercifully roll.
“How do we decide who gets two?”
MJ sighs loudly and grabs a pretzel from the bag, breaking it in two. She hands one half to either of the boys. “There. Problem solved. Now shush.”
Peter munches on his half-pretzel as the movie finishes with a final jump-scare that makes Ned give a full-body flinch. The trio are in the middle of cleaning up the living area and rinsing out their cups when the elevator door dings open, Tony sluggishly entering.
“Holy shit.” Ned mutters under his breath, loud enough for Peter’s enhanced hearing to pick it up. “Hi, Mr. Stark.”
Ned has met Tony a handful of times in the last year, and he’s still not over his bad case of hero-worship. Peter was like that for a little while after first meeting his childhood hero, stuttering constantly and unsure of how to articulate his emotions, but he quickly got used to his presence.
“Hey, kids.” The older man pauses by the sink to ruffle Peter’s hair and give the others a smile. “How was the movie?”
“Terrifying.” Peter responds, at the same time MJ says, “Cool.”
The film itself can hardly be considered cool, in Peter’s books at least. It was more of a superficial gore-fest complete with screaming cheerleaders and a chainsaw-wielding maniac. Peter much prefers Star-Wars or 90’s comedies, but MJ complains enough that he and Ned need to diversify their media consumption, that he bit the bullet.
“How was the meeting?” Peter asks, changing the subject to avoid being made fun of.
Tony groans loudly. He knows how much his mentor hates meetings; how he only attends them when Pepper forces him. “Just for that, you’re banned from the lab for a week.”
The teen has never been banned from the lab before, not even when he accidentally set a workstation on fire while helping Tony with one of the Iron Man suits. “Nah, you wouldn’t do that. You’d perish without me.”
Ned makes a surprised sound at the back of his throat, like he’s flabbergasted that his best friend has the balls to make fun of Tony Stark to his face. MJ just snorts in amusement, rinsing out the last of the cups. Tony shakes his head in faux exasperation, but has a small smile playing on his lips, anyway.
“You’re a little shit.” He says plainly, going to ruffle Peter’s hair again, but the teen ducks out of the way with a laugh.
There’s a brief silence, before Tony’s speaking again. This time, to MJ and Ned. “You kids have a drive home?”
“Yeah, Ned’s mother is picking us up in an hour.” MJ sits on the counter, feet dangling over the side. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, an automatic response to any sort of monotony.
“Y’know,” Tony sets a teasing hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I always tell May that we should consider ourselves lucky that your friends’ idea of fun is staying at home and watching cheesy slashers, instead of doing lines off someone’s stomach at a party.”
Peter makes a face at the crude image. “Why would I bother going to a party? I can’t get drunk.”
“And you would know this how?” The billionaire raises an eyebrow.
MJ laughs loudly, clamping a hand over her mouth to hide the high-pitch sound. Peter splutters, face red, “It’s just- it's, uh, it’s a theory.”
“Peter can’t do anything bad, anyways.” Ned interjects cheerfully. “It’ll put his reputation at risk.”
At first, the boy doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Peter’s only reputation among his peers is for being the top of his class and lying about his Stark Industries internship. He hasn’t really been anything more than a nerd throughout all his school years.
“Reputation?” Mentor and mentee question at the same time.
“He’s Twitter famous.” Ned replies, like it’s obvious. MJ kicks him in the shins, which makes him let out an oof of pain as he whips his gaze to her sharply, looking baffled. “What?”
“You’re not supposed to say that.” She hisses.
“I’m not Twitter famous.” Peter blurts out.
He’s been active on social media since middle-school but has certainly never gotten enough attention to be considered famous by any means. With all the press-related incidents since January, Peter isn’t allowed to post anything involving SI, in case someone puts two-and-two together; the mystery teen that’s been making headlines is Peter Parker.
MJ sighs in a tone that can be considered borderline apologetic. “Not you specifically, more like... the idea of you.”
