Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The kid was acting weird, but not the kind of weird that meant I’m-hurt-but-I’m-not-gonna-tell-you. Like that one time he’d shown up at the lab pale and sweaty, tossing out excuses about feeling “a little sick,” when in reality he’d been stabbed on patrol the night before.

No, this weird was different. The kind that might as well have stamped “I’m hiding something and I don’t want you to notice!” right across Peter Parker’s forehead. The problem was, Tony couldn’t tell if that “something” was life-threatening or just one of those dumb teenage crises. Like a crush turning him down, bombing a test, or whatever other drama kids had these days.

It was Monday, which meant lab day—a whole afternoon where Tony could work on projects alongside his favorite spider-kid. Something that always managed to lift his mood, especially in months as rough as the past year had been: With the Rogue Avengers branded enemies of the state, and the last-minute decision not to sell Stark Tower.

Peter was a kid bursting with energy, fresh ideas, and a brilliant mind. But he was also funny, lighthearted, and full of jokes—so Tony actually enjoyed his company. Even if it meant the teenager’s mouth never shut up, rambling all through their four-hour lab days. That’s why the first red flag of that Wednesday practically screamed at him: Peter was quieter than he’d ever been.

Not only had he shown up late, but in the thirty minutes since Peter had walked into the lab, all he’d done was drop his backpack on the floor and bury himself in the small corner Tony had set up for him. He’d answered a few questions Tony had thrown his way about school and his tardiness, but his replies were nothing but one-word brush-offs like “Fine,” “Good,” and “It’s nothing.” Yeah, Tony wasn’t buying that crap.

It took him half an hour to decide he couldn’t just let it slide.

“Okay, I’ve had enough.” He spun his chair to face Peter, who immediately looked up at the sound of his voice, but the eye contact barely lasted a second before the kid ducked back down, fiddling with a circuit board. “What’s up? Cat got your tongue?”

“Uh… no?”

“Are you asking me?”

“No? No.”

“Then, something happened at school? Anything you wanna share with the class? C’mon, spill.”

“It’s nothing, Mr. Stark.” This time Peter lifted his head again, holding his gaze a little longer but his foot was tapping anxiously against the floor, and the smile on his face had nervous edges. Suspicious. “So, uh, what are we working on today?”

“Funny, I was wondering the same thing. Seems like you took some vow of silence the second you walked through that door. Bored of me already? Finally figured out I’m not actually that cool, just some old man obsessed with mechanics?”

Peter grinned, that mischievous grin he always wore whenever he tossed out a joke like that. Tony cleared his throat to keep his own mouth from twitching upward.

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, setting the circuit board on the table before turning toward him. “I was just thinking about, uh, school stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Like… our baking classes?”

Tony blinked. Then frowned.

“I’m pretty damn sure you don’t have baking classes.”

Peter bit his lip, shut his eyes for a moment, like he was cursing himself internally. Tony chose not to comment on it. For now. The kid’s behavior was strange—strange enough that Tony couldn’t decide if he should be worried or amused.

“Yes I do!”

“No, you don’t. ”

“How would you know?” Peter crossed his arms, his frown looking more like a sulky puppy than actual irritation. “You graduated high school, like, fifty years ago.”

“Okay, for your information, I’m not even fifty. Born in ’70. Do the math, since you’re supposedly so good at it.”

“I mean, they don’t exactly teach us how to calculate the age of super old people.”

“Watch it, kid.” Now he was pointing a screwdriver at him. “Or your lab privileges can and will be revoked by this really old man.”

Peter was smiling again, a laugh slipping out as he stood and wandered over to the Iron Man suit Tony had been working on. This time Tony let his own grin show, ruffling the kid’s hair once he was close enough—just to hear him laugh again and duck away playfully.

“So, Mr. Stark, when are you finally gonna let me try one of these?”

Tony narrowed his eyes.

“Keep trying, kid.”

For the moment, Tony decided to let it go. Maybe nothing was wrong after all.

(...)

Two hours earlier.

Mr. Stark had told him there was a chance he might actually get to work on the Iron Man suit this time, and the excitement bubbling in him was way too much to hide. So the moment classes ended, he said goodbye to Ned and MJ before practically sprinting out the doors of Midtown, heading straight for the black Audi parked at the entrance.

“Hey, Happy!” he greeted as he opened the car door, only to get an eye roll in return. Not that it dimmed Peter’s mood. He slid across the seat, shut the door, and dropped his backpack to the floor. “You know, Happy, Mr. Stark said he’d let me help with the Iron Man suit today. Like, that’s literally the coolest thing this whole week, and it’s only Monday! Which is saying something, ‘cause Ned told me he got this new Lego set and we’re gonna build it over the weekend, but still, the Iron Man suit totally wins. I wonder if Mr. Stark—”

His rambling was cut short when Happy groaned audibly and pressed the button to raise the privacy partition.

“Oh, well, hope you have a great day, Happy! I promise I’ll tell you everything next-” The partition finished sliding up. “…time.”

Peter slumped back against the seat with a dramatic sigh, though the excitement in his chest and the anxious urge to get there didn’t fade. He decided he might as well get started on

homework, so he pulled out his calculus notes and worked through problems until he was more than halfway done. Twenty minutes later, the car pulled up in front of the main entrance to Stark Industries. That made him frown.

“Uh, Happy?”

The partition lowered slowly, revealing Happy’s tired sigh.

“Isn’t it, like… weird to go in through here? I mean, I’ve never done that. I didn’t think I even could. Mr. Stark always says—”

“Ms. Potts wants to talk to you,” Happy interrupted flatly. “She asked me to drop you off at the main entrance. Just go to the receptionist and say, ‘I’m Peter Parker, blah blah blah,’ she’ll know what to do.”

That threw him off.

“…What?”

“I thought you had super-hearing, do I really have to repeat myself?” he grumbled.

“No, no, I heard you, but, why would Mrs. Potts want to talk to me? That’s so out of character.”

“You think I know? Come on, get out of my car! And don’t get ink stains on the seats.”

Peter shoved everything back into his backpack in a hurry, then opened the door and glanced at Happy again.

“Thanks, Happy! Drive safe, and thanks for bringing me here, I know it’s exhausting.”

“Kid. Just go,” he deadpanned.

“Oh, right! Thanks again.” Peter hopped out and shut the door, watching the car drive off seconds later. He inhaled deeply, exhaled just as hard, and adjusted his backpack, the cold autumn air hitting his face, slowly feeling more and more like the holiday season. From the main entrance, Stark Tower looked more imposing than ever.

Still, he tried to walk inside with as much confidence as possible, which only made him look like one of those cartoon villains sneaking around on tiptoe, trying not to look suspicious and failing spectacularly. I’m not a villain, he reminded himself. Actually, I’m the opposite of a villain. I’m Spider-Man. I beat villains up on the daily.

The Stark Industries lobby was massive, with high ceilings and wide glass windows. The floors looked like marble (or at least Peter thought so, he wasn’t entirely sure what marble was supposed to look like, but it felt like the right guess). Green plants everywhere, small waiting areas with sofas and tables, and guards—lots of guards—posted at every hallway branching off the lobby. It was wide open and practically screamed, This is the Stark Industries lobby!

He made his way to the front desk, earning a few glances but mostly being ignored. Once he reached the counter, he shifted his feet nervously and fiddled with his backpack straps until the receptionist looked up at him.

“Uh, hi. I’m here because Happy said Ms. Potts wanted to see me. Um, Happy? Happy Hogan? I’m Peter Parker.”

The woman—Alice, according to her nametag—arched her brows, then quickly brightened into a radiant smile.

“Of course, Ms. Potts is expecting you. Please follow my colleague.”

The colleague was waiting near the elevators. She gave him a polite nod before leading him inside and then through the executive hallways. Like the lobby, everything seemed to be made of marble, but now everyone looked way more formal, in suits and blazers. It made Peter feel a little out of place, but thankfully everyone was too busy to notice him, which was a relief.

He was dropped off in front of Ms. Potts’ office and took a deep breath before stepping inside, only to be greeted by the light streaming through the large window, offering a privileged view of Manhattan. In front of it sat Pepper Potts at her desk, looking elegant in her white blazer and tied-up hair. She smiled warmly at him, which immediately eased the tension in his shoulders.

“Peter,” said Ms. Potts as she closed the folders on her desk. “Come on in. I’m glad you made it here safely, how was school?”

“Uh, it was fine, Ms. Potts.” He walked fully into the office and shut the door behind him, but didn’t take another step forward. “How uh, how are you?”

“I’m doing well, thank you for asking. Come, sit.”

Peter obeyed at once and sat down in the chair in front of the desk. He took off his backpack and rested it on his lap, wrapping his arms around it. He bit his lip as his eyes wandered around the office, taking in the paintings on the walls and what looked like a double pendulum on the table—pretty peculiar—so he focused on that and its movement instead. He held back the urge to comment and ask about it, but Ms. Potts seemed to notice his interest.

“Do you like it?”

“Uh, kind of. They look like they’re defying the laws of physics. Do they run on batteries?”

Ms. Potts smiled at him again, and once she finished stacking the papers to clear the desk, she laced her fingers together and leaned forward. She looked every bit the businesswoman, but her expression stayed warm.

“I’m pretty sure you’re wondering why I called you here.”

“Honestly, yeah, but I didn’t want to be rude. I’m sorry, Ms. Potts.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” She waved her hand as she leaned back into her chair with a sigh. “Tell me, does Tony know you’re here?”

“No, should I have told him? I’m sorry, it all happened so fast. I was supposed to already be in the lab with him but Happy told me that—”

“Yes, I asked Happy to drop you off at the main entrance because I wanted to discuss something with you. And it’s better if Tony doesn’t know about this.”

Peter blinked several times.

“Why…?”

Pepper laughed softly and tilted her head.

“Because if Tony doesn’t know, then we can make this even more special for him.”

“I don't understand,” he frowned.

“This past year has been very hard for Tony,” she sighed. “With the Avengers splitting up and all the stress, I feel like sometimes things are just weighing on him too much. That’s why I thought we could do something fun for him. I’ve been coordinating with Rhodey and Happy, so that next week, on Friday, we can have a little get-together at the penthouse, just the five of us. Something fun and festive. I thought you should be part of it, since Tony loves spending time with you.”

Peter went completely silent, barely blinking. His lack of words seemed to work as a cue to go on, because Ms. Potts continued.

“It would be a surprise, of course. Something we’ll organize in secret. I thought about asking Happy for your number, but I wanted to make this first approach in person.” She smiled. “What do you say, Peter?”

“Ah… Say… You mean, like… a surprise birthday?”

“We could call it that,” she laughed, “only without the birthday.”

“A surprise party!”

“A surprise party, that’s right.”

Excitement bubbled in Peter’s chest at the thought, which didn’t take long to turn into anxiety.

