Chapter Text
CHAPTER ONE
~
It's dark outside, and the rain from the storm slams against the windows as the wind whips up the trees all around the building, blowing a blustering gale.
The kid should be back by now.
They had an agreement. Peter would check in with him every Friday at ten o'clock sharp for a debrief and a cup of hot coco after his Spiderman extracurricular. It was Tony's way of knowing that Peter was safe, making sure he wasn't taking on people like Adrian Toomes alone, because being a hands off mentor hadn't exactly worked out great for him when the kid had basically given him multiple heart attacks – the ferry, the exploding jet, arresting a man making weapons out of the alien shit Tony had tried to destroy with the rest of the Avengers back in 2012… and when Peter had told Tony that he'd nearly been crushed by a collapsed warehouse, it had taken every ounce of his willpower not to lock the fifteen year old up in a room and post security outside the door.
So that was why, every Friday, they had this debrief. Peter wouldn't take on crooks out of his weight-class and Stark wouldn't go into cardiac arrest.
Sitting down on his lounge with a whiskey in hand, Tony stares out the window of his new apartment, purposefully defying the urge to pace, drinking only to calm himself. His new place isn't as flash as the old tower, nor the bunker upstate, but it's comfortable and close to Peter's place in Queens.
Initially, this place had just been somewhere to stay, somewhere he could be close by just in case Peter decided to put another up-and-coming super villain out of commission. Except, Pepper had liked the place and its size, so she'd moved in as well after the engagement. And then Tony couldn't see himself moving back to the bunker upstate with her, nor could he see himself moving away from Peter, nor did he even want to.
He was… happy, here.
If this was as close to happy as he, a man with so many obvious flaws and traumas, could get, then he would die a very pleased man.
It's then that the doorbell rings.
Putting his half-finished whiskey on the coffee table in front of him, he rises and strides across the living room as his body relaxes with relief, already knowing who's at the door.
“What have I told you about being on time?” is his chastening greet, opening the front door to reveal a sopping wet Parker, shivering from head to toe with his hair plastered to his forehead, and his skin a strange bluish tint.
“Sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, teeth chattering, hugging himself for warmth. “I forgot to set my alarm.”
Tony can't hold his annoyance, not with Peter looking so pathetic and frozen.
“Come on,” he says, holding the door wide so Peter can walk past. “I'll grab you a towel.”
Returning to the living room after fetching the kid a towel, Stark throws it on his head from behind, clearly startling Peter, before vigorously rubbing his hair to remove some of the rain.
“I can do it!” Peter protests, batting the hands away with a scowl.
Tony releases the towel with a smirk and heads into the kitchen to pull out a mug from the cabinet.
“How was patrol this week?” He asks, pulling milk out from the fridge.
“Fine,” says Peter with a half-smile and a shrug. “Stopped some guy from stealing this old man's credit card, saved a dog from a locked car – it was clearly suffering in that hot thing, then I called the police to report it, didn't stick around though.”
Tony pulls out the coco from the pantry, only to turn around and see Peter still making a puddle in the middle of his living room.
“Sounds like a good week,” he says in response with a half-smile of his own, setting down the coco on the cupboard. “But you're soaking. Remind me to fix that about the new suit – needs to be waterproof.”
“You're not still tinkering with that new suit, are you?” Peter asks as Tony brushes past him, heading for his bedroom.
“Of course,” he yells, journeying into the other room. “I never settle until I create perfection!”
He can hear the kid groan exasperatedly from the kitchen and it pulls a smile from the corners of his mouth.
“Even then, sometimes I keep tinkering,” he continues, returning to the lounge with an old shirt and a pair of slacks that probably belonged to Bruce at some point, considering the amount of holes.
“Here,” he says, handing the teen clean garments. “Change into these. At least that way I won't have to watch you shiver or continue to make that puddle on my floor any larger.”
Accepting them gratefully, Peter starts to strip down to his boxers, sloughing off the Spiderman suit like a second skin as Tony returns to the kitchen to finish making the hot coco.
“Pepper lives here too, you know,” he coughs a minute later, scooping chocolate into the mug. “I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want her catching you unawares like that.”
