Chapter Text
1.
Peter’s days tended to go awry and definitely not the way he intended them to go.
Sometimes he’d spot (totally accidentally) some suspicious – or downright dangerous – activity near his school; be it through the window while sitting in class, or wandering various parts of the school on breaks. Other days, he’d read something on the internet (not that he had… like, an alert… or a filter… about things happening near him. That be, like, asking for trouble… right?). On the days he successfully sat through his classes, he could struggle sitting through curricular activities, too. And from time to time, he’d stumble upon a bigger deal (or was it Big Deal?), and he’d be present at school only in body, because his mind was elsewhere playing a detective to try and connect the dots left by his newest nemesis.
The worst thing had nothing to do with him skipping classes, and effectively getting detentions for that, either. The word had gotten out about him losing his Stark internship. Not like anyone had believed it in the first place anyway. People most probably assumed he got tired of lying and tried to end it without much embarrassment – or, you know, according to Flash, that’s what happened.
Now, he couldn’t start telling “oh, we talked it out, I got it back”, 'cause that’s, like, even less likely than the existence of the internship in the first place. It highkey sounded as if he tried to pathetically save his face, but kept making it worse.
Putting aside Peter's lower-than-low social standing, the real issues started when he was racking his brain for new realistic reasons that would warrant skipping classes. Each time he got called out at school, he had to make up a different excuse. It varied from “family emergency” to “felt sick” to “forgot I promised an elderly neighbor I’d get her groceries before school”. He was running out of ideas. Peter couldn’t lie for shit.
That day, however, seemed to be turning out great. He resisted thinking that in fear of jinxing it, but he walked with a slight bounce, and his voice was chirpier than usual, and his smile slid on his face more easily the later in the day it was. He had nothing to do after classes, so by the time chemistry rolled around, he had to fight a grin. His last class of the day. He could already see himself swinging between the buildings, patroling.
Despite the calm (before the storm), Peter couldn’t keep his focus on the topic anyway. The clock seemed to drag his attention to itself, his right hand taking notes paused time and time again, as if distracted.
Another paper ball hit Peter’s head, followed by Flash’s chuckle, when someone knocked. Not one to wait, the person on the corridor flung the door open without the teacher’s approval. Mr. Harrington trailed off, his eyes on the entrance.
“Hello, spare the applause, I’ll be just a minute,” fell out of Tony Stark’s mouth before he even crossed into the classroom.
“Y-You — You’re —“ Mr. Harrington’s eyes remained unblinking as if he feared Tony would disappear like a mirage.
“Comprehensive,” filled in helpfully Tony, “but you look like you could use a deep breath. Or three. In and out,” he waved a hand in a circular motion.
The joke went over the teacher’s head. The students broke out of the stillness with a giggle, which doubled when Mr. Harrington inhaled sharply and exhaled loudly. Three times.
Stark couldn’t resist a grin as he nodded, amused but encouraging. Great job, he seemed to say, deep breaths, that's right.
Peter had noticed at a certain point Tony had this... not really fond, but a softer, endeared kind of smirk whenever someone flumbled in nerves while meeting him.
Before the teacher found his voice again, Tony quickly found Peter with his gaze.
“I’m afraid I have to kidnap your student. Don’t thank me,” he mentioned at Peter to go.
“But – “ started Peter at the same with Mr. Harrington.
He halted, letting the teacher speak first.
“W-We can’t just – let…”
“Oh, no, no,” interrupted Tony, waving a piece of paper. “All good and proper. Like a responsible citizen I am.”
He passed the paper and turned to give Peter the Look. The boy immediately gathered his things carelessly into his (third this month) backpack.
“Well, May will be glad,” he muttered into the backpack as he stood up.
“Yeah, I started getting anxious when I see her caller Id,” said Tony, already not paying attention to the teacher. “That's not normal, right? Should I block her?”
“Mr. Stark.”
"Should I reroute to Happy? He'd be happy to talk to her for sure."
"Mr. Stark!" Peter almost gasped at the audacity, wrinkling his nose. He had noticed - they both did, everyone did - that there was something... growing between the two.
Peter didn't know how to feel about it.
