Chapter Text
“And Tony says we need to leave in like,” he checked his watch, “five minutes.”
“And are you fully packed?” May’s voice came from Peter’s phone, which was currently balanced precariously between his shoulder and ear.
“Mostly.”
“Peter.”
Peter was sitting in the room that had eventually become his, after months of late nights with Tony Stark that always ended up with him in the same room, curled up on the pillows. He was still yet to unpack, despite arriving yesterday afternoon, but he wasn’t sure whether he had to unpack now. Not when Tony had spontaneously decided to plan a road trip for this very morning. Peter hadn’t even been able to ask about the sleepover, again. “Aunt May,” Peter mimicked her tone, dragging out the words. “What do you even pack for a road trip?” He laid further back into the bed, staring at the bland ceiling.
The room itself was nice. It was much larger than his one back in the apartment at Queens, with high ceilings, and odd clown artwork stuck to the wall that was probably worth five times the price of a home in Queens. The bed was bigger too, softer, decompressing gently as Peter rolled onto his back. But it didn’t feel like a bedroom. It didn’t have faded posters that had been clinging onto the wall for over a decade, it didn’t have abandoned LEGO sets decorating the counter tops, it didn’t have a wall dedicated to tracking Peter’s growth that hadn’t been added to since Uncle Ben was gone. It made sense, Peter supposed, it was only a guest bedroom.
“Well you need clothes,” Aunt May’s voice rang through the phone. “And remember your toothbrush, that’s very important if you guys are going to be talking to strangers.” She paused, the silence filling the phone call comfortably. “Oh, and remember to bring Zilla too, Pete.”
Peter choked at the mention of his soft toy from childhood. “May, I don’t need Zilla, okay?” he spluttered, pulling a face even though he knew she couldn’t see him. “I’m way too old for him now. I’m not ten anymore.” Zilla was a little green lizard plush that Ben had won for Peter at a fair when he was only five. Peter had dragged that thing everywhere, to the point where it was nothing more than a manky green sack with a single bead for an eye, although he hadn’t seen it since the day that Tony Stark came to take him to Germany. Since then it had been bundled in the back of his old sock draw. Peter hadn’t even packed it for the summer.
May hummed into the phone. “Okay then,” she said then easily. “Oh and remember to bring underwear. And spares.”
Peter rolled his eyes, because he knew to bring underwear, but got up anyway, padding towards his suitcase that had yet to be unpacked, zipping it open to review its contents. There were four weeks worth of clothes, folded neatly by May only a few nights before. His favourite shirts had been pushed to the top, a faded white band t-shirt with the print Red Hot Chilli Peppers crumbling with age prominent against the newer shirts that were crammed into the case. Peter picked up the shirt, running his fingers against the worn fabric.
It had originally been Ben’s. Now Peter used it to sleep in.
“Peter?”
Peter startled, dropping the shirt back hastily into the pile to press the phone against his ear. “Still here,” he responded, rolling back in his heels. “How’s, uhm, how’s the volunteering?”
Aunt May’s voice responded almost instantly. “It’s absolutely incredible.” Peter nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “We arrived yesterday evening and they brought us to the hostel we’re going to be staying at. I’ll send you some pictures, they really know architecture here-”
Peter allowed her voice to fade into the background as he glanced, spotting Tony leaning against the doorframe, a slight smirk on his lips as he observed Peter.
“Aunt May,” Peter interrupted his aunt’s rant, his back prickling as he felt his mentor’s eyes burn into him as he scurried to finish the phone call. “I, uhm, I actually have to go now. Tony’s here.”
“Alright then, go have your fun without me,” May replied, and Peter couldn’t help but smile. “Remember to pack the toothbrush, I’m serious Peter. And remember you can call me anytime.”
Peter nodded. “I will,” he promised. “I’ll call tonight.”
“I love you Peter.”
“I,” Peter hesitated, “I love you too.”
And then he hung up, and all of sudden it was Tony and Peter in the room together, alone, without May.
Tony stepped further into the room, abandoning his previous position to bend over Peter’s shoulder, staring directly into the suitcase. “Kid,” he said. “What is that?”
Peter blinked, looking down at exactly where Tony was pointing. The Red Hot Chilli Peppers shirt, the only one now not folded immaculately into the suitcase. “My sleeping shirt.”
“Kid, that thing looks older than you,” Tony barked out a laugh, patting Peter firmly on the shoulder as he straightened up, already heading for the door. “I’ll buy a new sleeping shirt on the road. Come on, I want to show you the baby we’ll be driving in.”
