Chapter Text
Tony remembers hearing someone say, once, that a universal law about people is that the thing that makes you awesome is the thing that makes you suck. He can see it, honestly. He sees it in himself. Everything that he can admit is awesome about him (genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist) is also the heart of everything wrong with Tony Stark.
(“Philanthropist,” they call him, and he wants to be sick because nobody gets how useless money is, how easy it is to give it away and pretend it’ll ever do anything but put a bandaid over the gaping wounds you caused. It’s a bandaid for his conscience, at least. Tony hates philanthropists.)
He’d argue it’s true of most of the people he knows. Pepper would probably be able to make a really brilliant, coherent argument about personal strengths and flaws that would explain it all. For all his genius, though, Tony likes to keep some things simple. The thing that makes you awesome is the thing that makes you suck.
He’s not sure it’s true of Peter Parker, though.
Part of that is because he still doesn’t know the kid that well. They’ve fought together a time or two since Peter saved his tech from the Vulture, and Tony invites the kid upstate to the compound whenever he can manage it with his schedule. He likes the kid - likes him a lot, actually - but they’re still on rather formal terms. He doesn’t really get what makes him tick.
The other part of it, that Tony won’t admit to anyone, is that he’s not sure there’s any part of Peter that isn’t pretty awesome. The kid’s brave and resourceful and unselfish. Pretty much all Tony can find to fault him with is some impulsivity and lack of judgement, which - hell, if they’re being marked down for that, then Tony is screwed. There’s the annoying pop culture references, too, of course, and the tendency to spend more time running his mouth in a fight than he should, but again - Tony can only be so much of a hypocrite.
(It scares him a little, sometimes, just how much Peter reminds him of himself. Pepper jokes once that they ought to get his DNA tested to be sure he’s not somehow Peter’s biological dad, and Tony shudders away from that thought, because oh god. There are so many levels of awful in that thought.)
(The most awful is how much, in that instant, he would love it to be true.)
So anyway. Peter saved the day, got his suit back, hangs out with Tony once in a while, blah blah blah. Life is actually going pretty well, for once. No world ending disasters, nobody insisting Tony get dressed up and smile at the cameras for no reason. Pepper isn’t just back, she’s engaged to him? Tony still can’t begin to understand that. Life is good.
It’s summer in New York City when everything goes to hell - and, of course, nobody notices it’s even happening until way too late, because that’s how life goes.
It’s shockingly hot, for early July. (And here’s where the thing that makes Tony awesome - billionaire - is also the thing that makes him suck, because he’s literally too rich to feel the heat. He lives in air conditioning pretty much constantly. The news that people are actually dying in the heat wave takes him by surprise because he literally hadn’t felt a moment of discomfort.) Vision is nowhere to be seen most of the time (Tony Isn’t Asking, he just isn’t, because honestly he doesn’t want to know) and Rhodey is off being awesome at everything he does, and Pepper is a busy CEO, and honestly, Tony Stark is bored.
(He knows he has ADHD, ok? Not news.)
He’s so bored that he considers calling up Cap and trying to hash things out - but honestly, the world probably wouldn’t survive another showdown between them. And that’s the sign, right there, that he needs something to do.
“I need something to do,” he tells Happy, drumming his fingers so rapidly on the table that he can SEE Happy’s blood pressure rising.
“Uhh, how about work? Like the rest of us?” Happy says grumpily. Tony waves a hand at him.
“I’m all caught up on disasters, and if I start another round of tinkering Pepper will leave me, for real. C’mon, you’ve got to know something interesting.”
“The most interesting thing I’ve heard all week has been Spider-Boy’s stories about getting free ice cream,” Happy grumbles. “I don’t get to know interesting things anymore. You don’t let me.”
“Boredom is better for your heart,” Tony points out. He leans back in his chair until he’s almost tipping over, just to prove to himself that he still can. “You’re not as young as you used to be.” The glare Happy shoots him is pretty good, but it doesn’t amuse Tony for long.
He misses Bruce. There was always something to do when Bruce was around, and at the very least, the possibility of him Hulking out at any moment kept things lively.
Spider-Boy, though. There was some potential there. He points at Happy. “Get me Parker. He can come - I don’t know, come hang out for a week or so. Call it intern camp or Stark Summer Symposium or something.”
Happy rolls his eyes. “Parker is working. Unlike some people.”
Tony raises an eyebrow. “Working?”
“Uh, yeah?” Happy is distinctly unimpressed with Tony, which is just unfair. He’s never impressed by Tony. Even Peter managed to impress him with the whole airplane/Vulture/not burning down Coney Island Thing. Tony gets no respect. “Got a summer job. Ever heard of that?”
It really, really hadn’t occurred to Tony - but it should have. Of course Peter has a summer job. He’s been in their apartment. He’s seen the evidence of Peter’s dumpster diving, for God’s sake. Not everybody is a billionaire. (He sucks.)
“Where’s he working?”
“Window washer,” Happy grunts, but even he looks kind of amused at that. “Apparently he’s got a head for heights!”