"How does Uncle Happy sound?" Tony said casually as the teenager approached him, the backpack swung over his shoulder.
"Mr. Stark, I'm begging you."
Sadly, the idea seemed the most hilarious thing Mr. Stark had ever heard, and he started laughing.
“Sorry, sorry, I just,” he turned back to the shell-shocked teacher, who still clutched, apparently, the consent to let Tony Stark, (definitely not Peter’s guardian), get him out of school mid-class. “My bad, didn't want to disrupt your class,” despite his polite words he didn’t sound very sorry.
Peter told him as much.
“Underoos, kid, did I ask?“
More giggles from his classmates.
“Sir, can you not.”
Tony laid his hands heavily on Peter’s shoulders, shaking him a bit before pushing toward the door.
“Don’t get broody on me, we’ve got stuff to do.”
“Broody? It’s called being annoyed because you’re being annoying... Sir.”
They stepped out on the corridor. Tony threw a peace sign through the closing door, his innocently cheeky smile etched on his face. He seemed to be in a good mood, Peter thought.
“Ungrateful little shit,” announced Tony, whipping around to point a finger at Peter. Not waiting for an answer, he started down the corridor. “I came here personally – you think I have nothing else to do? Iron Man comes to pick you up from class and you whine about being annoyed? Unforgivable. You just lost the privilege of having a say in choosing pizza. Back in my age… I’d do the same, but I’m – a very bad, bad example, just – don’t be like me. Bad Peter. No teen brooding. Or brooding period.”
“You called me Underoos,” Peter whined anyways, striding next to Tony. “They’ll never let it go.”
“You’ve got a nickname from Iron Man, isn’t that what everyone wants?” Tony checked his phone. “I don’t give nicknames to anyone, that’s some deep bonding right here.”
“Uh, first – you do. And! It’s not cool if it’s disregarding! It’s like you’re making fun of me.”
“Uhh,” Tony threw him a look over his glasses, pushing the front door open, “that’s because I am. I’m always making fun of you. Have you met me?”
“They don’t know you – I mean, they don’t,” Peter struggled to formulate an answer that wouldn’t go over Tony’s head, but he hardly expected the billionaire genius to understand high school social etiquette. He sighed. “Just. Never mind. Um, why – why did you pick me up, though? Is something happening? You didn’t text – “
“All’s dandy – I’m never saying that word again – everything’s okay, don’t sweat it. Relax. You hungry?”
They reached one of the cars Peter had seen in the garage on the rare occasion he went down there. Tony continued to the driver’s seat; surprising, as usually, he was mostly seen in the backseat with Peter, on his phone or tablet, with Happy playing his personal chauffer.
The teen slowed down, hesitant to get inside. Was he supposed to follow him to the shotgun? He always drove in the back, but that was with Happy. Happy wouldn’t be very happy to sit next to Peter.
Would Mr. Stark be?
As if to answer him, Tony, already behind the wheel, leaned a bit down to look over the passenger window sliding open. He motioned with his head to the seat next to him, a mix of exasperation and slight question on his face.
“That’s – right, we're driving, okay,” Peter climbed inside. “But… can you, like. Explain? Why did you pull me out of – “
“I talked to Happy yesterday,” interrupted Mr. Stark, starting the car as Peter put on the seatbelt. “…Getting him to talk about you when it’s not absolute, utmost necessity requires at least level ten in friend points, which you definitely don’t have, you probably know,” Peter definitely didn’t know where this way going. “Which leaves – necessity. Keep that in mind. So, yesterday. We’re done talking business, and I’m waiting for him to get out of my workshop, because I hate people invading my ‘shop to interrupt with boring, adult stuff – but he brings up you.”
Peter opened his mouth, letters forming silently, but none coming out. In the slight pause, he choked out some “uhh” sound, but wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that. The car rolled to a stop at the red lights and Tony gave him a side-look.
“That. That just screams emergency. If Happy starts talking about you, something has to be really wrong.”
“No! No, no, everything’s fine!” at once, Peter’s ability to talk returned. “I’m – I don’t know why, but it’s – I’m fine. I, uh, that’s nice of Happy, but – “
“Right, you don’t know what I mean yet, but nice try,” Tony waved him off.
