Chapter Text
Tony did not like kids. He never liked kids, all they did was scream and mess everything up. Tony was more than happy in his life without a little human running round and not shutting up. So when he found out that a certain super-hero was a fifteen year old kid, he physically felt more wrinkles form on his forehead.
Hence why the kid was transported to and from Berlin with just Happy. And why after the kid had served his purpose and tried to fight Steve, Tony had no issue with not talking to him again.
'Tony please, the kid is killing me! You can't just employ him for one day and then not talk to him, you are like a god to him. And he will not shut up about you. Everyday its Oh hey Happy - waffle waffle waffle -so how is Mr.Stark? What did Mr.Stark do today? It is relentless Tony.' Tony had shut the tablet that happy was speaking from in a cupboard, he had better things to worry about.
'Are you even listening to me!' Frames and ornaments fell off the cupboard that the tablet was in, the sheer volume of Happy's voice was incredible, Tony had never heard him so angry. Tony had assumed that the man had hung up, it had been twenty minutes since the tablet was in the cupboard.
'No.'
'That is it. I am bringing him over to you tomorrow. I can't cope with him anymore.' Just as Tony opened his mouth to argue back, stating that he is paying Happy to do this and that could very easily fire Him, Happy had hung up. Happy did not reply to his messages or calls pleading him to not do this, that someone would definitely die if the kid was bought to his tower.
But no more than 18 hours later there was a babbling teenager at his door with Happy stood behind him looking like he might just drive himself off of a cliff.
'Happy.' The man just looked at Tony before pushing the kid through the door and running to his car, Tony had never seen Happy run. The kid must be bad.
'Oh Hi Mr Stark! Your house is so cool, I mean I probably can't call it a house can I? It's not a house is it, what do you call it?' The kid followed Tony like a puppy, no matter how fast Tony walked to the living room it was not fast enough to lose this kid. Who as of yet had not stopped talking. Happy had not stated how long he was going to leave him in this situation, he hoped the man just wanted a coffee and would be back in thirty minutes - he knew this was beyond wishful thinking.
'Mr Stark, do you not feel well? Why are you taking pain meds? OH did you get hurt on a mission, what mission was it? Who was there? Did you talk to Captain America? Where is he? Are you okay?'
'I am taking Tylenol. If I was injured from a mission I would be taking something stronger.' How many Tylenol could he take without sending himself into the Medbay, because he was so sure he was going to need it.
'Oh okay? Why are you taking Tylenol?'
'I am trying to prevent a headache.'
'Why? Oh-.' Tony did not have an ounce of sympathy as the boy looked like he had just been punched in the stomach, the talking immediately stopped.
For a brief moment, Tony savored the silence, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease ever so slightly. He could hear the faint hum of the tower, the soothing sound of artificial intelligence managing his home.
The kid—who had been standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room, clearly unsure if he’d overstayed his welcome—finally opened his mouth again.
“So, uh… what do you do for fun here?”
Tony stared at him. Fun? He had not had fun in... longer than he cared to think about. "Work. I work."
“Oh! That’s cool. Like, uh, inventions and stuff? You must have, like, a whole lab of... things. That do... things.” The kid shifted nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve seen your stuff, you know, online. You're kind of a genius.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. Kind of? That was the understatement of the century. “Yes,” he said flatly. “And no, you can’t see the lab.”
The kid’s face fell. Tony almost—almost—felt bad. But then the kid was talking again.
“Well, if you ever need, like, someone to, you know, help test something, or clean up—”
“No.” Tony cut him off. He could only imagine the disaster that would follow if this teenager was let loose in his lab. Tools would be misplaced, circuits fried, something would probably explode. He grimaced at the thought of untangling that mess later.
“Oh, okay. That’s cool. I get it. You’re busy.” The kid’s voice was quieter now, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for something to focus on.
Tony wasn’t sure if the kid’s sudden drop in energy was a blessing or... well, no, it was a blessing. The quieter the better. But still, there was something unsettling about the silence that followed.
Tony glanced over at the kid—who was now examining a picture of Tony with the Avengers, leaning in far too close, like he was about to press his nose against the frame.
“Don’t touch that.”
The kid yanked his hands back immediately, looking sheepish. “Right, right, sorry. I just—I’ve never met the Avengers before. Like, all of them, you know? Not in person. I mean, you’re the only one I’ve met, but I saw Cap... uh, Steve... in Berlin, and Black Widow! I mean, how cool is that?”
