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Chapter Text

September:

“Watch it, Penis!”

Peter grumbled when his forehead connected with the unyielding metal of his locker eliciting a loud bang. Despite it not hurting much due to his spider powers, Peter still made a show of rubbing the spot and scowling at Flash as he laughed at him on his way to class. His school bully was an irritation, for sure, but, a minor one in the grand scheme of things. Like a slightly itchy tag on a scale that goes up to ‘being turned to dust on an alien planet’. And in weird way, Peter kind of appreciated the unchanging megalith that was Flash Thompson being an asshole. Peter’s life had gotten weird in the past few years, but at least this one thing stayed the same.

“You okay, Peter?”

Peter gave Ned a genuine smile, eyes crinkling from the sheer force of it. “Hey, man!” he greeted his best friend excitedly.

He closed his locker and shifted his calculus textbook into his left arm so they could perform their handshake.

“How was Wakanda?” Ned asked in what Peter knew was meant to be a hushed voice, but Ned Leeds wasn’t known for being inconspicuous.

Peter glanced around quickly, but as usual, no one was bothering to pay them any attention. The advantage of being the pariahs of the school. The anonymity was something Peter savored, knowing it was going to be in short supply in the near future. “It was so cool,” he said finally, childish excitement bleeding into his voice, raising it a few octaves. “Shuri’s gonna visit next time. You know she hasn’t ever, like, properly visited the states? She wants to be a tourist- foam Statue of Liberty crown and everything!”

“Your life is so weird, Peter. Okay, when the Princess comes we have to take her to Eddie’s, that’s nonnegotiable,” Ned started to ramble.

The bell cut off what certainly would have been a rant about how amazing the chocolate malt shake at the old soda pop shop was. No doubt the chocolate malt shake deserved many sonnets written about it, but Peter was mostly interested in getting to class and settling back into a normal schedule after missing three days of school for his strange secret life that involved science binges with a literal Princess and his adoptive father, Tony Stark. Yup, weird.

As they entered first period AP Chemistry and sat down, Ned asked, “Hey, when does MJ get back from Japan. She’s in Japan, right? Jeez, it’s gotten so hard to keep track.”

Peter sighed like the love-sick puppy he was. He hadn’t seen his girlfriend outside of skype calls in two weeks. “She and Pepper should be getting back tonight,” he said wistfully.

“Ugh, dude, wipe the drool off your chin,” Ned said, wrinkling his nose.

“I’m not drooling,” he said defensively, but wiped his sleeve across his chin just in case.

Ned smirked at him, but it wasn’t Peter’s fault he had an amazing girlfriend who just so happened to have impressed the CEO of Stark Industries so much Pepper Potts herself took the high school girl under her wing and began grooming her for the world of business and teaching her the tricks involved with the job of wrangling a science-minded, superhero boyfriend into line. Tony and he shared a common awe which bordered on genuine fear of their significant others. It was a healthy amount of fear.

In any case, Pepper had had a string of meetings in Japan and MJ, as her personal intern/assistant had tagged along. It had been a long and lonely two weeks. Peter couldn’t wait for MJ to step off the plane. The second she was on American soil he’d sweep her up and-

“Drooling again,” Ned said in a sing song voice.

“Shut up,” Peter muttered back.

“All right class, focus up. I know you’ve all been eagerly awaiting the announcement of the senior field trip…”

Any hushed conversations the class might have been having tapered off. The Senior Field Trip was always legendary. Last year, one of the seniors’ mothers worked backstage for Hamilton and got the whole class super discounted seats for the show. Everyone waited with baited breath as Mr. Harrington drew out the silence for the sake of the dramatic reveal.

“This year, we have been fortunate enough to have been granted a full access tour of the Avengers compound, including a meet and greet with the Avengers themselves,” he said.

The class erupted into excited whispers, meanwhile, Peter couldn’t help the groan that escaped his lips as he dropped his head onto the table with an audible thunk. Next to him, Ned dissolved into a fit of giggles.

“I can’t believe you’re going to take a tour of your own home and have a meet and greet with your extended family,” Ned titters, for once at an acceptable level. “Wait till MJ finds out.”

Peter already knew exactly how his girlfriend would react. She’d whip out her sketchpad and add Peter’s face to her ever-growing collection of reactionary pieces. At this point she could probably submit a portfolio to an art school of just “Peter looking distressed” and get in. If she wasn’t so dead set on going to Harvard to study business, that is.

“Settle down, settle down. I’ll pass out the permission slips at the end of class. You’ll also be asked to sign an NDA, but that’s just a formality. You won’t be learning anything too sensitive on the tour- which will be on the 28th of September,” Mr. Harrington finished.

Ned was grinning at Peter. “Have fun getting May to sign your slip.”

Peter sent his best friend a completely deadpan look.

