Chapter Text
When Peter first brought the permission slip home, Aunt May laughed herself silly before signing her name on the line at the bottom of the page with an unnecessary amount of flourish.
“May,” Peter whined.
“No,” Aunt May said sternly, but with laughter in her voice. “You are going.”
“But May,” Peter objected, “I’m already there every other day. It’s not like I need a tour of the building. I practically live at the tower.”
Aunt May pressed her lips together, and Peter flicked his eyes away. He felt guilty all the time, people he didn’t save, times he’d disappointed Mr. Stark, but the thing he always felt the most guilt over was lying to Aunt May about being Spiderman, and refusing, even after she caught him in the suit and rained hell down on him, to give up his vigilante activities. At the very end of her rope, she’d made him promise that he’d let Tony take care of him, and she bullied Tony into letting him actually fulfill regular intern-related tasks (her way of forcing him to keep up with his academics) along with watching over him when he went out on patrol. But in the long run, that meant he almost spent more time with Mr. Stark, in the lab, and in the suit, than he saw Aunt May, or was home at all. He still slept at home, had breakfast with May when he could, but after school almost every day he was either on the streets, Spiderman-ing about, or in Mr. Stark (“Please, for god’s sake, kid, call me Tony”)’s lab.
[He made sure he still had dinner three nights a week with Aunt May, and if one of her days off fell on a weekend, he took the day off from Spidermaning and from Tony’s lab, because no matter what, he didn’t want to lose her too, but sometimes Peter thought that maybe, for Aunt May, that wasn’t enough. Not that she’d ever say so out loud.]
But May was full-on grinning at him now, and refused to relent.
“No,” she said cheerfully, “it’ll be good to go with your class. Who knows, maybe the public tour will have some information you haven't yet gleaned from the great Tony Stark,” and yeah, there it was. She hadn’t quite forgiven Tony for helping Peter hide his Spider-activities from her. “Plus, you wouldn’t want Ned and Michelle to have fun at SI without you, would you?”
Peter thought maybe he wouldn’t mind missing out on shenanigans with Ned, or bantering with MJ (“My friends call me MJ”), if it meant he didn’t have to deal with Flash being an ass to him in his place of work. Place of internship. Ever since Ned had dropped the ‘Peter interns at Stark Industries’ bombshell in the middle of class (well-meaning, but with poor results), Flash wouldn’t let it go, claiming Peter was lying about the internship and knowing Spiderman and, honestly, anything else he could get away with. And sometimes Peter felt that half the class believed Flash over him, if they cared at all, and really, honestly, Peter didn’t want to have to deal with that.
Peter knew his internship at Stark Industries was real (both his internship and his ‘internship’), and Ned knew, and so did MJ, so it shouldn’t matter what Flash thought, or what he said loudly, or what he kind of probably convinced the rest of Peter’s classmates was true about Peter. It shouldn’t matter. But it kind of did. And honestly, Peter could deal with it at school, with Ned and MJ by his side, ready to support him and stick up for him, but he didn’t want to infect SI with Flash’s unique brand of negativity.
But there was no way Flash wouldn’t go, and it looked like Aunt May wasn’t going to let Peter not go, so…
Where Peter stood now, he was pretty sure he was going to have to go with his classmates, including Flash-the-asshole, to take a day-long tour of Stark Industries, aka Stark Tower, aka Avengers Tower (sometimes), aka, the place Peter spent most of his free time.
Yay.
Great.
Wonderful.
The only saving grace was that he had about a month before the actual field trip, so maybe in that time he might get sick, or die, and wouldn’t have to go to the Field Trip after all.
With his luck, though, it seemed unlikely.
X
Sometimes it felt like the only place Peter really felt relaxed anymore was in Mr Stark’s lab, tinkering on something with the man while chattering thoughtlessly with him. It probably should be a little stressful, right? Like, he should be worried about messing something up and disappointing Tony, and honestly he was, a little, but Tony seemed to almost enjoy when Peter made mistakes, used them as learning opportunities (who knew billionaire, genius, philanthropist, Tony Stark would make such a good teacher?), and was always kind, out-going, and never patronized Peter. At least not where science and tech were involved.
Peter stressed at school, about homework and classes and grades and keeping his dual identities a secret and disappointing the decathlon team time after time, and he stressed while patrolling the streets in his Spidey suit, stressed about not saving everyone, not being good enough, not trying hard enough, and he stressed at home, wanting to make May happy, wanting to keep up with everything, wanting to keep from disappointing his schoolmates and his friends and his family. But here, here in Tony’s lab in the Tower, here, in the private Stark-and-co exclusive areas of Stark Industries, Peter could let himself focus on just working, just helping Tony fix up his suit or Peter’s suit, or tinker with one of a thousand little projects Tony always seemed to have laying around. He could shut off everything else and just work, with Tony making snide small talk in the background and asking Peter about the mundane things in his life, and he could just listen to Tony chatter about Pepper and Steve and Rhodey and Sam and all the other Avengers, who he always talked about using their first names, and only ever mentioned in relation to mundane, non-hero activities. It was always, “Clint set the toaster on fire again,” and “Vision is thinking about joining a book club” and never “The Winter Soldier punched a mad Killer Robot with his mad killer arm.”
