Chapter Text
Peter Parker’s field trip to Washington DC had been a disaster. He’d been there, technically, to assist in his Academic Decathlon final (which he hadn’t even attended), and had gotten trapped in a warehouse for the good majority of it. The sight-seeing post-Decathlon had been tainted with the near-death experience for most of his classmates, and Peter having to save them from falling down the elevator shaft of the Washington Monument. After that, they’d promptly returned to New York, as most of them were traumatised and the teachers certainly didn’t want to be dealing with that. So Peter had basically only seen DC from the coach as they arrived and as they returned. They hadn’t even been to see the White House — or, well, as close to it as the public could get. He was told that was a key experience of going to DC, along with stuff like visiting the Capital Wheel, the Smithsonian museums, etc etc.
He’d actually been looking forward to it, as well. Obviously he hadn’t expected to go because he wasn’t on the AcaDec team for the final because of his exploits as Spiderman, but he’d always wanted to visit DC. He’d lived in New York all of his life and had left it only a handful of times, but never to go to any other big city. Washington DC certainly wasn’t as cool or as iconic as NYC (because it was NYC) but it was the capital of the country. And it wasn’t just DC that Peter wanted to go to. Ever since he was about twelve, he’d been creating a list of places he wanted to see. It ranged from whole countries (Japan, Australia) to very specific locations only a state or so over (like that one ice cream shop from Delaware that Ned had mentioned once or MJ’s favourite book store). His travel list — or rather, Google Doc — was one of his most precious files ever. It was neatly categorised and had links of specific things he wanted to see in all of the locations.
Circling back to DC, Peter didn’t feel he’d gotten the true Washington DC experience from the field-trip/mission. He didn’t complain about it to May, because he knew that May always felt guilty whenever they talked about travelling because the Parkers didn’t travel. May couldn’t afford it, and she could never take the time off work to take Peter anywhere. It was why he’d kept the whole travel list thing under wraps around May.
Peter had, however, talked about it with Tony, because the man really got it. He was Tony Stark, of course he knew about travelling, he’d been pretty much everywhere. Hell, the first telephone call Peter had had with the man was when the billionaire had been in Hong Kong. Peter was eternally jealous of the fact that he’d been everywhere, and they talked about a lot of weird things in the lab, so when the subject of travel had come up, Tony hadn’t blinked an eye.
“Where would you go, if you could go anywhere in the world?” Peter asked.
Tony had pondered it for a moment, continuing to work on the malfunctioning bot he had been fixing. When he’d finally come up with an answer, it had been, “Honestly, kid, right here.”
Peter had frowned at him. That was boring, and couldn’t possibly be true. “No, but I mean anywhere.”
“Genuinely, kid, I don’t want to be anywhere but here.” Tony said, not offering up an explanation. He glanced up, small smile present on his face. “How about you?”
“Italy,” Peter replied without a second of hesitation. He’d planned so many trips to Italy on his Google Doc that they encompassed about ten pages just by itself. He didn’t care where in Italy, not really: Rome, Venice, the Alps, some small lake somewhere, as long as it was Italy. Europe was so cool, and even better, it wasn’t America.
Peter really, really wanted to go to Italy.
That had sparked a whole conversation about travelling, and Peter had listened as Tony recounted some of his top tips for travel, as well as some anecdotes from various places which Peter hoped he would avoid.
“—and that’s why I’m never going back to Las Vegas,” Tony finished. Peter blinked.
“Well, yeah, near-death experiences do tend to do that. I mean I’m pretty sure none of my classmates will ever go back to DC,” Peter agreed.
“You don’t include yourself in that?” Tony inquired, glancing at him.
“Well,” Peter scratched his head. “I never got to really see much of DC when I was there, so I’ll probably go back at some point. Do some proper sightseeing.”
“Huh,” Tony commented, tinkering with the bot but not really reacting to Peter’s comment.
“Yeah, there’s not really time for sightseeing when you’re locked in a warehouse for twelve hours,” Peter shrugged.
Tony dropped his spanner and there was a loud clanging noise as it hit the floor. “You were what?!”
Peter’s eyes widened. He’d forgotten Tony didn’t know about the incident in which he’d become thoroughly well versed in all of the web shooter options. Oops.
Several weeks later, on a similar lab session, Tony had turned to him, paused, and then asked a question. “Hey, kid, do you wanna come to DC with me next week?”
Yes, Peter thought instantly, and then paused, processing. Because, what?
