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It was a sweltering day in New York, and the air conditioning in the small deli on the corner was hanging on by a thread. James Rhodes, known to the world as War Machine and to a select few simply as Rhodey, stood in front of the beverage cooler, massaging the back of his neck. He just wanted a cold coffee before stepping into the lion's den that was Stark Tower after a week-long absence.
That's when he noticed him. A skinny kid in a baggy sweater with a backpack that looked heavier than he was, practically glued to the glass door of the neighboring cooler. The boy was standing on his tiptoes, reaching for a last can of grape soda that sat spitefully at the very back of the top shelf.
Rhodey exhaled with a smirk, took two steps over, and effortlessly reached over the kid's head.
"This the one?" he asked, handing over the chilled can.
The kid nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning on his heel. He had wide brown eyes and a mop of hair that had clearly lost its battle with a hairbrush.
"Oh, wow! Yeah, that's it, thank you! Thank you so much, Colonel James Rhodes, sir! War Machine, sir! I mean... sorry, I didn't mean to be intrusive, you were just standing there and I couldn't reach and... wow." The kid was breathing faster than Quicksilver ran.
Rhodey raised an eyebrow, a private smile tugging at his lips. The style in which this kid rattled off his rank and alias was... unique.
"Easy there, kid. It's just a soda, no need to give me a tactical report. James is fine since we're off duty."
"Right, James, sir! I mean... James. I'm Peter." The boy clutched the can like it was a holy relic.
They walked toward the register together. Rhodey felt that searching, admiring gaze on him, but there was something else in it. Something familiar in the way Peter gestured with his free hand, rambling about how this specific drink had the best sugar-to-caffeine ratio for studying quantum physics.
"Quantum physics at your age?" Rhodey paid for his coffee and waited for Peter to dig out some change. "Aren't you a bit young for that kind of headache?"
"Oh, Colonel, it's actually quite logical if you look at it through the lens of matrix mechanics, though most textbooks introduce unnecessary chaos into wave equations. But hey, who am I to judge the curriculum, right?" Peter laughed nervously, adjusting his backpack as they stepped outside.
They walked down the sidewalk toward Midtown. Rhodey watched him out of the corner of his eye. This kid... the way he crinkled his nose when he was thinking, the sheer restless energy in his voice. He'd seen this before. And not on TV.
"Do you live around here, Peter?" Rhodey asked as they turned onto 42nd Street.
"Oh, no, I live in Queens, but I have... sort of an after-school thing right now. An internship. A very prestigious internship. Actually, it's the coolest thing that's ever happened to me, besides that one time I found a working 90s computer in the trash." Peter was practically bouncing in his step.
"An internship, huh? Sounds serious." Rhodey felt a sudden sharp pang of memory. Tony Stark at fourteen, talking to a professor at MIT with that exact same expression—a mix of absolute genius and a total lack of social grace.
"Yeah, it's amazing. Sometimes I just sit there and look at all the machines and think, 'Peter, buddy, don't break this or they'll kick you out on the street.' But the person I work for is... well, he's brilliant. A bit loud. And he eats an alarming amount of blueberries. But he's great."
Rhodey stopped in front of the entrance to Avengers Tower. Peter stopped right beside him.
"Don't tell me your internship is here," Rhodey laughed, pointing at the massive 'A' atop the building.
"Actually, it is!" Peter beamed. "Colonel James Rhodes, sir, are you going in too? I mean, dumb question, of course you are, you live here."
They entered the gleaming lobby. Rhodey was about to greet security when a calm, feminine voice drifted from the speakers.
"Good afternoon, Peter. I see the supply run was successful. Shall I inform Mr. Stark of your arrival, or would you prefer to surprise him with your new blood sugar levels?"
Rhodey froze. F.R.I.D.A.Y.? F.R.I.D.A.Y. greeted the kid first? And in that tone?
"Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.! No, don't tell him, I want to see if he notices when I swap his coffee for this juice. Thanks!" Peter waved at the ceiling.
"Understood, Peter. Welcome back, Colonel Rhodes. Mr. Stark is currently in Lab Four."
"Wait, wait a second," Rhodey grabbed Peter's arm as they headed for the elevator. "F.R.I.D.A.Y. talks back to you? Just like that? You're on a first-name basis?"
"Well, yeah... I mean, she's really nice if you're polite. And she sometimes helps me with calculations when Mr. Stark is too busy arguing with a robotic arm."
The elevator shot upward, bypassing residential and office floors, heading straight for Tony's private sanctuary. Rhodey felt the blood pulsing in his temples. This kid was a carbon copy of Stark. Not just the behavior. The facial features, the passion in the eyes. How had he not noticed this sooner?
The elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss. The lab was bathed in dim light, illuminated only by blue holograms. Tony Stark stood with his back to them, hunched over a piece of armor.
"You're seven minutes late, kid!" Tony called out without turning around. "I hope you have a good excuse, or at least a cheeseburger."
"I have grape soda and Colonel Rhodes!" Peter shouted back, walking inside with the ease of someone entering his own bedroom.
Tony straightened up abruptly, dropping a wrench that hit the floor with a loud clang. He spun around, his face lighting up in a way Rhodey hadn't seen in years.
"Peter! Finally. Toss that junk on the table. How was school? Did Flash try to be funny again? Because if he did, I remind you I have access to his savings account and can make sure his allowance is paid in pizza coupons."
"No, Mr. Stark, it was fine! Really!" Peter started pulling out notebooks, completely ignoring the fact that a U.S. Army Colonel was standing three feet away with his mouth hanging open.
Rhodey felt a wave of frustration mixed with disbelief. It was too obvious. Tony's protective tone, the way the boy felt at home here... and that resemblance.