Which was cute. Not that he’d ever tell the man he considered any part of him cute, but, well, it was. Cute and domestic.
“So how was school?” Tony asked as he spun a holographic blue and white blueprint for one of the Black Widow’s Bites around on in the air. Peter sat at a work bench to the side of Tony’s lab, and fiddled with a design for an upgrade to his Spidey suit on his own holo table. His table was much smaller than Tony’s, but that meant it was the size of a foosball table and not a small swimming pool, which still felt awfully huge. At some point someone with a label maker had made a label for Peter’s work bench and his table. The side of the bench had a strip-thin sticker that said, “Underoos and his Tools, Property of SI&ParkerInc,” and the table said, “The Kid’s until further notice.” Peter could never decide who he thought the culprit was, Tony or Dum-E, but he secretly loved it.
“Peter,” Tony said, getting Peter’s attention, and he looked over to find Tony watching him. “Is your head up in space? I don’t pay you to get lost in thought. What, you hungry or something? I was gonna order Thai later but I can order it in right now if your stomach’s distracting you.”
Peter blinked at him. “You don’t pay me at all, Mr. Stark.”
Tony stuck a hand in one of the pockets of his grease-stained jeans, rustled around, stuck the other hand in the other pocket, pulled out a crumpled bill, and lobbed it at Peter. It was just paper so it didn’t make it very far, but Peter was wearing his web-shooters and caught it out of the air with a thwip before pulling it towards himself.
It was a hundred dollar bill.
“There,” Tony said, “your first, and only, paycheck. You’ll be getting nothing more from me since I refuse to pay layabout interns.”
Peter looked at the face of Benjamin Franklin, judgmental in green, gaped at it, and said, “Mr. Stark! I couldn’t possibly! This is too much—”
Tony waved him away. “If I hadn’t given it to you it would have gone through the wash, never to be seen again. Take it or burn it, up to you.”
Peter ran the wrinkled bill along the sharp edge of his table, trying to straighten it out at least a little, and then casually tucked it away in his pocket. He’d sneak it into May’s grocery fund at some point when she wasn’t looking.
“Now,” Tony said, “O’ Intern o’ Mine.”
“I heard those capital letters,” Peter said. “Don’t you dare make that my official title.”
“FRIDAY?” Tony asked.
“Already done, Boss,” FRIDAY lilted from the ceiling. “Peter Parker, newly designated: O’ Intern o’ Mine.”
“Fri!” Peter whined. “I thought you were on my side.”
“You’re adorable,” FRIDAY said.
“Thanks,” Peter said, being purposefully petulant.
Tony laughed at him. “You get Karen,” Tony said, “isn’t one AI enough? And,” he said with emphasis, “I think you’re avoiding my question.”
Peter rewound the conversation in his head. Right. How was school?
“I’m not avoiding it,” Peter said, and then did not answer the question.
Tony rolled his eyes. “C’mon kid. It can’t be that bad, can it? It’s just High School. And it’s a science one to boot. At least you’re not with plebs.”
“It’s not really school,” Peter said, “it’s just that, ok, you have to promise not to laugh at me.”
Tony held up three fingers in the Girl Scout Salute. “I cross my heart.”
Peter sighed. “Ok, so, they just announced what our Senior Trip is going to be, and,” he averted his eyes before figuring that delaying seeing Tony’s expression wasn’t actually going to make it not happen, and focusing back on the man, “it’s here.”
Tony blinked at him, three fingers still raised in the air. “Here? Here-here? As in—”
“Stark Industries,” Peter confirmed. “This Tower that I come to multiple times a week. Yes. My much looked forward to senior trip is going to be to my place of work. Place of Internship,” he corrected and then grimaced.
Tony looked absolutely delighted and guffawed loudly.
“You promised you wouldn’t laugh,” Peter accused.
Tony didn’t respond except to keep laughing.
“May did this too,” Peter said. “She just laughed at me. While she was signing my permission slip.”
“As if you need a permission slip to get into the building,” Tony said, voice tight with suppressed laughter. He bit his lip, face pink from laughing.
Peter frowned at him. “Don’t stop on my account. You look like you’re fit to explode.”
Tony didn’t even wait a full second before breaking out in laughter again, bent forward hands on his knees.
“Thanks,” Peter said drily. “You’re a big help.”
Tony shrugged, unrepentant, and once more pulled himself together, making his breaths long and even. Peter watched as his face returned to its normal shade. “Sorry, kid. I just—I think that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard since I found out Clint’s been pronouncing espresso wrong.”
“I guess being compared to Hawkeye isn’t the worst thing,” Peter said.
“It’s pretty close,” Tony said with a smirk. “And anyway, if you don’t want to go so bad, why don’t you beg off? Spend the day doing something fun. Like working in the lab here.” He snickered into his palm, as if his hand could hide his mirth.