That makes zero sense. “Huh?”
“All those paparazzi pictures.” Ned says. “No one, like, knows it’s you, but everyone knows of you. You’re like... your own brand of famous. It’s cool.”
Tony makes a disbelieving, maybe even angry sound. “There shouldn’t be any of those pictures uploaded. He’s a minor and he doesn’t have parental permission to have his face anywhere near-”
“His face isn’t in any of them.” MJ assures. “It’s just the ones that everyone was seeing earlier in the year; at the restaurant and the fundraiser.”
“It’s fine, Mr. Stark.” Peter interjects when the man looks like he wants to say something more. “Really, my face isn’t even in them. It’s not a big deal.”
Up until everything with the press started happening, Peter didn’t really understand Tony’s fame. He knew his mentor was famous and had been for a long time, but he’d never thought about the ramifications that it came with. He understands it, now. Being in the public eye means constant intrusion, whether you like it or not. Peter is just grateful that Tony wants to keep him away from all that, because he certainly doesn’t want it, if given the choice.
The rest of Ned and MJ’s visit is a little awkward, after that conversation, but Tony still bids them goodbye with a smile. Peter can’t help but mull over his friends’ words, the idea of you. Are people so nosey and desperate for a story that they’ll obsess over some anonymous kid pictured with Iron Man a couple times? By the time the elevator door closes, he has his laptop at the ready.
“Wanna’ see how famous I actually am?” Peter teases when the billionaire collapses beside him on the couch.
Tony cracks one eye open from where it was closed in exhaustion. “Not particularly. I’m not in the mood to be in a bad mood.”
Peter drops the laptop in the man’s lap, anyways, leaning over to type something into the search bar. Lo and behold, there’s immediately an influx of results.
Someone named @starkkupdates has an entire account dedicated to pictures of Peter and Tony. In all of them, Peter’s face is hidden or blurred, but it still feels invasive, in a way. There are ones of them exiting a restaurant, Tony’s hand firmly planted on the teen’s back as he guides him away from the cameras. There are other ones of them entering the venue for the fundraiser, with the boy’s face covered by the same calloused hand. There are even ones that Peter hasn’t seen before, like Tony walking him to Happy’s car after lab day.
To top it off, there’s a series of posts all debating one thing; is Peter a secret biological son or his young lover?
As evidence for the latter, there’s pictures of Tony leaving a hospital in the early hours of November second, 2003. According to the internet, this was the day that Peter was born. It makes him snort in laughter.
“I’m pretty sure that was when I had to get stitches cause’ I fell off a pool table when I was drunk.” Tony grumbles, unamused.
“It’s so weird to have people so... obsessed with me.” The teen sighs and closes the laptop, deciding to quit while he’s ahead. Falling down the internet rabbit-hole will only do more harm than good. Peter knows that becoming obsessed with some random person’s opinion in him isn’t healthy, so he chooses to ignore it to the best of his ability. How does Tony do it ‘round the clock? “How do you do this all the time?”
“Do what?”
Peter gestures, vaguely, to the closed device. “ This. Being in the spotlight all the time. It’s- it has to be exhausting, right?”
Tony shrugs. “I’ve gotten used to it.” He turns to the teenager, face and voice suddenly serious. “I don’t want you to get used to it, alright? You deserve privacy.”
“And you don’t?”
“Trust me, kid.” The older man places and warm hand on the back of Peter’s neck. “Being famous would eat you alive.”
“I don’t wanna’ be famous.” He scoots closer so that they’re shoulder-to-shoulder. Peter can feel his eyes becoming half-lidded, so he already has an inkling that he’ll be falling asleep on Tony’s shoulder, again. It’s a surprisingly comfortable spot.
Tony chuckles in a tired, almost sad way. “Let’s keep it that way.”