“Wait, Ms. Potts, are you sure about this? I’m really bad at keeping these kinds of secrets. One time, back in elementary school, my classmates and I tried to throw a surprise birthday party for one of our friends, but it didn’t work because I couldn’t lie. It was so embarrassing and I ruined everything. Oh, boy, I’d hate to ruin this, seriously, I think you should probably find someone else—”

“Peter.” Ms. Potts leaned forward and placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Relax, it’s supposed to be fun. It can’t be someone else because there’s no other Peter in this world, and I think it would be special for Tony to have you there.”

“R-Really?” He swallowed hard.

“Of course.” She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting go. “I’m sure of it.”

“Alright, Ms. Potts.” His face turned serious as he nodded, which only made her smile even more. “I promise I’ll do my best.”

“That’s fine, Peter. Just be yourself, that’s more than enough.”

“I’ll keep the secret, I promise!”

Ms. Potts laughed, the same way Mr. Stark sometimes did, as if there was something in Peter’s face that softened her. Most of the time, he didn’t really understand what.

“Alright, Peter. So, how about you give me your number? We’ll stay in touch.”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” He dug into his pocket before pulling out his phone, almost dropping it in his hurry.

“I’ve been thinking about how we could organize all this, since everyone has to play their part for it to work. So, Peter, how about you take care of the cake?”

Peter raised his eyebrows.

“The cake? You mean… me bringing the cake?”

“That’s right.” She nodded. “Look, I don’t want this to be complicated for you, so any money you spend on it, let me know and I’ll reimburse you, alright? And if you really don’t want to bring the cake, we can think of something else for you to do, or you don’t have to do anything at all. But I’d like you to feel included. Think about it, okay?”

(...)

“Dude, were you invited to Iron Man’s surprise party? Oh man, your life is so cool.”

“Besides keeping the secret, Ms. Potts put me in charge of the cake, but I have no idea how I’m supposed to handle that. What am I supposed to do? She told me I could pick something else, but she seemed so organized with everyone’s tasks that I just couldn’t, uh, refuse.”

“I get it. I wouldn’t say no to Pepper Potts either.”

It was lunchtime when Peter decided to tell Ned what had happened the day before, as well as Mr. Stark’s suspicions about his strange behavior. The meatballs on his plate were being more and more abandoned as the conversation went on.

“But I don’t know anything about cakes, dude.”

“Are you going to make it yourself?”

“Of course not! That would be like… a total disaster. I can’t ask May for help either, I mean, I could, but I’m not too sure that would turn out well.” He sighed even heavier. “Ms. Potts told me to give her the receipts for anything I spent so she could reimburse me, but that makes me feel bad. Shouldn’t I contribute? I mean, it’s a surprise birthday and everyone should do their part.”

“Honestly, she probably told you that because she doesn’t want to put a burden on you, and also so you’ll pick a good cake.” He drank from his milk carton and nodded. “You should order one with a gold leaf or something, you know? Like those real edible gold cakes that are super expensive.”

“I don’t want to choose something just because it’s expensive, I want to choose a cake for its taste and looks.” He decided to go back to his meatballs, or else his metabolism would pay for it later. He stabbed one with his fork and popped it into his mouth. “You know, something homemade. But not homemade by me, homemade by someone else.”

“Mmh, but wouldn’t it be more special if you made it yourself?”

“I doubt Ms. Potts expects me to be the one baking the cake.” He grabbed another meatball and chewed. “If she told me that, she expects me to buy it. But if I just go to a bakery and get a cake, it wouldn’t feel special. And pastry is really expensive.”

“Well, Ms. Potts gave you the green light to spend, didn’t she?” He shrugged. “Do it.”

“It’s not about spending a lot just because I can. Ms. Potts was being nice to me, I shouldn’t take advantage of that.” He frowned and took his juice box, sipping from the straw. “But I also don’t want to buy just anything , ugh, I don’t know what to do!”

“Order a cake.” He shrugged again. “Homemade pastry is expensive, yeah, but not as expensive as gold leaf, right? Maybe this is exactly what Ms. Potts expects you to do: order a cake.”

“Yes, Ned.” He rested his face in one hand and sighed. “But personalized cakes are personalized.”

“Duh.”

“You don’t get it.”

“Of course I get it. A personalized one for Iron Man? I think it’s way too obvious how it should be personalized.” He spoke with such confidence that Peter almost felt dumb for not considering it as a viable option. “That’s like, the easiest part.”

“Okay, Iron Man is super cool, I get that. But… it should be something more special, I feel.”

“Is there really anything more special than Iron Man?” He raised an eyebrow.

“It’s just that, I don’t know, man,” he sighed, poking at the food on his tray. “Feels a little basic.”

“Did you just call Iron Man basic?” Ned raised his brows, leaning back. “I can’t believe this.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

“What’s up, losers?”

MJ’s voice cut through as she suddenly sat down at their table, closing the distance.

“Peter got invited to Tony Stark’s private-surprise party and they put him in charge of the cake, but he has no idea what to do and he’s going nuts. Also, he called Iron Man basic and all that,” Ned explained.

Peter groaned loudly, dropping his face onto the table, right next to his half-eaten lunch tray.

“Wow, you guys really are losers,” MJ deadpanned.

“How can we be losers when we’ve been chosen to pick the cake for Tony Stark’s private-surprise party?” Ned cut in.

“That was just Peter.”

“But I’m his best friend!”

“Whatever, dude.” MJ rolled her eyes.

“Could you guys stop?” Peter complained, lifting his gaze just slightly, his chin still pressed against the cafeteria table. “I have a problem here.”

“Get over it.” MJ shrugged, chewing her sandwich. “Just pick something he likes.”

“The thing is, I don’t know what he likes.”

“How do you not know what he likes?” she frowned, biting into her sandwich. “Aren’t you, like, his lab buddy or something?”

“We don’t talk about cakes.” He sat up straighter. “We talk about engineering stuff… like optimizing energy flow in the repulsors, or if you can integrate nanotech into smaller systems, or the arc reactor… Or my suit, or his suit, which by the way, he let me help him with the Iron Man suit yesterday.”

“Dude, that’s so cool.” Ned looked starstruck.

Peter grinned wide. “I know, right?”

“Then just get him an Iron Man cake,” MJ suggested.

“That’s what I said!” Ned agreed. “An Iron Man cake for Iron Man, because if he made the suits, wouldn’t he like it?”

“I mean—”

“Or maybe from a movie?” Ned cut him off. “Like some show or book he likes?”

“I don’t know, maybe—”

“But I’m telling you, Iron Man is the best option because Iron Man is the coolest. I’d be happy if I got an Iron Man cake for my birthday.”

“Well, it’s not his birthday.”

“Almost the same.”

“Putting aside this guy’s obsessive fanboying. ” MJ leaned forward on the cafeteria table, propping her elbow on the surface. “I’m sure Tony Stark’s gotten hundreds of cakes over the course of his career, at events or commemorations. If you want it to be special, you should find something different.”

Peter swallowed.

“Like… like what?”

MJ smirked, narrowing her eyes as she reached over to grab a meatball from Peter’s tray.

“Think about it, loser.”

(...)

After school, while waiting for May to finish her shift so they could go out for dinner, Peter stayed lost in thought over MJ’s words. He thought about the 2010 Stark Expo and the thousands of events his mentor must have attended, the number of desserts he must have eaten, and the Iron Man designs on them.

“It’s predictable,” he whispered, his advanced chemistry homework spread out on his desk. “Giving an Iron Man cake to Tony Stark is predictable.”

But Peter didn’t want to be predictable. He wanted to be special. Authentic, genuine. Something that Mr. Stark could look at and feel grateful for, accompanied, loved. After all, it was a party to lift his spirits. Something that would remind him there were still people there for him, people who supported and adored him. Wasn’t that why it was a private-surprise party, with only five guests?

He dug his fingers into his hair and groaned audibly. It was barely Tuesday, and the party would be next Friday, so Peter had less than two weeks to decide what to do, or even less than one, since he’d probably have to order the cake. How long did it take to make a custom cake? Peter wasn’t sure. Besides, since he definitely didn’t plan on baking it himself, what would be the right place? He’d have to look for available bakeries in New York.

He was about to pull out his phone to start searching when the front door chimed.

“Hey, honey.” May smiled as Peter came out of his room to meet her. She ruffled his hair and moved past to drop off her keys and shoes. “Uff, what a day.”

“How was your shift?”

“Ah, same as always. Tiring and exhausting. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about work. How was school?”

“It was fine.” He shrugged. “We’re working on this huge project with Ms. Warren. Things are getting more fun.”

“I’m glad. Thai?”

Peter smiled.

“You know my answer.”

An hour later, eating at his favorite Thai restaurant, Peter found himself lost in thoughts, full of ideas about flavors, designs, and bakeries scattered all over New York. Should he look for a local bakery in Queens? Surely it would be cheaper than a more gourmet shop, but he didn’t know if it would satisfy Mr. Stark’s or Mrs. Potts’ tastes. He also didn’t know how picky they were with sweets, or what flavors Mr. Stark liked. He sighed heavily. It was so easy to ruin everything. Either he couldn’t do a good job on the cake, or the secret would slip out by accident.

“Is everything okay, honey?” May’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked at his aunt, who was watching him frown. “You seem very thoughtful. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Um, it’s nothing, Aunt May. It’s just…” He stirred the food on his plate. “The cakes for my birthday, where do you usually get them?”

May raised an eyebrow.

“Walmart.” She smiled and chuckled lightly. “A small chocolate cake for fifteen bucks, pretty good, right? I’m very curious why you’re asking that. I’m sorry, baby, would you like another cake? Your birthday just passed, but for the next one we can get another one if you want, though it’d be better if you tell me now which one you want.”

Peter felt something pressing in his chest at the suggestion and shook his head firmly, which made his aunt raise an eyebrow and smile slightly.

“No, uh, I’m not asking for me,” Peter said.

“Ned?”

“No, no. It’s, um, Mr. Stark.”

There was a silence for a few seconds before May’s smile widened.

“I’m pretty sure his birthday is in May,” she chuckled lightly.

Peter’s cheeks flushed.

“It’s… it’s Ms. Potts. She told me that Mr. Stark’s been really tense and stressed because of the Avengers splitting up, which probably has him overwhelmed and that’s affecting his mood and emotional health. So Ms. Potts suggested making this private-surprise party something special with only five guests, and for some reason she invited me, but not only did she invite me, she also gave me the task of bringing the cake, but I have to buy it and I don’t know where, or how, or with whom, and I’mstressedbecauseI’mscaredI’llruin it, Aunt May, I think—”

“Jeez, Peter, slow down.”

Peter’s mouth almost immediately closed, but it didn’t last long before he had to take a big breath.

“Ok, private-surprise party, you said?” His aunt raised an eyebrow.

Peter nodded.

“Sorry for not telling you earlier, Aunt May. I’ve been really stressed about the cake that I completely forgot. Ms. Potts said the party is next Friday in the penthouse, so I guess Happy will take me there for supposed lab hours with Mr. Stark.”

“Oh, great. Will you be staying there overnight?”

“Uh, I don’t know, I guess I’ll have to ask Ms. Potts.” He shifted a little. “You don’t mind that, uh, you weren’t invited? If you don’t want me to go, that’s fine.”