Peter rolled his eyes. “I actually would prefer that, but May isn’t letting me skip. Something about me regretting later Ned and MJ having fun without me.” He shrugged.
“It’ll be fun,” Tony said with confidence. “Our tours are famous for being fun as fu—as fun.”
“You can curse around me,” Peter said, “I’m seventeen. I’m not a child.”
“Mmm hmm,” Tony said. “Sure. But would May like it?”
Peter threw his hands up. “She knows I know curse words!”
Tony examined him and then shrugged carelessly. “Ok. If you say so. SI’s tours are infamous for being fun as fuck. I’d say I designed those too, but tours and people and babysitting aren’t really my thing. Pepper had a pretty big hand in it though, back when she wasn’t yet a CEO and too important for such things. And you trust Pepper, don’t you, Sport?”
“Only if you never call me ‘Sport’ again.”
And it was true. Peter did like Pepper. He didn’t know her as well as he knew Tony, or Happy even, but he’d had dinner with her and Tony enough times that he knew she was kind and compassionate and trustworthy. And funny.
“Done deal,” Tony said. “Now, when is this Field trip of yours?”
“Four weeks from Friday, so I do have time to get deathly ill or whisked away to an alternate dimension before then.”
“If you think for one second I’m leaving you in another dimension just because you want to avoid touring the tower, you’d better think again.” Laughter was evident in his voice.
Peter waved his hand and purposefully turned back to the schematics of his suit. It definitely wasn’t up to Mr. Stark’s standards yet, but he had some ideas and he at least wanted to put them all down in writing (holo-writing?) before he handed anything over to the literal genius in the room.
“So anyway,” Peter said, after a few moments of fiddling with the schematics and getting no work done, mostly because he could still feel Mr. Stark’s eyes on him. “What were you saying about dinner?”
“Ah yes,” Tony said, allowing the subject to change, “food. I guess you are due for another caloric intake. Thai?”
“Thai sounds good,” Peter said, relieved, and when Tony ordered, Peter made sure FRIDAY ordered enough for Tony too. And Tony let him, because beneath the caustic exterior the man really was a softie.
X
“I don’t understand why you’re not more excited about this!” Ned whined as they walked down the crowded hall, moving between classes in the middle of the day. Ned bounced ahead so he could look back at Peter dramatically. “C’mon! This’ll be it! You’ll finally be able to show everyone how cool you are!”
“Peter’s already cool,” a dry voice said from ahead of Peter (and behind Ned, who was walking backwards so as to face Peter), and Ned squeaked and spun back around to see who Peter had already known was in front of them, leaning against a locker like she owned the place.
“Thanks, MJ,” Peter said, and thanked the gods when his voice didn’t crack.
“For a dork,” MJ said. “Sorry, that was a weird pause I put right in the middle of my sentence. I meant: Peter is cool for a dork.”
“Thanks, MJ,” Pete said again, voice much drier this time.
She smirked at him, “You’re welcome.”
Peter rolled his eyes and tucked both of his hands between his book bag straps and his torso. He wasn’t sure why it seemed like everyone he knew (except maybe Ned) was turning out to be so sarcastic. Though honestly, he didn’t know what he should have expected, since it was Mr. Stark, MJ, and May he was talking about.
But despite her superior grin, as they passed the locker she was leaning against, she slid in beside them amongst the rush of students.
“You’re excited, right, MJ?” Ned asked.
“Excited for what?”
“The Senior trip!” Ned exclaimed, as if that was the only thing he could have possibly been talking about. Which Peter was thoroughly disdainful about, but which objectively made sense. That was pretty much all the 12th Graders were talking about.
MJ shrugged. “It’ll be fun I guess. I’m always game to scope out a titan of capitalism. If I’m someday going to destroy the patriarchy and the US government and instill a socialist regime, I’ll need to know how these things work.” She shook her head, making her hair wave behind her. “Plus I think I’d actually die if I met Pepper Potts. She’s goals.”
“She really is,” Peter said. “And she makes these little tarts with like, raspberries or something inside of them? They’re to die for. She gave me the recipe, but May won’t let me back in the kitchen after the incident with the sulfuric acid.” He mimed an explosion with his hands.
It took a few moments of no one responding for Peter to turn and take in his friends’ expressions. MJ’s eyebrows were raised. Ned was gaping.
“You’ve met Pepper Potts,” MJ said, deadpan.
Peter winced. “Was that a secret? I’m pretty sure I told you about my internship.”
“Delivering coffee around the offices of Stark Industries is not the same as eating desserts made by The Pepper Potts. She’s a fucking icon, Parker.” She punched his shoulder and he winced away from it even though it didn’t hurt.
“I don’t deliver coffee?” Peter said, though it came out with a questioning lilt.
“Yeah,” Ned said, like any proud father would the first time their kid brings home straight A’s, “he works in the lab with Tony Stark himself!”
Too loud, that had been too loud. Peter hissed at Ned and Ned ducked his head bashfully, but the damage had been done.