“But I know everything’s…”
“Fine. Right. Now shut up and let me finish,” the car lurched at the green light, Tony’s attention going back to the road. He ignored Peter’s spluttering. “Don’t ask me how, just, accept that that’s Happy. And he’s noticed your - I can’t believe I’m saying it. When did I turn into a suburban mom? Uh, your – school troubles, I suppose,” he seemed to be low-key shocked that such a sentence came out of his mouth.
“What.”
A deep sign escaped Tony as he rubbed his eye, driving with one hand, the other propped next to the window.
“Maybe let’s get something first. You didn't answer if you're hungry? No, ‘course you are, you ‘I could eat a truck of burgers and have room for dessert’ enhanced crawler. What do you feel like? Junk? Pizza? Thai? You mention Thai a lot, don’t you? There’s a place… ah, five minutes from here. Good?”
A nod was the most Peter managed to give.
No one picked up the conversation after that.
“Mr. Stark? I’m really confused right now,” he broke the silence after a while.
“What about?” he sounded genuinely curious.
“You get me out of class… somehow, because you’re – you’re not my legal guardian, and I’m pretty sure random people can’t just pull kids out of school if they ask…”
“Random? I’m Iron Man, of course - I can do whatever I want, kid.”
“Right,” Peter bit his lip. “Still, you – “
Before he finished, the car pulled to a stop, the engine going silent (although, let’s be fair, Tony Stark’s engines were already unbelievably quiet while working). He trailed off when he noticed a Thai restaurant, a fancy one that neither Peter nor his aunt would ever go near or had had a chance to visit.
He followed Tony out of car with a sigh, noticing for the first time how casually his mentor was dressed. Outside the workshop and the living quarters at the compound, Mr. Stark was rarely out of suits - business ones, that is. It was a first that the teen saw him in jeans and a hoodie on the streets. He took notice only when Tony locked the car, his hood far up over his face, dark shades – bigger and darker than usual – on his nose.
Instinctively, Peter ducked his head and shrunk into himself as he trailed after him to the restaurant.
They got a table in a secluded corner, partly covered by plants. The waitress who showed them the way was a little bit star-eyed as she passed them the menus, her gaze lingering on Tony before she finally left.
As Peter took a breath to speak, the other man shot him a series of questions about Thai food, one after another, without waiting for an answer. Before he knew it, their orders were brought, and Tony almost didn’t give him a chance to put a word in, all the time leading a mostly one-sided conversation – about everything but Happy’s concerns.
“Are you going to eat or do you like appreciating the visual aspects of meals? I’d think you’d have inhaled it already by –“
“What did Happy tell you?”
Tony’s hand stilled before it could get the noodles to his mouth. His eyes flashed up to meet Peter’s, and he sighed, taking a quick bite to stall a bit more.
He slowly chewed and lowered the fork to the plate. Another deep inhale.
“Eighteen detentions last month alone, disgraceful amount of absent hours – often odd classes mid-day or half a day. I won’t mention the after-class clubs, or nerd groups, or whatever it is you do for ‘fun’ that actually counts in to your records anyway.”
Peter sat frozen on the spot, his face growing hot and red after rapidly paling when Tony began talking.
“I – I – look, I, let me explain – “
“That’s,” Tony pointed at him, silencing with one look, “that’s where we might start.”
“Start?” the teen repeated uneasily.
Sweet Jesus, what did he have on him?
“I solved it all, you’re welcome.”
A beat of silence as Peter blinked at him.
“Seriously,” continued Tony at the lack of response. “Good manners would require to at least say ‘thank you, how graciously wonderful of you, Mr. Stark, you’re the absolute best mentor in the entire universe’ – I did have to take this day off to settle this… Really, a word – or a sentence - would be nice right now, I feel like I’m talking to myself.”
“Solved? What do you mean you, you solved it? Ho – “
“Christ. How did May raise you – you keep questioning my unquestionable authority a lot today, kid. But okay, if you can’t just say, alright. You’re welcome, that was a bit of a problem, but for some reason we won’t get into now, or preferably ever, I like having you around, and I feel like your auntie would ground you and throw our multimillion high-tech suit out, once the school called her – and they would, soon, at that rate. We’ll cover it, too. It’s gonna be a long talk, I’m nauseous already. We might need to order desserts.”
