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Steve leaned against the door jamb, arms folded across his chest, as he observed the teenager inside the common living area of the Avengers Facility. Peter Parker was humming tunefully, his head bobbing along to the rhythm of whatever he was listening to on his earbuds. He was curled into a corner of the large lounge suite, his left foot tapping out a beat on the floor, right foot braced on the lounge, with what looked like a component of his spider suit balanced upon his bent knee. The kid was poking at the inner circuitry of the component, his forehead lined with his concentration. There was a fizzing sound and Peter gave a soft yelp, shaking his right hand, then sucking on his pointer finger. Steve shook his head and paced across the shared space plucking the earbud from the teenagers left ear.
“Does Tony know you’re messing with his tech?”
“Eeek.” Peter’s face flushed as his squeak faded, either in guilt or embarrassment, Steve wasn’t sure. This was only the second weekend the teenager had spent at the facility and he had yet to get past being awed by his new company and surroundings.
“Um… Hi… Um Cap… Mr Rogers…”
“Steve.”
“Um, Steve. It’s one of my new webshooters.” Peter’s expression was earnest and anxious as he looked up at Steve. “Mr Stark said it was ok… I mean… Um, he knows I kinda take apart stuff… just to see what he’s done… Um, yeah…”
Deciding to take pity on the kid, Steve gave him a warm smile as he settled on the other end of the couch. Tucking his feet beneath himself he reached for the sketchbook he’d left on the coffee table earlier that day. The stick of charcoal resting on top wobbled and he slapped his free hand on top of it to stop it rolling away.
“You really are Tony’s protégé, aren’t you?” he observed and Peter shot him a startled look of question. “Tony told me you invented your own web fluid and shooters before he recruited you. He also mentioned the other tech he found in your home, the stuff you had cobbled together from abandoned electronics. Has he told you about his first Ironman suit?”
“Only a little bit… That he built it in a cave in Afghanistan.” Peter’s fingers flexed and tightened about the webshooter still balanced on his knee. “He was hurt there, wasn’t he? He doesn’t… I mean… I tried to ask more about it but he just shut down and walked away. Kind of how May does when I mention Ben.”
Impressed by the kids perception Steve considered how best to answer the question. Peter was barely sixteen but he was already well acquainted with death and loss. His parents had died when he was small, leaving him to be raised by his aunt and uncle. Then he had lost his uncle in a street mugging in Queens. There was also Tony’s right to privacy to consider. Opening his sketchbook to a new page Steve paused with his charcoal just above the white surface.
“It’s not my place to talk about Tony’s hurts; he will have to do that in his own time, when he’s ready. However, I can tell you he built working armour from the cannibalised components of weapons of mass destruction.” Setting the charcoal to the paper Steve began blocking out a rough sketch of Tony in his cluttered workshop. A smile quirked up one corner of his mouth as organised chaos came to life beneath his hand. “The man is a crazy genius.”
“Are you saying… I’m crazy?”
The question was asked with some hesitance and Steve couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his control. “You’re here, aren’t you? That requires some degree of crazy.” A snort of laughter at the other
end of the couch told Steve the kid wasn’t offended. “Aside from that, I meant you are something of a genius yourself. I’ve seen your GPA. It’s off the charts.”
“You’ve seen my GPA?”
Steve met Peter’s startled eyes over the sketchbook resting on his knees. “I’ve seen your file.”
“There’s a file on me?” The kid’s eyes went glassy with what Steve presumed was shock.
“Peter. There are files on all of us. You had to know that.” Steve reflected on this for a moment. “Clint’s is an entertaining read.”
“I’ve never seen any files,” Peter protested, his fingers tightening about the webshooter. “Why haven’t I seen any files?”
The kid was now indignant in the way that only a teen denied knowledge could be. Steve recognised the mulish tilt of his chin in memories of his own sickly but determined face in the mirror. “I expect you’ll get access to the files on the team when you’re older. Some of the content in them is really only suitable for adult viewing.”
“I’m sixteen. What’s the difference between that and eighteen?” Peter grumbled. “I’m not a kid. Seriously!” Setting aside his webshooter Peter plucked a Starkpad out from behind a couch cushion and rested it on his lap as he returned his earbuds to his ears. With a loud huff the kid drew both knees up to his chest and started tapping at the starkpad, the screen out of Steve’s view.
It seemed Peter was done conversing so with an amused shake of his head Steve returned to the scene that was growing on the page before him. Between the shading and blurring Tony’s workshop came to life below his fingers; Tony drawn in the middle of the organised chaos, his form bent over a piece of circuitry on a cluttered bench. Falling into an almost meditative state Steve decided to add Peter to the workshop. Beneath his skilled touch Spiderman came to life hanging upside down from a web above Tony’s head. With a warm smile Steve shaded the figure that was reaching out to swipe the circuit from his mentor’s hands. As time passed in a peaceful silence, marred only by the scratch of his charcoal stick across the paper, Steve almost forgot where he was until the crash of something breaking drew him back to the world.
Across the room was a hole in the plaster wall about the size of the shattered Starkpad on the floor beneath it. Earbuds were tangled in the wreckage and Steve turned an astonished face towards Peter. The teen was rocking backwards and forwards, his knees drawn up tight to his chest, his hands pressing hard against his face.
