Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it to the nationals.”

Peter agreed with Mr. Harrington’s assessment.

They all flinched at the powerful, angry hiss coming from the bus’s front, and watched. Stood in a neat row, like cattle waiting for slaughter, as more thick smoke billowed in the air. They observed the bus break in on itself, mournfully.

Betty coughed, nose scrunched and hand flapping through the air.

“Sure it won’t blow up?” Flash questioned nervously, eyes shifting between the smoking bus and their teacher.

“The-The driver seemed certain,” said Mr. Harrington, sounding anything but certain.

“Let’s back away, guys,” MJ turned and started herding them back, her deadpan mask cracking only where concern appeared in her eyes.

Again, Peter agreed. The driver had attempted to fix the issue, which only resulted in the growing thick cloud encompassing the front area, and the man had also backed away by now, hitting the air with a dirty rag and covering his nose.

The decathlon team scooted over through the narrow path along the highway, stopping a short distance behind the bus. Mr. Harrington kept shooting looks at the driver while shooing the students away from the smoke.

“Can’t we call someone for help?” Asked Ned, sorrowful. “We can’t miss the nationals!”

A murmur of agreement spread through the group. Before their teacher had the chance to respond, the teenagers started throwing helpful advice and suggestions (or plain complaints) at him:

“…had the same situation, and my mum said the insurance company sent a car…”

“…still make it, or we can take a different bus!...”

“…can’t believe it, I studied so much for this! We can’t just…”

Peter saw the headache forming behind Mr. Harrington’s eyes.

“Okay, okay, settle down, kids,” the man tried to break through the avalanche of words. “I already called the insurance company, they will send a bus once we confirm we need it…”

“Let’s confirm, then!” Whined Flash.

“…But we won’t make it to the final meet,” finished Mr. Harrington with the patience of a saint and the confidence of a dead fish. Everyone groaned in protest even as he soldiered on: “That’s why we tried to fix it. The replacement bus will have to come all the way from New York, and the paperwork will take a while, it’s just not feasible to make it. I’m sorry, guys.”

Everyone quietened, resigned. Shoulders dropped as the truth sunk in.

“Man, this sucks,” Peter muttered.

It had to be the Parker Luck again. The one time he arrived on time, no Spider-Man business distracting him, no villains or weapons to chase, nothing chasing him. The goddamn bus just broke mid-way by itself.

“This can’t be happening,” Cindy whispered.

A car sped by the so fast, the dirt flew from the ground and their ties flared in the air.

No one even moved an inch.

Suddenly, the orange blur was back. They all looked up in surprise as the car backed up (most definitely illegal on the highway) and smoothly rolled to a stop in front of their pitiful group.

Peter’s heart dropped in shock.

The rest realized who sat in the car a second later and collectively gasped. Ned’s hand shot to Peter’s arm, tight.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God–“ Ned chanted under his breath.

Peter once again agreed.

The passenger side window rolled down at a leisurely pace.

“You good?” Tony Stark called out, peering over his rose-tinted sunglasses. Peter knew that the man, in fact, could see they were not 'good'.

Instead of a response, Mr. Harrington stuttered. The students, supposed geniuses, didn’t help either. Seymour stared blankly, Flash hyperventilating, Betty and Ned chanted two different sets of prayers.

“No,” MJ at least remained capable of coherent thought. “The bus looks like it’s about to blow up and we won’t make it to the nationals.”

Right, the nationals.

Tony Stark blinked.

"Nationals in what?"

"Academic Decathlon," said MJ.

“Hm,” Tony’s eyes drilled straight into Peter, who lost all his braincells all of a sudden. “Can’t have that, can we?”

A whoosh of anticipation rushed through the group.

“You’re going to help us?” Able all but yelled in excitement.

Even Mr. Harrington stood straighter, more alert.

The orange car started blinking as Tony turned on the hazard lights and left the car. Muffled screams and childish jumps, the team quietly cheered at the unexpected save.