“I– I– I’m so confused. Like, I was confused before, but now – okay. Okay,” a deep breath in and out. Peter nodded to himself and glanced up. Tony seemed to be waiting, patient for once, one eyebrow slightly raised. “You… you came to my school to – to ‘solve’ the problem with my, uh, absences?”
“Among a few other things,” he waved dismissively. “But. First. That. Care to explain? No – no, wait. Let me guess, too busy taking down kittens from trees to sit through boring classes?”
“No,” he frowned, leaning back in his seat. “I only skip for, um, important stuff.”
“Like?”
“Um. I noticed I'm- I’m useful with fires 'cause, like, normal people can’t just jump in and out of a burning building and carry out ten people in two minutes,” he played with vegetables around the plate, his stare drilling into his noodles. “And... Robberies with hostages?"
"Robberies with hostages?" Tony interrupted, alarmed.
"Not, like, armed!" Peter lied, then quickly rectified at the man's disbelieving stare: "I mean, I don't jump in, and like, get shot at. "Or, well, at least he tried not to. "But I can sneak in and web hostages out? Before they notice!" Or, well, that was usually the plan.
Mr. Stark rubbed his temples, looking more and more regretful with every word passing Peter's lips.
"Okay - We'll, uh, circle back. What else is... so much more important than your education?"
"Uh, chasing?" Peter tried again, starting to sweat. "‘Cause I swing by real fast? Things like that. Not – not just kittens. And only near enough the school.”
For a while it remained silent, and Peter refused to meet his mentor’s eyes.
“Not kittens, then. Well, I’m glad, that’s – at least you’ve got some priorities,“ he sighed heavily.
Peter didn’t have to look to know Tony was rubbing his face tiredly.
“Okay, we – let’s continue. Are you keeping up with school? Schoolwork wise. Homework, tests, I don’t know, you tell me.”
With hesitancy, Peter peeked up again, hunching and digging further into his seat.
“Uhh. I, I’m fine? It’s, school is easy, I do homework before patrols, and. Well. I have to catch up on tests sometimes, but, it’s not – I manage it. Still top of class and all. Mostly. Um. It’s alright, my grades are fine.”
They sure were after May almost bit his head off about getting that one F because he ignored schoolwork in the name of Spiderman duties. He altered his schedule after that a bit.
“Good. That’s good,” Tony sighed again and Peter shrunk into himself more. “So. Moving on, the... Ugh. Let’s just – look. I’m not really, it’s not my fort, you know,” he gestured vaguely with a hand. Peter, in fact, did not know, but decided to keep that to himself. “I don’t do these kind of talks. But, I feel like you don’t get them either, and you should. You probably should. And, I’m doing you a favor here, by not going to May with, with that everything, so, please, just cooperate, yeah?” at the nod, he took a deep breath and leaned back. “Is someone… bothering you?” he got out, immediately clearing his throat awkwardly (and if it weren’t so embarrassing and confusing, Peter would’ve found it hilarious how not cool and casual Tony Stark was in that moment).
It took him a moment to process what he could possibly mean by that, but when he did his mind blanked out. Then promptly went into panic mode.
“Nonono, it’s – it’s – nothing – no one is, like, no. No, I’m, totally, yeah, it’s fine. Don’t, like – no, yeah. I, uh. Thanks, just, no. It’s – “
“Kid, you’re giving me spasms, just breathe, okay?” as Peter breathed in, he nodded, and it seemed all too familiar to when Tony entered his classroom about an hour ago. The teen swallowed, nodding to himself, and then started to shake his head to, most likely, protest again. “Okay, no. Stop. I’ve… checked it. You’ve got security cameras in school, didn’t you know?” he added at the confused look that quickly melted into a new wave of panic at his words. “Don’t panic yet. Wait, no, don’t panic at all. Geez, kid, is it such a huge secret?” he paused, leaning his elbows on the table, manners be damned. “No, uh… is it? Am I overstepping some… personal boundaries? If I’m being too… I’m not good at this, it’s not what I usually – just, tell me if I have to bugger off, you don’t have to tell me anything, really,” he tensed, unsure, but Peter was shaking his head already.