“Oh, please,” May huffed. “I have long shifts on Fridays, you know that. Don’t worry, honey, this is an intimate moment for Tony and his loved ones. It’s normal he’d want you there with them.”

“You think so?” He lowered his gaze a bit. “Ms. Potts said something similar.”

“I do, and I’m sure of it,” she nodded.

“I’m still worried about the cake.”

“Honey, I’m sure Tony will be happy with whatever you give him. Don’t stress too much about it, just give him something you know will make him happy, isn’t that the point? A party to lift his spirits?”

Peter exhaled heavily and looked up at his aunt.

“I want it to be special, this… it’s important.”

“Why?”

“Because…” He bit his lower lip. “I’ve never known another version of Mr. Stark that isn’t ‘stressed’ and ‘affected’ by everything that happened with the Avengers. From the moment he stepped into our apartment that day, all those problems have been running through his head, and he still let me into his lab, his house, his space. He’s been so good to me that… Now that there’s a chance to somehow give back, I want it to be special. It’s important because it’s a way to remind Mr. Stark that there are still people here for him. I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Oh, baby,” May’s eyes were warm, dripping with honey. As if in that gaze there were things Peter still didn’t understand about himself—probably that—she continued. “But you already give that back to him every day.”

“Uh?”

“You’re a good kid, and like I said, I’m very sure Tony will be happy with anything that comes from you.” She picked up her fork again. “However, I also know my nephew and I know you’re too stubborn to just leave this be and relax, so if you really want to give him something very special, why don’t you try finding something meaningful for him? Not just something he likes, but something that has weight for him, as a person, as a human being.”

“Like what?”

May took a bite and seemed to think for a few seconds before simply breaking into a smile and shrugging.

“I don’t know, baby, but think about it, ok?”

Chapter Text

After finishing dinner and returning to the apartment, Peter spent the rest of the evening on patrol, but had to go back to his room before eleven because there’s no way you stay up late on a school night, Peter Parker. Still, after taking a shower, Peter put on his pajamas and socks, still warm from the dryer, arranged the sheets, blankets, and pillows on his bed, and then sank beneath them with his StarkPad in hand (a gift from Mr. Stark that Peter had rejected a hundred times before accepting).

Once comfortable, and at exactly midnight, Peter began his search online. He spent the next two hours browsing bakery websites all over New York, looking at prices, flavors, and hundreds, hundreds of designs. He didn’t realize when he had fallen asleep, only that suddenly the sunlight from the window hit his face.

He blinked several times as he straightened on the mattress, stretched his arms, and frowned at the window. That’s when he realized it was just past eight o’clock and he had less than half an hour to get to school. He had overslept. He got up so quickly that his feet almost got tangled in the blankets, took a quick shower, threw on whatever clothes, and left the apartment without breakfast.

He didn’t make it on time, but he still managed to get into class. He spent the school day still thinking about the cake, the designs he had seen, and the different prices. By the time school ended, he was almost dragging his feet toward the black Audi waiting for him parked outside.

“Hey, Happy,” he greeted, almost with a sigh as he collapsed into the seat. He threw his backpack onto the floor and rested his forehead against the window.

“Jeez, what a change. Are you sick? Please don’t vomit in the car.”

Peter couldn’t help but smile at that, but a yawn caught him mid-process.

“I’m just tired, I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Are you sure you’re not sick?” Happy frowned. “You look a little pale.”

“I told you I didn’t sleep well,” he repeated, this time with a bit more firmness.

“Oh, whoosh, got it, Spiderman.” Happy released the brake and started leaving the Midtown entrance.

Peter decided to use the ride as a quick nap, but the second he closed his eyes and the car started moving, a question popped into his head. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“Hey, Happy.”

“Yeah?”

“Did Ms. Potts tell you about Mr. Stark’s private-surprise party?”

“Of course.” His gaze stayed fixed on the street, worthy of a professional chauffeur. “She told me days ago. I guess she already told you, since you're asking me.”

“And what’s your, uh, part to play?”

“My part to play?” Happy frowned.

“Yes, everyone has one, right? She told me.”

“Ah, yeah.” He nodded. “I’ll help Pepper with the decorations. She’s designing how the ornaments will be; I’ll be in charge of buying everything, since we can’t tell FRIDAY to do it without Tony noticing. And you, kid, what’ll you be? Emotional support or something?”

“I got the cake.” He crossed his arms and lifted his chin before extending a smile. “It’s the most important part of a party.”

“Try having a party without decorations,” Happy huffed.

“A party exists without decorations, but the cake is the party.”

“It will be for you who was born yesterday,” he shrugged, “but believe me when I say you don’t need a cake to have a party. Jeez, the things I’ve seen that don’t need a cake…”

“Gross.” Peter made a face.

“Sleep, kid. Good luck with your cake.”

Peter wanted to keep arguing and defending the cake’s position, but he decided to follow Happy’s advice, at least for ten seconds.

“Hey, Happy.”

Happy sighed.

“Yeah?”

“What cake flavors does Mr. Stark like?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I don’t really remember.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks, Happy.”

Happy just nodded, and they sank into another silence—a silence Peter used to observe through the window, watching New York pass by. Then, at a traffic light, he noticed a bakery with a promotion for slices, and at that moment, a light seemed to go off in his mind.

“Hey, Happy!”

“Ugh, what?” Now irritation was present in his voice.

“Do you still have the money Mr. Stark gives you for snacks on the way?”

“Well, yeah, since you never use it,” he shrugged.

Peter grinned.

“Make a U-turn. I have an idea.”

(...)

The kid was being weird. But this was a different kind of weird—not the kind where he was hiding a wound or some problem at school. No, this was a type of weirdness he’d never seen before.

When Peter walked into the lab with six slices of cake in hand, Tony thought maybe the coffee was getting to him. However, after rubbing his face and watching the kid approach, he realized he wasn’t imagining it. Peter was carrying six slices of cake, each in a plastic box with a red ribbon on top. You could tell they were different flavors, and Tony wasn't just surprised by the unusual presence of the desserts; he was also impressed by how well Peter was balancing them.

Peter gave a huge smile when their eyes met, and his pace quickened, which made Tony stand up and cautiously hold out his arms.

“Hey, Mr. Stark! Brought some cake.”

“Did you come from a cake picnic or something?”

“No, these are, uh…” He set the cakes on the workbench and arranged them casually, just enough so they weren't stacked on top of each other. “From my, uh, baking classes?”

“Are you asking me?”

“Uh, no? No.”

“These aren’t from your baking classes, Peter”

“Yes, they are!” Again, that look of fierce determination. Tony didn’t quite understand where it came from, but Peter seemed to be using it more lately. It was common to see it when he was out as Spider-Man or dealing with some life-saving situation, but not about cakes. “Look, this one is chocolate cake, carrot cake, red velvet…”

Tony approached the cakes scattered on the table and chose to stay silent while Peter explained the flavors.

“Lemon cake, oh, this is a cheesecake with red berry jam, and this is a seasonal recipe: apple tart with cinnamon and caramel.” He looked up at his mentor and smiled widely. There was something in the kid’s eyes, and it took Tony a second to realize it was nervousness. “They’re, uh, fresh out of the kitchen.”

“Kiddo, you go to a STEM school,” he sighed.

“We have a band club,” Peter shrugged.

“So what?”

“Why not baking classes? It makes sense.”

Tony ran a hand over his face and let out a long sigh. When he looked up again, he found Peter biting his lip and fidgeting. A pang hit him in the chest. There was no way these cakes were from Peter’s baking classes because Tony had the kid’s curriculum and extracurricular activities, and he knew Peter wasn't taking any such classes. Still, Peter seemed so determined about it that Tony was starting to feel bad for putting him on the spot.

Damn it, Tony thought. This kid is making me soft.

“Alright, Buddy Valastro,” he said, pulling a stool closer and sitting down across from the workbench. “Let’s give ‘em a taste.”

A huge smile spread across Peter’s face. He nodded repeatedly before dragging his own stool over and sitting down next to his mentor. Tony couldn’t help but smile a little, not when the kid’s joy was so contagious. He accepted the fork Peter handed him, and they opened the first cake: chocolate.

“A classic,” Tony said, sinking his fork into the moist cake. He made sure to get some fudge before bringing it to his mouth. “Super sweet, but it’s good.”

Peter watched him intently, eyes wide, before nodding.

“What? Did you make this cake or something? Scared it turned out bad?” Tony raised an eyebrow.

“I made all the cakes, Mr. Stark.” Peter dug his own fork into the dessert, taking a much bigger piece than his mentor, and shoved it in his mouth. He chewed with his cheeks full, the picture of teenage energy. “That’s, like, the whole point of baking classes.”

“Well, two of these aren't cakes.”

“Yeah, because cheesecake and tarts are delicious, so they deserve to be baked too.” He took another bite of chocolate cake and continued with his mouth full. “And this chocolate cake has a lot of fudge and sprinkles, so it’s also very delicious.”

“And how did you make it? This cake.” He poked at it a little more with his fork, deciding that was enough since he had five more flavors to try.

Peter froze for a brief moment—it could have gone unnoticed, but not by Tony, who narrowed his eyes.

“Uh… well, we mixed the ingredients and then put it in the oven in those circle molds, and we waited, and once they were cooked, we cut them and put them in boxes. With ribbons.” Peter didn’t seem to have any concern about getting a sugar rush, as he took another large bite. “Okay, next one!”

Tony sighed. The lie was so obvious he didn’t even know how to feel. He watched in silence as Peter grabbed the next flavor: Lemon. He opened the plastic box and slid it in front of his mentor. Tony grimaced and took a small piece, trying not to get too much of the frosting. The flavor was sweet, but the lemon ruined it—it was a strange combination.

“No hard feelings, kiddo,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Not my vibe.”

“You didn’t like it?”

“Not really.”

But Peter didn't seem to get angry. Instead, he nodded with that same determination in his eyes and, without even trying the cake, closed the box and pushed it away to grab the next one. Tony didn't even have time to ask when he now had Red Velvet under his nose. The experience with the next two flavors was similar to the chocolate one: pretty good and enjoyable, but extremely sweet. Peter seemed to be having a great time, and his palate even more so, as he showed no sign of getting tired of the sugar.

“Y’know what?” Tony said as they ate the carrot cake. “This is the least sweet of all of them, so far. Pretty good.”

“All the old people like carrot cake.” Peter took some frosting with his fork, avoiding the cake itself. A mischievous smile spread across his face, and he continued without looking at his mentor. “Maybe that says something.”

The kid giggled as Tony playfully pushed him with his hand before ruffling his hair. They ate for a moment more until Tony put his fork down and rubbed his own stomach.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he sighed. “Next time, don’t use so much sugar.”

“But we still have the tart left.” Peter already had it in his hand and lifted it over his head, as if that would make space in his mentor’s stomach. “It's apple and cinnamon. And caramel.”

“Well, Kirby, I think it’s better if we save the tart for later. When I can actually enjoy it. Now, what do you say we take a break from the sweet treats and start working?”