-SY-

When the final bell rang, Ned and Peter said their goodbyes on the front steps of the school. Ned was going to take the subway home, meanwhile, Peter was waiting for Happy to pick him up. It was Friday, meaning Peter would spend the weekend upstate at the compound with Tony. May would be joining them Saturday evening as usual, and Ned was going to grab a ride up with her to welcome home MJ- the permission slip and nondisclosure agreement sat heavy in his backpack.

“Hey, Parker.”

Peter mentally rolled his eyes and turned to face Flash. “What’s up, Eugene?” he asked, relishing the twitch of his bully’s cheek muscle at the use of his real name.
But Flash collected himself quickly. “I’ll give you one chance to come clean, Parker. I’ve looked it up. SI doesn’t accept applications from high schoolers for their internship spots. This has been three years coming, Penis.”

“What has, Flash?” Peter asked innocently.

“You’re pathetic, you know that, right?” Flash sneered.

Peter cocked his head to the side and smiled brightly. “Well, I guess you’ll have all the proof you need come next Friday, Flash.” A car honked and Peter cut a glance to the familiar black town car. “Have a nice weekend!”

“How was school, kid?” Happy asked when Peter slipped into the back seat. He flipped his blinker on and pulled away from the curb.
The teenage vigilante sighed heavily.

“That good, huh?” The dour-looking man glanced in the rearview mirror and a rare, small smile turned the corner of his lip up.

Peter suspected- well, at this point it was probably more apt to say ‘knew’- that Happy had a small soft spot for him. Their relationship had started out rocky, but after the incident three years ago with the Vulture and the crashed plane, things between them had settled into the resolute bond of caretaker and charge. Technically, Happy was no longer needed as a go between for Peter and Tony, but try telling Happy that.

“You would not believe where my senior field trip is,” Peter grumbled.

Happy took the bait. “Where?”

“We have been honored with the amazing opportunity to tour the Avengers compound and have a meet and greet with the team,” he said, putting as much sarcasm as he was capable of in his inflection- which was a substantive amount considering he was Tony Stark’s adopted son and was around such characters as Steve “Brooklyn Sass” Rogers on a consistent basis.

Happy was silent for a moment, probably unsure of how to respond, before he settled on saying, “This could literally only happen to you.”

“I know!” Peter groaned. “Anyway, what time are Pepper and MJ due back?”

“Why, you feelin’ a little lovesick, Petey? Miss your girlfriend?” Happy teased.

Peter went red for the second time that day. “Happy,” he whined.

“Fine, six o’clock sharp.”

“Thank you!” he chirped, and began rummaging in his bag for his laptop.

He really needed to finish the latest draft of his college essay. MJ’s writing skills were far superior to his, but she wouldn’t help him until he had a solid skeleton for them to work with. He had a two-hour car ride ahead of him, and a companion who preferred the quiet, so he’d be a fool to pass up the opportunity to work on it, especially considering he’d be a bit too preoccupied this weekend with MJ’s return to really get any work done.

The ride passed quickly, and Peter hadn’t gotten very far into revising his essay. The English language wasn’t really his strong suit. He’d been told many times his writing style was very analytical. Writing something personal was a challenge, and deciding on a topic had proved a valiant foe. Objectively, Peter knew his life was plenty interesting and finding something to spit up a few hundred words about shouldn’t have proved too hard, and yet…

“Kid,” Happy called, having twisted around in the front seat.

Peter tucked his computer back into his bag. “Thanks, Happy!”

The man acknowledged his appreciation with a nod, and Peter hopped out of the car.

The compound had once intimidated Peter. He’d stood in its shadow, gaping at the sharp edges and colossal ‘A’ on the side. This was the residence that housed so many heroes who’d had a direct impact on his life. To be counted among them, even vaguely associated with them, was both an honor and privilege.

Three years ago, Spider-Man had been small-fry. A vigilante who helped old ladies cross the street, rescued cats from house-fires, and had a few YouTube compilations of him crashing into the sides of buildings as he fumbled his way through an origin story.

Now… well, okay, let’s be real. He still helped old ladies cross the street and rescued cats from house fires and there were significantly more videos circulating the web of him making a fool of himself, but, but, now he was also the kind of hero who teamed up with the Avengers and the Guardians of the Galaxy and actual fricken’ wizards and gods to save the universe.

And Peter Parker was someone too. Peter Parker was actually Peter Parker-Stark, and his family had expanded exponentially from just his Aunt May to include his adoptive father Tony Stark, his (soon-to-be!) adoptive mother, Pepper Potts, and a varied array of strange (including an actual Strange) people he called his aunts and uncles. His family was a motley crew, but he loved them anyway.

So, Peter strode into the compound which was now his home-away-from-home, and was greeted by the handful of employees in the lobby and Friday.