“You’re going to DC?” Peter looked up at his mentor with just a twinge of confusion evident on his face. Tony dashed between New York and California, mainly, and had (for some unexplainable reason) actually been spending a significant amount of his time in New York. It meant that they could have more lab days, so Peter wasn’t going to complain. But he normally stuck to those two cities, rarely daring to go many other places unless he was needed in Hong Kong for a business meeting or something similar. Washington DC was an irregularity.
“I’ve got an Accords meeting, it’s boring,” Tony waved into the distance, small frown planted on his face, presumably thinking of the whole mess with the Accords. “But you were saying the other day about how you didn’t really get to see Washington, and you have holiday,” he scratched the back of his neck self-consciously, “I thought you might want to come.”
Peter’s heart was telling him yesyesyes, but his rational, logical brain knew it wouldn’t be possible. He would love to go somewhere with Mr Stark. But there was no way they’d be able to afford it, not with the rent increasing and the landlord being a dick about it. May was under enough pressure as it was, without Peter demanding for money to go on holiday. No, he couldn’t go.
“Tony—I,” Peter stuttered, unsure of what to say. There was a flash of upset across Tony’s face, almost imperceptible, before it was replaced with a mask of calm.
“No, don’t worry, it’s fine,” Tony shook his head slightly, sniffed, “I get it, you wouldn’t want to go. Just a thought, on the off chance.”
“No!” Peter shook his head. “It’s not that — of course I want to go with you, it’s just…um,” Peter swallowed, took a breath, “I won’t be able to afford it.”
Tony frowned, waved a hand into space again. It was a signature move of his when he was waving something off. “All expenses covered, kid.”
“I— can’t let you do that.” Peter admitted.
“Consider it done.” Tony clicked his fingers in a rhythm he often used when in the lab. Peter had noticed. “Honestly, it’ll make the whole trip a lot less boring for me, convince me not to kill myself whilst talking to the bunch of senators I have to talk to, knowing we can go and get ice cream or something afterward.”
“Only if I pay for the ice cream,” Peter bargained, knowing there was little point reasoning with Tony when he had something set in his mind. Peter had literally never won a fight about money, not with Tony. Peter picked his battles as they came now.
“I’ll consider letting you pay for the ice cream,” Tony raised an eyebrow. “As my heir, you really don’t need to carry on buying me gifts, I should be the one gifting you stuff.”
That had been a (relatively) recent development. Tony had sat Peter down one night in the penthouse and told him that he, Peter Parker, was to be the heir of Stark Industries. If he wanted to, and with time. Neither he nor Pepper were expecting him to immediately be the heir, not as a teenager. But Tony wasn’t expecting to have kids, and he apparently trusted Peter more than anyone else with his company worth billions. Naturally, ever since Tony had told him, Peter had continued appearing at the Tower with gifts, unsure of what he was expected to do as the heir but deciding gifts weren’t a bad idea. A bottle of wine, one night. Some flowers another night (which he thought they would more be for Pepper, but it turned out that Tony was actually a big fan of flower arranging and had been delighted to have some flowers in the corner of the lab for a week. Also, baby’s breath was DUMM-E’s favourite).
He would definitely buy the ice-cream in Washington. Because he was going to Washington DC next week. With Tony Stark. Apparently.
Peter paused for a second. “Are you seriously going to take me to Washington DC next week?”
It was crazy, completely mad. People didn’t just go on spontaneous holidays, especially not ones where there were business meetings entangled in them, either. But then again, most people didn’t fly around in metal suits either, and most people weren’t Tony Stark.
“Well,” Tony raised an eyebrow, “Providing your aunt says yes, of course.”
May protested it at first, of course, saying that she couldn’t just let Tony pay for it, but the man insisted. And when that hadn’t worked, he’d threatened to pay their rent for the next quarter, and she had glared at him and agreed to Peter travelling with him all expenses paid, knowing that 1. Tony would definitely make good on his threat and 2. Peter wanted to travel and therefore it was worth it.
Peter let Tony do most of the planning, but had been slightly concerned about what accommodation he would choose and had therefore called the man to ask, because Peter knew fully well that Tony Stark would never be seen dead in a hotel that had less than five stars, for christ’s sake, and Peter Parker had literally never walked into a hotel with four stars, yet alone one up to Tony’s standards.
“I’ve got that sorted,” Tony had said, which only made Peter more worried.
Peter had several other worries about their trip to DC. The first of which being, what the fuck do you wear on a business (business?) trip with Tony Stark. He’d pretty much packed for every occasion, and had winced at the knowledge that Tony would have to be seeing him in his Iron Man pyjamas, because Peter didn’t have any others.