For a moment, Peter seemed to want to argue, but Tony knew he wouldn't. So, within seconds, the kid just shrugged, put the tart back on the table, and jumped to his feet.

“Okay, what are we doing today?”

They worked without a hitch for the first hour. Since he’d been working on the Iron Man suit for the past few weeks, Tony figured it was a good time to introduce Peter to this part of the job. The kid was more than enthusiastic, and besides, what could he say? Peter was brilliant. For Tony, he was more like a partner who helped him with his work, rather than a burden or anything like that. Even when there was something the kid didn’t understand, Tony never felt like they were falling behind or that explaining was a chore; on the contrary, he found himself enjoying it.

Not that he would ever say that out loud.

However, maybe it was a side effect of the sugar, but after an hour, with all the energy provided by the sweets completely drained, Peter’s movements started to get slower and slower, and his rambling diminished, to the point of being completely silent. When Tony looked up, he realized Peter's eyes were half-closed, but there was no tension in them, which made him look tired.

Tony snapped his fingers in front of Peter’s face and immediately felt bad when the kid flinched. Still, Peter rubbed his eyes and smiled slightly.

“You okay?” Tony frowned.

“Uh? Yeah, yeah, just a little bit sleepy.” And to prove it, he let out a big yawn.

“Sleepy? Why? You didn’t stay up late on patrol last night, did you?”

“Of course not, Mr. Stark!” He frowned at Tony, who saw nothing but honesty on the kid’s face, so he decided he was telling the truth. “I was, uh…”

Tony narrowed his eyes, and that seemed to be enough to set off all of Peter’s nervous alarms. He shifted in his seat and looked away.

“Looking for recipes… for my baking classes?”

“Are you asking me?”

“No? No!”

“Peter.”

“I swear!”

Tony sighed heavily before standing up and gesturing for Peter to do the same. The kid seemed to think he had won the argument or something, as he didn’t hesitate for a second to follow him, but he frowned when they stopped in front of the table with the cakes scattered on it.

“I think it’s better if we go up to the penthouse,” Tony said.

“What? Why?”

“You’re tired, aren’t you? We can’t work if you’re like this; you’ll probably weld a finger or something. Come on, grab your backpack and the cakes.”

“What? No, Mr. Stark, don’t worry, I’m okay now. Besides, if I eat a little cake, I’ll get my energy back.” He nodded, totally convinced. “We can go back to working on the Iron Man suit, please, please, please? ”

Tony looked at him for a few moments, at those round, pleading eyes that seemed to want to pierce him, take his soul, and force him to do whatever he asked. So it was a real struggle to shake his head, and when he did, the intensity in Peter's gaze increased.

“Mr. Stark, please! ”

“No, kiddo. It’s better that you rest, and if you didn't sleep well, I'd rather you get some sleep. It’s not good to fight off sleep by consuming things—it's bad for you.”

Peter’s face immediately filled with offense, even as he bent down to grab his backpack from the floor while Tony took a few of the cakes from the table.

“But you do that with coffee, like, all the time,” Peter complained as he grabbed the remaining cakes from the table.

“Don’t be like me, be better.”

Peter groaned audibly but still followed Tony out of the lab, toward the elevator. He dragged his feet dramatically, a perfect picture of teenage attitude. Once inside the small box and heading up to the penthouse, Peter maintained his annoyed expression, with a frown and a slight pout.

Huh, Tony thought, this kid is too much like me.

They arrived at the private floor, and a large living room appeared before them. In the distance, Manhattan stretched out in all its glory. Peter was captivated for a moment, especially when he noticed the raindrops sliding down the glass. He set the cakes on the coffee table and walked over to the window.

Tony watched him for a moment in silence before doing the same, pressing lightly on the kid’s shoulder to get his attention.

“How about you get some sleep, hmm?”

At that moment, Peter seemed to remember he was supposed to be mad, because he frowned and shook his head.

“I’m not sleeping, we will watch a movie,” the kid replied.

“Sure.” Tony shrugged. It didn’t matter, Peter rarely lasted a whole movie without falling asleep. They settled into the living room to get comfortable, arranging pillows and blankets before sinking under them. Tony not only noticed that Peter had decided to keep a significant distance between them, but also that he took his StarkPad out of his backpack and placed it on his lap, with his feet on the sofa and his knees up. “What are you doing? I thought it was movie time.”

“Yeah, uh, I’m also going to do my homework. I couldn’t finish my calculus homework.”

“And you’re going to do it on your tablet?” Tony raised an eyebrow.

Peter nodded without looking up and slid his finger to unlock the screen. Tony couldn’t see what he was doing on the tablet, but he couldn’t help but feel a warm sensation in his chest seeing him use it—after all, it had been a gift, but not just a gift; he had put a lot of effort into getting Peter to accept it. He was happy to see the kid was actually making use of it, so he let it go and instead grabbed the remote.

“How about Hocus Pocus?” Tony asked.

“Sure,” Peter said without looking up, his finger tracing the screen with speed, wearing that same determined look. Tony was getting more and more curious about it.

The movie started, and the silence was filled with magical chants and the cackles of witches. It was a classic for the season, and Tony found himself becoming more and more relaxed. Still, he occasionally glanced at the kid, who was still absorbed in his tablet. He just hoped he wasn’t turning into one of those iPad kids, which was a bit ironic, but Tony found himself laughing at his own thought.

Maybe he really was annoyed that I sent him to sleep , he thought, even though he doesn’t look angry anymore.

In fact, he just looked tired. Thirty minutes into the movie, Peter's fingers began to lose coordination at the same time his eyelids started to close on their own. Several times, Tony saw him rub his eyes hard, as if he really wanted to stay awake, but ten minutes later, he had completely fallen asleep.

Tony found himself sighing at that and waited another five minutes before getting out from under the pillows and blankets. He stood up, walked over to Peter, and carefully took the tablet from his hands so as not to wake him. As he adjusted the blanket to make sure he was warm, he couldn’t help but glance at the still-lit screen.

He thought he was going to see chemical formulas or mathematical equations, but instead, he came across notes about the cakes they had tried almost two hours ago. There were ratings, some check marks and crosses, and even doodles of complete cakes with those flavors. What struck Tony the most wasn't how unusual it all was, but the small note in the corner.

Which one could be Tony Stark's favorite?

Seeing that, Tony wanted to laugh, he didn't know if it was from disbelief, confusion, or tenderness. He wrote something below the question before locking the tablet and leaving it on the coffee table, right next to the cakes. Then he noticed something under the plastic boxes. It was a label that said “Ari’s Bakery.”

“Well,” he sighed. “I guess his baking classes are at a bakery in New York and not at the Midtown School of Science and Technology.”

He decided to return to the comfort of the sofa, as it was still a little less than two hours before Happy would take Peter to his apartment in Queens. This time he decided to close the distance a bit, so he made a space for himself among the blankets and pillows not too far from Peter. Not close enough to be completely stuck to him, but close enough to brush his hair back without a problem, so that’s what he did. As Hocus Pocus played in the background, Tony dedicated himself to observing Peter's sleeping face. Now that he was looking closely, he noticed he looked a little pale.

“Why are you trying so hard to lie to me, Roo?” Tony murmured, even though he knew the kid wouldn't be able to hear him in his sleep. “I guess some teenagers get obsessed with parties and alcohol, and others with Star Wars and... cakes.”

Peter frowned and shifted onto his side, curled up on the sofa. His breathing was calm, and as the movie went on, he gradually moved closer to his mentor. Tony decided to stay put, his gaze fixed on the TV, even when the kid's head rested on his shoulder. Peter’s warmth was comforting in the approaching autumn chill.

When the movie credits rolled on the screen, the sun had already set and the rain had stopped, so Tony took out his cellphone to answer a few emails. Maybe it was the absence of background noise, but it wasn’t long before Peter stirred and groaned as he woke up.

“Mmh, wha’?”

“Good morning, sleepy beauty. We agreed to watch a movie, but it looks like the movie watched you instead.”

“Mr. Stark?” He blinked several times as he straightened up, rubbed his eyes, and yawned.

“That’s me.”

Then the kid looked at his lap, and his eyes widened as he started searching around frantically.

“My StarkPad! Where is it?”

“Jeez, calm down, kiddo. It’s right there,” he pointed with his chin to the coffee table, where the tablet was still turned off. “Don’t worry, I didn’t steal it. I have hundreds of those.”

Peter stretched out to grab it and hugged it to his chest, at the same time his shoulders tensed up, and he looked at Tony cautiously, as if he hadn’t been sleeping soundly on his shoulder two minutes ago. Tony found it sweet, but also a little worrying. What was so bad about notes on some cakes?

“You saw it,” the kid murmured.

“Come again?”

“ You saw it! ”

“Well, you left it on. I can’t exactly turn off my eyes.”

“It’s my privacy, you can't see it. That's one of the worst things you can do, Mr. Stark. Looking at a teenager's tablet or cellphone is dangerous; you're not supposed to do it,” he shook his head several times. “Just, forget what you saw.”

“What? Cakes?” Tony raised an eyebrow.

“Forget it!” he whined, his brow furrowed and nose wrinkled. He looked so annoyed that Tony had to bite his tongue to avoid teasing him and causing a worse reaction.

“Fine, fine.” He tapped his temple and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and nodding seriously. “There, I forgot.”

“ Mr. Stark. ”

“What? You said to forget it.”

“But you didn’t!”

“Alright, how about we eat the tart? Don’t you want the tart?” He leaned forward and picked up the only untouched dessert on the table. “Apple with cinnamon and caramel, yummy.”

Peter still had his brow furrowed and seemed to be making a face, but he still dropped back down next to Tony and took the fork he held out. As they ate the tart in silence, the kid’s frown slowly softened until his face was relaxed against the cushions again.

“This one is good,” Peter commented. “It’s not a cake, but it's really good. I think they should make a cake out of this so they can put frosting and all that on it.”

“You mean you should make it, right? Since you were the chef in all of this.”

“Ah.” He froze for a moment before nodding tensely. “Yeah, Mr. Stark.”

“And speaking of the chef,” halfway through the tart, Tony’s hand slid to the label stuck to the bottom of the plastic box. Peter seemed to notice, as he paled and froze. “This Ari from Ari’s Bakery, does Midtown hold its baking classes at a New York bakery that happens to be right on the way here?”

Peter opened his mouth to answer, but closed it almost immediately. Instead, he looked down at the half-eaten tart and seemed to lose his appetite, as he put his fork down and rested his hand on his lap.

“Why are you lying to me, Peter?” Tony said, his voice trying to be as soft as possible. He hadn’t planned on confronting Peter. Even though it was pretty clear from the beginning that the kid had been lying to him, he had let it go until now. In some ways, it was sweet, but it also worried him a lot, especially in that moment when, even with his gentle tone, Peter pressed his lips together and dropped his head back onto Tony’s shoulder, a very obvious way of not looking him in the face. “Y’know, I wouldn’t have minded if these cakes were made by Ari the Baker instead of Peter the Baker.”