“Who’s around, Fri?” Peter asked, scanning his pass to access the elevator which would take him to the residential area of the building.

“Boss is in the lab. He wanted me to let you know you forgot to make your bed last weekend when you left and he discouraged Vision from doing it for you again-,” at that, Peter grimaced. Whoops. “Thor and Loki should be returning from Norway in an hour. Doctor Banner is in the yoga room, currently. Captain Rogers is in the kitchen preparing you a snack, I believe.”

Peter veered left out of the elevator, heading straight for Steve, who, despite growing up in an era where people boiled all their food and considered salt an exotic spice, was an amazing chef, the perfect complement to Bucky’s baking skillset.

“Hey, Pete!” Steve smiled upon seeing the youngest Avenger. He was in the middle of cutting up a banana to throw into the blender which had an assortment of fruits and greens already cradled in the glass. “How was school?”

See, that was the problem with having a million family members. You get asked how your school day was about a dozen times.

“It was okay,” he answered, hopping up onto the counter island. “Guess what?”

Steve added a couple scoops of special protein powder (it was specifically designed for humans with super-metabolism) to the soon-to-be-smoothie and some orange juice. “What?”

“My class is taking a field trip here next week.”

“That sounds par the course for your Parker luck,” the super soldier said, chuckling.

He gestured to his ears, and Peter quickly covered his before the blond turned on the blender. The whirring blades were a bit too loud for Peter’s super hearing.

Once Steve deemed the smoothie smooth enough, he poured it into a large glass and plonked a straw in, handing it to Peter.

“Thanks, Uncle Steve!”

“So are you gonna wait and ask May to sign your slip or are you gonna man up and ask Tony?” Steve teased, leaning forward onto his elbows.

“Ask Tony what?”

Because Tony “Dramatic Timing” Stark chose that exact moment to stroll into the kitchen. Being the mature adult he was, as he passed Peter on his way to the fridge, he used his grease-stained hands to ruffle Peter’s hair.

“Ugh!” Peter complained. Now he’d have to shower before MJ got there. “Well, now I’m definitely not telling you,” he scowled.

Tony smiled, and it was his patented Peter-is-being-cute-now smile.

“His class is taking a field trip here,” Steve supplied.

“Uncle Steve!” Peter squeaked out.

The man shrugged unapologetically, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. The history books conveniently forgot to mention that Captain America was a little shit.

Tony retrieved a container of pomegranate seeds and began shoveling them into his mouth with a spoon. “I’m totally not going to gate crash your field trip, Peter.”

“That’s the worst part,” Peter griped. “You don’t even have to. There’s a meet and greet.”

Tony scoffed. “I think you mean best part!”

Peter gave his father a bland look, sipping at his smoothie.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Frosty the Giant,” Tony commented. He gestured at Peter with his spoon. “Get that look off your face, son. How’s your essay going, by the way? Still grappling with the English lexicon?”

“I hate that you just said lexicon, and yes. I am,” he admitted. “Speaking of, I need to finish that before MJ gets back, or she won’t help me at all.”

Peter hopped off the counter and stepped into his father’s arms when they opened. They’d come a long way since their first not-hug in the car three years ago. Tony was pretty open with his affections nowadays.

A kiss was pressed onto Peter’s left temple, and in the next breath, Tony gave his rear a joking smack. “Hey, watch it, Dad!” Peter squawked, jumping out of the embrace to Steve and Tony’s laughter. “I hate you both and I’m running away.”

“Sure, kid,” Tony called after Peter’s retreating form.

-SY-

Six o’clock rolled around eventually. Peter completed an acceptable draft of his essay and met Tony on the tarmac outback of the compound where Pepper and MJ would be landing in the private jet. Peter was freshly showered, damp curls on full display, and shifting anxiously as he strained his hearing for sounds of the approaching plane.

Tony stood suavely next to him, pink tinted glassed perched on his nose, facial hair meticulously trimmed, a crisp blazer over one of his band t-shirts. He oozed an effortless charisma, but Peter noticed the way his right fingers tapped against his opposite wrist where they were clasped behind his back. Peter wasn’t sure if Tony was aware of the fact that the steady beats spelled out ‘Pepper’ in Morse code over and over.

Peter heard the plane long before it came into sight.

When it finally landed, he was jumping from foot to foot like a five-year-old that was desperate for the toilet.

The door opened and Pepper stepped out first, vibrant orange hair pulled back in a casual braid. Her eyes lit up when she spotted her fiancé and her face split into a grin. Tony stepped forward at a faster-than-average-but-trying-to-remain-cool pace to meet her in the middle. But Peter didn’t see their reunion. He only had eyes for MJ as she emerged from the jet.

