Archive of Our Own ^beta

 Peter had no idea how he ended up in that spot: standing in the middle of Luna Park, grilling under the scorching sun in the temperature of no less than ninety degrees Fahrenheit, with an overexcited child dragging him towards different rides and little shops.

Well, no. He knew how it happened: one certain Morgan Stark, her bright eyes shining with boundless childish joy, decided that she wanted to go to Coney Island at the earliest opportunity they could catch, and Peter didn't have a good enough excuse to refuse her.

He promptly cleared his schedule for the next few days, and with Happy acting as adult supervision— not all that thrilled at the idea but too soft and caring to refuse his nephew and niece anything at all— they jumped on the first available plane the day after Morgan requested the trip.

 So maybe Peter was spoiling her, just a little. Sue him. He swore to become the best big brother he could be and some more.

He knew that Mr. Stark also wanted to take him to Coney Island one day. To replace the horrible memories of a plane crash with something more positive, something that would make him smile rather than cower in fear from memories of fire. Maybe when the summer vacation comes, he used to say. They never made any concrete plans, because they were supposed to have time—

Well. Peter wasn't going to take any chances with Morgan.

And that was how Peter ended up here: standing in the middle of a street some odd distance away from where the Stark plane went down, this time with no threat hanging over his head and hand-in-hand with Morgan instead. The little girl was grinning from ear to ear and bouncing in her place as they waited in line to get some cotton candy. Happy sat down at one of the tables with umbrellas casting a shadow over them, a short distance away, already worn out from the heat but too stubborn and loyal to leave the two kids unsupervised.

"And then we should try out the Thunderbolt!" Morgan declared, pointing a finger into Peter's chest.

"I don't think it's a good idea, not after we eat something," he winced. "Besides, I doubt that they'd let you on that one."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're too short."

"Aw."

They didn't have to wait very long until their turn finally came, and Morgan came up to the stall, spring in her step. Peter could see the exact second that the vendor recognized them— or him, more like— eyes widening and his smile stilling. To the man's credit, however, he hadn't faltered, and with only a simple nod of acknowledgement, turned to Morgan—"I will have the blueberry one, and Petey will have the cherry one," Morgan declared, because they had, apparently, hit the 'I'm a big girl and can do it myself!' phase— to put on the same show of making the cotton candy he did for all the other kids her age.

Peter still wasn't used to that: to people he'd never seen before looking at him and recognizing him. They knew his name, probably his age, and most definitely knew about his vigilante after-school activities. It was tiring, but, ultimately, Peter felt like a certain weight lifted off of his chest, and he could finally breathe. There was something freeing in the way he no longer had to tread through his life with carefully measured steps, lying his way out of trouble and making his friends and classmates wonder why, exactly, he was late again.

It was still hard— almost impossible, really— to open up and share things about Spider-Man with people who hadn't known about it prior to the disaster that was Quentin's reveal of him. But he tried, and it got easier the more he talked about it.

Once the candies were paid for, Morgan tugged Peter away towards the table where Happy was waiting, impatient excitement radiating off of her in waves.

"You haven't been bored out of your mind without us here, Happy?" Peter asked once they got close enough. Morgan hopped up onto her chair, swinging her small backpack onto her lap, careful to keep her cotton candy out of touch with any objects around her.

The man looked up at him, a glare so withering that Peter could almost feel the heat of it.

Peter couldn't help himself: he laughed, grinning so wide that the dry skin on his lips threatened to split. He licked them and followed suit after Morgan to take a seat at the table.

(He didn't see the fond, reverent look that Happy threw his way as soon as Peter turned away, a reflection of someone else echoing in his eyes.)

"You could have stayed at the hotel, you know. I can protect both of us just fine." Peter said, and then threw a hand out in his signature gesture. The web-shooter promptly formed around his wrist, and Peter shook it away.

"You can, but that isn't your job to do," Happy huffed. "You're not here to work, kid. You're here to take a breather and act your age. Without some evil mastermind trying to interrupt your fun, for once."

"Mhm! And now we get to have fun at Coney Island!" Morgan chimed in. She was swinging her legs on the tall chair she was sitting on, looking innocent and happy and not like the scheming genius child that she was, a smug expression on her face. "I like it."

Peter squawked. "You teamed up against me, didn't you? That's— betrayal. Can't believe you would do something so cruel, little miss."

"No!"

"We didn't 'team up against you,' Parker. This is an intervention—"

"Oh, is it, now?"

"And a very needed one," Happy pressed on. "How often have you left Tony's workshop in the last few weeks?"

"I was doing just fine—"

"Mommy says that I can't stay in my room all day because I'm gonna grow mold all over," Morgan interrupted him, barreling on to support Happy's point. "And I don't want you to grow mold, too, so as the responsible sister, I'm making sure you don't stay in Daddy's lab all day, too."

"The responsible sister, huh?" Peter' gaze softened, and he tilted his head. He ruffled the girl's hair and then, promptly, stole a pinch of her candy.

"Did you just steal my food?" Morgan asked, perplexed, watching him as if she saw him for the first time in her life. When Peter's lips stretched into a smirk, eyes glinting with mischief, a grin to match his appeared on the girl's features.

She ripped a small part of his candy and promptly squashed it against Peter's nose.

"Hey! You know I have to eat for two people, for me and for the spider!" Peter protested, giggling as he did so. It still felt so weird to speak of his mutation-caused habits out loud in public, but once the words left his mouth, Peter felt like something tight in his throat had loosened up.

He breathed out a sigh.

"Well, Mr. Spider should've bought himself two sticks then!" Morgan smirked, turning her own candy away from him, joy still shining in her smile.

Peter slowly turned to face their bodyguard, head tilted and an eyebrow raised in a pretentious manner. The man sputtered.

"I am not going to stand in a line in that heat," Happy said, shaking his head. "Not again."

"You're no fun, Mr. Happy."

"Ha-ha, so hilarious, Mr. Parker."

The two kids laughed again, untroubled and so carefree, looking at each other with mischief in their expressions, silently communicating about something or other as they giggled. Happy sighed and then pulled out his phone… to pass the time while on some three-in-a-row game.

(And if later on Peter found a picture of him and Morgan, smiling at each other, printed and framed in Happy's office right by the picture of Tony and Peter holding the internship certificate— well, he wasn't going to judge him.)