Peter didn’t answer, just played with his bottom lip between his teeth. He didn’t look at his mentor or show any intention of finishing the tart, so Tony closed the plastic box.

“Talk to me, kiddo.”

“It’s nothing.” His voice was muffled as he buried his face in the other man’s shoulder. “Let's not talk about this, okay?”

Now Tony was really worried.

“Did something happen? You can talk to me, you know that perfectly well. I had my own ways of avoiding reality, back in the day, but to be honest, yours are a lot healthier than mine. Being obsessed with cakes is much better than peeing in your own suit.”

He felt Peter frown before lifting his face.

“What?”

“Forget that, it’s not for spider-babies.”

Peter smiled now, and that lifted a little of the weight in Tony’s heart.

“Not a baby,” Peter said with a sigh as he straightened up.

“Sure, baby.” He rolled his eyes before smiling back at the other, but soon his expression was filled with worry again. Looking at him, Peter seemed to sense it, because his own face filled with guilt. “You don't have to talk about it right now, but if you want to, I’m here for you, kiddo. Remember? I’m in your corner.”

Peter just nodded, saying nothing else.

“Alright then.” He ruffled the kid's hair, who laughed softly before pulling away from his touch. Tony smiled back. “We should clean up before Happy gets here and takes you back to your apartment. The mess drives him crazy, and I don't feel like seeing Happy any grumpier than he already is.”

Hours later, when Peter walked through the door of his apartment and flopped onto his bed with a long sigh, he picked up his tablet. When he unlocked it, he almost jumped to the ceiling when he saw something he hadn't written. Right below the question he had typed, Tony’s handwriting was there.

I think Tony Stark really liked the carrot cake.

Chapter Text

Even with more hours of sleep and no delays getting to school, Thursday was just as much of a pensive day for Peter. While he had the cake flavor clear in his mind, he still lacked the most important part: the design. During Ms. Warren's class, he spent (again) searching the internet and sketching ideas in his notebook. One thing was clear: he didn't want an Iron Man cake, at least not one where the suit was the main part. He wanted something more meaningful, more emotional, something that had more to do with Tony rather than Tony Stark-Iron Man. He let his head fall onto the desk and sighed heavily.

“Mr. Parker.”

Peter jumped up in his seat.

“If you don't like the class, you're free to leave, but stop interrupting your classmates.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Warren,” Peter said, blushing as he heard a few of them snickering. He could feel Flash’s mocking grin behind him, which was only confirmed when he started feeling small paper balls hitting the back of his neck. He held back another huge sigh and tried to pay attention to the class.

By the time school let out, with Ned chatting about a new series he was watching, Peter felt his head heavier than ever. He thought about taking advantage of May’s absence that afternoon and seeing if a long patrol could clear his head a bit. The whole cake issue was tiring him out, but it was all he could think about, besides the constant anxiety that he was a total disaster and now Mr. Stark thought something bad was happening to him and that he wasn’t able to trust him enough to talk, which made Peter feel guilty because Mr. Stark was one of the people he trusted most in his life, he just couldn't tell him anything more because that would mean he would ruin the surprise and then—

“Dude, isn't that Happy’s car?”

Ned's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up just as the crisp autumn air hit his face. He frowned, seeing that it was indeed Happy's car. But it was Thursday, which meant no-lab-day.

He said goodbye to Ned and walked slowly toward the car, eyes squinted and shoulders tense. It was weird, very weird, but he was sure it was Happy's car. Instead of getting directly into the back seat, he went to the passenger window and tapped it gently with his fist. Seconds later, the glass slid down, not only revealing Happy in the driver’s seat but also Mr. Rhodes beside him, who smiled.

“Hey, Pete.”

“Mr. Rhodes!” He almost fell backward in surprise, but when he realized he had caught the attention of some students, he hunched over and leaned toward the window. “What are you doing here? Or rather, what are you guys doing here? It's not a lab day.”

“Oh, we know,” Mr. Rhodes said. “And it's just Rhodey, Pete.”

“We came to get you, kid,” Happy said in a bored tone, but Peter didn't notice any harshness in his eyes. “We're doing some party shopping, and we need you.”

“But… but I don’t have the cake ready yet,” Peter said, and speaking the words made him feel vulnerable, as if he had failed some important mission, which was unforgivable. However, Happy and Mr. Rhodes didn't seem to bat an eye.

“No biggie,” Mr. Rhodes said, “but I guess you've already got an idea of what you're gonna get, right? In any case, it doesn't matter, because Pepper wants the party's aesthetic to be cohesive, so your cake has to match the decorations and my snacks.”

“You are going to bring the snacks, Mr. Rhodes?” Peter raised his eyebrows.

“Snacks and all food. Dinner is my responsibility, my mom and I are already planning everything.”

Peter smiled at that, and before he could say anything else, he heard Flash and his friends approaching from the school entrance in the distance. So he decided to hurry and get into the back of the car. He closed the door and dropped his backpack on the floor before sliding into the middle seat so he could see the two adults clearly.

“How was school, Pete?”

“It was good, Mr. Rhodes.”

“Just Rhodey.”

Peter smiled sheepishly, but didn't correct himself. Instead, he leaned back in his seat and focused on the window. Once they started driving down the avenue, he looked forward again.

“So, what's the decoration gonna be like?” he asked.

“Happy had thought about the colors of the Iron Man suit, but we both agreed that we'd be better off going with blue, since it's Tony's favorite color.”

“That's good, since I didn't want to choose a cake with an Iron Man design,” Peter nodded, and then whispered, “Blue would go well, maybe a drip cake with white chocolate painted blue, or a smooth white one with a sky-blue shell border…”

He was startled when he heard Mr. Rhodes laugh.

“You've really thought about it. Do you like cakes that much?”

Peter felt his cheeks flush and shook his head frantically.

“No, no! Uh, I mean, I do like desserts and candies, but it's not like I'm especially obsessed with cakes or anything. Like, these days I've really been trying to research all kinds of decorations and finishes precisely because I want the cake to convey a very exact vibe. Maybe my Google history thinks I am obsessed or something. Even Mr. Stark, because he was looking at me really weirdly yesterday, and I'm sure he thinks I have cake-related problems and I haven't been able to tell him, which besides being weird is incorrect, because I do trust him, I just can't tell him becausethatwouldruinhissurprise, and—”

“Woah, breathe, Pete,” Mr. Rhodes sat up straight in his seat.

Peter took a big gulp of air before making an effort to breathe calmly. Through the rearview mirror, he caught Happy's frown, who soon turned his attention back to the street.

“More than being dedicated to cake, you're like me when I'm working for Tony. Oh wait, I already am,” Happy grumbled. “Calm down, kid. It's just a cake.”

“I don't think you really get it, Happy.” He crossed his arms. “It's not just a cake, it's the cake for Mr. Stark and I don't want to give him just anything, because it's a party to make him feel better, so…”

“Kid, Tony's happy just having you around or listening to your ramble, I don't know,” he rolled his eyes, and Peter wasn't too sure how good that was for a driver on a busy avenue. “If there's a cake but you're not there, he'll probably ask me why I didn't make sure you were there and then—”

“But the cake is the centerpiece of the party!”

“... He'll go looking for you, and if you couldn't make it for whatever reason, he'll pretend he doesn't care that you aren't there when the truth is he cares quite a bit. And no, we already talked about this, the decorations are the centerpiece of a party.”

“The cake makes the party!”

“The decorations—”

“The cake… !”

“Is the people,” Mr. Rhodes interrupted. "Without the people, the decorations and the cake would be insignificant. If there's no music, it can be filled with laughter; if there are no decorations, it can be filled with hugs; and if there's no cake, it can be filled with songs. But neither the decorations nor the cake can fill the feeling of an empty party. In the end, what you're looking for is to get together with your people.”

There was a short silence.

“But still, the decorations—”

“Happy, eyes on the road,” Mr. Rhodes stopped him. “Listen, Peter, I get it. You want to make that day something really special for Tony, and what better way than to give him a cake that shows how much you appreciate him? But take a breath, you don't need to stress too much about this. It's something silly, funny, to lift his spirits. Still, if you really want to give him something meaningful, we can help you think about it, instead of you getting all worked up by yourself.”

“My god, this kid is exactly like Tony,” Happy whispered, probably to himself, but Peter was able to hear it without a problem.

“Ok... Ok, Mr. Rhodes,” Peter mumbled and rubbed his face with his hand before sighing. “I, um, was thinking of a small cake, since there are only five of us, something simple but pretty on the bottom, because I'd like to give the top part the main focus. For a moment I thought it could be something more spread out, like those cakes that have details on every corner, which is cool, but since it's a private-surprise party…”

“You wanted something simpler and more intimate,” Mr. Rhodes finished and Peter nodded. “I get it, maybe we can do something with that. What do you think, Happy?”

“Something blue with a cheesy quote or something,” Happy shrugged. “That's what I would do.”

“But you know how Tony is with things that are too cheesy.”

“True. So, something funny, like 'proof that Tony Stark has a sweet tooth' or something similar.”

Peter laughed slightly at that, but the idea didn't seem entirely wrong. He put his hand on his chin and squinted, deep in thought.

“We are here.”

Peter thought they might go all the way to Manhattan to buy the decorations, but they had stopped at the party supply store closest to his apartment. They got out of the car and entered the store, where aisles upon aisles of party decorations extended, with balloons, candles, even toys, hats, and other festive details. There was every kind, from weddings to birthdays. Excited to see so much color and variety, he approached the baskets and took one before following Mr. Rhodes and Happy, who were waiting for him in one of the aisles.

The next few minutes were quite productive, with suggestions for decorations, confetti, and streamers that actually led to a decision. Besides that, they also grabbed cups, plates, and other necessary utensils, all in blue.

“It's a blue party,” Peter said while they were deciding on the balloons. “We should choose different shades of blue, to make it more dynamic.”

“Since when do you know about party decorations?” Happy raised an eyebrow.

“I don't,” he knelt down to grab three shades of balloons, each in a different size, “but the cakes I saw didn't include the same tones, and that made them look better. So I think it's the same with decorations.”

“Wow, Happy,” Mr. Rhodes smiled and patted the man on the shoulder, “the kid is stealing your job.”

Happy just rolled his eyes.

“It's important that he recognizes the true importance of decoration at a party.”

Peter looked up and frowned at him, still squatting on the floor.

“Not again , Happy.”

Once they had finished choosing everything and the basket was full, they went to the cashier to pay. The saleswoman's eyes widened when she saw them, probably recognizing the faces of Tony Stark's head of security and War Machine, but not Peter, which probably confused her even more. Despite her obvious recognition, she was professional enough to return to a neutral state and smile a little.

“Will this be all?”

They paid and went back to the car, only to drive a few more blocks and stop in front of a Candy Shop.

“Why didn't we buy the candy at the party supply store?” Peter frowned as he got out of the car and followed the two other adults, who were already making their way into the store.

“They don't have the ones I'm looking for,” Mr. Rhodes replied.