She looked a bit tired, but no less gorgeous than usual. Her lip quirked up into a smirk when she saw Peter, and he bounded forward like an eager puppy. She stood there, waiting for him to come to her because she was entirely too collected to race forward like Pepper had.

Peter came to an abrupt halt before her and smiled dopily, nose and eyes crinkling from the force of it. “Hi, MJ,” he said simply.

“You gonna hug me or just stand there like an idiot?” MJ asked, nothing but fondness behind the insult.

He wrapped his arms around her middle and hugged her so hard her toes lifted a couple inches off the ground. When he set her down after a long moment, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, and immediately offset the gesture by shoving her bags into his arms.

“Did you finish your essay?” she asked.

“Yup!” he replied keenly.

“Hey, Parker!” Tony called from behind them. “Come put that freaky spider strength to use and grab Pepper’s bags, will you?”

MJ gave him a jokingly condescending pat on the head. “Go on, be a good boy, Peter.”

Despite the fact that she was only teasing him, Peter flushed a bit and eagerly ran off to assist Pepper. He heard her give a short laugh, but he was too busy being pulled into Pepper’s maternal embrace to care.

“Hello, Peter, it’s good to see you again,” Pepper said, kissing the crown of his head. In her heels, Pepper easily surpassed Peter’s diminutive height, like most people did.

Peter didn’t mind for the most part. His shorter stature and wiry frame corded with sinewy muscle was advantageous to swinging around as Spider-Man, and secretly, Peter liked that all the adult figures in his life could envelope him in an embrace. It felt safe and warm. Even Tony was an inch taller than him. A little more if he was wearing his lifts, which he usually did outside the comfort of his home.

“Hi, mom!” he said cheerfully when they finally parted. “Can I take your bags inside?”

“That would be lovely, Peter, thank you, darling.”

Peter easily carried MJ and Pepper’s collective luggage inside. The sight of such a small boy carrying such an absurd number of bags would have looked weird if you didn’t seen Peter casually lift the living room couch above his head with one hand looking for lost Legos on a weekly basis.

He dropped off Pepper’s stuff first, then happily trotted along behind MJ, following her to her room at the compound. As soon as they crossed the threshold, MJ shut the door abruptly, forcing Peter to drop her bags, and quickly pushed him against the wall with the vigor of her kiss. It wasn’t so much that Peter let MJ dominate him and his superior strength, it was that he got weak kneed every time they kissed and wasn’t able to not follow her every touch and directive.

Sometimes his dialed-up senses worked against him.

He was intimately aware of every single atom that made up his beautiful MJ. He could hear the fluttering of her heart, the only indication of her excitement apart from her dilated pupils which were quickly concealed behind her eyelids. She smelled like the paper of her books and journals and the citrusy scent of her shampoo quickly flooded his nose. Her closed lips tasted like the black coffee she must have been drinking earlier. Fingers curled into his hair and the touch was electric.

When MJ pulled back he kept his eyes closed for a few seconds, trying to get his senses back under control. Once he could no longer hear the blood rushing through her veins with the strength of Niagara Falls and the soft lighting of the room no longer blazed like the high noon sun, he let his eyes flutter open to the sight of MJ looking smug and prim.

“I missed you,” he said sincerely.

“Yeah, I missed your dumb face, too,” MJ grudgingly admitted. “But Japan was cool. I want to go back soon. For leisure, preferably.”

They just looked at each other in comfortable silence for a second. It was broken by Friday who said, sounding entirely too self-satisfied for an AI, “Boss wants me to tell you dinner is ready, and, I quote, ‘you both better leave this room the way you entered, as virgins.’”

Peter could feel his face burning. MJ rolled her eyes and said, “Tell Tony: not that it’s any of his fucking business, but he doesn’t have to worry about Peter’s chastity anytime soon. And you can quote me word for word, Friday.”

“Certainly, MJ.”

She then jerked her chin towards the door. “You go ahead of me. I’m gonna call my parents and let them know we landed safely. You can reassure your dad we haven’t been having wild, up-against-the-wall sex.”

“MJ,” Peter whined.

“Go on, then,” she directed firmly, and he rolled his eyes but obeyed.

Peter was met with a pleasant surprise in the living room, where a nearby table was buckling under the weight of enough food to feed either a medium-sized army, or a household of twelve, half of whom had enhanced metabolisms. Normally, they didn’t all have dinner together, aside from special occasions, as it was too much of a hassle to coordinate all their schedules (and prepare enough food). The return of four family members from business trips counted as such an occasion apparently, because Steve, with the assistance of Bruce and Bucky, had gone all out.