“What was that?” Flash said, elbowing into the space he created between Peter and MJ. “Penis Parker’s lap dog is spreading more lies about the obviously fake internship at Stark Industries?” He gave Ned a fake-sympathetic smile. “You don’t have to believe everything Parker says, Leeds. Especially when he’s obviously so full of shit.”
Ned gaped at him. “Peter’s not a liar, Flash! He really does—”
Peter clamped down on Ned’s arm, effectively cutting him off. Turning to Flash, Peter said, “I don’t really care if you believe me or not, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d leave me and my friends alone.”
Flash shrugged in a ‘what can you do,’ sort of way and turned to MJ. “What about you, Jones? You have a soft spot for Parker too? You really believe that he got some uppity-up internship at Stark Industries? I mean, really?”
MJ shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I? Peter’s got a better track record for honesty than you do, Mr. I boast my GPA is 4.0 but I’m failing Spanish.”
Flash flushed. “Whatever,” he said, and muscled past them, knocking MJ awry a little and actually knocking Peter into the locker. (Ok, Peter let himself fall into the lockers for the dramatic sound of teenager-hitting-metal). “We’ll all find out how big a liar Peter really is during the field trip,” he said, loud enough to draw the attention of most of the surrounding students. “When we walk into Stark Industries and no one there recognizes him, we’ll see who’s laughing then. Stark’ll probably throw him out on his ass when he finds out the lies Parker’s been spreading!”
The mental image of Tony trying to pick him up and throw him anywhere was funny enough to lighten some of Peter’s mood.
“Ignore him,” MJ said, voice heavy with disgust. “He’s just jealous.”
“Of what?” Peter asked. He looked down at himself. There wasn’t much to be jealous of.
“How cool of a dork you are,” MJ said, smile tugging at her lips.
Peter rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but smile right back at her.
“Am I a cool dork too?” Ned asked, chest puffed out.
MJ turned her smile on him, ran her eyes up and down him, and he deflated a little at her terminator-gaze, but then she looked him in the eyes and said, “Duh,” which made Ned smile, which made Peter smile, and so they walked into Ms. Warren’s Physics II class, all three grinning ear-to-ear. And then with class starting, they never did get back to what Peter actually did in his internship, or the fact that he’d actually met and had a real life conversation with Pepper Potts. But Peter didn’t like to brag, so he was kind of ok with that.
X
Peter ended up at Stark Industries after school. He didn’t normally intern on Wednesdays, he’d been just here yesterday, but as much as he tried not to let Flash get to him, he couldn’t help but feel a little sharp around the edges after Flash’s display of assholery at school. Normally he’d don his Spider suit and go web around the city, stopping muggings and helping little old ladies cross the street, get the adrenaline out that way. But today he didn’t think that would do the trick. He wanted to be comforted—
Which, yes, that did sound like baby-ish thing to think, but it was true all the same.
And nowadays the place that held the most comfort was Tony’s lab. It was someplace he could be all of himself. He didn’t have to choose between being Peter and being Spiderman. Tony knew he was both. He never had to hide part of himself, and he never had to put on a strong front, and he could relax and let his mind work its own problems out, and let his hands stay busy. And he trusted that if something came up, if Spiderman, or Peter Parker, was needed anywhere in the city, FRIDAY would let him know.
May liked spa days where she could take a long bath and drink wine and catch up on her reading. Ned liked building legos. Peter liked going to Tony’s lab at the tower and creating things and bantering with the older man. It was relaxing.
This day he didn’t forewarn Tony that he’d be coming by. Maybe he should have, but Tony had told him he was welcome whenever, and Peter knew FRIDAY would let him in, whether he came by web or by foot.
He slipped on his suit long enough to web to the tower (the trip would be impossibly long or unfortunately expensive otherwise), but changed back in a nearby alley and took the last few blocks on foot. He could have swung in through a window, FRIDAY would have let him in, but he didn’t want Spiderman to be noticed going into the tower too often. So he entered the lobby on foot, which was something he hardly ever got to do.
When Happy picked him up, or when Tony himself did it (though that was far less often) they went straight from underground garage to elevator to lab, but Peter had entered via the lobby enough times that he wasn’t distracted by the tall ceiling and large expanse of windows, nor was he intimidated by the security guards or the business people, or the friendly but efficient-looking employees behind the front desk.
He paused for a moment, knowing he looked slightly out of place here, with his MSST sweatshirt and his backpack. He was nearly eighteen, but he knew he still looked like a kid, and here, among besuited people and folks in business casual, he didn’t exactly blend in. But there were enough tourists, and family and friends visiting employees, that no one really singled him out. He debated going up to the desk and asking for Mr Stark just to be dramatic. He didn’t need directions getting to the lab, but it might be fun asking this lady on the end with the serious face for Tony by name, and when she turned him down, saying, ‘I have an on-going appointment with him’ and making her call Tony up, and then seeing her face when Tony enthusiastically gave him permission to have free run of the place.
But that would just be having fun at someone else’s expense, by tricking someone, and it wasn’t really necessary. And he didn’t want to be a jerk, he’d never actually play a trick on someone like that for no reason, but for less than a second he could imagine people in the area, the stern-looking receptionist and other employees, looking at him in awe because they’d underestimated him!