Tony gave him a flat stare. “Yeah, a real privilege. Watching your heroes beat each other up.”
“Right, I didn’t mean it like—well, okay, I did.”
Tony didn’t respond. He wasn’t about to dive into the whole “Team Cap vs. Team Iron Man” debate again, especially not with a 15-year-old who probably still had superhero posters on his bedroom walls.
“So, what now?” the kid asked, rocking on his heels, clearly trying to fill the silence. “You got any, like, plans for world-saving? Or... pizza? I could really go for pizza.”
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, considering how quickly he could program FRIDAY to eject the kid from the tower. Surely there was an escape pod that could gently deposit him back with Happy.
“I’m not ordering pizza,” Tony said, heading toward the kitchen, where he hoped he could hide out until the kid either ran out of steam or—best-case scenario—decided to leave.
Of course, the kid followed.
As Tony reached the kitchen, he grabbed a glass of water, keeping his back to the kid. Maybe if he ignored him long enough, the kid would get bored and wander off. That worked with most people.
"Mr. Stark?" the kid's voice piped up again.
Guess not. Tony took a slow, deliberate sip of his water before turning around. "What?"
The kid hesitated, like he was weighing his next question carefully, which was both surprising and slightly suspicious. Tony narrowed his eyes.
"Okay, so, uh... this is a huge honor, by the way. Like, I can’t believe I’m even standing here, talking to you. I mean, you’re Tony Stark. You're, like, one of the smartest people on the planet." The kid’s voice cracked slightly in his excitement.
Tony raised an eyebrow. Compliments wouldn't work. They never worked. "Get to the point, kid."
“Right. Okay. So... do you need an assistant? I mean, like, you know, part-time? I could do it after school or something.” He shifted on his feet, looking hopeful. “I’d be, like, really good at it! I can already do some tech stuff. And, uh... I mean, I helped you in Berlin, right? So... maybe?”
Tony stared at him for a beat, dumbfounded. This kid had guts, he’d give him that. But the last thing he needed was a teenage sidekick following him around, blowing up his stuff.
He shook his head. “No.”
The kid deflated, but only for a second. "Oh. Yeah, I figured you’d say that. You’re super busy and all. But... if you ever change your mind, just—”
"I won’t."
"Right. Okay. Cool, cool, cool."
The silence stretched between them again, awkward and uncomfortable. The kid was fidgeting now, picking at the edge of his sleeve. Tony watched him out of the corner of his eye, already calculating how quickly he could send him packing without making it too obvious. Maybe he could claim an emergency meeting or a malfunction in one of the labs. Something—anything—to get some peace.
But before he could enact any of these plans, the kid spoke again. And this time, his voice was quieter. More serious.
“I know you don’t need me,” the kid said softly, looking down at his sneakers. “I mean, I get it. You’re, like, this genius inventor guy, and I’m just... me. But I guess... I just wanted to help, you know? Be useful.”
Tony froze. Something about the way the kid said it—like he’d been holding onto those words for a while—hit a little too close to home. Tony wasn’t good with emotional stuff. That was Pepper’s territory. Or Rhodey’s. Not his.
He glanced at the kid, who was now looking anywhere but at him, his shoulders hunched slightly, like he was bracing for more rejection. For a split second, Tony felt a twinge of guilt. Just a twinge, mind you.
“Look,” Tony started, clearing his throat. “It’s not about being useful. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
The kid blinked, surprised. “Really?”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Really. You’re not gonna impress me by fetching tools or cleaning up the lab or whatever you think an assistant does. This isn’t some internship program.”
“Oh. Yeah, I get it,” the kid said, nodding quickly. “I’m not trying to, like, get in your way or anything. I just... I don’t know.” He trailed off, then bit his lip, as if he was holding back something he wanted to say.
Tony raised an eyebrow. “Spit it out, kid.”
The kid hesitated for a moment, but then blurted, “I just think you’re awesome, okay? And I... I look up to you. Like, a lot.”
Tony blinked. Well, that was... unexpected. Sure, he’d had plenty of people fawn over him before. But there was something about the way this kid said it—earnest, no agenda, just pure admiration—that made Tony’s usual sarcasm falter.