Peter swallowed his argument, that the sleeping shirt wasn’t old, it was vintage and loved, deciding instead to zip up his suitcase and follow Tony through the penthouse, down the elevator and into the garage that stored more cars than Peter could ever hope to drive.
They stopped by a sleek, silver SUV with the nameplate STARK announcing itself at the front. Tony whistled as they approached, tossing the keys in his hands. “I don’t pride myself on much, kid, but I do pride myself on this car,” the billionaire announced, already grabbing Peter’s suitcase from him. “And you have the privilege of riding in her for this road trip, so consider yourself lucky. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”
The car was even more impressive on the inside, and Peter had to physically pause, gaping at the customised leather seats, the speakers fitted into the ceiling, the screen that dominated the front dashboard. “Mr Stark,” he breathed. “This is crazy.” He paused for a second, snatching his phone from his jeans pocket. “Ned has to see this.”
“Watch it buckaroo,” Tony snapped gently, pulling Peter’s phone down before he had a chance to snap a photo. “I don’t want any photos being leaked of Tony Stark’s private SUV. The press already loves my face as it is.”
Peter frowned, because he knew Ned would never leak anything, but he lowered his phone anyway, turning to Tony in the driver's seat. “Uh, Mr Stark. Where exactly are we going to go?”
Tony shrugged. “Didn’t someone say the magic of a road trip is figuring out the journey along the way?” he replied. “I don’t know kid, but, apparently we’re going everywhere because you haven’t been anywhere.”
“I went to Washington D.C,” Peter grumbled, folding his arms over his chest, slouching into his seat as the engine of the car started.
“Everybody’s been to Washington D.C, kid.”
Peter suddenly perked up. “Can we stop really quickly in Queens, Mr Stark?” he asked, as they began to reverse out of the garage. “I want to grab some stuff from my apartment. For the road trip.”
“Kid, really?”
“Please,” Peter tried. “I want to grab my Spider-man suit. Y’know, in case anything happens.”
Tony sighed. “Fine kid,” he said, leaning past Peter to grab his sunglasses that had been resting in the glove box, maneuvering them easily onto his face as he drove. “I suppose we can make a little pit stop in Queens. But you know nothing is going to happen, right?”
“I know,” Peter defended. “I want it, though.”
He didn’t know. He knew there wasn’t going to be an alien attack, or a multi-dimensional threat that would result in the Avengers reuniting again, although Peter couldn’t really guarantee that, but he knew there was probably going to be a robbery, a small, personal crisis that Spider-man could make a difference with.
The car exited from the garage, a stream of light from the mid morning sun clashing directly with Peter’s vision as Tony continued to drive. They fell into an easy silence, Peter turning his head to gaze out of the window, at the dominating office buildings that shot up so high he couldn’t see where they ended, casting a shadow of grey along the streets. Peter had lived on these streets as long as he could remember, he knew them as well as the back of his hand.
Only a few minutes had passed before Tony began tapping his finger insistently on the steering wheel, sighing beneath his breath as he always did when he was bored. “You’re not going to record this one?”
“What?”
“Y’know, with you’re like, little camera,” Tony explained, taking his hand briefly off the wheel to mime a square. “That vlog you did. For Germany. Are you not as excited for this?”
“Not really, Mr Stark,” Peter replied honestly. “Because Germany was like, y’know, the Avengers and debuting Spider-man to the world and everything. Besides, we haven’t even left New York yet.”
“But, kid, you’re about to experience America,” Tony said, like it all made sense. “You sure you don’t want to record any of this?” Peter shook his head, and Tony sighed, passing Peter his phone. “How about you put on some music, at least. If you’re not going to chatter your head off to that camera, I’d rather not sit in silence this entire journey.”
“What, like a playlist?” Peter perked up. “You’re trusting me to make the road trip playlist?”
“Sure, whatever kid.”
Peter glanced down at the phone, swiping his finger across the screen as he built the basis for the playlist. He had never really put much thought into his music taste, the majority of it came from whatever Uncle Ben and Aunt May had been playing while cooking or cleaning, so he thought it was probably just right for Tony’s age group. He scrolled, adding several songs that he could vividly remember from his childhood.
As the car slowed down, waiting with the rest of New York in the immovable mass of traffic, Peter even handed Tony his phone so he could add some songs of his own choosing. He stared down in disbelief as the phone was handed back to him. “Mr Stark.” He said. “Really?”