The next issue was that they were, apparently, going to be flying on a plane, and Peter had never flown on a plane before, and he was going to probably be super nervous, because, hello, it was a plane. He didn’t want to be nervous on a plane with Tony Stark, even if he considered the man practically his stand-in father figure at this point. If he had a panic attack before the trip even started, that was going to be super embarrassing.
Yeah, he was worried for a lot of things about the trip, even the sight-seeing, the plans of which he hadn’t actually contributed much to, because Tony had just winked at him and implied that it was a surprise. Peter had only had one request, which Tony had graciously agreed to: this time around, they weren’t going to even try visiting the Washington Monument.
The week swung around very quickly. Peter got an A in a Calculus test (which wasn’t really a surprise, given how easy the Calculus they were learning was, but hey), he and Ned had a movie night to celebrate that they were on holiday, and then, somehow, it was the morning of the trip and Happy was outside waiting for him to get in the car. Tony was meeting them at the airport, apparently, which was so on brand it wasn’t even fair.
They spent the trip to the airport arguing about the prequel Star Wars movies (because Happy had so many opinions and all of them were just so wrong that Peter couldn’t even), and before Peter knew it, Happy pulled the car up to a stop because they’d arrived.
Except Happy had parked the car directly on the runway.
Because apparently they were flying to Washington DC on a private plane.
“Oh,” Peter breathed, and Happy shot a weird glance at him as he grabbed Peter’s bag from the back seat. Peter didn’t follow Happy as the man strode towards the plane, just standing and staring.
Peter, for some reason, had assumed they were going to be flying on an actual plane. Like one of the big ones, the ones which hundreds of people flew on, and that were pretty much 95% safe. He thought that Tony maybe may have put them in first class, because he was Tony Stark, but he’d mentally accepted that. He hadn’t thought — hadn’t even considered the possibility — that they would be using a private plane, because that was crazy.
But duh, Tony Stark had a private plane, Stark-branded and extremely small, and they were going to be flying on it. It probably should have been a sign to Peter when they hadn’t followed the signs to JFK airport, but he’d never been to JFK and didn’t actually know the route there, and also they could have been going to LGA instead, so he couldn’t be blamed for not realising! He’d been too busy babbling about the Star Wars prequels to notice!
The plane they were going to be flying to Washington DC on was certainly not one of the big ones that Peter knew was completely safe and where the rates for crashing were low. It was, in fact, tiny. And Peter was totally fine with it! His brain totally wasn’t spouting facts about how small planes had a higher crashing rate, or that they tended to go missing a lot more, or that people who were scared of flying on planes should fly on big planes not small ones because of the extra turbulence! Definitely not.
It was fine! Peter’s heart wasn’t racing as he remembered how to move again, when he walked up the stairs to get into the plane, and when he stepped foot in it. That would be completely insane, for his heart to be racing and his palms to be sweating as he thought of the plane taking off, this plane, the plane he was now in. He put on a brave face and entered the main cabin.
“Can’t get better than a private plane, huh?” Tony said from the seat he was sat in as a greeting, arms wide as he gestured to the plane. It was so ridiculously different from Peter’s normal life that he almost laughed. Almost.
“Hah, yeah,” Peter swallowed. “So cool.”
He sat down opposite Tony, and the man removed his sunglasses and attached them to his t-shirt.“So, what can I get for you, kid?”
“Um?” Peter frowned, the question evident in his face, because what was Tony…offering exactly? If it was a ticket off the plane, then Peter would absolutely take it. He clenched his hands together to stop them from shaking, hoping Tony wouldn’t notice. Shit, he was going on a plane.
“Drink, snack, food, they do a really good filet mignon but you might want to wait for that until after we’ve taken off,” Tony winked.
“Oh, um,” Peter thought about it, “A coke would be cool if you have one?”
Tony reached into the mini-fridge next to him (which was packed full of drinks: several bottles of what looked like whiskey, a surprisingly large quantity of root beer and various other things) and pulled out a coke, passed it to him. Peter felt the rush of sugar immediately as he took a sip, and hoped it would stop the shaking in his hands, give him some kind of adrenaline rush to get him through what would hopefully be a short flight.
Happy was still standing at the front of the plane by the stairs, having dropped off both Peter and his suitcase, seemingly unsure of how to proceed.
“Thanks Hap,” Tony said, waving a hand.