Peter blushes, doing the tie up on his pants and pulling the shirt over his head.
“I know,” he replies. “But she's got late night pilates class tonight, she won't be home until eleven.”
“And how do you know my fiancé's routine?” He asks, keeping his tone light as he re-emerges from the kitchen and hands Peter his mug of steaming hot coco.
Peter frowns disapprovingly, and the expression is kind of cute on the fifteen year old, Tony won't deny it.
“She always has pilates every second Friday, Tony,” he chides, drawing the mug close to his chest. “You, being her fiancé should definitely know that by now.”
“I know, I know,” Tony smirks, picking up the Spiderman suit and throwing it in the general direction of the laundry – straight through the kitchen – before leading Peter into the lounge where they both take a seat on the sofa.
“G-good,” says the kid, re-wrapping his frozen fingers around the hot mug tighter as he draws his feet onto the couch. “Because you're getting married to her in a month and you need to be a considerate husband.” He finishes, the accusatory tone petering out into something more like a question by the end of the sentence.
Tony laughs loudly, slapping his own knee.
“Kid, Pepper's not marrying me for my consideration. Trust me. She's aware of my many flaws.” He replies humorously, picking up his previously abandoned whiskey from the coffee table, though the ice has all but melted now.
“I guess…” Peter agrees, taking a slurp from his mug and briefly glancing at the storm outside.
Before the conversation can lapse into something Tony will find awkward, he picks it up by revisiting their earlier topic.
“But anyway, aside from the waterproof issue we're now both aware of, have there been any problems with the suit?”
“Not really,” Peter shrugs, curling into the corner of the couch and turning his attention back to Tony, but adds: “Though I'd still like you to take the 'kill' setting out of Karen.”
“Karen?”
“Y'know, the computer voice thingy inside the suit.”
“You called Friday's back-up system Karen. That's like, an 80's movie mom name. You couldn't have picked something cooler, like, EVE or C-3PO?”
“It was the first thing that came to my head, okay!” Peter gesticulates animatedly with one hand, almost spilling his drink from the other. “And I wasn't going to name it after a movie character.”
“Hey, don't diss naming computers after movie characters. Friday is, after all, my private homage to the Addams Family.” He jokes, putting particular dramatic emphasis on the word homage, with his smirk only growing wider.
“Uh, I'm pretty sure the girl in that was called Wednesday, not Friday.”
“You say Tomayto, I say Tomahto.” He replies, brushing off the comment with another sip of whiskey.
A snort of laughter comes out of Peter and the sound makes Tony smile too. He'd never admit this to anyone, but he kind of likes having the kid come around on Friday's for company, because the people he tends to work with these days either revere him or hate him. Initially Peter had fallen into the first category, but Tony can now see that the kid has lost that starstruck look in his eyes and just sees Tony the man, not the man behind the Ironman suit.
When the laughter dies down, Tony suggests a game of cards and Peter agrees eagerly.
“What shall we play?” Tony asks, setting down his drink again – empty this time – and walking to the tall, free-standing game cupboard in the corner by the TV. “Coup? Hearts?”
“Can't play Coup without Pepper,” Peter points out, shifting onto the floor and situating himself more comfortably. “Uno?”
“Uno it is.”
Snatching the pack of cards out from the top shelf he tosses them to Peter who pulls them out and shuffles before dealing two piles of seven and placing the remaining cards in the middle. Tony sits in the armchair closest to the kid and picks up his hand, turning the top card of the deck over in the process.
“It's a skip,” he says with a smirk.
“Damn...”
They play several games of Uno and Tony loses track of the score, the kid is enjoying himself and so he finds he doesn't care if he loses every game. It's only when Pepper gets home from pilates that the game and bubble of time in which they'd existed stops and pops.
“Hey boys,” she announces herself, slipping off her sneakers at the front door and popping her bag down by the couch. “What are you up to?”
“OH crap!”
Peter tosses down his cards, startling both Pepper and Tony as he jumps up, snatches his empty mug from the coffee table and sprints to the kitchen, disappearing out of sight.
Tony checks the watch on his wrist and finds the time to be eleven thirty, well past Peter's curfew.