“What’s the matter, kid?” Tony replied, his gaze not leaving the road. “I just thought your playlist could use, y’know, a little taste.”
Peter waved the phone in his face. “Mr Stark, you’ve only added AC/DC.”
Tony shrugged, pushing his sunglasses further up his nose. “What I said, kid. Taste.”
Peter huffed, knowing there was no point in arguing further, sliding the phone back into his lap so he could continue adding more songs, only glancing up once as he began to recognise the streets they were driving through. The burger place that Peter got food poisoning at and then swore he would never enter again sat on the street corner. He knew the dessert place was hidden somewhere down one of the alleyways, and suddenly the idea of the road trip didn’t sound so fun. He wasn’t going to see his friends until August, was he?
Eventually, Tony pulled into the side of the street, and Peter got a weird sense of deja vu from the end of his trip to Germany, when he thought everything would change.
“Alright kid,” Tony sighed, turning off the engine of the car, turning to Peter. “I’m going to give you about,” he glanced down at his watch, “ten minutes to grab your little spidersuit before I want to be on the road again. I’ve got something I want you to see today.”
Peter nodded, already leaning over to open the car door, before glancing over his shoulder at Tony. “Are you not coming in?”
“Nah kid,” Tony waved him off. “This car has air conditioning.”
Peter got out of the car, trailing into the apartment building, deciding to take the stairs rather than gambling whether or not the faulty elevator was going to be in service that morning. It probably wasn’t, it always seemed to be out of service whenever the weather got warmer. It wasn’t much of an issue, their apartment was on the second floor.
The apartment itself looked exactly the same as it had as when Peter had left for school the previous morning. The numerous suitcases holding all of Aunt May’s possessions had been removed, but his breakfast plate was still sitting on the side, his jacket still draped over the back of a chair that Peter had been too lazy to move back to his room.
He shuffled into his room, grimacing at the mess of the floor, but decided he’d deal with it later, shooting a web at the attic compartment in the ceiling. Despite the fact that the most important people in his life were technically in the loop, Peter still hid the spidersuit in the same spot he had hid the first suit. It felt safer that way, he supposed, although logically he knew that Tony could probably hide the suit for him.
The suit fell down easily, the red and blue spandex landing in Peter’s hands, quickly stuffing it into his jeans pocket before turning. There was nothing else Peter needed, he knew Tony could buy anything else he forgot. He had his spiderman suit, everything else barely mattered when you were travelling with a billionaire.
Peter paused as he stepped out of the door, his gaze falling on the overstuffed sock door sat right next to the entrance, hesitating for two seconds before flinging the drawer open, grabbing a manky green sack with a single bead for an eye, also stuffing that in his pocket with his suit.
May had said to bring it. She would probably question why he hadn’t brought it, in all honesty, and it was easier just to bring it rather than try to explain why he hadn’t.
—
The road trip was perhaps one of Tony Stark’s best ideas, if he was going to pat himself on the back.
Pepper had been afraid of Peter getting bored, because apparently hours upon hours spent in the lab didn’t count as actual entertainment, no matter how much Tony would like to argue the opposite. But there was no way that Pepper could argue that a road trip wasn’t going to completely enthrall Peter.
“Mr Stark,” Peter piped up from the seat beside him. “You know where we’re going, right?”
“Two minutes kid,” Tony responded easily, patting his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel. “Just wait two minutes.”
“Mr Stark, that’s not an answer.”
Tony didn’t answer, not willing to validate Peter with a response, instead leaning his elbow out of the window of the car as traffic continued to move at a snail's pace, sighing beneath his breath. They hadn’t been travelling for long, only two hours, but Tony had been waiting insistently for their arrival ever since he came up with the idea while waiting in Queens.
The kid was sitting in his seat, slouched slightly as he gazed outside of the car window. Tony’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he imagined the kid’s reaction to the first destination of the road trip.
Eventually the traffic edged forward, and they were directed towards a field that was operating as a car park, where they were then directed into a further car park, until Tony quickly flashed his ID card to the worker, and they were directed right next to the entrance.
Peter’s mouth dropped as he looked up. “Mr Stark,” he said slowly, and Tony couldn’t stop the large grin that was bursting out of his face. “Can we go in there?”
“What do you mean kid?”
“Like,” Peter finally looked at Tony. “You’re you, y’know. Won’t anybody recognise you here?”
“Kid, I’ll be fine.” Tony patted Peter on the shoulder, leaning into the back seat of the car to pick up a dark blue, worn baseball hat, slipping it onto his head. “There. Nobody will recognise me.”