“Are you sure you don’t need me to come?” Happy asked, in a way that implied they’d already had this conversation. “I’ve got my bag packed in the car, if you need security, you know how the senators are—”
“I think we’ll be okay, Hogan,” Tony smiled. “See you when we get back.”
Happy stood awkwardly for a moment, eyes darting between Tony and Peter as though he really didn’t want to let them go without any protection, and then took a deep breath and left. Peter thought it was quite sweet, watching out the window as Happy retreated to the car, because Iron Man and Spiderman really didn’t need protection.
“Excited?” Tony asked.
“Yup,” Peter said, nodding and swallowing, hoping Tony wouldn’t notice that he was a bit off.
Tony launched into his spiel, “So, the Accords meeting is tomorrow and it’s at the Capitol building, of course. I just need to do an address in front of all of the senators, then we’ll be free to do what we want for the next three days, capiche?”
“Capiche,” Peter whispered back, still staring out of the window. The plane jolted as the engine started and they started to move, “Holy shit.”
“You good, kid?” Tony said, staring at him oddly. “You’re a bit…pale.”
Peter glanced at his mentor, looked down at his hands, crossed in his lap. His legs were bouncing up and down and he couldn’t stop them. “It’s just, I’ve kind of never been on a plane before and I’m a bit? Um? Nervous?”
“Oh, shit,” Tony glanced towards the pilot’s cabin (was that what it was called? Peter didn’t know, and oh god, he totally should, because what if the pilot and the co-pilot passed out mid-way through the flight and he needed to take over, that was the whole reason he’d learnt the schematics just in case because his luck was terrible and they’d probably crash but he’d looked up the schematics for big planes not small ones and what if they were different what would he do if it crashed?!).
And then his heart was racing faster, and Tony looked worried, like, really worried, and his mouth opened and he was saying something but Peter couldn’t really hear it, and shit he was having a panic attack, wasn’t he, just the very thing he hadn’t wanted to happen.
“Shit, okay, um,” Tony scooted out of his seat and into the one next to Peter, immediately holding him as his entire body shook, curling him into Tony’s chest. He was safe, he was okay, he was going to be fine. The plane was still moving, though, and they were going to take off, and then they’d be in the air, and shit, what if they crashed? “Jeffords, can we wait up a second?” Tony called to the pilot.
“Of course, sir, as long as you need,” Jeffords, who was presumably the pilot, stopped the engine, stopped the plane from moving and Peter was able to breathe again.
“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Tony said as Peter buried his face into the crook of Tony’s neck, muttering various apologies. It was so embarrassing.
“I’m sorry,” Peter said.
“Look, bud, it’s fine. Being scared of flying is normal, really. I freak out every time I have to have a bath, because, y’know, scared of water,” Tony said, and that made Peter feel a little more at ease. Tony looked somewhat uncomfortable when he realised that he’d admitted that out loud, as though it had come out of his mouth without his brain signing off on it.
“Still,” Peter said, “’s embarrassing.”
“No, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Tony said, putting a hand in Peter’s hair, curling it through his fingers like he did when they watched movies together. “Tell me what’s worrying you, buddy.”
“What if the pilots pass out?” Peter asked, heart beat calming quickly as Tony carried on playing with his hair.
“I’ll fly the plane,” Tony said, always the man to find a solution. Peter wanted to laugh, because the idea of Tony flying the plane was downright hilarious. He’d probably blast his ACDC music like when he was in the lab. “I’m a registered pilot.”
Peter emerged from the crook in Tony’s neck to shoot him a look, because when the fuck had Tony gotten a pilot’s license?! “Why?”
“Rhodey dared me to when we were in college, and I thought it would piss him off if I did it because flying was always his thing, so I got my license within two months,” Tony smiled. “I can legally fly this plane if I needed to. What’s the point of owning a plane if you can’t fly it, eh?”
Peter snorted. Trust Tony to be one to not only buy and own a private plane, but also have a license to fly it. Of course he did. It settled him, for a moment, but the worry swiftly returned.
The pilots passing out wasn’t the only problem with planes.
“What if the engines fail?” Peter whispered, putting his head back into the crook.
“Then I’ll have the suit on in ten seconds and I’ll pull you and the crew out to safety,” Tony said without a second of hesitation. “I’ve done it before.”
“You’ve done it before?!” Peter said, “When?”
“Long story, and technically the suit did it because I was operating it remotely. My point is, you’ll be safe no matter what,” Tony said, eyes sincere. “You’re always safe with me.”