“What was that all about?” Pepper asks with a confused chuckle, coming over to peck him on the head with a gentle kiss. He gently draws her in as she starts to pull away and returns the greeting with a chaste kiss of his own.
“I think it means I'm going to be in for a lecture when I drop Peter home,” he replies with a sigh.
“You're driving him?”
The kid's apartment is only a couple blocks from here and he would normally just walk home, so Tony understands her confusion.
“Yeah. I'm worried about the weather, I don't want him walking home in this.” He says, gesturing to the storm out the window that has only gotten stronger since Peter arrived.
“Okay,” she agrees. “Drive safely.”
Peter vaults back into the room and Tony can see the wet spider-man suit haphazardly stuffed into his school bag, explaining where he'd run off to.
“I gotta go, Mr. Stark!” he practically yells, “But thanks for the coco and the card game!”
“Hold up, kid,” he raises his palms. “I'll drive you.”
Peter pauses to rapidly blink at him, processing.
“No, you don't have to, Mr. Stark, really!”
Tony stands, his body reminding him none too gently that sitting still for too long is never a good idea at his age.
“I'm not letting you walk home in this weather,” he counters. “Come on.”
Tony leads them to the garage, Peter falling into step behind him until they reach the vehicle before they both get in with a slam of doors. Turning the key in the ignition, Tony brings the car roaring to life.
Pulling out of the underground, Tony glances over to see a cloudy look on the younger's face.
“Kid,” he acknowledges, glancing over a couple of times as he simultaneously flicks the wind-screen wipers on to clear the rain away. “What's on your mind? Something up?”
Peter sags in his seat.
“No,” he says. “It's just… it's so late. I feel bad making you drive me.”
“I'm driving you of my own free will, remember?”
Peter's face wrinkles.
“Still,” Tony continues. “You're right, it is late. May might actually sever my head from my body this time.”
A groan emanates from the passenger seat.
“She'll let you off easy,” he replies. “A slow and quick death. Me, she'll torture me for weeks before bringing that axe down.”
Tony can't help but laugh.
“You're so melodramatic,” he chuckles, taking the turn onto Peter's street.
“You're one to talk,” the kid replies. There's no heat in it.
“I guess you're learning from the best then.”
“Oh, without a doubt,” the kid smirks.
Tony pulls up alongside the curb of Peter's street and turns off the engine leaving only the sound of the hammering rain on the roof of the car. The lights are on in the kid's house, which means his aunt is still awake.
Peter seems to be noticing the same thing, if the way he starts to squirm in his seat is any indication. He's pretty sure the kid will be grounded this time, even if he is here to take half the blow.
“You ready for this?” He asks pityingly. It's only under another's gaze that Peter notices his own fidgiting.
“Yeah…” Peter shrugs tensely, more of a jerk than a motion.
He can read the kid like an open book. The corners of his mouth turn up tightly at Peter's poor lie.
“Well, it's time to face the music anyway,” he says, acknowledging the lie but letting it go and clapping Peter on the shoulder before exposing the interior of the driver's door to the elements outside.
Peter hesitates to follow suit but eventually he too climbs out the car, the icy rain pelting down on the both of them as they hurriedly make a mad dash for the overhang at the front door.
The kid fiddles with his key, getting it out of his school bag after some trouble and shoving it gracelessly into the lock to let them in.
May suddenly materialises from the hall with a look to match the weather outside. Tony's sure glad he's not in Peter's shoes, but standing in his own shoes against a force like May isn't something to envy either, he already knows.
Peter startles at her appearance, clearly hoping she'd fallen asleep on the couch or something.
“And you've been where exactly?” She asks darkly, her eyes fixating on the kid with a stare that promised some form of 'A Talk' to be had at a later date.
“Aunt May…” Peter says, attempting to mollify her with his sorry expression, “I didn't realise the time, I―”
“It was my fault,” Tony says, stepping forward abruptly, cutting Peter off in the middle of his stuttered sentence going nowhere. “I wasn't watching the time, my apologies. We clearly got too caught up in Uno.” He flashes a smile back in Peter's direction and for some reason, the boy doesn't suppress the twitch of his lips that he throws back.