-
“There’s my favorite young adult.” Tony greets as the kid enters the meeting room. He already looks confused and maybe a bit afraid, considering he’s never been asked to the conference room before; it’s always the lab or Tony’s private living quarters.
“That doesn’t really mean much, considering I’m the only young adult you know.” Peter sets his backpack down on one of the chairs. “-and you’re buttering me up. You want something.”
Tony places a hand over his chest and gasps in mock-offence. “How dare you? I’ve never used you for anything, not once, not ever-”
“Come to Germany and fight my friends.” Peter lowers his voice in an imitation of his mentor’s. Tony can’t help the grin that spreads across his face at the kid’s antics. He hides his smile in his palm.
“Close the door, will ya’?” The older man instructs, watching as Peter obeys immediately. His expression is back to mild worry, if the small crease in his brow and teeth digging into his lower lip is any indication. Even after being as close as they are for over a year, the poor kid’s anxiety never seems to stop. Tony can relate to that.
With the early-November chill in the air, Peter is pretty much constantly bundled up in a sweater. His thermoregulation starts going from overheated to borderline-hypothermic usually around early October, so Tony hasn’t seen the kid outside of a sweater in jeans in weeks. He’s currently wearing one of Tony’s old hoodies that hasn’t been worn since before Afghanistan. There are still motor-oil stains on the sleeves from long days in the lab, fixing old cars.
“If this is about me breaking curfew last night, I have an excellent excuse. There was this little girl who came up to me, with these big, sad eyes, and told me about her missing dog, Kramer. I wasn’t just gonna’ let Kramer wander around the streets, so-“
Tony holds a hand up to silence his rambling. “That’s not-“ He cuts himself off when the story fully sinks in. “You broke curfew?”
Peter’s chosen response is a shit-eating grin. “No.”
Last time the kid broke curfew, Tony got a very angry voicemail from May about enforcing rules and sleep schedules. May Parker is probably the only person on earth that he’s genuinely afraid of, so he doesn’t have any intention of letting Peter go around thinking his above his patrol curfew, but he’ll deal with that another time.
“Anyways,” The man changes the subject before the teenager can incriminate himself further. “We’re gonna’ do something fun today.”
“Okay?” Peter tentatively takes a seat at one of the many chairs at the conference table, directly across from his mentor. “Then why are we up here?”
“Pepper is in London for conferences all week.” Tony explains. “Which means I’m unfortunately acting CEO until she gets back.” He pauses to grin at the kid. “Which also means that I’m showing you the company ropes. It’s your not-so-lucky week, Pete. Prepare to be overwhelmed.”
Peter splutters, face going red. “Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have dressed like a bum if I knew we were doing company stuff today.” He motions to the stained hoodie and jeans with tiny, almost imperceptible tears in the knees. Tony knows they didn’t come like that.
“You look great.” Tony claps his hands together once and stands up. The kid follows suit, allowing himself to be led from the conference room by a hand on his shoulder.
Even if Tony himself hates running the company (God, he hasn’t look back for one second since making Pep the CEO), he genuinely enjoys teaching Peter the ropes and what his responsibilities will be when he takes over. Peter already has so much potential and a genuine passion for the work, Tony knows that he’ll be twice as good in ten years’ time. After the inevitable media parade that will happen once it’s announced that the company will once again be taken over by a non-Stark, he’s sure Peter will be just as popular with the general public. It’s impossible to not find him absolutely endearing.
“What are we doing first?” Peter asks once they’re a good ways down the hallway, a mix of eagerness and anxiety.
“You’re gonna’ learn the ins and outs of firing someone.”
Peter pauses his movements, turning to look at the man in absolute shock. His eyes are the widest Tony has ever seen them, and it makes him bite his lip to hold back a laugh. “I’m sorry, what? You want me to fire someone?”
“You won’t be doing the actual act of firing, per say-”
“ Per say?”