“Okay,” Peter said, and nodded. He was going to be okay. He trusted Tony. “Okay.”
Tony ruffled his hair again and said, “Yeah? You okay if we get moving?”
Peter took a deep breath. “Yeah.”
“Jeffords?” Tony called to the cabin, “We’re ready.”
Peter glanced out the window as the pilot started the engine again, and then all of a sudden the plane was careering down the runway on the way to take off. Peter shot a look of genuine fear at his mentor and then clenched his eyes shut, burying his face back into Tony’s neck.
Holy shit they were goingtotakeoff theyweregoingtoleavethegroud theyweregoingtobeflying holyshitholyshitholyshit.
Tony was holding him tight and muttering, “It’s going to be fine, you’re doing so good buddy, so good.”
There was a weird noise as they increased their speed and Peter could feel as they left the ground, and his body instantly relaxed. Okay, the hard part was over.
“Tell me about your calculus test,” Tony said, sitting back in his own seat as Peter stabilised. It was probably a distraction technique but Peter was kind of okay with that, to be honest.
“Well, I got an A, but that’s because the test was easy,” Peter expressed with an exaggerated stress on the word ‘easy’, because it had been. “Mr Harrington said it was going to be hard, so I spent the evening before like scouring my textbooks and making sure I knew everything completely, but then when we got to the test I realised that I’d actually been revising the stuff from my college Calculus textbook, so I’d completed the test within like twenty minutes and I only dropped a mark or two because I wrote the correct answer and Mr Harrington had the wrong one on the mark scheme. I tried to explain it to him but he told me it was wrong, so, yeah,” Peter rambled.
Tony frowned. “Do I need to have another phone call with him? FRIDAY, tell me you have his number in my contacts.”
Apparently FRIDAY was installed on the plane too, because she said, “Of course Boss, he is listed under: Asshat Harrington.”
“Perfect,” Tony grinned.
“Although I do believe a more suitable response to the situation would be to send him a vaguely threatening text message that deletes itself after he has read it.” FRIDAY suggested, and Peter’s jaw dropped. The betrayal. And he’d thought Tony’s AI had a soft spot for him.
“Thank you, baby girl, add it to my to-do list for when I’m back.”
Peter worried for the other items on the to-do list if that was just one of them.
“Mr Stark,” Peter said, “I really don’t think that’s necessary.”
Tony opened his mouth in mock horror. “Mr Stark! I thought we were working towards Tony!”
“It’s a term of endearment, we’ve been through this. And you lost Tony privilege when you threatened my teacher. Mr Harrington is literally going to have a nervous breakdown.”
It was actually highly likely for his teacher to have a nervous breakdown after that time Tony had reprimanded him on the phone in front of Peter and his other classmates. Another phone call would probably kill him.
“I’m not going to threaten him,” Tony rolled his eyes. “Probably.”
“Tony!” Peter protested, then covered his mouth as he realised he’d called him Tony. It slipped out when he was frustrated or overly emotional, he couldn’t help it. Most of the time though it was still Mr Stark.
“Ah, back to Tony, good,” Tony said, sitting smugly in his seat. “So, what movie did you decide to watch with Ned in the end?”
“Oh, Return of the Jedi,” Peter said. “We debated it but decided to see some Han Solo and Princess Leia content for the evening.”
“Of course you did,” Tony smiled. “I should have known your love for Han Solo would win out in the end.”
“Uh, hello, have you seen him?” Peter retorted, “He’s Han Solo.”
Tony nodded. “True, kid, true.”
“Anyways, enough about Star Wars,” Peter said, and Tony looked appalled, and as though he was going to check Peter’s temperature to see if he was feeling okay. Fair enough, Peter always liked to talk about Star Wars. “I meant to talk to you about the new Starkphone, I thought we could maybe change the—”
“Uh, uh, no work talk, not on vacation,” Tony interjected.
“But Mr Stark—” Peter complained. He had specs to change, and short deadlines to fill.
“It’s a rule,” Tony insisted, and Peter slumped into his chair. Weirdly, now they were in the air, he felt okay with the whole plane thing. They settled into some light conversation (because whilst they apparently weren’t allowed to talk about Stark Industries stuff, they were allowed to work on superhero stuff, because Tony spent the next half an hour fixing his new transportable robot which recorded everything, and Peter spent the time improving Droney). Of course they brought tech to work on their trip — they weren’t animals.