“I mean, you’re Iron Man,” the kid continued, eyes wide with awe. “You’ve saved the world, like, a bunch of times. You build all these crazy-cool suits and tech, and... I dunno, you’re just... you’re the guy. The one everyone looks up to.”
Tony didn't respond immediately, unsure of what to say to that. He wasn’t exactly the role model type. He messed up. A lot. And he wasn’t about to start mentoring some wide-eyed teenager who thought he was invincible.
“Look,” Tony said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “You’ve got potential, kid. You wouldn’t have been on that field in Berlin if you didn’t. But this isn’t a game. What we do—what I do—it’s dangerous. You get that, right?”
The kid nodded, his expression more serious now. “I know. I do.”
“Good.” Tony set his glass down on the counter. “Because I don’t need you getting any ideas about playing hero without thinking things through. Got enough people running around in tights as it is.”
The kid cracked a small smile at that, though he quickly tried to hide it. “Yeah. Right. No tights.”
There was a pause, and for the first time, Tony didn’t feel the immediate need to fill it with some sarcastic quip or excuse to get rid of the kid. Instead, he found himself watching him a little more closely. This kid—annoying and talkative as he was—clearly had heart. Maybe a little too much heart for his own good.
And damn it if that wasn’t starting to grow on him.
“So,” the kid said after a beat, shifting from foot to foot again. “Do I... I mean, should I go? Or...”
Tony sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He could tell the kid wanted to stay. And a part of him—though he wouldn’t admit it—wasn’t completely opposed to the idea anymore.
“You hungry?” Tony asked suddenly, surprising even himself.
The kid’s eyes lit up. “Uh, yeah! I mean, I could eat. But I thought you said no pizza?”
Tony rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the slight smirk that tugged at his lips. “I can make an exception.”
Tony could’ve regretted offering pizza the second the kid lit up like he’d just won the lottery, but instead, he found himself scrolling through the delivery options. The kid was still chattering away, but now there was an excited, almost breathless quality to it that made Tony realize he’d probably done the right thing.
For now, at least.
“So, you’re, like, a meat-lovers guy, right? I can tell. Or maybe pepperoni? Classic. But then, I dunno, maybe you’re, like, a veggie pizza guy and I just totally misjudged you. That would be kind of funny. I’d bet Happy’s more of a meat-lovers person, though. Right?”
Tony raised an eyebrow, glancing up from his tablet. “Is this really what keeps you up at night?”
Peter—because Tony had finally remembered his name, though he hadn’t said it aloud—paused mid-rant, looking mildly embarrassed. “Uh, no. I just... talk a lot when I’m nervous.”
“Yeah, I gathered that.”
A few more awkward seconds passed, the kid rocking on his heels as Tony hit order on a large pepperoni pizza—because, let’s face it, he didn’t have the patience to debate pizza toppings all night.
“Is it weird being a billionaire?” Peter asked suddenly, like he couldn’t stop himself.
Tony blinked. “Weird? No. Convenient? Yes.”
Peter nodded thoughtfully, though Tony could tell he was filing that away for more questions later. Before the kid could launch into another interrogation, Tony turned toward the living room. “You, uh, want a drink or something?”
“Oh. No, I’m good! Water’s fine.”
Tony gave a small nod before heading to the couch and collapsing onto it. Maybe if he settled in front of the TV, Peter would... what? Quiet down? Unlikely. But at least it would drown out the nonstop babble.
Peter, true to form, followed him over like a golden retriever, still glancing around in awe at the tower. He looked like he was trying to memorize every detail, like this might be his only chance to take it all in.
"Mr. Stark—"
"Tony."
"Right. Sorry. Tony. This is, like, the coolest place I've ever been." Peter dropped onto the other end of the couch, practically bouncing in his seat. "I mean, seriously, this place is crazy. How do you even, like, keep track of all your tech and stuff? Do you have a database? Or maybe, like, an AI system that sorts it all out for you?"
Tony glanced over at him, fighting the urge to smile. The kid's enthusiasm was relentless. "Something like that."
Peter nodded eagerly, as if Tony had just confirmed one of his lifelong theories. "That's so cool. I bet FRIDAY is, like, the best assistant ever."
Tony didn't respond, just reached for the TV remote and clicked it on. The screen lit up, filling the room with noise, and Tony leaned back, hoping it would put an end to the conversation.