“ I’m just going to show you one of the R&D’s intern’s files, tell you why we’re considering letting him go, and then you make the decision. Oh, and you’re gonna’ be in the room while I fire him, if that’s what we come to.”
Peter’s jaw is still hanging wide open. “Mr. Stark, that’s- I’m... what if I make the wrong decision?”
“You won’t.” Tony assures, ruffling his curls. “You’re the smartest kid I know. You always make good decisions; except for that one time you put yourself in-between me and that Lizard fucker in Manhattan last April, because I could’ve killed you, I was so mad, Spider-Man or not-”
“What if it’s awkward?” Peter cuts him off.
“What, firing him?”
“Yeah.”
Tony chuckles. “It probably will be.”
The kid buries his face in his hands. “Great.”
Surprisingly, the firing is probably the least eventful part. Peter and Tony go back and forth in Tony’s private office for a while, as Peter reads over the details of the termination. Andrew Lawson, a twenty-one-year-old R&D intern has been slacking off enough for it to make it to Tony’s (Pepper’s) desk. He’s had the least amount of green-lit projects of any intern in the last six months.
After a lot of hesitation and reassurance from Tony, Peter decides that firing the guy is probably the best course of action. Tony came to that conclusion yesterday, but he still pats the kid on the back in praise.
Peter is sitting in the corner of the room while Tony fires Lawson, looking more than a little uncomfortable. He shifts awkwardly as he watches Lawson’s face contort from surprised to disappointed. When it’s done, Peter leans into Tony’s side and asks if they can go work in the lab now. Tony agrees immediately.
And just like that, it’s not a big deal.
-
Tony wakes up the following morning at seven, to a ringing phone with the name Pepper displayed in bold font.
“ Tony.” She starts the second the phone is pressed to his ear.
“That’s my name.” He grumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He slept better than he thought he would, especially with Pepper not being home. After Peter left around nine, he stayed in the lab until nearly three before retiring to bed. Four hours is better than he usually gets on nights where there’s no one else in the penthouse.
“ Did you just get up?” There’s a soft rustling in the background, probably the mountain of paperwork that’s constantly in front of her.
“Uh-huh.” He yawns and rolls over, facing the window that overlooks the city.
“So, you haven't been online at all?” She asks tentatively, slowly.
That at least gets him to proper awareness as he sits up, already having FRIDAY pull up any and all news related to anything he can think of; himself, the Avengers, Spider-Man, another world ending crisis-
“ Someone- I don’t know who, yet- went to some journalist yesterday with an exclusive on you and Peter; says that you two are... together, and that he was unlawfully fired from SI after finding out about you two.” Pepper explains slowly, voice bordering on something resembling soothing. She’s trying to keep him calm. It’s not working.
A quiet sort of rage takes over him then, making his fingers tighten over the phone as he shakes his head bitterly. Rumors have been floating around for years about Tony’s apparent disloyalty to Pepper, but this is something entirely different and all the more nauseating. Peter is a kid, for fucks sake. More than that, he’s Tony’s kid, in every way that counts.
“Motherfucker.” He breathes. “That fucking shit-face little prick-”
“ I take it you know who did this?”
“ Yeah.” Tony hisses in reply. “Little dickwad used to work in R&D. I fired him yesterday.”
“ Makes sense.” Pepper sighs, and Tony feels a pang of guilt in his chest when he hears how exhausted she sounds. “ I’m flying back tomorrow. Can you handle everything ‘till then? Without killing anyone?”
“ I’ll try.” He promises, hanging up.
It’s a few hours later, while he’s in the middle of dealing with the lawyers, when Peter finally calls. Tony’s heart leaps into his throat when he gets a look at the contact name.
“Hi, kid.” He answers, hoping to God that it doesn’t sound as pitiful to Peter as it does to himself. It just sounds like a pathetic attempt at returning to normalcy.
“ Hey, Mr. Stark.” Peter says quietly. So, he’s heard. “ I, uh, I saw everything that’s been... going on.”