“It’s fine, it’s just. You know,” Peter waved his hands around.
“Yeah, I don’t, but alright. It’s okay, right? I can keep going – okay, so. I cannot tell you how many times I had plates of pasta, overpriced – even by my standards – cocktails, and many unidentifiable foods and liquids spilled in my face. And, remember, superheroes get their asses kicked on regular basis, in many different – way more embarrassing ways, than anything a high schooler could come up with. And, let’s be honest, you probably know about plenty humiliating things people have done to me, plus the things I did myself, because you can’t beat that.”
Peter didn't know that Tony, truth be told, also didn’t know where he was going with that. As per usual. But the kid was watching him carefully, slight furrow in his eyebrows, but no more confusion on his face, so Tony must’ve been making some sense.
“That’s,” the teen paused. “Still a bit… different. I get what you… yeah. But you’re Tony Stark, no matter how many embarrassing things you do.”
“Is that supposed to be good?” Tony snorted. “You’re still Peter Parker, even if some idiot shoves you in the corridor.”
Peter laughed rather humorlessly.
“Yeah, but, the thing is I’m the loser here. They’re just…” he didn’t finish.
“What?” Tony asked a bit more aggressively than he meant to. “They’re just reminding you of that? Is that what you think?” he added after the silence from Peter stretched.
The boy shrugged, and shook his head straightway as if to correct himself.
“Peter,” started Tony, squishing down his discomfort. “Anyone who needs to put down someone else to feel good about themselves is a loser. You’re, and I feel really weird being all serious, all this emotional stuff makes me sick, so – look. You’re one of the smartest kids I’ve ever met. No, backtrack, forget – you’re one of the smartest people I’ve met. For someone your age… those webs, I never would’ve thought a fifteen-year-old could make something like that. That’s just, wow. And, frankly, you’ve done more, you had a, a greater impact on this world and many, many people, than most people - and you’re just fifteen. You’re…” he choked on air, unable to find a word that could describe the boy staring almost blankly at him, that wouldn’t go over his head, but could get through Tony’s throat, “everything but a loser? I mean - these kids can visit the Avengers Compound on a school trip at most, and you sit here with Iron Man spilling compliments over you in a very out-of-character way, and you’ve got access to my top security labs and facilities that even the President can’t get into, yes, including my private workshop because I’m that cool… and you’re, you’re just a really – a really good person, Pete. Honest and serious, here. Weird, I know. But. It’s them who should be ashamed here, okay? Is what I mean to say. You have nothing to be ashamed of. And you can... Talk about it. You should, in fact.”
For once, Tony didn’t know how to decipher the look on Peter’s face.
A few seconds passed before the boy exhaled loudly, dropping his gaze back to the table. Their food, only half-eaten, must’ve gone lukewarm at that point. Tony hated how he knew then that besides May and that little shit of a friend who hacked the (Stark-made) suit, the kid didn’t hear good words about himself often.
He sniffed, looking away before the teenager before him began to morph into a more familiar face, like a mirror.
After a long while “thank you,” was all Peter got out quietly, digging mindlessly in his noodles.
“Nothing to thank for.”
The teen’s gaze snapped up to his.
“You don’t, you really don’t have to do this, though,” his voice was kind of chocked up and Tony fought to ignore that. “I… Thank you, it’s – but you have so much other stuff, like, important stuff, and this, this is just – I don’t care what people at school say, I mean, they don’t even know, yeah? They – they think, um, I’d think I’m kinda crazy, you know? It’s not – “
“Because of the internship?”
Peter cringed.
“What – what do you – “
“No one believed – by the way, I’m sure I changed their minds today – no one believed you had the internship. Thought you were, what? Lying? Attention seeking?”
“Both?” muttered Peter.
“Right.”