Of course, it didn’t.
Peter, still brimming with excitement, started talking again—this time about the Avengers. He asked about missions, about Steve, about space aliens, and about anything else that crossed his mind. Tony responded minimally, keeping his eyes glued to the screen, but after a while, even he had to admit that the kid's boundless curiosity was kind of... endearing.
Annoying, but endearing.
An hour later, Tony found himself halfway through a pizza he hadn’t even realized had arrived, and Peter was still talking. They’d somehow switched topics, and now Peter was explaining some science project he was working on at school.
“So, it’s this experiment with molecular structures, right? And I thought maybe I could apply some of the stuff I’ve been learning from your tech, like with the repulsor beams and—oh! Is that how you designed the Mark 42?”
Tony blinked. “The Mark 42? What do you know about that?”
Peter shrugged, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Uh, I may have watched some footage online. A lot of footage. Like, all the footage.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Of course you did.”
“But seriously, it’s amazing how you solved the instability issues with the suit’s integration system! I was thinking maybe I could use a similar approach for my project, but—”
“Kid,” Tony interrupted, holding up a hand. “You’ve been here for three hours. Three hours. That’s... impressive. But if you don’t take a breath, I’m going to need another bottle of Tylenol.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh, right! Sorry. I’ll be quiet. For real this time.”
Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
To his surprise, Peter actually stopped talking. He sat there, awkwardly fidgeting with the corner of the blanket Tony had tossed on the couch earlier, clearly struggling to keep his mouth shut. Tony almost chuckled at the sight—this kid, who had been bouncing off the walls for hours, trying so hard to be quiet.
But then something unexpected happened.
Peter yawned.
Tony glanced over, surprised to see the kid blinking slowly, fighting off sleep. Peter shifted in his seat, clearly trying to stay awake, but it was obvious the day had caught up to him.
“You look exhausted,” Tony said, more out of observation than concern.
Peter shook his head, trying to appear alert. “No, no, I’m good. Just, you know, been a long day.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. Well, you’re no use to anyone if you’re half-asleep on your feet. Get some rest.”
Peter opened his mouth to protest, but another yawn cut him off. He slumped back against the couch, eyes drooping, and before Tony could say another word, the kid had conked out completely.
Tony stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t like he had a guest room prepped for unexpected teenage visitors. But Peter looked comfortable enough, curled up under the blanket, his breathing steady.
Tony sighed, shaking his head as he turned the TV volume down a notch. The kid would probably wake up soon, realize he’d fallen asleep in front of his hero, and start talking again the second his eyes opened. But for now, Tony would enjoy the rare moment of quiet.
Just as he settled back into his spot on the couch, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen—Happy.
Tony picked up, his voice low. “He’s fine.”
“Fine?” Happy’s voice sounded surprised. “He’s been with you all day. You didn’t throw him out?”
“No, I didn’t throw him out,” Tony muttered, glancing at the sleeping teen. “He, uh, kind of passed out.”
Happy snorted. “Guess you wore him out. Should I come get him?”
Tony hesitated, eyes lingering on Peter, who was now snoring softly. “Nah. Let him sleep. He’s not doing any damage right now.”
“You sure? I can swing by and—”
“I said let him sleep, Happy. I’ll deal with him in the morning.”
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Happy responded. “Alright. But if he wakes up and starts talking your ear off again, that’s on you.”
Tony smirked, ending the call. He tossed his phone onto the coffee table and glanced once more at Peter, who had curled even further into the blanket, completely at peace.
He hadn’t realized just how quiet the tower could be with the kid passed out, but now that it was, Tony found himself feeling... oddly okay with the whole situation. He wasn’t about to admit it out loud, but maybe having the kid around wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. At least the kid had heart.
Tony leaned back, letting his head rest against the couch cushions. The kid wasn’t going anywhere tonight, and for once, Tony didn’t mind.
n the early morning light, Happy arrived at the tower to retrieve the kid. He found Tony sitting on the couch, feet up, with Peter still fast asleep next to him. The sight was almost comical—Iron Man, the self-proclaimed genius billionaire, sitting calmly with a teenage superhero knocked out under a blanket.
Happy raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t think you were the babysitting type.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”
But as Happy leaned in to gently shake Peter awake, Tony couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at his lips.
Maybe, just maybe, the kid wasn’t so bad after all.