The specific candies he was looking for were the same as in the previous store, just in blue. After a small discussion about how many to get (since there were only five people and four of them were adults not big fans of candies), they decided the wisest thing to do was let Peter choose, since he would most likely eat the majority. Peter chose a little bit of everything, and when the basket was half full, Happy had to persuade him to stop.

“It won't be good for your health, Peter.”

“You told me to choose,” he wrinkled his nose.

“For you, not for all of New York,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I have a super-metabolism.”

“Shh, do you want to reveal your identity in a Queens candy shop?”

Definitely not, so Peter stopped at that moment. They took a few more turns around the other aisles, just to rule out anything else that might come up. He smiled as he realized that, since they got out of the car in front of the party supply store, his mind had relaxed a little about the cake. But only a little, because as they were paying for the candies, he started to worry about the lack of time. It was already Thursday, and if he didn't want to rush, he had to order the cake by Saturday at the latest.

They paid and left the store, heading back to the car. They had spent just under an hour on the whole shopping trip, which had been quite productive, so Peter felt satisfied. However, his main worry remained. At least two things were clear now: the cake would be carrot cake and blue. If he chose something simple but pretty for the bottom part, then he had to focus more on the top part, just as he had said. The phrase Happy mentioned was funny, but Peter wasn't looking for something especially funny, even though he knew how much Mr. Stark liked jokes. However, maybe he could change it a little and then...

His thoughts in the back seat were interrupted by Mr. Rhodes's loud laugh. He looked up just to see the man with his attention on the cellphone in his hand.

“What? What is it?” Happy asked, his eyes fixed on the road as he drove.

“Remember the photos we took in May for Tony's birthday? The photographer just sent me one she discarded from the album.”

In May of that same year, Mr. Stark had organized a dinner at a super fancy restaurant and decided they would take photos to make an album. At the time, Peter didn't quite understand where that decision came from, but he knew that Mr. Stark was a bit extravagant at times, besides, why not? When you're a billionaire, an improvised photo shoot was nothing. Now that Peter thought about it, maybe it was a way to alleviate the pain of spending his first birthday since the Avengers' separation.

“It's so funny,” Mr. Rhodes laughed out loud before showing it to Happy.

“I can't see, I'm driving,” the man complained.

But Peter could see it without a problem. It was them, Mr. Stark's inner circle (and May, because Mr. Stark had said he couldn't take Peter to such a fancy restaurant and not bring his favorite aunt with him), arranged in the aligned chairs where the photos had been taken, but the only one looking at the camera was Peter, with a grin from ear to ear. The rest were distracted, arguing, with Ms. Potts frowning at Mr. Stark and him with his hunched shoulders. Happy was rolling his eyes, Mr. Rhodes was laughing at the scene, and May was adjusting Peter's tie.

It felt close, warm. Intimate .

Peter gasped loudly.

“That's it!”

The car destabilized a bit from his shout, which made Happy let out a huge groan before glaring at Peter in the rearview mirror.

“What the hell? Why are you shouting like that? I'm driving, for God's sake!”

“Happy, it's that, the photo!”

“What?”

Mr. Rhodes blinked several times, looking between Peter and the photo on his phone. A wide smile spread across Peter's face before he let out a laugh that was a mix of relief and nervousness.

“Mr. Rhodes, can you send me that photo? I think I have like, the perfect cake idea.”

(...)

After returning to his apartment with a bunch of blue popsicles in hand, Peter ran to his room and pulled his notebook from his backpack so fast that the rest of his stuff fell to the floor. Although he complained under his breath, he decided he would fix it later. He sat at his desk, took out his pencil, and started to sketch. His drawings weren't the best, but they had to be somewhat understandable. The idea in his head was so clear that he felt that if he didn't do something at that moment, it would be gone forever. He definitely couldn't let that happen. He jotted down several ideas, and when something finally convinced him, he closed the notebook.

“I'm a genius .”

It was still pretty early, so he went on patrol for the rest of the afternoon. That helped him get his mind off the cake for the next few hours; instead, he helped two lost old ladies, five cats in trees, and stopped four attempted robberies. When the sun started to set around seven in the evening, he took a moment to rest on the rooftop of one of New York's tallest buildings. He took off his mask, and the recent autumnal cold hit his face, but it didn't bother him, not when the rest of his body was covered.

“I almost have it,” he whispered to himself and smiled. “I just had to rack my brain a little.”

It had been more than a little, but whatever. That night he slept like a baby, and the next day, the first thing he did when he got to class was walk over to MJ and drop into the chair next to her. The girl raised an eyebrow when she saw him.

“I need your help,” Peter said as he sat up straight in his seat. “It's like, really important.”

“Depends on your definition of really important, loser.”

“These last few days I've been working tirelessly on the planning for Mr. Stark's cake because oh, remember what we were talking about at lunch the other day? The private-surprise party?”

“Of course, how could I forget?” She smiled, but it seemed more sarcastic than anything. “So, did you decide which cake will you bring for your little big friend?”

“I did, actually,” Peter grinned widely, then took his backpack and pulled out the notebook. He handed it to her. “But I feel like you're the only one who can perfect the design. You might prefer to draw faces in sorrow, but I really need your help.”

MJ narrowed her eyes.

“Show me,” she said before reaching out and taking the notebook. She flipped through it for a moment before finding the right page. “Wow, this is…”

“It's good , right?”

“It's good to know you'd rather fix old computers and help Tony Stark in his lab than do art. It's definitely not your thing,” she smirked before shrugging. “But I get the idea, I think I can do something with this.”

The first period was with Mr. Harrington, and Peter decided to pay attention, especially since he had been so distracted the past few days. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see MJ drawing in the notebook he had given her, and although he tried to steal a few glances, she covered it with her arm each time.

By lunchtime, since MJ had already closed the page, Peter was overflowing with excitement to see the finished design. He silently followed her to the cafeteria tables, and once they were sitting with their trays, she slapped the notebook down on the surface and slid it toward him.

“Done,” MJ said before biting into her apple.

Peter's fingers tingled as he reached for it and opened the notebook. He felt Ned's gaze over his shoulder, and they both looked at the finished design done by MJ. It was identical to Peter's idea, but much more understandable and improved, even a little too detailed. With this, the baker wouldn't have much trouble understanding the idea; plus, it was perfect, warm, intimate . He smiled widely and looked up at the girl, who was drinking from her juice box straw.

“Thanks, MJ. Really.”

She waved her hand and shrugged, but Peter noticed the corners of her mouth lift slightly, as well as the softness in her eyes.

“Dude, this is so cool!” Ned exclaimed as he took the notebook. “Is this the final design? It's incredible. I mean, okay, maybe it's not Iron Man, but Mr. Stark will definitely like it.”

“I hope he does,” he sighed. “I mean, I've done all this because I want him to like it.”

“Well, you've wasted your time, Parker,” MJ rested her elbow on the table and took a bite of her apple. “Because Tony Stark will like any cake you give him.”

“But I want it to be special,” Peter frowned.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it.”

“Honestly, I feel like the color blue is super Tony Stark,” Ned continued. “Like, okay, red and gold are definitely his colors, but blue is too. They're like the Holy Trinity of Tony Stark; I mean, his holograms are blue, and so is the arc reactor…”

“Dude, that can't be because Spider-Man is blue and red,” Peter intervened.

“But Iron Man is Iron Man.”

“Are you throwing me under the bus for Iron Man?”

“Peter, you have to understand, you know I love you, but we're talking about something bigger here, and—”

“Please, you're giving me chills,” MJ rolled her eyes before sighing.

“Hey, this is important—”

“By the way,” she looked at Peter, who turned his attention back to her. “While I was looking at your very talented designs, I was thinking about something. If you're really planning on putting that on the cake, don't you think it could be a little dangerous? I'm talking about privacy and all that.”

Ned and Peter frowned at the same time, before looking at each other and then back at the girl, again, at the same moment.

“What do you mean?” Peter asked.

“I mean that you are literally putting a private photo of Tony Stark with his closest people on a cake made by a bakery in New York. That's what I mean. What happens if they share it and post it somewhere? It doesn't have to be with bad intentions, but it can happen. And your face is literally in it,” she bit her apple. “I don't think it's very smart.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah, I guess you hadn't thought about that.”

Peter slammed his face on the table, which startled his friends and the rest of the people around. He buried his hands in his hair and clenched his fists over them before groaning audibly.

“I can't believe it, I'm an idiot!” He lifted his head, only to reveal his reddened forehead from the impact. “How could I have thought that would be a good idea? Of course, Mr. Stark wouldn't want me to put a private photo on a cake, even if the idea is so good. Of course, it's too risky to hand over that kind of content to a bakery in New York. We literally had that photo shoot, and everything was arranged so that none of those photos would come to light, and yet here I am, wanting to break that. Oh, but the idea was so good, and I was so close to having everything ready. Now I'm going to have to think of something else and keep suffering over this, unable to think of something good enough to make Mr. Stark happy and make him understand how much, much, very much I adore him, so I—”

“Shut up, loser.”

So Peter shut up and dropped his face onto the table again, only to groan once more, though this time it sounded more like a tantrum.

“I'm never going to be able to find the design I want!”

“Oh, Peter,” Ned seemed to want to cry along with him, patting his friend's shoulder and shaking his head.

“You guys are so dramatic,” MJ frowned. “You just need to talk to Pepper Potts, and that's it.”

Peter froze for a moment before looking up at her and frowning. He straightened up in his seat.

“What do you mean?”

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Ned raised an eyebrow.

“You said that Pepper Potts was the one who told you about Tony Stark's surprise party and asked for his cake. Well, you could go to her to ask for help with this idea. Do you have her number?”

“I do.”

“Call her,” she shrugged. “And tell her about this. In fact, you should do it anyway. It's better that she's informed about this kind of move. Tony Stark invests a lot in his legal and PR departments. I'm pretty sure Pepper Potts can give you enough help to make a cake with your face and everyone else's on it without the photo circulating all over Twitter or something.”

“Like, an NDA?”

“Exactly.”

“Oh my god, MJ, you're a genius .”

“That's me.”

Before lunchtime ended, Peter decided he had to talk to Ms. Potts as soon as possible. Even though the idea of calling her and interrupting her in something important (which was most likely, since Pepper Potts was a very busy woman) made him feel quite uncomfortable, to the point of not wanting to do it, he also knew it was better to address everything than just to let it be. Besides, Peter really liked the cake design he had come up with, especially after seeing MJ's perfected version, so he was willing to do whatever it took to move forward with it.

He devoured his lunch and left the cafeteria towards an empty hallway. Once there, he leaned against the wall and took out his cellphone to look for the right number. Once he had the contact open, he stared at the call icon for a few seconds and sighed before pressing it. He put it to his ear and waited.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hello! Hey, Ms. Potts, good morning, it's Peter Parker, I'm sorry to interrupt you.”

“Oh, Peter, don't worry about that. Is everything okay? Do you need something?”

“Actually, yes... It's about the cake, Ms. Potts.”

Chapter Text

This time, the kid didn't seem to be acting strange. In fact, his behavior was so normal that for a moment Tony thought everything that had happened over the past week had been imagined or something similar.