He’d never actually do it.
He didn’t want the attention. But the fantasy, of everyone thinking for just a moment that he was somehow special, or important, lifted his spirits just enough that he smiled genuinely at the security guard as he approached the metal detector. The banks of elevators were on the other side of security, and from the elevators he could go to the lab and from there it was nothing but science for as long as he wanted! Or until May expected him home
Which sounded delightful.
“Bag in the bin,” the security guard said, a bored-looking blonde woman, as she rattled a plastic tub sitting on a conveyor belt. There were four different sets of metal detectors and Peter had chosen the one closest to him, but watching the blonde guard’s surly expression, he thought he might come to regret that decision. “Empty your pockets, and step through the gate,” she continued, still sounding bored, and Peter shrugged off his backpack and placed it in the bin gently, and then pulled his phone and keys and a crumpled piece of paper he was pretty sure was a Calculus test he’d gotten back last week (97%) from his pockets and dumped those in the bin as well.
The bins would then go through an x-ray, where another security guard was sitting and watching a screen for any suspicious materials, and then pop out the other side to be retrieved once Peter went through the person-sized metal detector.
She pushed his bin down the conveyor belt and into the X-ray, and then gestured him towards the gate. “Scan your badge before you step through,” she said, and then started her spiel with the person behind Peter, letting him approach on his own.
He didn’t have a badge. He’d never had a badge. Though he was technically an intern, on paper and everything, there were a lot of things he’d never gotten that he presumed actual interns, who interned in actual labs or wherever interns worked, did. Of course, he got a lot that they didn’t, like working with Tony Stark and knowing FRIDAY, and being allowed to order pizza whenever he wanted.
Maybe he should have asked Mr. Stark for a name badge like everyone else seemed to have, and which Happy seemed obsessed with half the time, but he hadn’t, because he’d never needed one before. FRIDAY knew him, and FRIDAY ran everything.
So, he trusted that FRIDAY wouldn’t let him down now, and stepped through the gate without scanning a badge at all.
A green light went off above his head, and he was in.
“Uh,” the guy behind the x-ray screen said, and Peter turned to him with a frown. He hadn’t predicted a problem on that end. There wasn’t actually anything dangerous-looking in his bag. The Spider suit should just look like a bundle of cloth, and then he just had his school supplies. There was nothing suspicious about pencils, notebooks, and textbooks.
Peter hesitantly moved around the end of the conveyor belt, where he should have retrieved his belongings, to look at the man’s screen. It was blacked out, with a large red ‘CLASSIFIED’ right in the middle.
“Oh,” Peter said. “Right.” Probably FRIDAY’s doing. Better safe than sorry and all that.
The bored-looking security guard came over, a frown on her face. A line was forming, Peter realized, in front of the gate, because Peter’s stuff was still under the x-ray.
“What’s the problem?” the bored one asked, looking significantly less bored now.
The x-ray reader pointed at his screen, and she looked at the screen, her eyebrows raised as she did so. And then they both, in eerie tandem, looked at Peter.
Peter gulped reflexively, and then shrugged. “I work here?”
The woman rolled her eyes, as if she wanted to say, ‘No duh,’ but held herself in check since she was a professional.
“Uh,” the x-ray man said again, and Peter looked again to see that the screen had changed. It now showed a picture of Peter’s face from a weird angle, as if someone had taken it from on high, and Peter realized that in the picture he was wearing the same sweatshirt he had on at the moment. It was a picture of him from seconds ago, probably from a security camera, probably via FRIDAY. This guess was supported by the fact that next to the photo were the words:
Peter Parker
Designation: O’ Intern O’ Mine
Peter turned his eyes to the closest camera and frowned into it. FRIDAY’s sense of humor was too much like her creator’s without any of his (admittedly sparse) common sense.
“Guh,” said the no-longer-bored security guard, consideringly.
They both stared at the screen a little longer, and Peter frowned harder, first at them, then at the screen with his not-so-flattering image on it, and then at the security camera again.
“Can I… go?” Peter asked awkwardly. As soon as he saw Tony he was going to insist the man change… well, everything that just happened so it wouldn’t happen again. A student, an intern no less, shouldn’t have items considered classified. Especially since he didn’t even have anything on him that could be classified. Except the Spidey suit, which wouldn’t come up as anything suspicious in the x-ray anyway. This was just a perfect example of FRIDAY’s (and therefore, Tony’s) paranoia causing more problems than it solved. Because now the no-longer-bored security guard and her x-ray companion were going to mention this to somebody, and it would get around that there was some rarely-seen, young intern who was already somehow working with CLASSIFIED materials.
It was reasons like this that he hadn’t approached the desk when he first entered the building.
“Uhhhh,” said the x-ray security guard, and he was elbowed in the side by the blonde.
She said, “Yes, of course, Sir,” and elbowed the x-ray guard until the man pushed Peter’s belongings through.
Peter winced and gathered his stuff up quickly. “Please don’t call me that,” he said awkwardly, and shoved this arms through the straps of his bag, and his phone and keys into his pockets, and then turned and fled to the elevators before they could respond, keeping his shoulders hunched as if that would cause him to disappear.