"Tony," Rhodey began, his voice unnaturally low.
Stark flinched, as if only now noticing his friend's presence.
"Rhodey! Pal, didn't see you there. When did you get back? Great to have you, meet Peter, my..." Tony hesitated for a fraction of a second, "...intern. Smartest kid in Queens. Peter, this is Colonel Rhodes, but I guess you two met in the lobby?"
"Yeah, James helped me with the soda!" Peter called from across the table.
"'James'?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "I make you call me 'Mr. Stark' for six months and he gets 'James' after five minutes?"
"Tony, stop it," Rhodey interrupted, stepping forward. "Stop playing games."
Tony frowned, setting down his coffee mug. "What are you talking about, Honeybear?"
"About him!" Rhodey pointed at Peter, who suddenly froze with a pen in his hand. "About the fact that he has your eyes. That he talks exactly like you did when you were fourteen and trying to build a reactor in a garage. About the fact that F.R.I.D.A.Y. treats him like a priority. Tony... how could you not tell me?"
"Not tell you what? That Peter is brilliant? I tried, but you usually fall asleep when I start talking about nanotechnology," Tony replied, clearly bewildered.
"Not about technology! About the fact that you have a son!" Rhodey exploded. "For all these years? You've been hiding him in Queens? What were you thinking? That I wouldn't find out? That he doesn't deserve to be part of this family officially? Tony, he's a child! Your son!"
A silence so deep fell over the lab that you could hear the hum of the server fans. Peter dropped his soda can, which rolled under a table. The boy was red as a beet, his mouth moving soundlessly.
Tony, meanwhile, looked like he had forgotten how to breathe. He looked at Rhodey, then at Peter, then back at Rhodey.
"My... what?" Tony managed to choke out. "Rhodey, what are you smoking? Peter isn't my son. He's my intern. We met at... you know, a science fair. I mean, I recruited him."
"Don't lie to my face, Tony! I see you two!" Rhodey walked over to Peter and put a hand on his shoulder. "Look at him. This is pure genetics. The same mannerisms, the same stubbornness. Just admit it."
"Colonel... I... I really... Mr. Stark and I... I mean, my parents..." Peter stammered, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.
"Rhodey, I swear on everything I own that this kid is not my biological child," Tony said, though a hint of uncertainty crept into his voice that he couldn't explain. "It's statistically impossible. Right, Peter?"
"Right! Absolutely impossible!" the boy agreed much too quickly.
Rhodey crossed his arms. "Fine. If you're so sure, prove it. Do a DNA test. Right now. You have the best equipment in the world here, Tony. It'll take five minutes. If it's negative, I'll apologize and buy you that ridiculous yacht you keep whining about. But if I'm right..."
Tony scoffed, though his confidence was visibly wavering under his friend's logic. He looked at Peter. The boy shrugged, still looking mortified.
"Fine. Let's do it. Just to shut that military beak of yours. F.R.I.D.A.Y., prep the genetic analyzer. Pull samples from the glasses Peter and I used this morning."
"Samples retrieved and analyzed in real-time, Boss," F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced. "The results are in."
"Go ahead, tell him he's crazy," Tony muttered, leaning against the counter.
There was a brief pause.
"The results indicate a genetic match of 99.9%," F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, her voice sounding almost... cheerful. "Probability of paternity: confirmed. Congratulations, Mr. Stark. Congratulations, Peter."
Tony Stark slowly sank into his swivel chair, which rolled back slightly under his weight. Peter, who had been standing stiffly, simply sat down on the floor right where he was.
"What?" Tony whispered. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., check that again. Ten times. Scan the database for system errors!"
"I have been doing so for the last sixty seconds, Boss. The result is indisputable."
Rhodey, who had been boiling with anger moments ago, suddenly felt all that heat evaporate, replaced by pure shock. He looked at Tony's pale face and at Peter, who looked like he was about to faint.
"You... you really didn't know?" Rhodey asked, his voice trembling.
Tony didn't answer. He was staring at Peter as if seeing him for the first time. Memories flashed through his mind—short flings from years ago, faces of women whose names he barely recalled. And then he looked at the boy who had become the most important person in his world over the last few months, without him even knowing why.
"I..." Peter started softly. "Mr. Stark, I swear, my mom never... I mean, she's gone, but... I thought my dad..."
"Peter," Tony interrupted, his voice suddenly incredibly soft. "Peter, look at me."
The boy raised his head. The lab was in absolute chaos—screens were flashing red, F.R.I.D.A.Y. began displaying chromosome comparisons in the air, and Rhodey stood there, improvising what were supposed to be congratulations but sounded like gibberish.
"Well..." Rhodey stammered, waving his hands around. "This is... this is great news! Family! Congratulations, Tony! You have a son! And what a son! Hey, Peter, you're gonna have the best trust funds in human history!"
"Rhodey, shut up," Tony and Peter said simultaneously, then looked at each other in terror because they used the exact same intonation.
"Oh my God," Tony groaned, clutching his head. "This is happening. I have a kid. I have a genius kid who risks his life in a skin-tight suit and I was letting him do it."
"I have a dad who's Iron Man?" Peter squeaked, still sitting on the ground. "Aunt May is gonna kill me. She's just gonna kill me, Mr. Stark... I mean... Dad?"
Absolute chaos erupted in the Tower. Rhodey stood in the center of it all, watching the two most stubborn and brilliant people he knew realize that their bond was far deeper than mentor and student.
"I knew it," Rhodey muttered to himself, grinning widely even as Tony Stark's world fell apart around him, only to settle into a brand new shape. "I just knew it."