“No,” Tony says sharply. “No, nope, nuh-uh. Kid with a brain like that, if he’s got to be working for the summer instead of rotting his brain out, he should be working in a lab or doing something that will add to his college applications. Why the hell didn’t he ask me for a real internship?”
Happy just looks at him - just looks, long and unblinking, and Tony finally gets up and walks away. He’s way more bothered about this than he ought to be. Didn’t Peter know he would have helped? What good is it being a genius billionaire philanthropist if people won’t let you do them any good with any of it?
(Tony sucks. He’s so, so aware of it.)
But he is a genius, after all, and so he doesn’t pick up his phone and call Peter. He calls Scary Aunt May.
Within ten minutes they have it all safely arranged, and Tony can go to his lab and happily putter around, already thinking of ways he can bestow wisdom and knowledge on a starry-eyed young Peter Parker who will hang on his every word. It’s good to be Tony Stark.
Peter calls him an hour later, and Tony pats himself on the back before he picks it up. It’s kind of like being Santa Claus, only in July, and with a hell of a lot cooler wardrobe. Now to bask in adulation.
“Heeeey, Mr. Stark,” Peter says hesitantly. “I, uh. I just talked to Aunt May?”
“What a crazy random coincidence, Mr. Parker. So did I.” Tony is having fun.
“Umm.” Peter is probably dumbstruck by his generosity. “She said you wanted me to - to come hang out next week?”
“That’s right.” Tony pulls up schematics on the really really top secret suit he’s totally not building for Peter is absolute secrecy and grins to himself. “Superhero boot camp. You’ve got a lot still to learn, young man, and I hear you’re wasting your summer on manual labor?”
“It’s not!” Peter protests. “Not wasting, I mean, Mr. Stark! It pays really well, and I - I like being up high!”
“Not a problem,” Tony says airily. “We’ll spend some time working on aerial maneuvers. You need strategies for when you’re not in the city.”
Peter gulps audibly, and Tony narrows his eyes. That’s not really what he was expecting. “Look, Mr. Stark,” the kid says breathlessly. “Thank you - honestly, thank you so much, but I - I don’t want to take up your valuable time. I know how busy you are-“
“Oh, you have no idea,” Tony says honestly. He throws a pencil at the ceiling and regrets not having those cheap foam ceiling panels for it to stick into. “Let’s just call it investing in the future, shall we? I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning.”
He hangs up before the kid can say another word. Score one more for - he pauses a moment to consider. Iron Santa? No, Iron Claus sounds way more badass. The kid’s summer will be made, and Tony will have something to keep him busy enough that Pepper won’t have to kill him and bury him in his own suit.
~~~~~~
On Sunday evening, he decides he really ought to be up to date with what the kid’s been up to, just in case. It probably looks better for him to know, since he’s ordered the kid to show.
“Hey FRIDAY,” he calls. “Show me what Spider-Man has been up to. Just the interesting stuff, though - if I wanted boring, I’d watch that new documentary on my dad.”
FRIDAY hesitates just a fraction of a second. “From what time period?”
Computers aren’t supposed to sound uncertain - but, then, Tony did program her. It’s ok if she’s exceptional.
“I don’t know - the past week or two,” he says lazily. She hesitates again.
“Boss, the past few weeks look a bit odd, based on what Karen has to report.”
“Odd doesn’t tell me much.” Tony sits up and starts flipping through information on his own.
“Boring, maybe?” FRIDAY tries. Poor dear, she doesn’t really get human emotions. “Not much to see here.”
“Ehhh, it’s the heat wave,” Tony decides. “Too hot for crimes.” There’s nothing alarming in the reports. Peter’s been catching his same normal small potatoes - muggers, bike thieves, creeps who stalk girls at night. No injuries or major issues to report. It’s pretty much exactly what Tony hopes the kid is always up to.
There’ll be plenty of the awful stuff for him to face later. A fifteen year old has no business dealing with alien weapons or murderous villains.
(Tony is awesome, because he made the kid a super suit that lets him fight anything. This is also why he sucks.)
“Boss,” FRIDAY starts. “How much do you know about spider biology?”
“Way more than I want to.” He mutes her with a flick of a finger before she can gross him out with more awful facts about spinnerettes or compound eyes or whatever else. Sometime FRIDAY is also the worst.
He wakes up way, way too early on Monday morning. It would be really embarrassing to admit how excited he is to hang out with a highschooler this week, so Tony doesn’t. But he does ride along with Happy to pick Peter up, and he makes Happy wait in the car.
The Parkers’ apartment building doesn't have air conditioning. It’s not even super hot yet, this early in the morning, and Tony is sweating as he makes his way to their front door. Summer is gross, New York City in summer is gross, and closed-in hallways without AC are the grossest.