“How do you – “
“I had a talk with the principal,” sighed Tony. At Peter’s alarmed stare, he put up a hand in a calming manner. “I came to talk about the hours, the absent hours… see, Peter, if you just – I don’t have experience with school, or kids, or school kids – definitely not school kids. I kind of skipped that part of life. And many things, I just don’t think about them. I never… ever thought any of that could be a problem – “
“It’s not! I’m – “
“Stop interrupting me,” he interrupted. “We don’t really do internships for kids below twenty-one. Too much classified information, too dangerous projects to let teenagers roam around… not to mention the dangers of, just, the Avengers. And, I said – me, no high school experience. But you never said anything that would indicate you have problems with presence in classes – by the way, I found out internships usually require some cooperation with the school, so your teachers didn’t really believe it either, but yes, I settled that, too. I had to bullshit your principal a little – a lot a little. Said you’re my personal intern, and yes, Stark Industries don’t do that often, but I scouted you personally… which is actually almost exactly what happened, bar the spandex. The point is, it took me, what? Twenty minutes? Thirty? And it’s mostly dealt with. The mid-day absences were tough, but I’m just amazing like that.”
And he stared expectantly.
“Thank you,” said Peter, looking somewhat shell-shocked.
“No, no, no. That’s – that’s not the point. The point is, you never said. Anything. At all. Not even in passing. Nothing that made me think: ‘hey, doesn’t wall-crawling get in the way of school sometimes?’ Nada, Peter, nada,” he sighed, then returned his attention to the noodles.
“I didn’t want to bother you,” Peter faintly answered.
Without looking up, he could see the face Peter was making. If he had a heart - which he didn’t, he refused to believe that, - it would break a little in that moment. He recognized the same shameful dread he heard in his own voice, all these years ago, when Howard Stark proved everyone time and time again how little he cared about what Tony had to say, but somehow still got angry when his son failed to inform him about something important.
He had to put down the food before he took the bite, as his stomach lurched, sick at the fact he heard this tone of voice directed at him, and from Peter, of all people.
Not that he should be surprised, he thought. He didn’t do much to make the kid think he could come to him with stuff. In all truthfulness, the Tony of a year ago didn't care about the teenager's personal life any more than any other stranger's. He kept an eye out on the Spiderling; no attachment, because that'd be better, for both of them, he thought.
And then the kid kept calling, daily, leaving Happy lengthy voicemails (that Tony ended up listening to anyway). And suddenly the kid was getting in trouble and messing up, desperately trying to prove himself, and Tony tried to backpedal out of the whole thing - too much reminded of his younger self, craving the approval from his father. He couldn't look at Peter going through the same grief, didn't want to be the person who could validate him, so in a spectacular bout of escapism, he managed to both show up when the kid really needed it, and still be perfectly absent. Until Peter blew up a ferry, and he in turn blew up on him.
Tony wondered often afterwards: would it have been better if he never showed up in Parker's life or should he have comitted to it once he did? Peter was just a teenager, just a kid. With a tiny support network, too, more responsibility than a high schooler should carry, and more admiration for Iron Man than Tony could handle.
So, when they found the Vulture webbed up to the crashed Stark plane, Tony resigned himself to the fact it didn't matter at all. He had entered the kid's life, however briefly, and he couldn't just dump him on Happy and expect to go on like before.
He tried to do better. Invited Peter to join the Avengers - got rejected. Fair enough. Surprising, but probably for the best. Yet, even then, Tony should have known better than anyone else that making amends took time and effort.
He rubbed at the tightness in his chest. Emotions really were making him sick – he wasn’t exaggerating on that.
It felt like the ferry incident, only he wasn’t mad. But just like that day, he felt like he kept doing it wrong. He wasn't cut out for this, he knew, and the fragile teenage feelings overwhelmed him. Just like months before, Peter still didn’t think Tony would care. That he’d listen. He probably thought Tony would be annoyed to be asked things, maybe even mad that Peter wanted anything from him.
It probably didn’t help they still communicated through Happy, and Tony was left wondering how much more he could fuck this mentorship up - if it deserved that title, that is.
Didn’t the kid prove himself already? Tony took, admittedly, a liking to the boy the moment he met him. Incredible smarts, huge heart, and little ego. Peter had Tony’s all best qualities, and none of the worst – lots of even more good qualities instead.
