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Tony was going to kill him.
It was that simple: Tony Stark – genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and Iron Man – was going to kill him.
Thankfully, Peter was not out heroing in his current condition. That was the good news.
The bad news was, well…more abundant.
First: Peter was at a party (that was fine in and of itself, Tony really couldn’t care about that, except, well – he knew what went on at high school parties).
Second: Peter had driven to the party.
Third: Alcohol was being served.
Fourth, and probably the most important one yet: Peter was drinking.
Tony knew Peter was a good kid. That was part of his charm. So, naturally, Tony could find no plausible reason as to why Peter Parker was drinking underage.
Oh, yeah, there was a fifth one: Peter was barely sixteen.
This was one of those things that fell under the “don’t do anything I would do” rule. Which, at least in his mind, was the second easiest rule to follow.
So, yeah, Tony was going to kill him.
After he picked him up from the shindig like any responsible adult would.
Oh, God.
When had he become a responsible adult?
Wait, no, that wasn’t important.
What was important was the fact that Aunt May couldn’t stop Peter from doing this (which, Tony thought, was probably a very good reason as to why Peter was doing it in the first place), the fact that Peter’s friend – Ned, was it? – was also at this party and also drinking underage, and the fact that the girl Peter had heart eyes for was there, very much sober and Peter very much drunk.
God, he was going to kill him.
He pulled into the driveway belonging to a “Flash” Thompson (seriously, he thought as he put on his sunglasses, who goes by the name Flash?), slamming the car door behind him and very ready to lecture the kid(s).
But primarily Peter.
And dearest holy God, what the hell was Peter doing?
Tony blinked, not quite believing his eyes.
Peter raised a red solo cup (who even used those; it was like a flashing neon sign announcing that “hey! I’m drinking a little too much and probably can’t even legally do so!”) in the air, declaring something that Tony’s ears couldn’t quite catch.
Tony really hoped he was hallucinating.
The crowd of teenagers cheered, and Peter backflipped, spilling the contents of his solo cup on his shirt. Another cheer went up, and Tony managed to hear “Yeeeeaaaahhhh, Penis Parker!” from one of the kids.
Tony made himself take three deep breaths. Otherwise a kid was going to be flying into a wall in the next few seconds.
Someone sidled up next to him, and when he turned to see who it was, he found it was the girl Peter was hopelessly in love with.
“He’s going to kill himself,” she said.
Tony’s eyes widened, not knowing what exactly that meant. When she saw Tony’s look of concern and fear, she immediately backtracked.
“No, no, not like that. He’s just…” she sighed. “He’s gonna do something stupid and break his neck.”
Yep. That seemed very likely.
“And I’m willing to bet my life savings that if he drinks anymore, he’s gonna announce that he’s Spiderman to the entire grade.”
Tony looked sharply at her, and she shrugged.
“I had a hunch. Plus, his voice wasn’t difficult to place.”
Okay. That was fair.
And he had to admit, this girl had a point: Peter was drunk as hell. His brain was already muddled, and, well, things could end very badly.
As was evident by how close Peter came to falling after another backflip.
“Okay, that’s it, I’m taking over.” He weaved his way through the masses of teenagers, many of whom were wearing too much cologne or not enough clothing (that activity is for adults, kids!). This party had gone on too long and he had to correct it.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y., disable all cars at this address that don’t belong to the Flash kid or myself,” he mumbled.
“On it, boss.”
"And call their parents."
"Yes, sir."
Peter stumbled around for a little bit, and Tony was ready to give him the lecture of his life. “I ‘ave…an ‘nouncem’nt,” he slurred.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit.
Tony had to step in now. As in, right this fucking second.
He made his way next to Peter, sliding an arm across his shoulder, gripping the boy with a firm hand. “His announcement is that the party’s gone on too long, kids.”
There was a collected groan as Peter turned to Tony. “’m fine, ‘ister Stark, really. This party c’n keep goin’ on.”
Tony had a fake grin plastered across his face, and he was pretty sure it looked more like a grimace. “Kid, you’re drunk. You’re done.” To the rest of the crowd, he said, “Yep, party’s over. Responsible adult is here. Call your parents and go home.”
He was met with a massive protest.
“HEY!”
All the teenagers were startled into silence.
“I understand how much trouble you all will get into. Trust me; I get it.” He surveyed the crowd, and was almost amused at the murderous glances some kids were throwing his way. “But it’s better to get in trouble than be dead. In fact,” he held up his index finger, “I’m willing to bet there’s only two sober people here.”
There was a slight grumbling, and he looked at Peter to see the kid looking at the ground. Oh, he was in for it, but that was for later.