“Mr. Stark… We have five hours until the finals start, it’s in Washington,” Mr. Harrington clumsily broke through the over-excited students that rushed to crowd Iron Man. “And it’s still at least three hours to go…”

By then, Tony had walked around the car, surveyed the damage as he passed by the bus (with the use of FRIDAY in his glasses, certainly) and started typing something on his phone.

“FRI, what’s the nearest bus rental here?” Tony said without looking up.

Everyone exchanged confused frowns.

“Uh…” Mr. Harrington said intelligibly.

“I can have a bus at your location in an hour the soonest.” Peter heard from Mr. Stark’s earpiece.

“Hm,” Tony hummed, at least glancing up. He addressed the whole group, his eyes lingering first on the teacher, then on Peter: “The bus is caput. Blown head gasket. You’ll have to have it towed.”

“How do you…”

“Get the bus here, FRI, as fast as possible,” Tony interrupted Mr. Harrington.

“On it!”

“It’ll be an hour,” Tony told the teacher.

“But…”

“I’m paying, don’t sweat it.”

The team erupted into cheers, turning Tony’s smirk into something softer.

“Thank you,” Mr. Harrington stuttered as the teenagers hounded Iron Man for pictures and autographs. “Thank you so much…”

“My pleasure,” Tony signed off on Seymour’s yellow jacket.

“We need to win this one, now, guys,” the teacher called out, motivated.

A roar of agreement answered him and Tony winced at the noise (Peter along with him). Then, Cindy came up with her front camera, and the wince wiped off Tony’s face instantly.

Peter rocked on his feet, observing everyone take their turn in antagonizing Mr. Stark. In their bliss, they mercifully forgot the whole deal with Peter and the Stark internship. Flash for once not paying him any attention, too consumed with Iron Man standing right in front of them, in the flesh, and saving the day as well.

It wouldn’t last, of course.

The teen fidgeted as Tony agreed on a plan with Mr. Harrington in between the pictures and signing various items the team had in their pockets (or the clothing itself). Would Mr. Stark pretend not to know him to protect his other identity? As more people stepped away, satisfied with their turn with Iron Man, everyone started to settle down, the initial elation mellowing to calmer excitement. Peter’s heart started to race anxiously. Why would Mr. Stark know a random intern, really? Stark Industries employed hundreds, if not thousands of them (Peter had no idea how numbers worked in corporations but the tower seemed big enough to house a thousand employees… right?). Would Mr. Stark at least act like he vaguely recognized Peter from around the labs? He didn’t spend much time down there, really, but maybe…

“Well, you going to say hello, and maybe a 'thank you' for saving your very important school event, kid, or what?” Tony finished the last signature with a flourish, and Sally blinked at him, confused, taking back her phone case.

But then Tony looked straight at Peter, making it clear who he spoke to.

“Wait,” Flash muttered.

“Hi?” Dear God, why did his voice have to break at the worst moment every time? Peter cleared his throat. “Hi, Mr. Stark. Uh, thank you. That’s – Honestly, we would be screwed if you didn’t show up.”

That, at least, he said truthfully. But his mind whirled. Mr. Stark wasn’t ignoring him. Why wasn’t he ignoring him?

“You were so lucky I was just coming back from Washington,” Tony stuck his hands in his pockets, the only person entirely relaxed throughout the whole thing.

“Oh?” Peter’s curiosity perked up. He tried to stifled it, not be too noisy. By Mr. Stark’s face, he probably failed though. “That’s… That’s really lucky. And again, thanks.”

It was awkward.

The thanks fell a bit flat with all his teammates watching the exchange like hawks, in various states of shock, excitement and disbelief. Even Mr. Harrington (who certainly knew the internship had been sorted out with the school) seemed rendered speechless, and Ned (who knew for a fact there was no actual internship) was almost hopping in his glee, shaking Peter’s sleeve like a little child.

Only MJ took it all in stride, her gaze perceptive but her expression even.

And Peter… Peter was slightly at a loss here.