An elevator door opened as he approached, without him having to press any buttons, and he stepped into it. The doors slid closed behind him and the elevator started its upward ascent.
Peter let out a long sigh, and then turned his eyes once more to the closest camera, the only one in the elevator. “FRIDAY!” he whined. “That was so embarrassing.”
“Sorry, Peter,” FRIDAY said, her Irish tones sounding too loud in the small space. “However, Boss gave me explicit instructions to protect your secret, and you did choose to bring the suit with you today.”
Peter pouted.
FRIDAY did not seem in the least perturbed by Peter’s lack of response. She said, “Would you like me to alert Boss that you’re here?”
“Yes, please,” Peter said, because Aunt May and Uncle Ben had raised him to have manners. “Thank you.”
“No problem, Peter,” FRIDAY said warmly.
The elevator stopped, and Peter got off, walking with confidence towards Tony’s lab. The floor was quiet, which wasn’t surprising. It wasn’t like Tony Stark’s personal labs were the only labs on this floor, but at the time of day Peter usually visited, the other labs were often already empty, their scientists long gone for the day. But it seemed especially quiet today. He stepped into Tony’s lab, eyes scanning the room for any sign of life.
“Peter,” Tony’s voice said from somewhere not immediately recognizable.
Peter looked around again, but no, Tony wasn’t here. Of course, there were rooms attached to this one, and a low-lying couch that was out of sight from where Peter was standing, but he also didn’t hear any breathing, or any other small sounds a person makes just by existing in a place.
“Mr. Stark?” Peter asked, voice rising up at the end.
“Sorry, kid,” Tony said, “FRIDAY called me. You should have told me you were coming over today, I would have cleared my schedule!”
And Peter realized at that moment that Tony’s voice was coming through the same hidden speakers scattered around the entire Tower that FRIDAY used to seem omnipresent.
“You’re not here?” Peter asked, and then berated himself internally for asking such a dumb question. Of course Tony wasn’t here.
“Board Meeting,” Tony explained. “Or well, I was in one. I’m no longer the CEO, but I still own controlling stock, so I’m told that I have to show up at least half the time. But I figured they could handle themselves without me long enough for me to give you a quick call.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Peter said. “You could have just texted FRIDAY to tell me you weren’t here.”
“I like talking to you,” Tony said simply, and it warmed Peter a considerable amount. Just standing here, talking to Tony, even over the phone, was already making him feel loads better. “Plus, it was getting really boring in there. Everyone’s a stuffed shirt, I swear.” And then muffled, as if from a distance, someone shouted Tony’s name.
Peter laughed. “I’m glad I could distract you. I’m guessing the screaming of your name means you’ve got to return.”
Tony hummed, a verbal shrug.
Peter looked around himself. All the tables were off, and without the fluorescents and the blue-white of the holographic tables, the room seemed yellowed, and hazy, and dim. “I guess I’ll head out too?” Peter said, his statement turning up at the end, like it was a question.
“Why?” Tony asked bluntly. “You could still get some work without me there.”
Peter perked up. “Really?” he squeaked, cleared his throat, and tried not to squeak when he spoke again. He was almost eighteen, he should be able to control his voice by now. “You’d let me stick around without supervision?”
“Fri’s there,” Tony said, “but I’d trust you anyway.” The muffled scream of Tony’s name was much closer this time. “Anyway,” he said hurriedly, “I should get back to the meeting,” and slightly muffled, as if he’d turned his head away, “I’m coming!” Tony sighed, and then spoke back into the phone. “No projects—start something new. I wanna see what you can come up with by the next time I see you. Which, hey, I’ll definitely be around for.”
“What should I—?” Peter started, but Tony cut him off.
“Anything! No rules. See you Friday!”
“See you,” Peter said, feeling a little like he’d just stepped out of a whirlwind.
“Boss has returned to work,” FRIDAY said. And then the room lit up in its comforting whites and blues, both Peter’s and several of Tony’s holographic tables came to life. “Any idea where you’re going to start?”
Peter shrugged off his back pack and let it fall to the floor. “Something that’s gonna impress Mr. Stark.”
“I’m sure Boss will be pleased with whatever you make,” FRIDAY said.
Peter smiled at a camera. “Thanks, Fri. But I really do want to impress him.” He thought for a moment and then chuckled to himself. “FRIDAY, start a new project. Let’s call it Mini Me.”
And then Peter got down to designing a miniature, remote controllable Iron Man. The real challenge was not letting himself use any of Tony’s Iron Man schematics. Go big or go home, right? Or, well, this time it was go small or go home.
He’d gotten to the point where he was asking FRIDAY to fabricate pieces of the outer armor when he heard the door to the lab open, a thing that shouldn’t have happened unless it was being opened by Tony Stark himself, or someone Tony trusted enough to give all-access codes to.