Thor was already attacking the buffet-style set up with the vigor of a famished warrior. Loki was watching with faint disgust as his brother shoveled food into his mouth at an alarming rate. Wanda caught his eye from where she was tucked away in one of the love-seats with Vision and waved. Sam was sprawled on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through the selection of movies. Bruce and Tony were hunched over a StarkTab, having a heated debate as Pepper smiled fondly and raked her fingers through Tony’s hair from where she was perched daintily on the armrest of his chair. Steve and Bucky were bringing out more platters of food from the kitchen. The only person missing from the usual crowd (the others like Scott, Clint, and Stephen were at their respective residencies, probably) was Natasha.

The second this observation crossed his mind, his Spidey-sense pinged to life at the back of his skull, like a chill rushing up his spine.

“Hello, malen'kiy pauk.”

He didn’t jump, but it was a close thing despite the forewarning his sixth sense offered him. Honestly, his Spidey-sense was a bit of lose canon. To Spider-Man, it was dead useful. In a fight, it was reliable, allowing him to duck before a punch was thrown, to shoot a web to cover the barrel of a gun before the trigger was pulled. But to Peter Parker? It was like bonus anxiety. It went off for almost anything, so Peter learned quickly to ignore it or suffer from daily anxiety attacks.

“Aunt Tasha!” Peter said, grinning at the sight of the turncoat blonde.

The spy just tilted her head and quirked a lip, reminding Peter strongly of MJ (he honestly wouldn’t be surprised to learn that MJ was the secret love-child of Pepper Potts and Natasha Romanoff). “Did you get your permission slip signed yet?” she asked.

Peter didn’t even bother to ask how she knew. “No, I’m gonna wait to ask Aunt May.”

“Did Mr. Harrington announce the Senior Trip?”

This time, Peter did jump. MJ was the only person who could sneak up on him so completely. Privately, Peter theorized that even his Spider-sense recognized MJ as his girlfriend and didn’t go off for her. He’d never tell her that though. She’d probably just roll her eyes and tell him off for being sentimental.

He cleared his throat, ignoring Natasha’s knowing smirk. “Um, yeah. You’re gonna be disappointed and then annoyingly smug,” he told MJ.

She narrowed her eyes. “Where.”

“Here.”

“Here?” Her nose wrinkled in slight annoyance, then her eyes lit up. “This is going to be so fun for me, cause its totally gonna suck for you. Full offense.”

“Offense taken,” he retorted.

“I’m going to bring my Peter Sketchbook,” MJ told him matter-of-factly.

Peter sighed through his nose. “I knew you were gonna say that. How are your parents?”

“They’re fine. Hey, Nat. Are we on for tomorrow morning?” MJ asked, turning her attention to the spy who had been watching their exchange in silent amusement.

She crossed her arms and nodded once. “Of course. I hope you were keeping up with your exercises while you were in Japan.”

“I’m insulted you even need to ask,” MJ replied.

Natasha smirked.

Peter glanced back and forth between them. Their ability to communicate with just their eyebrows freaked him out sometimes. “I’m gonna go say hi to Thor and Loki,” he said. “Try not to plot world domination while I’m gone, okay?”

“When we take over the world, I’ll keep you as a concubine,” MJ said dryly.

“Gee, thanks.”

As he walked away he heard Natasha say, “He has a bit more potential than a concubine. You have to use your assets to their fullest extent.”

Peter quickly tuned out the rest of the conversation.

“Ah, Son of Stark!” Thor belted out in greeting.

Loki’s greeting was far milder in comparison, just a simple tilt of the chin and a quiet acknowledgement of, “Spider-Child.”

Peter cherished his relationship with the two Norse gods. They were both a steady presence in different, but equally potent ways.

Thor’s boisterous personality could usually raise his spirits if ever he felt down, but there was a wisdom gained from his many years that softened what would have otherwise been excessively raucous. Thor knew when to lower his voice and always divined exactly the right combination of words to soothe any ills.

Loki was almost caustic in comparison. The words he used were also usually right, but they were also always serrated. The silver-tongued god was never unarmed, and his cynical comments always coaxed a laugh from the more jaded aspect of Peter’s personality. The part that he never denied outright, but usually kept relegated to his own mind rather than give voice to.

It boiled down to this: Thor made Peter want to be more than he was, but Loki let him know it was okay to be less than an idealized version of himself.

He traipsed right over to where the brothers sat, wriggling into the small space between them, leaning his head against Thor’s broad shoulders and throwing his feet across Loki’s lap with absolutely no shame. “Next time you go to Norway, can I come?”

Thor beamed at him. “Of course, young Peter. How have you been since we last saw you? How is Lady MJ?”

“I’m good. MJ is good. I think she and Aunt Tasha are planning world domination, so I’m a bit concerned, but that’s okay,” he told them.

Loki cast a glance to where Nat and MJ were speaking in hushed voices (if Peter put any attention towards it he could hear them clear as day, but refrained) and made an interested sound. Peter briefly wondered if the world could handle the combined minds of Loki, Natasha, and MJ. After a short moment of consideration, he came to the decisive conclusion it could not.