Tony examined him for a moment, quietly entertained by the whole ordeal.

“Anytime, kid,” he said breezily after letting them all simmer in the uncertainty. He clasped his hands loudly, drawing all the eyes back to himself. “Alright, I’ll park the car behind you before someone calls the cops on me.”

With that, he turned to walk back to the car. Indeed, people had been honking at the obstacle in the middle of the highway. Probably for the best, this spectacular bout of parking did warrant a fine, but a childish part of Peter wanted to call out after Tony: “Don’t leave me here with them!”

The group slowly closed in on Peter, watching over their shoulders as Tony reparked his orange Audi off to the side, behind the bus, leaving a good distance in between.

“What the hell, Peter?” Betty attacked first, her eyes wide.

“Um…”

“No way,” protested Flash, clearly in denial. “No way Parker actually has the internship – I checked! They don’t accept high schoolers!”

“Well, it sure looked like they knew each other, to me,” said Charles, still looking after Tony, starstruck.

“This is the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me,” Ned rushed out, still attached to Peter’s elbow like he forgot Peter was indeed a separate entity and not just an extension of Ned.

Which, ouch. Really, Ned? Your best friend is Spider-Man, but the bus breaking is the coolest thing ever?

He tried communicating that to his best friend with a half-hearted glare. Ned just beamed back at him. Message not received.

Somewhere in the background, Mr. Harrington discussed on the phone with the insurance company about towing the bus back to New York. The bus driver, more confused than anyone Peter had seen in a long time, tried to figure out what was happening and why Iron Man sat in the car that just parked behind them on the highway.

Peter barely registered all the questions as his teammates swarmed him now, much like people sometimes crowded him as Spider-Man. Except, in the mask, he could jump impossibly high, attach to the nearest thing, bid his goodbye and swing away.

Well, aside from the still-smoking bus, there was nothing he could use for swinging, actually, so maybe Spider-Man wouldn’t have much more luck escaping here.

Not like Peter absorbed a word of what his schoolmates were saying, their voices overlaping, and in progress overwhelming him.

“He’s coming back,” suddenly Seymour murmured.

“Oh my God, he’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming,” Sally whispered.

“Be chill, you dorks,” Flash hissed, as if he hadn't looked like he shat his pants for a solid few minutes there, before he (slightly) composed himself.

Honestly, Peter half-expected Mr. Stark to just drive away or wait in the car for the replacement bus. He probably had to sign something, though.

“I hope no one had any bright ideas and everyone stayed off the murder trap,” Tony announced himself coming up to the group. “The bus.” He clarified when no one responded.

Another pause.

“No one’s on the bus,” Peter resigned himself to the fact he was likely the most clear-headed person from his school (which was just sad). Except, again, MJ, but she was too busy analyzing everything to engage, he supposed. “But our stuff is still there, do you think it’s safe to take it?”

“No,” Tony didn’t stop and continued towards the front of the bus. “Maybe. I’ll make sure. You should make yourself comfortable on the ground, though, unless you want to stand for an hour.”

Undeterred by the man’s dismissive tone, the entire group followed him like a shadow. Mr. Harrington looked almost jealous, staring longingly, stuck on the call with the insurance company.

Peter hesitated for a split second before following.

“Dude,” Ned whispered to him. “Iron Man is going to fix our school bus!”

“He’ll just make sure it won’t explode, I think,” Peter mumbled back.

As the driver, now his turn to fanboy over Tony, explained what he’d done so far (unaware Tony knew it all already from his AI, bless him), the teenagers gathered around. It took a second for Tony to glance at them, bemused.

“You’re crowding a bit,” he said. “Boundaries are good.”

Everyone took a singular step back. Tony sighed.

“Can I help?” Peter piped up, the question leaving his mouth before he processed it.

“Not really,” Tony was already bent over the cylinder head and the engine block. “I’m just checking for an oil leak, or – this thing looks old enough to have a coolant tank.”