When Peter walked through the lab door that afternoon, Tony was on the lookout for any surprises or conversations that might end with talk of cakes. Instead, Peter came in smiling, dropped his backpack on the floor, and ran over to his mentor, asking if they could start working on the Iron Man suit right away. Although Tony had planned to do other things first, Peter's smile took priority at that moment.

They worked without a hitch, and Tony decided not to get too hung up on it when the kid started devouring a blue lollipop (He didn't know where it came from, but he assumed he'd bought it near or at school. Did schools even sell candy?). He kept his eyes fixed on his welding, while Peter worked on the other side of the suit, having learned enough to try something a bit more independently.

“And then she shared a photo of her face on Snapchat with a caption that said, 'I want to be your girlfriend, not your girlfriend's girlfriend.' A lot of people screenshotted it and shared it in the group, and they started saying a bunch of things to her. Ned says she exposed herself, even though we all already knew that Carlos was cheating on his girlfriend with Holly. It's like, the biggest gossip of the year,” Peter was rambling, sometimes a little muffled by the blue lollipop in his mouth. “MJ says it's part of a misogynistic culture where girls blame each other and the guy gets off scot-free.”

“How old did you say your classmates are?”

“We're 16, Mr. Stark, how can you forget that?” He frowned from his inverted position on the ceiling. He insisted it was easier to work that way instead of finding a ladder. It made Tony a little nervous that he was hanging from his webs so naturally. That's why he avoided watching the Baby Monitor unless something happened; the recordings always made his stomach clench. “It's the best moment of life, or so they say. I'm not so sure.”

“Well, at that age, you can squat without your knees hurting.”

“That's 'cause you're, like, super old, Mr. Stark.”

Peter was grinning, a playful, teasing smile. Tony counted it as a win, so he allowed himself to smile back, even though the kid was hanging upside down with his head pointed at the floor and a lollipop between his lips, which had already turned blue.

“Where did you get that?” Tony asked, going back to his welding. “I didn't know they sold lollipops at Midtown.”

“Oh, they don't.” He took the lollipop out of his mouth and looked at it. “They only give us lunch, milk, and juice, but no lollipops. There's a vending machine, but the cookies are all granola.”

“I'm glad. I don't think it's very healthy for you to be dyeing your guts every time you eat that.”

“I'm not!” He frowned and put the lollipop back in his mouth. “It's blue raspberry.”

“Well, blue raspberries don't actually exist.”

“But it's good. Want one?”

Tony's heart skipped a beat when Peter suddenly fell from the ceiling. He thought it was an accident until he saw him land on his feet and straighten up without a problem. Tony put a hand to his chest and exhaled, more audibly than he'd intended.

“Jesus Christ, I have a heart condition, you know that?”

Peter came up to his side and held out a blue raspberry lollipop, still in its wrapper. The kid smiled at him gently.

“Sorry. A lollipop?”

“You don't feel any remorse, do you?” He took the lollipop, even though he didn't plan to eat it. Not only was he not a fan of the flavor, but he also found it quite uncomfortable to have his teeth and tongue stained an intense blue. He loved the color blue, but not for his mouth and guts to be painted with it.

“Of course I do! Go on, eat it. It's very yummy.”

But Peter had those pleading eyes, and Tony didn't stand a chance. With a sigh, he unwrapped the lollipop, and after looking at it for a moment, put it in his mouth.

“I can feel it painting my intestines,” Tony said, rubbing his stomach.

Peter giggled, a very pleasant sound.

“No, you don't!”

“So where'd you get it, anyways?” He took the lollipop out of his mouth and looked at it for a moment. His tongue was probably already turning blue.

“Um…”

That got Tony's attention. He immediately turned to the kid and raised an eyebrow. When their eyes met, Peter decided the ceiling was far more interesting than looking his mentor in the face.

“The store?”

“Are you asking me?”

“No? No!”

“Kiddo, you're lying to me again.” Tony sighed heavily, just to see Peter bite his lower lip and turn away, towards the back of the Iron Man suit. Suspicious.

“I'm... I'm not lying. I bought it at a candy store near my apartment. I bought, uh, a few of this same kind because I really like them, didn't I tell you? They're good.”

“Well, if that's the case, you should have just told me that when I first asked. The fact that you hesitated so much makes me think you're lying and it complicates things a lot for me. You know I don't want to pressure you, but sometimes I really don't understand... Oh, no, don't make that face, Parker.”

The kid peered out from behind the Iron Man suit, widening his eyes and furrowing his brows. Tony liked to call it the “puppy-face,” but Peter got mad every time he said it, even though the kid still did it every now and then, which meant he understood the usefulness of that kind of move very well.

“I'm not even scolding you, don't look at me like that.” Tony said.

“But I'm telling you I'm not lying!”

“Well, you're acting like you are.”

“But I'm not .”

"Sure thing, but maybe your friend Ari the Baker has some comments on that,” he shrugged.

Peter audibly groaned before rolling his eyes. He shot a web to the ceiling to hang upside down again, making Tony's nerves spike once more.

“It was only once.” His voice sounded distant from behind the Iron Man suit. Now Tony couldn't see his face. “And Ari isn't even my friend.”

Tony laughed at that, and when he went to get back to working on the suit, he realized the lollipop was still in his hand. He gave it one last lick before making a face, putting the wrapper back on, and leaving it on the table. It definitely wasn't his style.

He tried to sneak a look at Peter, but it wasn't possible while he was hiding behind the suit, so he just sighed and decided to get back to his own work. That afternoon he had expected something unusual from the moment the kid had walked into the lab, but since everything seemed so normal, he briefly believed the habit of lying-for-no-reason had ended. The things Peter hid or lied about were so absurd that he didn't know if the kid was developing some kind of behavior around anything that exceeded 50 grams of sugar.

And who was he kidding, Tony felt hurt . After having Peter there three times a week for an entire year, he thought he had managed to create a bond strong enough for the kid to be able to trust him and tell him his problems, but everything that was happening made it clear to him that maybe that wasn't the case. However, he also couldn't push him, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew Peter; he knew he would just close off more, or get upset. Tony had already done what he could: make it clear that he was there for him in any situation, in his corner, as they liked to call it.

But it still hurt.

“Are you staying for dinner, kiddo?”

“Huh?”

“Pepper's making lasagna.” Tony swallowed, not wanting his recent thoughts to show in his tone. Despite his perfect public persona, it was always difficult around Peter. “And her iconic cranberry orange muffins.”

Peter tilted his head, which allowed Tony to see his face. There was interest in the kid's eyes.

“Is Ms. Potts having dinner with us?”

“Obviously, she's the chef today.”

Peter smiled.

“Sure, I'll be there!”

Tony guessed Peter must really like Pepper's lasagna, or her muffins, or her company. Even though Tony liked seeing Peter get along with his fiancée, not even that could calm the pressure in his chest.

(...)

Once it was seven in the evening, Mr. Stark said they should head up to the penthouse. When they arrived, they were greeted by the strong aroma of cheese and Italian herbs. Peter's steps quickened almost unconsciously as he made his way to the kitchen, where he found Ms. Potts dressed in a loose t-shirt with her hair down, giving her a much more relaxed look. She smiled when she saw him.

“Hey, Peter. How are you?”

“Hi, Ms. Potts!” He sniffed the air and moved closer to the lit oven. He peered through the hot glass, where the orange light revealed the baking dish inside. “This smells so good. Aunt May made lasagna a few times, but it always tasted a little bitter.”

“That's because the lasagna was burnt, kid.” Mr. Stark walked into the kitchen and offered a gentle smile to his fiancée. He walked up to her and gave her a quick kiss, which made Peter decide to look away instantly. “Hey, babe.”

“Did you check the documents I sent you?”

Mr. Stark grimaced and snapped his fingers.

“I was just about to. I even had the email open and everything.”

“You didn't even realize I sent them, did you?” Ms. Potts deadpanned.

“Anyways, wow, it smells delicious in here. I was hoping for muffins, but I don't see them anywhere.”

Peter looked up when he heard that.

“I want muffins,” he said.

“Dessert comes later, Pete.”

They set the table, and once the lasagna was ready, it was placed in the center and they sat down to eat. During the half-hour they spent on dinner, Peter found himself feeling quite relaxed and at one point he found it pretty funny to think that, of the three people at that table, one of them had a surprise party waiting for him and two of the organizers were sitting right across from him.

Now with the cake design done and exactly one week until the party, Peter just had to order the cake and his job would be finished. Well, relatively, because they still had to make sure everything went well on Friday, something he hadn't fully discussed with Ms. Potts. How would they decorate and set everything up without Mr. Stark noticing? If he noticed anything strange, he could ask FRIDAY, and Peter wasn't sure if the AI could keep a secret. That made him a little nervous; he really wanted things to go well.

For now, the only thing he could do was eat his lasagna with a little happy dance, which brought several smiles from the two adults. He noticed they shared the same look, the one Mr. Stark sometimes gave him.

After his fourth serving, he decided it was time for dessert.

“The lasagna was delicious, thank you so much, Ms. Potts.”

“You're welcome, Peter. I'm so glad you liked it,” she laughed.

“Mr. Stark, can I have a muffin now, please?”

“Well,” The man seemed to think for a few seconds before squinting and smiling. Peter knew instantly that he was about to say something not so cool. “First we have to wash the dishes.”

“What? But it's dessert.”

“Don't you want to eat muffins while we have hot chocolate in the living room? They taste way better that way.” He stood up and started collecting the plates, so Peter decided to do the same. “Don't give me puppy eyes; I've made my decision. Chop chop, Happy will be taking you home soon.”

On Fridays, he usually stayed later than usual since May had long shifts at the hospital and Mr. Stark didn't like him eating dinner alone. Sometimes he even spent the night, which made everything more fun. It was a mix of a lab day and a sleepover, and for Peter, nothing was more fun. However, he couldn't this time because he planned on going to the bakery first thing in the morning. Well, not first thing, but early.

“Tony, can you go get some blankets for the couches? Peter and I will take care of the dishes,” Ms. Potts said completely naturally, but the fact that they'd be alone made Peter catch her intentions. Once Mr. Stark disappeared down the hall, she looked at him. “A legal representative from Stark Industries will be waiting for you in front of the bakery. Did you say it was called Ari's Bakery?”

Peter nodded.

“Sophia Martinez is her name, she'll bring the NDA and explain to the baker everything they need to sort out regarding that, and she'll also answer any questions they might have,” Ms. Potts continued. “All you have to do is bring the idea and the cake design, and the rest will go smoothly, okay?”

Peter nodded again, this time more frantically.

Ms. Potts smiled at him and started washing the dishes, just as she'd said she would. As Peter began to dry with a cloth, he noticed her sigh, a bit shakily.

“Are you nervous about all this, Ms. Potts? With the surprise party?”

“Well,” she said, engrossed in her task, “Tony is smart about some things but not so much about others. He might not even suspect a surprise party, but I'm sure he's already started to notice strange things, whether in you, me, Happy, or Rhodey, because he's a person who worries a lot. All I want is for him to have a good day, for this to be something that helps him feel better.”