As if sensing his thoughts, Loki applied pressure to the arch of his foot and Peter was successfully distracted by the god’s skillful fingers.

“What would happen if anyone besides Peter stuck their cold feet in your lap?” Sam asked Loki, eyeing the god of mischief like he would stab him, and honestly with Loki it really depended on his mood.

Loki turned it over in his head for a second, before coolly answering, “Evisceration.”

Sam nodded like he’d expected that answer and from across the room, Tony called, “Hey, Frostbite, no blood on the couch!”

The god bowed his head in acquiescence. “Fair enough, Stark.”

Thor laughed hardily, his shoulders heaving enough to disturb Peter. He sighed and stood up. “I’m hungry,” he announced to the room.

“What else is new, short-stack,” Sam said sarcastically. “You’re always hungry.”

“Not my fault a radioactive spider decided to bite me,” Peter grumbled on his way to the buffet station, taking umbrage at Sam’s comment.

There had been a period of time where Peter had been sure Sam hadn’t liked him, still bitter over their altercation at the airport in Germany where they’d been on opposing sides. It wasn’t until Steve sat them both down that he came to realize that Sam was like Loki or MJ in regards to hiding his affection in acerbic barbs.

Bucky was waiting from him, a raised eyebrow and a plate piled high with his favorite foods. “No dessert until you finish your vegetables, punk,” he said sternly.

Peter accepted the plate, choosing to ignore the ultimatum more suited for a seven-year-old than a seventeen-year-old. He scanned the room and decided the easiest place to eat would be at the table, where Tony and Bruce were still engrossed with a project.

When he sat down, neither of the elder scientists acknowledged him verbally, though Tony did nudge (read: kick) him underneath the table with his left foot. Peter settled down and began happily eating his burger.

Home sweet home, he thought.

-SY-

The following school week passed quickly in a way that made time feel like it was icing being applied to hot cake. It melted off, a sticky mess, pulling crumbs of Peter’s sanity with it. The Senior Field Trip was the talk of the school- everyone from the freshmen to the faculty were jealously gossiping about what it was going to be like. Everyone, that is except Peter and MJ.

For some reason, Ned was still enthusiastic about going even though he’d literally slept over there the previous Saturday. MJ was maliciously excited- she was going to enjoy Peter’s misery, he knew, but she was also looking forward to Flash finally being put in his place.

Frankly, there were a million ways Peter could prove he was Tony Stark’s intern. He could show off his pass for the compound. He could post any of the hundreds of selfies and photos he had of he and Tony. He could literally just ask Tony to pick him up from school one day and the billionaire would show up in a hot-rod red Audi. But he never did any of those things. Because to provide proof to Flash was tantamount to outing himself to the media- and there was a press conference scheduled for January that would kill any chance he had of privacy anyway, so he was clinging on to his last few months of flying under the radar.

Unfortunately, Flash was being particularly annoying this week. To the point where Peter almost couldn’t wait to see his face during the meet and greet with his honorary family. Almost.

Dread bubbled in his stomach when he woke up Friday morning. If it weren’t for his Spider powers, Peter was sure he’d throw up.

“I spoke to your principal, Peter, and he said as long as you hand in this note to your teacher you can stay at the compound,” May told him when he dragged his feet out of his room. “It’d be such a waste of time and gas to drive two hours back to school just to have Happy drive you two hours back up.”

Peter gratefully stuffed the slip of paper into his back pocket. At least he wouldn’t have to endure the bus ride back with Flash, and he’d have the whole weekend to avoid his classmate’s reactions.

“Thanks, Aunt May,” Peter mumbled, kissing her cheek as he grabbed his schoolbag. “Are you coming up this weekend?”

“No, I took a double shift this weekend. I’m covering for Marcy- her nephew is getting married in Hawaii. Personally, I don’t understand why people think beach weddings are a good idea,” May shook her head, a grimace concealed behind her coffee mug. “The sand would get everywhere. When you and MJ get married, anything but a beach, Peter.”

Peter splutters out, “Aunt May!” cheeks rouging to an unflattering hue of red.

His Aunt just laughs. “Honestly, Peter, you’re too easy.”

Already his day was off to an awful start.

-SY-

An odd sense of déjà vu washed over Peter as his classmates spilled out of the bus. Their jaws were slackened and their eyes were wonder-round as they took in the Avengers compound.

“Hello, Midtown High! My name is Elizabeth and on behalf of all the staff here, I’d like to welcome you to the Avengers Compound!” a honey-blonde woman greeted them. “I’ll be your tour guide for the entire day, so if you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask. Now, I have your visitor badges here. When I call your name, step forward. Please keep your badge visible at all times! Avril, Sally?”