Everyone silenced in anticipation. Greatly overdramatized, in Peter’s opinion, but maybe he was just desensitized to life threats at this point.

“Is it gonna blow up?” Charles asked quietly.

A short pause.

“Unless you throw a lit match in there, not likely,” Tony straightened and shut the hood. “Better stay off the bus, though, it’s a barbeque in progress in there,” he wiped his hands on his very expensive trousers. The same treatment Peter saw him serve his jeans in the workshop.

“But can we grab our things?” Betty perked up in concern.

“Right, yeah, go ahead,” Tony waved carelessly.

The body of teenagers moved towards the still open door and poured into the bus. Peter stopped Ned.

“Can you grab my stuff, too?” He asked.

“Sure!”

Ned trudged after their teammates, and Peter faced Mr. Stark again. The driver was rambling nervously, something or other about engines and oil, and the billionaire nodded along a bit absentmindedly.

When their eyes met, Peter smiled tight-lipped.

“Kid, I need to talk to you about something–“ First chance Tony could get a word in, he addressed Peter. He then glanced at the driver, already starting to walk away: “Sorry, excuse me for a moment.”

“Yes, right, great honor meeting you, Iron Man!” The driver nodded enthusiastically.

Tony saluted him and parted with a small smile.

He released a heavy breath once they were out of the hearing range.

“People can react… differently… when they’re nervous,” he muttered, as if Peter would judge him for the quick exit.

“Must be annoying, I guess,” Peter said, knowing Mr. Stark wasn’t nearly as big a fan of crowds as people expected him to be.

“Well, some people want to kill me on sight, so this is always preferable,” Tony’s voice shifted. “In a way it’s nice. If exhausting.”

Peter smiled. He knew the feeling.

“Okay, now, quick fill me in,” Tony lowered his voice as they stopped, the cars on the highway rushing by occasionally. “What’s your brag? What should I know?”

“Brag? – I don’t brag,” Peter protested, insulted.

“Figuratively speaking, jeez,” Tony perched his glasses higher on his nose. “They know about the internship, no? I signed the paperwork, so I assume they know.”

“Um, yeah, yes – they know.”

“Well, what else do they know?” Tony glanced over Peter’s shoulder. The teen then noticed his mentor positioned them at the perfect angle to have a clear view of everyone. “We need to be on the same page, kid – do you remember it’s a cover? If it’s full of holes it won’t do a good job of covering.”

“Right,” Peter nodded to himself vigorously. “Right. Uh. They don’t know much. I, well, I might have said I know you,” he cringed under the man’s watchful gaze but Mr. Stark’s face didn’t so much as twitch. “And, and Ned might have blurted out that I know Spider-Man…”

Tony sighed, his eyes closing briefly in grief at their teenage stupidity.

“Sorry,” Peter said.

“Okay, fine, what else?” Mr. Stark looked at him intently.

“Uh, I said you scouted me because of some videos I posted on the internet…”

“Good,” Tony nodded. “Stick close to the truth.”

“So, I applied for a grant. Got in. Um. And that’s it, really.”

“Are you sure?” Peter was near sweating under the weight of Mr. Stark’s gaze. “I don’t care if you’ve said something now you think is embarrassing…”

“No, really, that’s it!” The teenager shook his head. “When I need to cover for… you know… I just say it’s internship stuff. Nothing specific.”

Tony observed him for a second longer. As he was telling the truth, it must’ve been clear on his face. The man nodded once and relaxed.

“Good job,” he clapped Peter on the shoulder. “Aside from the Spider-Man bit, nothing suspicious. But, really, Spider-Man?” He gave him an exasperated look. “Might as well wear the suit to school.”

“It was Ned,” Peter mumbled.

Mr. Stark gave his shoulder another squeeze before releasing him. Speaking of, Ned just arrived back at his side, Peter’s backpack in front of him.

“Thanks, Ned,” Peter intercepted his belonging and slid it over his shoulder.

