Chapter Text
It was early evening when they exited the plane, and the air was hot and chemical as they stepped down onto the tarmac. There was a limo waiting for them, and the driver opened the door with a slight bow. Peter shot Tony a look of discomfort and Tony just shrugged.
Thankfully the limo was heavily air conditioned against the Los Angeles heat. Inside were two takeout packages of empanadas from an Argentinian place several blocks from the landing strip. After the long trip, the buttery doughy scent with a smokey kick of cumin and paprika seemed like a godsend.
“Hope you don’t mind,” Tony said, handing Peter the Styrofoam case before tearing his open. “There will be food at the conference, but you didn’t strike me as a caviar kind of guy.” Tony bit into a doughy pouch, watching the steam rise from the meat inside. Peter could feel himself salivating at the sight. He’d been living off of hotdogs and breakfast pastries for far too long, and the scent of a fresh cooked meal was more than welcome.
“Oh man. What even are these?” Peter tore open his case, ripping the Styrofoam slightly in the process. The pouch was hot and greasy between his fingers and he brought it gratefully to his mouth. The first bite was fresh, flakey dough with a hint of the beef filling. Tony watched him devour the first and quickly move on to the second.
“You should say something if you’re hungry, Peter,” Tony laughed. “Here.” He passed Peter his second empanada, only half finished with his first. “They’re empanadas. Best in the states. Remind me when we get back that I should take you out more often.”
Tony had always taken a great deal of pleasure in gift giving. In fact, it had been a major point of contention between Pepper and himself during their relationship. Somehow he more often than not upset Pepper with his gifts. His intentions, good though they were, often overwhelmed people. Had it not been Peter’s birthday, and had Peter not been under his employment, Tony had no doubt that Peter would have rejected the phone outright. He made a quick mental note that Peter was easily won over with food, particularly street food. It was difficult to imagine the kid he’d seen in the lab tolerating a five star restaurant, so it was fortunate that the empanadas went over well before the upscale (okay he could admit it) snobbery of the conference. Tony also appreciated simpler things from time to time, but there was something to be said for the shock and awe factor of extravagance when it came to his business partners and competitors.
While Peter’s mouth was full, he covered the strategy.
“When we get there, there will be paparazzi. Keep calm and avoid eye contact with any of them without looking hostile or disinterested. If you can, look a little bewildered. That will help sell your clean-cut, down-to-earth image.” Tony patted him gently on the shoulder as he choked a little. “We need to help people see the Peter Parker that I see.”
Peter could feel his collar tighten and he reached up to loosen his tie before Tony batted his hand away.
“I give a speech and call you on stage. I’ll say a couple things to introduce you. We shake hands. The press gets their pictures. Then we shake a few hands on our way out the door and get back to the hotel to sleep because we’re flying back in the morning.” Tony reached over and picked a piece of lint off of Peter’s lapel while Peter watched him a little bug-eyed. “You once held your own against the Hulk.” Tony smiled at the soft burst of laughter.
Peter glanced at the divider before confiding, “I think I’d rather fight the Hulk again, if it’s all the same to you.”
As promised, cameras flashed as soon as Tony opened the door. Several microphones were held near Tony’s face as he stepped forward to allow Peter to slide out.
“Mr. Stark.”
“Mr. Stark: We’ve heard rumors about a buyout of API. Do you have anything to add?”
“Mr. Stark: Do you have any response to Miss Breen’s accusations?”
“Would you like to introduce us your friend?”
Peter fought the urge to put a hand between himself and the flashes of light. People took pictures of Spider-Man all the time, but they typically ended up under headlines such as “SPIDER-MENACE!” or “SPIDER-MAN TERRORIZES CENTRAL PARK”. Having the camera flashes directed at Peter Parker left him feeling as overexposed as he was after that wardrobe malfunction; “COSTUMED FREAK FLASHES QUEENS”.
Tony smiled and waved to the crowd, pulling Peter close with an arm around his shoulders. Several cameras flashed before Tony continued inside.
Large glass doors were held open by chrome doorstops revealing geometric black and white tile floors and 3-story ceilings. In the entranceway there was a large display piece of modern art suspended from wires from the ceiling and dramatically illuminated by recess lights. Down a short hallway, Tony breezed past security and into the conference hall. The conference hall was only slightly more intimate than the dazzling entryway, lined by floor to ceiling glass windows which overlooked the scenic skyline of the city.
The hall had a maximum occupancy of two thousand, but the five-hundred people talking and drinking around the uplifted stage seemed like an armada to Peter’s eyes. Tony snagged two drinks off of a serving tray and pressed one into Peter’s hand.
“Ah, Mr. Stroud. Somehow you never miss an opportunity to drink my booze and eat my food.” Tony clapped the elderly gentleman on the back with an overlarge smile.
“Nor do I intend to. Excellent wine selection this evening.”
“You’ll have to thank JARVIS for that, I’m afraid. Peter, this is Jonathan Stroud, owner of several prominent nightclubs in New York and Los Vegas.” Mr. Stroud shook Peter’s hand with a polite smile.
“Unfortunately for you Mr. Stroud, Mr. Parker here isn’t much of a partier.” Tony took a deep sip from his glass.
“I can’t say I’ve ever been to a nightclub outside of work,” said Peter. Stroud gave him a mock serious look.
“Yes, you’ll have to be careful of Mr. Stark. He’ll drag you to all sorts of places if you let him.”
Peter was ready to correct him when Tony shuffled him along toward the stage. Tony bounded up onto it, leaving Peter off in the wings.
According to Peter’s watch, it was an hour and forty-five minutes from the time they entered to the time he and Tony were back in the limo. But aside from a brief conversation about biomechanics and the minute and a half it took for Tony to publicly tear Justin Hammer a new one, the event seemed agonizingly long. He could feel himself sink into the leather seat as the door slammed shut.
“Phase one: complete.” Tony patted Peter’s knee before relaxing into the seat and resting his head against the glass.