Landing was a lot worse than taking off, not that Peter had quite the same reaction. He knew that watching out of the window would be a poor choice, because he would be able to see the ground as they got increasingly closer to it, so instead he just buckled his seat-belt, drunk the rest of his coke and sent a prayer to Thor that they’d get out of the air safely.
They did land safely. It had been a short flight, and by the time they’d exited the plane it was only about one pm. They’d had lunch on-board, and Peter had been amazed by the selection (which was essentially everything, even various fancy steaks). They’d had a private chef on board, even though Tony could cook fairly well all things considered, and Peter had been treated to the best damn macaroni and cheese he’d ever had. Tony had chosen Chicken Alfredo, which was a classic Tony dish.
There was a car at the airport for them, arranged by Tony, who took them into the centre of DC. Peter looked at the streets of Washington as they drove past them and decided it would be considerably more difficult to be Spiderman in DC. The buildings weren’t as tall, not really, and the lower the buildings were, the more difficult it was to swing. So much green space, as well. The tallest thing in sight was the Washington monument, and Peter certainly wasn’t going to revisit that.
“Right, first order of business is to get you some new shoes, because the state of those ones are dire,” Tony said, nodding at Peter’s trainers with a grimace.
Peter immediately protested. He quite liked his shoes, despite the holes, and he was pretty certain he could win this argument. “Oh, Mr Stark, I really don’t need a new pair of shoes—”
An hour later, as they were in the most expensive shoe store in the entire city, swarmed with different employees bringing him what seemed like a thousand different pairs of trainers to try on, Peter ultimately came to the conclusion that he was wrong.
Tony was right in the end. The shoes he’d been wearing before had been hurting his feet a bit, and that certainly wouldn’t do for the amount of walking they would be doing over the next few days. Sight-seeing was exhausting, and shopping even more so. The new shoes he got, a nice blue pair of normal trainers, gave him a new bounce in his step, and apparently they were made out memory foam which was why they felt so bouncy.
Even better, Peter had paid for them with some of his own money (which he earned, because he apparently got a salary as he was the official intern director and unofficial heir to the company). The salary went into a big bank account, most of which he wasn’t supposed to touch, but it was nice to have some spending money, and hey, if it meant he could slip a couple of extra twenties in May’s wallet every now and again, then that was that. She was often too tired to notice, but it meant they could cover their rent easily and she didn’t have to overwork herself.
But he’d paid for his shoes, which only made him smile more as he walked. Mr ‘All Expenses Paid’ wouldn’t win every time.
After that, it had been the late afternoon, and they thought about doing some sight-seeing before ultimately concluding that they should go to the hotel because Tony had vaguely mentioned they had dinner plans at the place they were staying. They walked to the hotel, because it wasn’t too far from the centre of town…in fact it was in the centre of town. Peter was beginning to get a little concerned about what the price was when he figured it was right next to the Washington Monument, because Tony muttered, “Right around here somewhere…”
And then what was possibly the most iconic building in the entire continental United States came into view, and Tony’s face lit up with a smile. “Ah, perfect.”
They strode towards the White House, or, rather, Tony did and Peter followed, and only one person stopped Tony for an autograph (which was actually fairly good, because they’d been mobbed on their way there, and Tony had had to sign about ten autographs whilst Peter took pictures for people). Peter was kind of in awe of the building itself, ready to take about three hundred selfies but Tony was striding onwards, ever closer. Peter guessed he wanted to take some close ups, or he just wasn’t bothered about the White House.
He was really worried about the accommodation now. Surely any of the buildings around here would charge sky-high rates for them to stay in a building next to the White House, and he was mentally tallying up how much ice cream he was going to have to buy Tony to repay him for this.
Tony smiled at him, told him to stay put, and then went up to the security guard that was preventing anyone from getting on the grounds. Peter snapped some photos of the White House whilst Tony was talking. Peter had no idea what he was talking to the guy about, probably something to ensure there weren’t any journalists or anything, but was perfectly content as he took pictures on his phone. The newest Stark camera application was great, he decided, and admired his work with a smile.
Tony waved him over as the security guard opened the barrier and invited them in.
“Wait— we’re going in?” Peter hissed at him, glancing down at the white t-shirt he was wearing which had a stain on it from the coke he’d drunk earlier, and had a simple math equation on it with X circled. He wasn’t prepared to go into the literal White House.
“I told you I had accommodation sorted,” Tony said, acting as though it wasn’t a big deal.
But wait—holy shit.
“We’re staying there?”
Tony looked at him like the answer was obvious, smirked, and then nodded.