Peter quirked his eyebrow. “Really?”
“Really kid. Now, c’mon, the state fair waits for no one.”
The state fair was completely bustling, several families with young children clinging to them struggling through the crowds, young couples unable to keep their eyes off each other in the least romantic place on earth. Tony probably didn’t even need his disguise of a baseball hat, nobody would pay attention to them here.
“Well,” Tony began, slinging his arm over Peter’s shoulder. “Welcome to the first destination of our quote unquote road trip kid. Do whatever you want.”
“Is that fried butter?” Peter asked aloud, pointing towards a series of colourful tents that decorated the edges of the fair, each advertising food that got more and more odd as you went further down. “Fried cheesecake? Oh my god, Tony, they have fried oreo?”
Tony smirked. “You want one kid?”
The fried oreo stick was soon paid for, the worker barely batting an eye at Tony’s disguise, and soon Tony and Peter were sitting together on a random park bench, Tony watching with half amazement, half disgust as Peter wolfed down the treat.
“Kid, is that thing actually good?”
“Umm, not really,” Peter said around his meal. “But I forgot to eat breakfast.” He swallowed the oreo. “I didn’t know they made stuff like this. Did you know, Mr Stark?”
“Can’t say I did, kid,” Tony said, half distracted as he adjusted his watch on his wrist, before looking up. “It’s my first time at a state fair.”
Peter’s eyes brightened. “Oh, me too Mr Stark.”
“Has your aunt taken you anywhere?”
Peter frowned, swallowing the last of his fried oreo. “She’s busy,” he argued, stubborn in the way teenagers often were. “She’s always working shifts so she doesn’t have the time to take me anywhere.”
Tony nodded, patting Peter on the shoulder as he stood up. “Good thing you met me then kid. Now, how about the ferris wheel?”
The ferris wheel was disappointing, in all honesty. It didn’t go very high, and it went so slow that Tony had gotten bored of the view, which was already underwhelming compared to the view he got from the penthouse each evening.
Peter agreed. “I go so much higher with my web shooters,” he told Tony as they were walking away from the attraction, his expression completely changing as he realised what he had just said. “Not that I’m not grateful, Mr Stark, I really am. Thank you for this.”
“Nah, I agree kid,” Tony said as they wandered further into the fair, slinging his arm around Peter’s shoulders, guiding the kid through the forest of people. “Hey, that looks fun.”
They strolled up to a stall that sat on the very end. It was one of the traditional fair stalls, red and white stripes running down the sides. An overly enthusiastic worker was leaning out of the stall, beckoning his hand widely at the crowd.
“Hello,” Tony greeted, approaching the man, raising his sunglasses to peer into the tent. “So, what are you selling?”
The worker paused, looking Tony up and down. “You look familiar.”
Tony pushed his sunglasses back onto his face. “Do I? I didn’t notice.”
The worker gave him another suspicious glance, before shrugging his shoulders and pointing at the back of the tent. “I’m selling fun and games! The aim is to throw rings around these glass bottles.” Within the tent were several platforms, upon which old wine bottles were perched, dark and misty against the colourfulness of the stall. “We have many prizes, including a camera and a refurbished phone.” The worker’s hand shot out, holding three rings. “Do you dare? $5 for three tries, $10 for seven.”
Tony glanced to the side at Peter. “What do you say kid?”
Peter shrugged. “Sure,” he said, taking the rings from the worker's hand, as Tony slipped a note to the worker, aligning himself with the center of the stall, glancing playfully at Tony, a smile invading his lips. “If I get the top prize, you owe me a candy bar.”
“Kid, I’m paying for this whole trip.”
Peter’s grin widened. “Mr Stark. C’mon.”
“Whatever kid. Okay, fine, sure, I’ll buy you the candy bar.”
That seemed to spur the kid on as he stood, tossing the rings lightly in his hands. A simple carnival minigame should be an easy feat for the kid behind Spider-man, Tony felt no doubt that the kid could do it. Peter adjusted his stance, rocking back and forth on his heels before catapulting the ring towards the bottle at the very back.
The ring landed perfectly.
“Did you see that Mr Stark?” Peter immediately cried, his grin as wide as his face as turned from Tony to the bottles back to Tony. “I won! You owe me a candy bar now!”
Tony merely rolled his eyes, fighting the grin that wanted to appear on his own face as he turned to the worker. “So, what do we win?”