He didn’t want to play a bigger part in kid’s life, in the past. He had too much (disasters) going on in his own.
Right?
“Give me your phone.”
Peter jumped in surprise and briefly, Tony wondered how long he’d been silent.
“My… phone?” and again, there was confusion.
“No, I was talking to that plant, here – yes, Peter, your phone.”
Wordlessly, though slowly and with no little amount of suspicion, Peter handed him… a very, very old phone.
“Gross, I’ll get you a new one,” he muttered without thinking.
“What?”
Tony didn’t answer, swiping at the cracked (of course it was) screen, and sighing in irritation at the phone freezing when he clicked things too quickly.
“If you need anything,” he passed back the phone, “just text me. Question? Text me. Problem that can’t be fixed by your extremely capable aunt? No promises but - still, text me. I can try. We'll make the rules as we go, how about that? We'll feel it out...”
“Um, I- I don’t understand?” Peter was going through all levels of confusion that day, it seemed. “Did – did you just give your number?”
“Well noted,” Tony resisted sighing again. He probably wasn’t helping his case being all cold and sarcastic, was he? Teenager were sensitive, he reminded himself. “Listen, I’m really pushing my limits today. But – Peter. You’re not a bother. I keep tabs on you, but I can’t know everything from school records or your reports to Happy, which, I’ve noticed, have lessened to a couple a month, and while Happy is happy about it, it doesn’t really help me. If I can help with something, I will, I’m not completely heartless – “
“You’re not at all,” Peter said, dazed, like he didn’t register he spoke.
It knocked Tony out of his flow for a second, and he cleared his throat before continuing.
“You just got to, well, as shocking as it may be, but you’ve got to let me know, so I do know, otherwise, without knowing, the doing part can be tricky. And – “ he bit his tongue as he was about to say to not overuse the number. He took a sip of water to cover up his pause. “And I trust you won’t overuse my number. Gosh, I already feel I’ll have to fight you to inform me of what you won’t deem ‘important enough’. Which is, rubbish, it’s rubbish, and let’s be clear – anything, and I mean it: absolutely anything Spidey-related is very much first priority. I’m supposedly mentoring you, aren’t I? Give me a chance, there, kid.”
He turned to his plate, unable to hold Peter’s shocked but very much joyful stare. He waved off the stuttering and ‘thank you’s, and reminded to tuck in the tasty noodles before they got completely cold. He felt very, very good for some reason. Better than he had all week. Or possibly month.
“So. Your absences to this day are excused. Miraculously. The odd hours were – you can imagine, but. From now on, however, it’s a different story,” he paused, watching with a pang Peter’s bright, still disbelieving smile slip off. “There’s hardly a good excuse to make a kid skip one or two classes in the middle of the day. Thankfully, I’m me, so people expect the worst and the weirdest. Great combo, don’t go for that,” he straightened the napkin, wandering with his gaze away from Peter’s worried eyes. “We’ve got to set down some ground rules.”
“What rules? I still can go when –? Mr. Stark, I can’t let people die because I have a pop quiz!”
When the kid put it like that, it did resonate with Tony. He got that. If Peter struggled with school, that’d leave room for arguments; but he brushed through his classes with ease. The absences were what dug his grave in the school records.
“I do understand that, and I’m sure the people who don’t die thanks to you, are grateful for such perspective from you. But, that’s that.”
“That’s what?”
“Dying. Emergency is if a life is in danger. Nothing – nothing else, understood?” he didn’t wait for Peter to speak. At his nod, Tony continued: “So, then. It’s your third period. You dash for spandex, smash some walls, save the day, and it’s all over before fifth period. Explaining that I have to keep pulling you out of school almost every day was painful and I haven’t tried to charm someone so much since I started hitting on Pepper.”
“TMI, Mr. Stark,” he wrinkled his nose.
“But then, two hours of absence?” he went on with a ghost of an amused smirk. “What possibly would I need you for, just for two hours? The drive upstate is over an hour, now.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Personal stuff. Anyway – “
“Hold up, hold up!” Peter straightened in his seat. He squirmed, and Tony knew the kid could see right through him already. “What did you tell him?”