Peter felt a pang in his chest at that. He looked down at the plates he was drying, and his resolve to make that day special returned with force. It was definitely a way to repay Mr. Stark for all the good he had done for him. Despite being hurt, heartbroken, betrayed, or lost, he still let Peter into his life.

Peter was a little startled to feel something cold on his cheek, and when he looked up, he realized it was Ms. Potts' hand, stroking him affectionately with her thumb. She had a gentle look on her face, and this time it reminded him of May.

“And with you here, I'm sure everything will be better.”

Peter felt a little shy, so all he did was smile back at her.

Then a thought came to his mind.

“Ms. Potts,” he began, “I was wondering, on Friday when we have to decorate everything and surprise Mr. Stark, how are we going to do it without him noticing? I mean, putting up the decorations and getting the cake set up. What if he asks FRIDAY? Or what if he comes to the penthouse early? Besides, that day is lab-day, and I have school in the morning.”

“Well, Pete,” she said, returning to the dishes with a smile. “I leveraged the power I have and booked his entire morning with all the important things he’s been procrastinating for weeks. So while you're at school, he’ll be at Stark Industries, fulfilling his duties as owner of the company. In the meantime, Rhodey and Happy will be here, getting a head start on the decorations. I considered leaving it all to them, but I'm not sure they’d do a good job…”

Peter laughed and continued drying the plates.

“So I’ll leave with Tony in the morning so he doesn’t suspect anything weird, but once we split up, I’ll get back to the penthouse as quickly as possible and help Happy and Rhodey decorate. Now, I doubt my ‘as quickly as possible’ will be as early as we need. So by the time Tony finishes his duties and you get out of school… we most likely won't be done yet. Plus, Happy has to go pick you up. And I don’t know how early Rhodey will be here because he has to help his mom with the food and bring it over.”

Peter swallowed.

“So?”

“So… when Happy gets back here with you, and since it’s lab-day, you'll have to keep Tony downstairs until we're done decorating,” she looked at him, a genuine smile reaching her eyes. “You can’t let him set foot in the penthouse until I say so, okay?”

Peter was silent for a moment as he processed her words.

“What?!”

(...)

“What?!”

Tony jolted at the sound of Peter's shout from the kitchen. He couldn't see anything because of the blankets in his arms, but couldn't help the jolt of fear. He quickened his pace to get there as fast as possible. Had something happened? Were Peter and Pepper in danger? It couldn't be; the penthouse was the safest place in the entire Stark Tower, with reinforced walls and bulletproof windows…

“Ms. Potts, there’s no way I can do that, I get nervous and…” Peter’s voice trailed off a little, as if he’d just realized something. “And… I think a cranberry orange muffin might help with that, uh, can we eat now?”

Tony decided to drop the blankets and run the rest of the way to the kitchen, only to find Pepper taking the muffins out of a glass dish with Peter standing happily beside her, soaking in the scent. Tony let out the breath he’d been holding and rubbed his temple.

“Why did you throw the blankets?” Pepper raised an eyebrow at him, a soft smile on her face. “Let's take these to the coffee table. Can you help me, Peter?”

The boy immediately nodded and took all the muffins at once. The perfect balance he maintained on the walk from the kitchen to the living room gave Tony a sense of déjà vu, reminding him of a time with six slices of cake. He was just as on alert, with his arms extended in case a wrong step made Peter—and the muffins—fall. Once he saw him place them on the coffee table in the living room, Tony approached Pepper.

“What was that? Why did Peter scream like that?” He tried to keep the worry from being too obvious in his voice, but he knew he failed when Pepper's gaze softened and a cool hand caressed the side of his face.

“It was nothing. I just told him the muffins were glazed and some of them had cranberry filling.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

Pepper looked completely honest. She wasn’t meeting his eyes, not because she had something to hide, but precisely because she had nothing to hide. It was typical in their relationship—not knowing whether she was lying or not. One of Pepper Potts’s classic moves, and while Tony found it attractive, sometimes it was mostly a reminder that even though he was supposed to be the genius, he wasn’t always.

“It looks like someone stabbed this muffin, Mr. Stark!” Peter had both hands covered in filling, which was oozing between his fingers in a messy way. It was a cute-but-creepy image. That shade of red on the boy's hands wasn't exactly his favorite. “Like, its insides are on the outside.”

“Pete, it's not Halloween yet,” Tony sighed as he grabbed a towel from the counter and walked over to the living room. “Let's save these sights for the trick-or-treat night.”

“But it's almost Halloween!” He held out his hands to the man as Tony took them with the towel. “We should have another party, with pumpkin decorations, spiderwebs hanging from the ceiling and everything.”

“Another one?” Tony laughed and continued cleaning the boy's hands without looking at his face. “But we didn't have one last year.”

Peter went completely still, so Tony looked up. He was met with the boy’s wide eyes, panic in them. It was similar to when he had missed his patrol curfew or when something had happened at school that he didn’t want Tony to find out about. A secret, a lie .

“You're right, Peter,” Pepper arrived almost immediately with a tray holding three mugs, two coffees, and a hot chocolate. “We should enjoy Halloween with a party just like this one. But with more people and more desserts. How about some cinnamon rolls? Or caramel apples?”

“Oh, y-yeah, Ms. Potts,” Peter laughed nervously before swallowing and taking the towel from Tony, so he could clean up on his own. “That would be delicious.”

“What was that?” Tony said, his brow furrowed.

“What was what?” Peter and Pepper said in unison.

Tony narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, not understanding why his fiancée and the kid seemed to know something he didn't, or how that was even possible. Peter looked nervous; he’d recognize it from kilometers away, with the constant fidgeting of his fingers, his eyes that couldn't seem to find a fixed spot, and his poor lower lip that had been through a lot lately. But Pepper looked calm, relaxed, in her natural habitat, placing the mugs on the table without a single worry. It was weird, so weird, but then again, what hadn't been weird these past few days?

Tony sighed.

“Whatever. Let's eat these muffins and drink that coffee, because I really need it.” said Tony, as he walked over to pick up the blankets from the floor.

They settled on the couch, Tony in the middle, Peter to his right, and Pepper to his left. He didn't always have them both together, much less comfortably lounging on the sofa, but it was really nice to know they were both there, at his side, safe and sound.

Pepper and Tony each took one muffin, while Peter took two for himself. They covered themselves with several blankets and asked FRIDAY to put "You've Got Mail" on the big screen. As the movie played and they got lost in it, Tony decided not to comment on the way Peter dunked his muffin in the hot chocolate. The kid looked so happy that he couldn't help but smile at the sight. Even though the drink would probably be full of unpleasant crumbs at the bottom, it wasn't his chocolate, so he kept his opinion to himself.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Peter looked up when he heard him, and when their eyes met, his smile widened. Tony reached out a hand to the boy to push away some of the bangs that were blocking his eyes.

“Why don't you stay the night, huh? May has a long shift today and won't be back until sunrise, right? Plus, she needs to sleep to get her energy back, and if you stay here, we can have a sleepover and hang out in the lab tomorrow morning. What do you think?”

Peter's eyes lit up at the suggestion, just like they always did when Tony offered him a sleepover. It was something they had done many times before, but it never stopped feeling special because it was always fun. Having the kid around on a Saturday morning, where they could eat waffles and joke about cereal while watching TV, was one of the things he enjoyed most, and if other people joined them, like Pepper or Rhodey, it was even better.

The truth was, while Tony had gotten used to being alone most of the time, whether for work or by choice (his unhealthy habit of getting lost in the lab was proof of that), that loneliness had started to feel louder since the Avengers broke up. It was uncomfortable, like a constant reminder of what had happened and what was left behind—broken, incomplete. Still, Tony didn't like to think of Peter as someone who came into his life to fill that void. No, he was more like a gift at a less-than-fortunate time. A presence that wasn't always quiet, but was always welcome. And Tony knew that just like him, Peter enjoyed their time together.

That's why he couldn't help but be taken aback when the light in Peter's eyes faded in an instant.

“Uh, sorry, Mr. Stark,” he said, lowering his head and avoiding eye contact. Tony's fingers froze into the boy's hair. “I, um, I have... I have homework. I can't stay. I'm gonna use my whole Saturday to do this super important project we have with Ms. Warren. It's worth almost half the grade, so…”

“But,” Tony's hand dropped. Something tightened in his chest; he didn't know if it was pain, worry, or the distance he felt hearing those words. Probably all of them. “But you don't have to be at your apartment for that, do you? You can do it here, in the penthouse. In fact, I can help you. What's it about? If you tell me, then…”

“No,” Peter shook his head several times. The muffin and hot chocolate were forgotten in his lap. “I have to be at the apartment, but... But if you want, I can stay next Friday, Mr. Stark. And then we can go to the lab and have fun. Just not today.”

Why?

“Oh, yes,” he heard Pepper's voice from his other side. “And that way I'll have time to prepare this new pumpkin pie recipe for you. Would you like that, Pete?”

Peter looked up to meet Pepper's eyes and gave a soft smile before nodding.

“Yes, Ms. Potts. That sounds delicious, thank you very much.”

Why?

It was a pain that rose from his chest to his throat, an uncomfortable pressure that squeezed him tighter with every passing second. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts, searching for a reason, an explanation. Did it have to do with the lies Peter had been telling? The thoughts he had in the lab hours earlier came back with overwhelming force. He could no longer distinguish the sound of the movie or the taste of the coffee.

“Mr. Stark.”

Peter must have perceived, heard, or sensed the sharp pain in his chest (with his super senses, it was hard to know for sure), because now he was looking at him again. His brows were furrowed and his eyes were wide, a bit like that puppy-dog look he sometimes gave, but filled with concern. Tony watched him press his lips together and set his desserts on the table before lunging forward and hugging him from the side. He felt Peter’s face against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I promise I’ll stay next Friday, Mr. Stark,” the tremor in his voice brought Tony back to his senses. “It’s just… it’s important, y’know? You might not understand right now, but I swear…”

Tony closed his eyes for a moment before managing to free his arm to wrap it around Peter. He pulled him close and buried his hand in the boy’s hair before letting out a shaky sigh.

“It’s okay, bud,” Tony said. “I get it. I’m sorry for making you apologize for this. You can’t always stay, and that’s something I need to learn, too.”

Peter lifted his face just enough for them to make eye contact. His eyes were shiny, full of guilt. Tony didn't know if it was just about him turning down the sleepover, because that look and Pepper’s silent, comforting caresses on his other hand made him suspect there was something more.

“I’m not mad at you, Mr. Stark. I’m really serious.”

It was that determined look again, and it was enough to make Tony smile and ease some of the weight in his chest.

“I know,” he said, ruffling Peter’s hair and pulling him closer to tighten the hug. “I guess I just really like having you here with me.”

Peter didn't answer this time. He just leaned into the hug, so Tony wrapped his other arm around Pepper as well, and the three of them stayed there, huddled under the blankets for a while longer.

Later, when Happy arrived, Peter grabbed some lasagna and a muffin for May before smiling at Tony and heading back to his apartment.