“That’s so cool,” Ned looked between them. “We’re just standing here, talking to Iron Man.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that, Ned,” Peter smiled through gritted teeth, shooting his friend a pleading glare.

“Right,” Ned continued staring and grinning, starstruck.

Tony’s mouth twitched.

“Well, it’s been fun, but I’m not going to stand around for the next 45 minutes, so I’m gonna sit in the car.”

Ah, there it is. Point for Peter for assuming correctly.

“Sure,” Peter said. “Thanks again, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Tony retreated to his Audi, traced by disappointed stares of the other teenagers.

“Oh, man,” Charles’s shoulders dropped. “What a bummer.”

“What, you thought he’d sit with us on the ground for an hour?” MJ asked dryly.

Going by his expression, yes, he did.

The next 15 minutes dragged on, oh, so slowly. The teens remained antsy, staring in the direction of the Audi more often than not. Mr. Harrington finished his call and chatted to the side with the driver (or rather listening and nodding in the right places). Peter strayed away from the conversations, Ned and MJ at his sides.

Eventually, though, the resolve broke.

Betty was the first one to approach Tony in his car. After giving himself a few moments to process, Mr. Stark rejected himself to the fact he had nothing to do but wait for the bus company (Peter could read the crisis and resolve on his face). Mr. Stark then pulled out some work on his holographic tablet and zoned out, his car door open and one leg propped against it.

Until Betty politely knocked on the car.

She had some questions, Peter overheard, and “it was the only opportunity she might ever get to ask them”.

Except it didn’t end with Betty. Soon enough Cindy and Flash joined her. Then, Sally. Ned, apologizing purposefully and ensuring “are you sure you don’t mind, Peter?” shortly followed her. By half an hour of waiting, the entire team plus Mr. Harrington and the driver, bar Peter and MJ, crowded Mr. Stark in his Audi.

Well, despite Flash’s efforts to make him, Peter never felt like a loser. Until that moment. Sitting by the curb while everyone else talked to Mr. Stark.

“You look perfectly in crisis,” MJ admired her quick sketch.

“Thanks.”

The girl rolled her eyes, lifting herself up unenthusiastically.

“Come on,” she offered him a hand.

Tentatively, he approached the group with MJ. Paused. He almost snapped a photo, a smirk breaking on his face; the scene looked akin to Buddha preaching to his followers, the master seated up and his students spread out in front of him, staring with admiration.

Peter couldn’t tell if Mr. Stark would hate or love that more, but he’d find it funny for sure.

Tony had given up on his tablet and turned fully towards the open door, the teenagers getting his undivided attention. The team sat around the door on the ground, the empty fields stretching out behind them. The driver and Mr. Harrington remained standing behind the students, unsuccessfully pretending not to be a part of the conversation, only supervisors.

They walked up, MJ seating herself on the edge of the group and laying down unbothered. Peter planned to quietly perch himself on the side of the car (like he’d done before, both as Peter and Spider-Man, waiting on Mr. Stark to finish whatever – the man was always busy). He realized the flaw in his plan when a dozen pairs of eyes snapped in his direction, outraged.

He jumped off the hood like it burned.

“No, please,” Mr. Stark said flatly. “Don’t bother learning manners now.”

“Sorry,” said Peter quickly.

“You left a scratch on the black Audi, by the way,” despite the accusation, Mr. Stark didn’t sound very bothered. “Have you ever tried using the inside of the car? I swear it’s nicer.”

“I’m – so sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, this time genuine. “I didn’t…”

“If you say ‘sorry’ one more time I’ll have an aneurysm. Please. A tiny scratch on the car is a drop in the ocean on your damage bill.” Tony seemed to realize Peter would be the one with aneurysm now. “I’m kidding. Jesus, you want to see my damage bill?”

“I think I would cry,” said Peter honestly.

“Well, uh. Don’t.”

“Okay.”

“By the way, if you were still running late, let me know. I can push the… thing forward,” Tony turned to the group, mainly aiming at Mr. Harrington.