“My eyes… my eyes…” Peter gasped brokenly and Steve’s astonishment was overwhelmed by concern.
"Peter?” Tossing his sketchbook aside Steve leaned forward, his hands hovering uncertainly above the kid. “What happened? Are you hurt? Do I need to call Bruce?” Peter didn’t seem to have heard him. He was still rocking while muttering about his eyes. Did the Starkpad explode in his face or something? Steve worried as he set a hand gently on the kid’s knee. At the cautious touch Peter lurched back to life. He sprang to his feet, his face red, eyes wide but unhurt, then bolted from the room without saying
another word.
“What the?” His eyes going to the broken tech by the wall Steve’s brow furrowed in suspicion. “Friday?”
“Yes, Sir”
“What was Peter doing on his Starkpad?”
“I believe he was looking at the Avengers files.” The AI sounded guilty, if that was even possible for what was essentially a computer program.
Steve exhaled noisily. Of course he was. He’s a genius denied knowledge with access to advanced technology… “Friday… Those files were locked with priority access only. Peter does not have priority access. Care to explain this situation?”
“Master Parker overrode my security parameters. I’m sorry, Sir.”
That was definite guilt Steve was hearing. However, he didn’t feel he could really blame the AI for this situation. Peter really was a perfect Tony Stark protégé. Plus, this was partly his fault. He had been the one to stupidly mention the existence
of the files.
“And what was Peter reading when he threw his starkpad across the room?”
“He wasn’t reading, Sir. He was watching a video.”
“Cue it up on the big screen, please, Friday?”
A worried mind on some of the torture videos Steve knew were a part of Natasha’s file in particular he picked up the remote for the large screen television. A video flickered to life and he muted the volume, not wanting the sounds of torture to fill this space. When the picture resolved to clarity Steve froze at
the unexpected sight. It was a bedroom or more specifically, a sumptuous silk covered bed with three occupants…
Is… Is that Tony? Where are his clothes? Is that his… OH MY GOD…
****************************
“What the hell have you done in here, Barton?” Tony blurted, his eyes running over the hole in the wall and the hole in the screen of the very expensive tv. “This is coming out of your paycheck-“
“Oi! None of this was me.” Clint protested. “It looked like this when I came in. Do you think I’d call you down here if I were responsible?”
“I suppose I give you credit for not being that stupid.” Tony conceded, ignoring the indignant splutters from the archer. “Why the fuck are my wall and tv broken, Friday?”
“Peter threw his Starkpad at the wall and Steve threw the remote at the tv.” As Tony’s eyes bugged out the AI continued, sounding apologetic. “They both appear to have forgotten their true strength in doing so.”
“Why the fuck..?”
“Peter watched your Swiss Threesome video on his starkpad. It appeared to shock him. This appeared to worry Steve so he asked to be shown what Peter had watched.”
“Well… Fuck.” Tony ran a hand over his face as he surveyed the damage once more then scowled for the benefit of his AI. “No-one was supposed to see that video, Friday. Would you like to explain how Peter managed this feat, or should I just reboot you back into 1993? I seem to recall you being more reliable back then.”
“You have a threesome video?” Clint interrupted, his voice gleeful. Tony resisted the urge to punch him, but only just.
“I’m sorry, Sir. Peter overrode my security parameters. He appeared greatly disturbed so I felt it prudent to arm Steve with all the information he needed to aid him.”
“Load it up on my Starkpad, Friday.” Clint’s eyes were bright and he dodged out of Tony’s reach, as Tony tried to backhand him into silence.
“Do not, Friday!” Tony made another grab for Clint but the archer vaulted over the couch and made a break for the door. “Do not upload that file to Barton’s starkpad.”
“Priority override: Hawkeye – 4531,” Clint yelped as he ducked under Tony’s outstretched arm and ran down the corridor with Tony in hot pursuit. “Upload Swiss Threesome to the Starkpad of Agent Clint Barton.”
“Done, Sir.”
With an outraged howl Tony pounded on the door to Clint’s quarters, the archer’s mocking laughter reaching him from within, along with the sound of the video playing at top volume. Tony winced and gave up. Fantastic. He wasn’t embarrassed. Lord knows there were enough sex tapes of his out there on the web, but now he was going to have to pick his way through the inevitable minefield of Peter’s embarrassment, Steve’s disapproval and Clint’s clumsy teasing. Tony sighed heavily and stomped his way up to his workshop on the next floor. Mechanics he could do. They were easy. People were annoying. People were a pain in the ass.
“Friday.” He snapped, as he slammed into his sanctuary full of the comforting smell of oil and metal.
“Yes, Sir?”
“You’re in big trouble. I’m angry with you. It’s your fault I’m in this mess.” Dummy wobbled over to him and Tony patted his support strut automatically as he scowled at his own feet.
“I’m sorry, Sir. I’ll try harder in future to talk you out of recording your sexual escapades."
Sassy AI’s… Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on that had absolutely nothing to do with the past 48 hours he had spent awake. This was all on Friday. Completely and absolutely. No matter what the AI said. Sassy AI’s are a pain in the ass too.