Sally’s hand shot into the air as she shouldered her way past Cindy Moon to retrieve her badge. The visitor’s passes were fairly standard. Plain white with the black words of ‘guest’ embossed clearly in the center. Peter’s gold-edged residential pass sat heavy in his pocket. MJ and Ned already had their passes clipped to their shirts.

Elizabeth had handed out the last pass, and Peter thought for a brief moment that he’d get away without having to use his. Friday had his biometrics stored in her database, so the whole compound was open to Peter even without his pass.

“Ma’am,” Flash called out, sending Peter a nasty look, and Peter’s hope died in his chest. “You missed three students.”

“I don’t have any more badges…” Elizabeth said, a worried furrow in her brow. It smoothed out though the second she saw Peter and his friends loitering at the back of the group. “Oh, Peter! I didn’t realize this was your class! And MJ and Ned are here too!”

Peter hadn’t known Elizabeth by name until she introduced herself to the class, but he was familiar with her face. He smiled and gave a short wave. “I’ve got my badge in my pocket,” he assured her.

Flash’s face twisted up like he bit into a particularly sour lemon. He mouthed, ‘What?” while staring at the ground as if it contained national secrets encoded in the cracks.

Next to Peter, MJ whipped out her phone and snapped a picture, “For reference.”

“On this tour we will start out in the Avengers museum on the first floor,” Elizabeth said. She gestured the class forward through the sliding glass doors and they piled into the lobby. “As I understand it, you’re the senior class from one of the best STEM school in New York, so we’ll also get to take a peek into the Stark Industries labs housed in the compound! We’ll take a lunch break before the meet and greet with the some of the Avengers.”

They come to a stop before security. Abraham raised his hand and asked, “What Avengers will be part of the meet and greet?”

“Unfortunately, not all of them. It is no longer mandatory for Avengers to be housed at the compound. Doctor Strange, for example, has duties to attend to around the world, and Ant-Man and Wasp are stationed on the west coast. A lot of them are ‘on-call’, so to say, and have occupations outside of Avenging,” Elizabeth answered succinctly. Then, she sent a sly look toward Peter. “Though I suspect they will all make a special effort to attend for your class.”

That sent the class whispering. Peter refrained from covering his face with his hands.

“Now, we are about to pass through security. These metal detectors aren’t like anything you’d find at the airport. They were specially designed by Dr. Stark himself, and are partly run by the resident AI, Friday. Everyone, say hello to Friday, she’s been watching over you since you set foot in the building and will continue to do so for the remainder of your trip.”

A few of them jumped when Friday’s Irish brogue cut through the tension of that ominous warning by saying, “Hello Peter’s classmates!”

“Oh my god, he really does work here.” Peter heard a few of them mutter.

Elizabeth continued, “When you step through, Friday is just going to announce you, and scan you to make sure nothing dangerous is being brought into the compound. For example…”
She stepped through and true to form Friday said, “Elizabeth Megna, tour guide, security clearance: level 2.”

Cindy was next. “Cindy Moon, guest, security clearance level: 0.”

“Level 0 just means you must be accompanied by someone with clearance level 2 or higher for the duration of your stay,” Elizabeth explained.

The rest of the class filed through with little fanfare. Peter, Ned and MJ were last though, and Peter had been dreading his turn. Ned and MJ were announced as “residential guests” with no security level clearance stated, which prompted Elizabeth to explain, “The residential area of the compound, which we will not be entering at any part of the tour, doesn’t require levels of clearance. You are either a resident, or a frequent guest of a resident or residents, in which case you require an ID, like Ned and MJ.”

Everyone stared in various stages of shock as Peter resigned himself to death and joined his classmates on the other side of security.

“Peter Parker, resident. Welcome back, Peter! Boss wanted me to alert you to the fact that you forgot to make your bed again. He says, he’s disappointed, but not surprised.”

Before the class can erupt into whispers, Elizabeth claps her hands together loudly. “This way to the museum!” she declared, herding them down the hall through a large archway. “Now, the museum is actually a fairly recent addition to the compound. Yes, it has displays of all your favorite heroes, but it also includes the history of how the Avengers came into existence, and their journey to the megalith it is today, with its training programs, multinational cooperation, and varied cast of heroes, who include honorary members such as the Guardians of the Galaxy.”

Peter hadn’t actually been to the museum before. Having lived through most of that journey, and having primary sources for the rest, he hadn’t felt it was necessary. And he definitely didn’t need to read the individual Avengers displays, not when he had most of them to annoy him on a daily basis.

“For those of who want a guided tour, you may remain with me. The others are free to look around, as long as you stay within the museum!” Elizabeth called.

About half of his classmates ran for the avengers displays on the other end of the museum, drawn by the red and gold beacon of a display case for retired Iron Man suits.

Peter glanced at Ned and MJ, who shrugged and decided to stay with the group.