“ Yeah.” The billionaire rests his head against the wall, motioning for his lawyer to leave to give him some privacy. “But I’m gonna’ fix everything, okay? You’re still coming over tomorrow, and then we’ll order pizza and give the whole fucking city the middle finger. Sounds good?”
Peter laughs softly, and it’s music to Tony’s ears. He pictures the kid’s sweet, undeniably contagious smile. “ Yeah. Sounds good.” There’s a brief pause. “ You’re the best, Mr. Stark.”
-
+1.
The collar of Peter’s suit feels wrong against his neck.
It digs into his flesh, pressing uncomfortably against his jaw. Every time he reaches up to tug at it, May gives him a look, so, he keeps his hands at his sides, pinching the fabric of his dress-pants between his fingertips.
Peter has been in Tony’s life for a year-and-a-half now, and he still has yet to get used to all this. The grandeur and constant attention and fancy suits. Just two years ago, to little fourteen-year-old Peter Parker who spent his nights stitching together his homemade Spider-Man suit on the off-chance that he might actually be able to do some good in the world with his powers, this life was a pipedream.
But here he is, sitting in an overcrowded press conference room in a ridiculously expensive suit, waiting for Tony to appear at the podium and begin. Peter, May and Pepper are all in the front row. Out of the three of them, May is probably the calmest. Pepper is always the one who has to deal with the chaotic aftermath of Tony’s impulsive, public decisions, so Peter can hardly blame her for twisting her finger anxiously as they wait. Peter feels like he could explode for an entirely different reason.
The thing is, he already knows exactly what is about to be talked about, exactly what Tony is choosing to share with the world after a year-long build-up. That doesn’t ease the tension brewing in his stomach. There’s a good amount of reporters already here, taking their seats and talking quietly amongst themselves. Peter feels himself get dizzy every time he makes eye-contact with anyone.
“Um, Ms. Potts?” Peter leans over and whispers. “When is Mr. Stark supposed to come out?” He doesn’t want to sound like an impatient brat, but if his father-figure isn’t on that stage in the next two minutes he might actually pass out on the polished floor.
Pepper smiles at him reassuringly, albeit a little strained. “Should be any time now, Peter.” She brushes off her work-dress, even though there’s not a speck of lint on it. He’s noticed that a lot about Pepper over the last year; she’s always perfectly put-together, no matter the setting or circumstance.
“Don’t worry, honey.” May whispers, patting his knee. “Don’t be anxious.”
Peter snorts quietly. One of the reporters behind him gives him a dirty look. “Yeah, I’ll just tell my brain that.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She keeps her hand on his leg, fingers drumming. “You always tend to work yourself up.”
The teenager opens his mouth the respond, but the attention in the room suddenly shifts to the podium. He looks up, and immediately makes eye-contact with Tony, who is striding onto the stage. He has this sort of amused twinkle in his eye.
After everything that happened two months ago, Tony had told him that they needed to say something to the press, or else, they could start getting dangerous. The allegations from that fired SI intern died down pretty quickly, but it still left tabloids angry and empty, burning for more. So, after lots after talking and compromising and a little bit of arguing, they came to the decision that the press would finally get what they’ve been asking for.
In a stubborn, billionaire superhero’s way. The Tony Stark Method, as Peter likes to call it. Giving them what they want without really giving them anything, at all.
A flurry of camera clicks and flashes begin behind him, just as Tony gets settled behind the podium. The billionaire places his hands on either side, waiting for the noise to calm down to a more tolerable level. Peter feels himself slide down more in his chair, trying to hide the growing sense of anticipated embarrassment.
He lets himself zone out for a minute and imagines himself as a bystander to all this, someone looking in but who’s never quite there. Is that what the media feels like? Is everyone just some floating, outside perspective to Tony and Peter’s admittedly confusing relationship with the media?
By the time Peter zones back in, Tony is already speaking.