May isn't dissuaded though, her eyes flicking back to Peter after having settled on Tony for a moment.
“No Spiderman for a month, Peter!” She declares, pointing a finger at him, unassuaged by their explanations.
After announcing the punishment, to which Peter looks absurdly crestfallen, she turns on her heel and leaves, striding down the hall with a, “See yourself out, I'm going to bed,” obviously directed at Tony.
After they hear May's bedroom door close, Peter lets out a breath.
“Guess I deserve that,” Tony remarks with a nod, scratching the stubble on his chin. “Reckon she thinks I'm a bad influence…”
“Could've been worse though,” asserts Peter wisely. “For both of us.”
“I suppose you are right about that,” he agrees, smirking down at the fifteen year old. “And she's not entirely wrong. Bad influence is what I project as an image.”
Peter smirks back.
“You're not like that at all though,” he disagrees, apparently surprising even himself with the strength of the affection in the words that leave his mouth. “Even you won't let me go out as Spiderman if I haven't finished all my homework. You're… kind of responsible.”
Tony feels immediately affronted by the notion, and he lets Peter know in the way his disgust melts all over his expression.
“Hey now, responsible is a big word,” he says with a quirk of his eyebrow, a hint of laughter in his voice. “I'm Tony Stark. You know, Philanthropist? Playboy? Inventor? Billionaire? I don't have time for things like responsibility!”
Peter can't help but let out a snigger at that and Tony feels a wash of affection of his own sweep over him for the kid. The lengths he would go to to protect that stupid snigger and the boy to which it belongs seems almost stupid, but then again so much about Peter makes him want to hide the kid away from the world and the evils he knows exists in it. He might not be the kid's father, but his heart didn't seem to notice the difference. It had started resolutely ignoring the part of his brain that logically noted he could never fill the shoes of Peter's dad.
“Yes, well,” the kid snickers, “You're also the worlds greatest avenger, and with great power comes great responsibility. You taught me that!”
Tony knows he looks and feels both entirely embarrassed and immensely pleased by those words, but before he thinks Peter can see the emotion, he stuffs it down where he keeps all affecting emotions and diverts the conversation to something far less pleasant.
“Well kiddo, I reckon that means I won't see you next Friday or the Friday after that or the one after that, so I'll say goodbye here.” He says, shoving his hands onto his hips. “Be good for your Aunt, and don't go gallivanting around as Spiderman for the next month behind her back. If you do, I'll know and I'll tell on you.”
Peter pouts.
He isn't the kid's parent, sure, but he's certainly started acting like one.
“She laid out the rules and we broke them by coming home late,” he adduces, raising an eyebrow in anticipation of protest.
“But it was an accident!”
“I know,” he replies, ruffling the kid's hair. “But maybe taking a break from Spiderman isn't such a bad thing. Focus on school, Peter. Take some time for yourself; I can handle the day-to-day heroics around Queens for the next month, I promise.”
The pout on Peter's face only grows into something more childish, but Tony gets a laugh out of it, and that softens the look on the kid's face, apparently making him feel slightly less sad about his new situation.
“… Can't I visit you anyway? Even if I'm not out as Spiderman…?”
The question is so quiet that Tony isn't even sure he heard it correctly. A hot warmth climbs into Peter's cheeks and he refuses to make eye contact as the silence between them draws into an awkward length of time.
It's only when Tony starts to see the genuine worry growing on Peter's face that he mentally kicks himself into gear, letting a small smile spread across his features.
“Sure you can, kid,” he replies softly. “Any time.”
The expression on his own face is something Tony knows doesn't belong there. It's happy and proud and a multitude of other embarrassing emotions that he doesn't want Peter to see, so before the kid can read it too closely, Tony wipes the expression off his face in a flash, a grin replacing it.
“So long as you've done all your homework,” he chuckles, brushing off the emotions that want to cling, and opening the door to brave the torrential weather once again.
“Ugh,” Peter groans. “Yeah, I know!”
Tony laughs at that, leaving Peter with a wave accompanied by a, “Goodnight, kiddo!”