“Tony!” an unfamiliar voice said, and Peter watched as a man, distracted by his cell phone, strolled casually into the room like he did it every day of his life. He was a black man, about the same height as Tony, but bald and serious-looking where Tony was quirky from his flippy hair to his goatee. “I wouldn’t have believed you were even working down here if I hadn’t seen the lights on, it’s so quiet! Where’s your ACDC? Huh? Where’s your ear drum-destroying levels of—you’re not Tony.” The man had finally looked up from the phone, and his voice had gone from soft and casual to hard and ice cold in a second. He slipped his phone back into his pocket dropped his arms hang loosely by his side, like he was readying himself for a fight, but didn’t want to advertise the fact.
“No,” Peter agreed. “I’m Mr. Stark’s Intern. He’s at a shareholders meeting right now.” Peter shrugged. “I don’t think he plans on being back anytime soon.”
The man blinked at Peter. “And he let you just have full run of his personal lab?” He voice dripped with disbelief, turned up to the nth degree.
FRIDAY’s voice crackled in the speaker, an AI version of a throat clearing. “Peter Parker has been given full access to every aspect of Boss’s lab, and most of the tower.”
“Huh,” the man said, and crossed his arms over his chest. He was wearing a leather jacket over a polo, and yet somehow still seemed intimidating. Not because Peter thought the man even had a chance in a fight against Peter, but because this was someone Tony obviously trusted, a friend even, and Peter wanted to make a good impression. “Peter Parker?” the man asked, and Peter nodded. “Tony’s talked about you,” the man said, his voice almost accusatory. “I thought interns were just supposed to deliver coffee and nag him into going to meetings. Isn’t that what most interns do? I didn’t realize you were close enough for him to be giving you unsupervised access to his lab.”
He raised an eyebrow at Peter, and even though less than an hour ago, Tony Stark himself had invited Peter to stay here, Peter now had the inexplicable feeling that he’d somehow done something terribly wrong.
“Different kind of intern,” Peter said instead of apologizing profusely and backing out of the room like he had half a mind to (it would have been more than half a mind if the man weren’t blocking the exit). “If Tony wanted someone to just get him coffee and nag him, Dum-E and U are right here.” Dum-E was sitting in a corner, waiting to be useful, and U was sulking because he’d dented the fender of one of Tony’s cars and was now wearing a dunce cap. “And FRIDAY,” Peter added.
“Thank you, Peter,” FRIDAY said warmly. “I do my best to provide Boss with what he needs.”
The man considered him for a minute before walking over with a hand outstretched. “James Rhodes,” he introduced himself, and Peter shook his hand, regulating his strength so it was neither like a damp sock, nor strong enough to break bones.
Peter squinted at the man. “Rhodes?” He asked. “Why does that sound so familiar? Oh! Oh, you’re—”
Rhodes raised his hands beside his head, palms facing Peter. “Ok, you caught me. I’m War Machine.”
Peter blinked at him, mouth open. “Oh,” he said, breathless. He was meeting an Avenger!
Ok, Tony was an Avenger, but this was different! He knew Tony. “I mean,” he said truthfully, eyes still saucers, “I was going to say you must be the Rhodey Mr. Stark is always talking about. He calls you Honeybear,” Peter said, knowing he tended to ramble a little when he was shocked, but unable to stop himself. “But, oh my god, you’re War Machine! God, duh! I’m such an idiot.” He slapped his forehead. “Colonel James Rhodes! I don’t know where my brain was. I’ve seen you on tv!”
Rhodes laughed at him, and the last of the tension dropped from his shoulders. “That’s right, kid. Honeybear and War Machine, all at once.”
“Man,” Peter said, his voice taking on a somewhat wistful tone. “You’re so cool.”
“Am I the first Avenger you’ve met in person? You’re kind of fan-boying.” Rhodes waggled his eyebrows, and suddenly Peter could see how this man and Tony Stark could be such good friends.
Peter rolled his eyes in response. “Good try, Mr. Rhodes. I work for Tony Stark. He is an Avenger, you know.”
“I can see why Tones keeps you around,” Rhodes said with a laugh, “and please, call me Rhodey.”
“Rhodey,” Peter tried, and then grinned. “Thanks! You can call me Peter. Which is my name. So, duh, of course you would call me that.”
Rhodes… Rhodey, let Peter’s awkward word vomit slide off with practiced ease, and instead nodded to the blueprint of the miniature Iron Man suit projected from the table. The image was spinning slowly, and was about a foot and a half tall, though the proportions were blown up so Peter could work on it easily. He was planning on the end product being able to fit in his pocket.
“Tony’s letting you work on his suit?” he asked in disbelief.
Peter looked at the schematics, and yeah, he could see how at first glance it might look like an actual suit. He wanted to mimic the suit perfectly on the outside, only on a much smaller scale. Of course, the wiring and circuitry on the inside would be much simpler than the real suit, and he wouldn’t have to make it hollow enough for a (tiny) person to sit inside of it. He wasn’t quite at the level of building a miniature arc reactor, let alone one small enough to fit in the Mini Me suit, so this one would probably end up being run on double A batteries.
“This isn’t one of Mr. Stark’s,” Peter said, “it’s one of mine.”