“-last year, as you know, pictures of my intern and I surfaced on social media. Since then, he’s been stalked and harassed with false claims and intrusive questions regarding his internship-” Tony, somehow, maintains a professional tone, even when his words are angry.
Peter’s face heats and he chooses to look at his shoes, rather than Tony’s face. It’s clear that at least a few of the reporters have noticed that the topic of the conference is, indeed, sitting right in front of them, but none of them are stupid enough to try and speak with him.
“-clear up what’s been said in the tabloids. Peter, whose last name will remain confidential for privacy reasons, has been my personal intern at Stark Industries since June of 2017.” Tony pauses, briefly, before continuing. His eyes meet Peter’s once more. “Even if these rumors don’t deserve dignity, my lovely fiancée wants me to address them.”
There is hushed laughter that spreads across the room. The boy can’t help but be in awe of his father-figure's ability to command a room. He hopes he can accomplish half of that, at SI one day.
“No, Peter and I are not biologically related.” The teen’s face heats once more. Even if he would never admit it for fear of sounding like a complete loser, the rumors of Tony being his biological father have always put this warm feeling in his stomach. “-and no, there is absolutely no sexual or romantic nature involving his internship. Peter is a minor, so any tabloids that try to claim otherwise will have both the writer and company facing a hefty lawsuit, courtesy of me.”
Tony smiles like a shark when the room comes to a sort of standstill at the words. They know how serious he is. He takes a deep breath before speaking again, in a calmer tone. In fact, the words border on enthusiasm now, as he smiles at Peter proudly and warmly.
“What I can confirm about Peter is that within the next decade, he’ll be taking over for Ms. Potts as CEO of Stark Industries.”
The room erupts into noise once more, but Tony talks over them. “Both Ms. Potts and I have agreed that there is no one we trust more than Peter with the company, and that the future of SI is in the best hands possible. That being said, this is not a ticket to invade the kid’s privacy. Peter is entitled to his privacy until he decides otherwise, when he takes over the company. I am telling you, respectfully, that Peter will not be in the spotlight for the foreseeable future, and that you are obligated to respect that.”
A smile spreads across his face before he finishes, “Now, any questions will be directed to Pepper Potts.” With that, Tony abandons the podium, leaving Pepper to rush over and deal with the influx of questions that are already being yelled across the room.
Tony jogs over to where Peter and May are still sitting, looking at the teenager expectantly. It takes a gentle nudge from May, on his shoulder, to realize he’s supposed to stand up. As soon as he does, Tony places an ever-present hand on his back and starts to guide him to the back exit.
“Where are we going?” Peter asks, once they’re out of the door. Happy is still inside with Pepper and May. Tony directs the teen to sit in the passenger’s seat as he rounds the front to claim the driver’s.
“Thought we could use something to eat, after that debacle.” He starts the car quickly, peeling away from the parking lot. “We’ll come back for your aunt, after. I don’t think she’d appreciate walking back to Queens.”
Peter hums in agreement and tips his head back to rest against the seat, watching as the passing buildings blur. “Did that go good? I can’t tell.”
“Better than any press conference I’ve had before.” Tony smiles at him, but it’s not the same smile he gave the press earlier. It’s not tight or strained, there’s no lingering sense of forced professionalism. His entire face relaxes and his eyes get all soft and all that’s left is someone that Peter loves so, so much. He loves his pseudo-father in a way that no article or paparazzi picture could possibly convey. Tony is his dad and his mentor and his best friend, but no one but them will ever know that.
Some things aren’t meant to be shared. Some things are meant to be private and intimate and for Peter and Tony only, not some reporters who think they’re entitled to it.
There’s a long pause, but it’s not uncomfortable. In fact, Peter basks in quiet moments with his mentor, like these. Silence is better than the alternative, anyway.
“What are you hungry for?” Tony asks.
“Whatever you want.” Peter shrugs. “I’m literally starved.”