Their apartment doesn’t have AC either - not even a window unit - and Peter, in the way of reprehensible teenagers everywhere, keeps Tony waiting for approximately forever as he gets ready. May tries to offer him any manner of awful-sounding baked goods, and it’s only his natural charm and charisma that let Tony escape unscathed. By the time he’s finally descending the stairs with a shockingly reticent Peter Parker, Tony has privately vowed to a.) secretly install AC in their whole apartment building and b.) make Happy go get the kid tomorrow.
Peter is quiet the whole way back to the Tower. (Yes, Tony sold the Tower. Well, most of the Tower. Well, part of the Tower. Mostly he just moved stuff away and pretended to sell it because Tony has Issues with letting go of things. Shut up.) It’s kind of super creepy, but Tony isn’t the best with mornings either, so he lets it go.
He has plans for the week (and super secret plans to extend this week to more than one, if it goes well enough) and is eager to get started, so he throws a box of Pop-Tarts at the kid on the way in to his (totally not moved to the compound) lab and spreads his arms wide, welcoming. Peter fumbles, drops the box on the floor, picks it up again. Tony gracious ignores the evidence of teenage clumsiness and grins a little wider.
“Welcome to the first annual Stark Summer Symposium for Gifted Youth!” Peter blinks at him. “You have all been specially selected because of your gifts and potential.”
Peter, bless his little cotton socks, actually looks around as though he thinks there are going to be other participants. Tony could cry at that level of innocence, if he weren’t busy having an utter blast. “Yes, folks, that’s right. Personal mentoring by yours truly! Hands-on experience with bleeding edge nanotechnology! All the junk food you can eat, and a really excellent-sounding experience to put on your college applications. Beats washing windows in the heat, wouldn’t you say?”
His smile fades a little as he watches Peter, who is just - off. He’s present and looks excited - well. Keyed up, anyway. He’s got his arms wrapped around himself like he’s cold, though, and is shifting from one foot to the other, nervously. Maybe Tony went too fast with all of this.
But the kid nods at Tony’s question, and he can see the hunger in his eyes as Peter looks around the lab. He knows the intellectual curiosity of that brilliant brain, and this lab has got to be the mental equivalent of one of those ice cream sundaes with twenty-seven scoops of ice cream that nobody is ever supposed to be able to finish. He’ll wait out the kid’s nerves, and then it’ll all be cake.
And he’s pretty much right. It doesn’t take Peter long to warm to the engineering topics Tony has set up for them to explore this morning. The kid really is remarkably bright; not Tony Stark, MIT-at-15 brilliant, but honestly that’s for the best. Nobody should be that smart and that poorly prepared to face the world ever again. There’s so much Peter can learn just by being allowed to experiment in ways that even his awesome school would never allow, and Tony is really really good at letting people go way farther than is wise. Just watching the kid go is enough to ease some of the nerves that tick away in his head all the time, like they’re counting down to something he can’t see coming.
(The thing about being a genius is that sometimes your brain is so far ahead of everyone else that it’s light years ahead of you, too, and you don’t know why you know a thing, just that you do - and nobody can listen to crazy like that, so you can’t even talk about it. This is another way that Tony sucks. He’s so smart that he’s literally too stupid to understand himself.)
They forget to eat lunch, caught up in nanoparticles and the possibilities of adapting Peter’s latest web fluid formula for emergency medical applications, and it’s not until FRIDAY breaks in to tell them it’s almost six that either of them even realize it.
“Yikes,” Tony says, shoving away the project and suddenly feeling all the aches and pains he’d been ignoring. “Well, what do you say we grab a quick bite and then do some patrolling? I thought I’d tag along tonight and watch you work. You know, get an idea of your vulnerabilities and weak points, and then we can work on them this week.”
Peter goes suddenly, horribly pale, and backs up three steps, tripping over an abandoned stool and crashing to the floor with a crack of the elbow that makes Tony wince.
“Uhh, I-“ he stammers, pulling himself upright with all the grace of a baby elephant. “I can’t, Mr. Stark. Not tonight.”
“Why?” Tony is surprisingly hurt. He’s good company on a mission, after all.
“I, uhh.” Now Peter has gone bright red. “I forgot to bring my suit?”
“You forgot to bring your superhero suit to superhero boot camp week?” Tony says slowly. Heaven preserve them all from sleep-deprived teenagers.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.”
And now Tony needs to kick himself really, really hard, because Peter Parker looks like he’s on the verge of tears. The poor kid is staring at the toes of his shoes as though they alone can save him from the wrath that’s headed his way. Tony shakes his head, and puts an arm around the kid’s shoulders.
“Not a big deal, kid. Just bring it tomorrow. We’ve got some updates to make, anyway.”
Peter nods - but there’s a tenseness in his shoulders that doesn’t go away. It leaves a weird feeling in Tony’s gut as the kid heads home via Happy-mobile, and he has to shake his head. Just goes to show he doesn’t actually know everything about this kid, yet.
Like the fact that he hadn’t eaten anything all day. Tony frowns at the untouched box of Pop-Tarts. Surely the kid’s enhanced metabolism should have been acting up from a full day without food?
Kids, Tony concludes, are weird.
~~~~~