“Besides, your cars are disabled for the next couple of hours, so you might as well call your parents.”
Someone in the middle of the crowd raised their fist, giving him the bird.
“Thank you,” he murmured, guiding Peter out of the house.
Pissed couldn’t even begin to describe how Tony felt right now.
He stopped long enough to call to – oh God, what was her name? Millie? Shelly? – the girl. “Can you take Ned home?”
She nodded and began weaving through the crowd to get Ned.
Tony knew she would be good at making sure the party was shut down and the kids would call their parents. After all, she seemed to be the most intimidating kid in Peter’s grade.
He would have stayed behind, but Peter a) needed help in more ways than one, and b) he would have started lecturing the kid in front of the entire crowd, and he knew that just wasn’t what Peter needed right now.
He opened the car door, and Peter shoved him with both hands. He stayed rooted to his spot.
“You di’n’t h’ve to do th’t, Mr. Stark.” Tony would have laughed at Peter’s face if he wasn’t so pissed.
“Get in the car, kid.”
Peter grudgingly obeyed.
Tony walked around the back of the car, making a note to ask Peter for the girl’s name later. He needed to thank her.
“I w’s fine in there, Tony.”
Tony gripped the steering wheel tightly, pulling out of the driveway. “It’s Mr. Stark to you, kid.”
“No.”
“Unless you want me to call the police and tell them that you’ve been drinking underage – which will result in a license suspension and serious consequences from me, not to mention your aunt –, I would just go with it, kid.”
Peter crossed his arms, stubbornly staring ahead of him. “Fine.”
“Fine what?” God, he sounded just like his dad.
“Fine, Mr. Stark.” The words were like venom.
If it was any other situation and not underage drinking, his anger might have dissipated. As it was, Peter’s tone was like throwing gasoline on a forest fire.
“Hoo, boy, are you in for it,” he gritted, heading up to the compound.
“’m fine.”
“Save it.”
The rest of the drive was spent in infuriated silence. Tony was sure if he gripped the steering wheel any tighter, he would break it.
And the look in Peter’s eyes was a far cry from the boy Tony knew so well and cared for as if he were his own.
And that pissed Tony off even more.
Once they arrived, Tony was steering Peter towards his “room,” waving off Rhodes and Happy on the way.
Peter shrugged Tony off, angrily turning on him. “You’re not my dad!”
That stung.
It really, really stung.
“That’s right.” He was surprised at how quiet his voice was, and judging by how Peter shuffled a few steps backward, he had surprised Peter as well. “I’m not your dad. But I do feel responsible for you, and you’re out here, drinking and partying!”
Peter’s eyes flashed. “And I was fine!”
“Really? Is that the story you’re going with? Because I saw you showing off all your tricks and nearly breaking your fucking neck!”
“But I didn’t hurt anyone!”
“You almost fucking told your entire grade that you’re Spiderman!”
Peter’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh shit,” he whispered.
“What? What are you ‘oh shitting’ about?”
Peter winced, looking at Tony. “I-I did tell them I’m Spiderman.”
“WHAT THE FUCK, KID?”
“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, I was drunk, and –”
“Why did you think it was a good idea to go to a party like that?”
Tears jumped into Peter’s eyes, and a part of Tony’s anger disappeared (a small part; miniscule, really, it was almost nonexistent). “They were finally nice to me.”
Well.
That wasn’t exactly what he was expecting.
Peter licked his lips, wiping away some tears that had begun to fall. “I’ve been bullied for years, and Flash finally decided to stop being a jackass just for one day.”
Okay, the anger was somewhat gone.
Tony sighed heavily, massaging his temples. “You screwed up royally, son.”
Peter wasn’t even trying to stop his crying anymore. “I know, Mr. Stark, and I’m sorry, but…”
Tony nodded. “It’s not okay, kid, but I understand.”
“I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”
Tony actually laughed. “The consequences I give you are nothing compared to what your Aunt May’s will be.”
Peter looked up sharply, wincing at the sudden movement. “Fuck.”
“Cursing is for adults only, kid.”
Peter glared at him.
“Get some sleep. I’ll make you hangover cure in a little bit,” he said, turning to leave the room.
“Thanks, Mr. Stark.” Peter nervously shifted from one foot to the other. “A-and Mr. Stark…”
Tony turned back to him. “Yeah, kid?”
“I’m sorry.”
Tony pursed his lips and nodded. “It happens to the best of us, kid.”
And as he left, he really, really wished it didn’t.
That boy deserved the world, and if he turned out anything like Tony…
Well.
A broken heart and sleepless nights would be all he got.