Chapter Text
"Tony? Hey it's Jim here."
Tony's voice crackles through the speakers. "Hey Jim. How's it hanging? Did you get that babysitter I sent?"
"Uh, yeah, we did, and we'll have a chat later about hiring au pairs to do your chaperoning duty for you." Jim says.
There's a pause at the end of the line, random mechanical beeping and buzzing in the background.
"I've got Peter in the office with me-" Jim says.
Tony sighs, as if to say, of course you do. And Jim thinks at least it's not him sighing this time.
"The staff raised some concerns about his costume." Jim says in explanation.
"The Rihanna one? Bold move Pete, can't believe you actually did that." Tony says, amusement in his voice. Jim raises an eyebrow at Peter, but the teen is staring resolutely at the floor, armoured fingers clasped tightly in his lap.
As a someone who likes to think he's invested in the positive growth of his students, he's glad the teen is coming it if his shell, gaining back some of that optimism he lost after the trauma of last year.
As a school administrator though, Peter's coming of age was a nightmare.
"Actually he's dressed as- well he's dressed in a suit of armour Tony, and we've got some concerns regarding the authenticity. And the obvious safety implications." Jim says.
Peter squirms in his seat, armour clinking slightly as he shifts. Jim takes a second to appreciate the gleaming tech.
There's another pause, then an incredulous "What?" from Tony.
"He's come to the Halloween dance in one of your suits. Which, honestly, a lot of kids do. But the face plate retraction is incredibly smooth, the gauntlets fully articulate and I gotta admit that reactor…" Jim trails off momentarily distracted by the way said reactor over Peter's chest plate seems to pulse, like a heartbeat.
He remembers how at one point something similar was keeping Tony Stark alive.
"It's deweaponised!" Peter protests, again, throwing his arms up.
"Anyway, we just wanted to see if you were missing any inventory at the Tower." Jim continues, trying very hard to ignore how strange it is to be calling Iron Man, on a Friday night, to ask him to check the security of his weapons systems.
"Pete..." Tony's voice comes low across the speakers, "did you hijack one of my suits? Did you, steal it?"
Tony sounds incredulous, and overwhelmed. Jim feels a tug of sympathy.
Peter twists his lip as he considers his answer, looking miserable and small in the frame of the armour.
"Well, no exactly-" he hedges.
Tony is still talking.
"I can't believe this. I'm so- I'm so proud of you kiddo!"
"What?" Jim asks.
Peter echoes his sentiment.
"Fifteen and hacking FRIDAY? You're a menace kid." Tony sounds delighted. "Wait til I tell Rhodey." Some shuffling, the swoosh of a door then yelling away from the speakers.
"Hey! Hey Rhodey! Guess what Peter just did!"
Peter claps his red hands over his face.
"Not Colonel Rhodes." He groans. "I'll never live this down."
"I don't know Tones." Comes a muffled response. "Fallen down a sewer? Kidnapped by drug dealers? Blown up another power station."
Peter shoots an alarmed glance at Jim, who is too busy sending a quick prayer up to the heavens that that Peter had to resign his extra curriculars for the Stark Internship. It could be so much worse.
"Colonel Rhodes you're on speaker!" Peter practically shouts into the conference phone.
Tony starts explaining the situation with obvious delight.
Jim sighs and leans back in his chair, still looking up at the ceiling. He wonders if his wife will have made her famous twelve spice Pho today, and thinks the brothy goodness might be exactly what he needs right now.
His daydreaming is interrupted by Tony talking back into the speaker.
"Tell me which suit you took." He demands. "Was it the Mark thirty seven? Doesn't she fly like a dream? FRIDAY, pull up the logs."
Peter mumbles something into his shoulder.
"What was that?" Tony asks.
Peter clears his throat.
"It's the WM seven." He says clearly.
"But that's-"
The pause stretches out long. Then comes a cackle of delight from the second man, Colonel Rhodes, if Jim could believe it.
"War machine!" Tony splutters.
"You said I could!" Peter protests. "Remember when we were resurfacing the external plating-”
"Friggin war machine!"
"-and I said, what do you want me to do with the scraps Mister Stark-"
"Suck it Iron man!" The Colonel Rhodes crows.
"-and you said-whatever you want kid knock yourself out-"
"Ouch!" Tony announces. “What is that? Oh it’s the titanium alloy knife my intern just shoved into my kidney.”
"Well he's broader across the shoulders Mister Stark- and I just thought-" Peter just keeps digging that hole.
Jim interrupts. "If we could get back to the matter at hand?"
"Yeah, right," Tony sighs, and the man sounds crushed. "That's a decommissioned practice suit, no weapons or flight systems available, and I gave it to Peter, kind of."
“Send me a picture Pe-” Colonel Rhodes yells, and is cut off by a thud.
"Thanks Tony." Jim says. "I’ll let you get back to your night.”
"Yeah you too." Tony mutters back, still obviously crushed. "Good luck with the little gremlins. We still on for that dinner on the 12th?"
“Yeah I’ll be there.” Jim says, then hangs up.
Peter’s got his face buried in his hands, hair fluffing out from around the metal gloves. He moans with the kind of drama only a teenager can manufacture.
“Okay Parker, back to the dance.” Jim says, not unkindly, but eager to get back to supervising the darkened gym now that he knows Peter wasn’t accidentally going to nuke the building.
Peter drags his feet to the door. He pauses, then looks back at Jim.
“Do you think he’s really disappointed?” Peter asks, concern evident in his eyes.
He forgets sometimes how fragile kids are.
“I don’t think so Peter.” Jim says, “Not at all.”
Peter nods, although he looks unconvinced.
“I don’t think anyone could be disappointed with you.” Jim says. “You’re a great kid.”
“Thanks Mister Morita.” Peter says, and steps off down the hall, standing a little taller in the oversize armour.
Jim follows the decommissioned War Machine down the hallway, and reminds himself that however weird his life has gotten, Peter's life is infinitely weirder.