Rhodey’s eyes widened, and it came to Peter that if Rhodey didn’t take pride in coming off as unshakable, he’d be gaping at Peter as well. Peter frowned at him, confused, until what he’d said filtered back into his mind and he realized the misunderstanding.
“No,” Peter said, and waved his hands, a blush creeping up his face. “I don’t mean I’m building myself an Iron Man suit, or, that Tony is. He’d never put me in one of those.” He made an X with his forearms. “I just, I thought I’d make a little, remote controlled one for fun! It’ll be smaller when it’s done,” he held his palms apart by about six inches. “Mr. Stark said I could make whatever I wanted today, since he’s not here right now, so…” Peter shrugged.
Rhodey gazed at the Mini Me Iron Man, and Peter obligingly pinched at the hologram until it was the correct size.
“What’s it going to do?”
“Fly around,” Peter said, “I might program him with some of Iron Man’s moves. I haven’t finished deciding yet.” He shrugged. “And something else might come to me later. I’m just in the planning stages right now. And, well, FRIDAY’s fabricating parts of the outer shell of it at the moment.”
“You think you’re going to get it all done tonight?” Rhodey asked. He checked his watch. “It’s getting pretty late. Don’t you have someone waiting for you at home? Parents or someone? It’s not like Tony’s adopted you or something.” And then much less sure, he asked, “Right? I mean, I’m the guy’s best friend, he definitely would have told me if he adopted a kid, right?”
Peter laughed at him. “Yes. He would have told you. I’m just Mr. Stark’s intern.” Peter checked the time on his own watch, and was slightly surprised to find it was past 8. “Dang! I guess I won’t have time to finish it today. Hey, FRIDAY, if I finish this code—”
“I will complete fabrication and assembly after you leave,” FRIDAY said helpfully.
“Thanks,” Peter exclaimed, but now that he realized how much time had passed, he also realized how hungry he was. It had been hours since lunch. He checked his watch again. He wanted to stay and finish the coding, but Aunt May’s shift ended at nine, and she’d be home by nine-thirty, and he didn’t know if he’d have time to finish coding, and get home to make himself food before Aunt May arrived. He didn’t particularly want Aunt May to see that he’d forgotten to eat. Again.
She would be disappointed in him, and he didn’t want her to be disappointed in him.
“I still can’t believe Tony ‘I don’t like being handed things’ Stark would give you free reign of his lab, especially when he isn’t here,” Rhodey said contemplatively, though without any judgement or malice. “You’re not his secret son or anything right?”
Peter shook his head with feeling. “No! No, he’s just—He teaches me science things? And I’m a second pair of hands when he wants to work on an engine or—” (the Iron Man suit, the widow bites, trick arrows, new stealth tech, the Spidey suit, the web shooters) “anything.”
Rhodey narrowed his eyes at Peter. “Is he grooming you to take over stark industries?”
Peter let out a shocked bark of laughter. “No?” he said, though it lilted up at the end like a question. “Plus, wouldn’t it be Ms. Potts who’d make that decision?”
Rhodey shrugged.
Peter heard, thanks to his enhanced hearing, the opening of the elevator doors down the hall, and then the short clip clip that was familiar enough for Peter to say without thinking. “Oh, speak of the devil!”
Rhodey blinked at him. “I’m sorry, what are you—”
“Peter,” Pepper said cheerily as she walked through the door, and then seeing Rhodey, changed her course to give him a welcoming hug. “Rhodey! I didn’t know you were coming by tonight! If I had, I might even have let Tony leave the meeting early.”
“They’re still going?” Peter asked. “It’s nearly eight.”
Pepper shrugged. “Video conference with Hong Kong. The SI branch in Hong Kong, not the entire region.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Rhodey said. “And it’s not like late nights mean anything to the insomniac. I can wait.”
“Then maybe you can join us for dinner,” Pepper said.
“Dinner?” Peter asked eagerly. He tried not to overstay his welcome, but Tony had hammered it into his head that it was ok to stay for dinner whenever he wanted, or even ask for food or raid the common area’s kitchen. And Peter was eternally grateful. With his spider-enhanced metabolism, if he didn’t eat half his meals on Tony’s dime, he’d probably eat Aunt May out of house and home.
Pepper smiled at him knowingly. “Yes. I ordered enough Chinese to feed three Thors so I hope you’re hungry.”
Peter nodded emphatically, but then looked at his miniature Iron Man schematic with longing. He didn’t really want to abandon it in the middle. If he could just have a few more minutes…
“Why don't you finish what you’re doing,” Pepper said, gesturing to the hologram, “and when you’re done, you can join me and Rhodey upstairs, hmm? And you can tell me all about why you’re making a tiny Tony.”
“Thanks!” Peter exclaimed, and turned immediately back to the hologram, pulling the keyboard over with him, so he could code while he altered the schematics.
With half an ear he listened as Pepper started up a conversation with Rhodey, leading him out of the room, but most of his mind went into typing as fast as possible so he could go up and join them for dinner. Maybe he’d make it back home before May returned too. He was feeling lucky.