“Isn’t that… cheating?” Frowned Cindy.

“Not your fault the bus broke,” Tony shrugged. “I’d say it’s like charity work. Help even the odds, and all that.”

“That’s exactly how charities work,” Peter said dryly.

“Oh, he’s back!” Tony looked at him, eyebrow raised.

“How would we even call you?” Mr. Harrington muttered.

“It’s a lot of help already, Mr. Iron Man,” Betty interrupted diplomatically (thank God, before Ned blurted out that Peter has Mr. Stark’s number). “We just need to hope for the best now.”

“Thoughts and prayers, I guess,” Tony responded after a pause. “But if you’re not the praying type…”

He winked discreetly at Peter, to which Peter shook his head fondly.

“Sure,” Betty nodded pleasantly. It, of course, meant “no”.

Maybe Peter freaked out over nothing, after all.

The rest of the wait passed by quickly. A part of Peter couldn’t marvel enough at the absurdism of the situation, and how well Mr. Stark dealt with it. Just sitting for an hour in his car, over half of it assaulted with prodding and questions from Midtown’s students. But if he felt irritation at any moment, no one would be the wiser. Peter, already somewhat familiar with the different moods of his mentor (and he knew his anger all too well), didn’t doubt Mr. Stark’s relaxed, if resigned, stance.

The teenager wondered if one day he’d become as easygoing as a public figure. Well, not him as Peter. But Spider-Man still floundered and became flustered because behind the mask was just awkward, slightly anxious Peter.

All too soon, the bus arrived. Mr. Stark handled the paperwork and once they had the green light, Mr. Harrington began herding them inside.

Peter wanted to throw a quick bye and another thanks before leaving, but as he turned to Mr. Stark, he noticed the man didn’t seem to be getting ready to leave.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, confused. “You’re going back to New York, now, right?”

Resignation etched on Tony’s face.

“Yeaah… No.”

“What?” Peter rotated fully away from the bus.

“What’s going on?” He heard Sally peak back outside the bus, where she’d just entered.

“Peter – “ Mr. Harrington started.

“It’s fine, kid,” Mr. Stark waved vaguely around, like he was shooing the problem away. “Someone needs to stay for the towing, and you need both your teacher and the driver with you. Go on, scoot!”

It took 5 seconds for Peter to fully process – Mr. Stark volunteered to stay an extra 2 or even 3 hours by himself in the middle of the highway, just to make sure the school bus gets towed back to New York. After, you know, already paying for rental of the new (and definitely upgraded, from the looks of it) bus.

Without thinking about it, Peter crossed over to the man and threw his arms around in a hug.

“Sorry, you don’t like hugs,” he started to peel away, still overwhelmed with gratitude, but just then, Mr. Stark reciprocated and squeezed him back.

“You’re good,” the man said, half-baffled, half-touched. “I think we’re there.”

“Oh.”

After a few more seconds, Tony patted him on the back and Peter pulled away.

“Thanks,” Peter said, incredibly serious. “It’s – You really didn’t have to.”

“Sure I didn’t,” Mr. Stark scoffed. “I just don’t want the Christmas ghosts come haunt me in December, alright? I’ve got time and money to spare. Well. I’ve got money to spare. I’ll get some work done in the car. It’s fine. You kids go win the finals or whatever.”

Peter grinned and nodded, rushing off to the bus.

“See you later, Mr. Stark!” He called over his shoulder, waving.

Tony just stared after him fondly, hands in pockets.

As Peter got on the bus, his teammates once again ganged up on him.

“Did you just hug him?” Flash burst out, incredulous.

On Friday, they won the finals. On Saturday, they returned to New York on the fancy bus Mr. Stark rented for them. On Monday, they came to school to find an anonymous benefactor donated a new bus to the school. A very modern, expensive bus. After hearing what happened to the old one (hearsay).

“That was Tony Stark for sure,” said Abe at the next AcaDec meeting.

Peter agreed.