“Well, you won the top prize, so you can essentially choose anything you want,” the worker explained, taking the two other rings from Peter. “We have, uhm, the camera, the refurbished phone. You can also pick the smaller prizes; there’s water guns, glow in the dark toys.” The worker gestured to the wall behind him, where all the prizes stood proudly, waiting for Peter to choose one. “Oh, and we have some jumbo plushies too. But parents don’t usually like those.” The worker pulled back a curtain, revealing the soft toy plushies, which looked nearly as tall as Peter himself.
Peter suddenly barked out laughter. “Mr Stark!”
“Kid, do not even think about it.”
—
“Kid, why did you have to choose that?”
They were resituated in the car, driving slowly along the boulevards, the white streetlights casting shadows along the street that hadn’t appeared until the sun went down. They were following directions, instructed by FRIDAY from the car’s intercom to the nearest hotel that were suitable for Tony’s taste. Peter had seen numerous motels he thought would do just fine, but apparently not.
Peter blinked, glancing at the ridiculously large spider-man plushie sat beside him in the back, tucked in with a seatbelt. “What?”
“Y’know, there were so many other prizes you could’ve chosen,” Tony continued, his gaze meeting Peter’s through the rear view mirror. “You listened to the guy, right? You could’ve gotten a glow in the dark toy, that’s fun, right?”
“Mr Stark, you don’t understand,” Peter argued, leaning forward in his seat. “This has my face on it. Me!”
“Kid, I understand plenty. Did you know Iron Man has a deodorant line?”
Peter huffed, dropping his head against his chest. “Yeah, but you’re… you. I’m just me.”
There was a silence in the car, broken only by their playlist playing faintly in the background, Tony’s gaze returning back to the road as Peter looked down, turning the candy bar he had won from their bet slowly in his hands. Betting a candy bar had been a thing Peter used to do with Ben, when Peter was still young enough to not understand the value of money but old enough to understand the value of a candy bar. It had been easier, because money was tighter, and it also felt appropriate now, when Peter didn’t even want to guess how much money Tony was willing to bet.
FRIDAY continued to narrate directions, and eventually the streets became more populated with cars and streetlights, the hotel appearing in the distance and causing a wave of relief to pour over Peter, the thought of finally getting to sleep after a long day crashing into him.
And then his stomach grumbled.
“Mr Stark?” he said hesitantly, leaning towards the front of the car. “Are we going to eat dinner at any point?”
“Shit!” Tony cursed, the car coming to a sudden halt. “Pepper said to remember to feed the kid. FRIDAY, find the nearest restaurant that’s open. I need to get some fuel into this kid.”
“Rerouting. Take the next left and continue for 0.13 miles.”
It was nearing midnight once they pulled into the restaurant, a dark, dingy place, only a singular letter flickering erratically. It was the type of place that Peter, Ned and M.J used to go to when they only had a few dollars of allowance left over and they needed a place that didn’t mind them loitering for hours on end, wasting the day away before they had to return home. They hadn’t had one of those days in almost eighteen months now, but Peter still remembered it fondly.
The restaurant was near empty as they stepped inside, the teenage employee working behind the bar barely even blinking as the Tony Stark walked into his restaurant, pointing the two near the back of the store, away from the couple that was almost animalisticly making out towards the front.
Tony slumped into his seat with a sigh, disgracefully passing Peter the menu. “Alright, pick what you want kid.”
Peter barely even glanced at the menu before picking what he wanted, which included numerous burgers and a portion of fries. His enhanced metabolism meant he was hungry all the time, his stomach pains sharp and consistent now, and eating dinner at close to midnight certainly didn’t help. Peter had just assumed that at some point Tony would remember that they had to eat.
The teenage employee took Peter’s order, vaping as he did so and just barely mumbling the order back before he slunk into the kitchen, leaving behind a cloud of smoke behind. “Are you not going to order anything, Mr Stark?”
“I don’t need to, kid,” Tony responded wittily, leaning back into his chair, a smirk spreading on his face. “And, I want to get to this hotel as soon as possible. I’ve got stuff I want to work on.”
Peter nodded, not willing to argue further that maybe Tony should eat, considering all he had eaten that day was a bite of a fried cheesecake stick and a piece of candy floss. It was too late, Peter fighting to keep his eyes open as the seconds ticked by, and Tony was an adult, he didn’t need to be managed by a teenager.
“So,” Tony continued, folding his arms over his chest. “What do you want to do next, kid?”
“Y’know,” Peter said. “I really want to see Chicago.”