He heaved a sigh.
“I might’ve,” he gestured loosely with his hand. “Well. Made him a bit sympathetic to you – had to soften him a bit, so, well, he could buy my bullshit, that’s all it comes down to with – “
“You victimized me.”
Stark ‘tsk’ed, waving his hand about again, at loss for words that would be easier on Peter.
“Strong word, let’s – no, let’s say, I turned to his empathetic side – I was really gambling on that one, not everyone is – “
“What did you tell him?”
“Alright, relax, Christ. He won’t be cornering you or calling child services or whatever. Don’t… Right, so. I told him you have a lot of very, very important work on your plate, and you work very, very hard to keep the grades up… I might’ve mentioned something about your aunt, uh,” he cleared his throat at the look thrown at him. “Nothing, too bad, just, how she’s busy, and, well, you don’t – you’re on your own with a lot of things… and! People give you a hard time, what with not believing the internship – that’s where I had to listen through a lecture of how internships should be handled properly, because we did it all wrong, and it was my fault that the school didn’t support your, let’s be honest – one in a million chance to work for Tony Stark… you know, I took a lot of shit on me, to make it believable, you really shouldn’t talk if I made you a bit of a victim. A bit! Just a bit.”
As he talked, Peter kept squawking in protest, but in the end he just sighed, resigned.
“I guess,” he mumbled. “I – sorry you had to – “
“Don’t. Just don’t,” he resisted rolling his eyes. “My idea, wasn’t it? Or did you forgo mentioning telepathy came with the super-strength? I said what I said. Depending on your faculty’s sensitivity levels, you might be getting some concerned looks – they’ll get over it, shut up. Anyway, your mid-day hours were your mental breakdown hours – peer pressure, teasing, scolding from teachers, that stuff weights, the principal was… semi-understanding. He did accept it as an excuse in the end. But, we come to the initial point – now they’ll be treating you like an egg on a spoon. That excuse can work two-three times a month, maybe, but let’s not push it. So, when you have to leave mid-day, you don’t come back, no matter how important test and whatnot you have later in the day – you can’t go back to school, or be seen anywhere near it that day. I’ll make some alarm, protocol – something that’ll call the school to let you out. We stick to being called in to the compound, and you’re just done very early, capiche?”
“Are you – are you serious?” the teen shook his head, his face going back and forth between shock and a grin. “That’s – you – thank you so much! Wow, I – Mr. Stark, thank you so, so – “
"Your grades need to stay up," Tony warned. "This is... very conditional. It's not a gift, it's a deal. I'm- covering your ass. It's fellowship, but don't push it."
"No - Yes, of course! Ohmigod, thank you, Mr. Stark, thank you so much - "
“But remember – only life and death emergencies. Top notch important stuff. Preferably no more than five times a month. Don’t overuse it.”
“Sure! Of course, yeah, I – it’s – thank you. You’re seriously the best,” a huge weight seemed to fall off Peter’s shoulders.
“Don’t mention it. No, really, don’t. Another thing – let’s keep the details to minimum when reporting to your auntie, yeah? Unless you want me to get a warrant to keep away from you, we have to skip over the part where I encourage you to skip school, got it?” he pointed at Peter with his best ‘don’t test me’ look.
It was surprising the kid’s neck didn’t snap at how quickly he nodded.
“Yeah, yeah, I feel you, she’d – yeah. I’ll just, somehow, make it sound like you’re being responsible – I mean! Like, boring, rule-following responsible, you’re – I’m not saying you’re not responsible – shutting up, yeah. But really, thanks, thank you so much, sir.”
At the (enthusiastic) confirmation, Tony leaned back against his seat, throwing a folded napkin on the empty plate (and he couldn’t remember why would he ever think overenthusiastic would be too much for him).
“Fantastic. Feel like having some ice cream? I’d go for ice cream, I’ve got the day off, after all – and so do you, funny how that happened, huh? Just don’t tell me you don’t like ice cream, you’d be so fired.”
He couldn’t help a slight pull at the corners of his lips as Peter grinned at him.
“I love ice cream.”