Elizabeth took a deep breath before starting. “The Avengers were first assembled in 2012 when the Titan Lord Thanos forced the trickster god Loki to invade New York, as I’m sure you are all old enough to remember. The original six included Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, Hulk, Black Widow, and Hawkeye, and they were under the command of SHIELD.”

She continued with the story Peter was intimately familiar with, but he was no longer listening because Flash had sidled up to his side with a constipated look.

“I concede that you may work here,” he said, and it clearly pained him to admit it, but at least he did. “But there’s no way you know Tony Stark. You probably just get coffee and shit.”

“Flash, you are gonna eat those words,” MJ said, looking down her nose at him, lips pressed into a thin line. MJ was mostly an unaffected person, though not for lack of feeling. She just saved her passion for the important things. And she remained resolute that a sharp tongue and cool head were the best tools you could possess, but Flash was getting on even her nerves.

Ned was nodding vigorously, an overly serious expression contrasting MJ’s ominously blank one. “Yeah, Flash. Peter is Tony’s kid!”

Flash sneered. “Yeah, right,” he scoffed, before taking his leave.

MJ gave Ned the eyebrow of disapproval, and the Hawaiian boy hastily defended himself. “I’ve sat on that secret for a whole year!” he hissed. “If anything you should be impressed. Besides, it’s not like Flash believed me.”

“It’s the principal of the matter,” MJ said patronizingly.

He grumbled, “As if Tony isn’t going to slip up and call Peter his kid anyway.”

“There’s a reason we had to sign NDAs,” she said primly. “Anything Tony reveals will be covered by that. If you go running your gob on the other hand...”

“Fine,” Ned sighed. “Sorry, Pete, I’ll watch my mouth.”

Since the older boy looked genuinely contrite, Peter felt a bit bad that his girlfriend and reamed him. MJ was just protective over him and his secrets. “Ned, my dude, life would be boring without you accidentally blurting out important secrets,” he said exaggeratedly.

Ned perked up. “Yeah, you’re right!”

MJ gave Peter a look like, you do realize you just gave him free reign to spill every secret he knows, right? But Peter decided it was worth the smile on his best friend’s face.

“The Sokovia Accords were in a bad state when they were first proposed, a point of contention among the Avengers,” Elizabeth was saying dryly, which got a chuckle from the tour group. She continued, “There were many factors that contributed to the so-called Avengers Civil War, but miscommunication and poor timing did exacerbate the situation.”

Peter resisted the urge to roll his eyes at how true that was.

“However, after former Secretary of State, Thaddeus Ross, was arrested for a slew of charges including illegal human experimentation and unlawful imprisonment, Tony Stark and Prince T’Challa were able to collaborate with the UN and make the necessary changes to the Accords, including redacting the Registration Acts for mutants.

“The Accords as you know them today provide a hierarchy of structure for the new Avengers team and promote multinational cooperation while also affording safety measures for superheroes, including those who have secret identities, like Spider-Man, and, and those that they protect,” Elizabeth concluded.

Betty Brant raised her hand and Elizabeth pointed to her encouragingly. “What about the training programs?” she asked curiously.

“Good question! Well, with the new theme of accountability, vigilantism is a highly frowned upon practice, so the Avengers initiative was reworked to absorb those people who were out fighting on the streets either with either powers or advanced technology,” she explained. “Many of the original Avengers act as mentors for these proto-heroes. All of the approved ‘vigilantes’ have signed the accords and attend mandatory training, though they do not go on most UN sanctioned Avengers missions unless there is immanent crisis. Any other questions?”

The class looked around, waiting for another person to raise their hand, but none did. They did cover the Sokovia Accords in their current events class, so it wasn’t surprising.

“What’s left of the museum are the individual displays. Please look around, and remember if you have any questions about the content, you’re getting the chance to meet them in person today, so hold onto them!” Elizabeth said, setting them free.

“Wanna go take snaps of Sam’s display making fun of him?” MJ asked Peter when Ned ran off to go look at the Captain America suit.

“Yes,” Peter answered immediately.

After taking many, many snapchats in front of the Falcon display with various captions like, I thought your wingspan would be bigger and second best bird themed hero! they moved on from the museum. Sam had left them on open, but they received a favorable response from Bucky, no surprise there.

The labs were on the second floor, so they took the elevator up in three groups.

“Now, since this building is owned by the United Nations for the purpose of housing and training the Avengers, Stark Industries isn’t here in any real business capacity. These labs are all geared toward superheroes, either in research and development or maintenance of all the equipment. For this tour, we will not be visiting the Starks’ private labs where the more sensitive equipment, such as the Iron Man and War Machine suits, are.”

“Oh, I don’t know, they’ve been so good, they deserve a treat.”

And, oh shit, did Peter know that voice. Next to him, Ned and MJ started snickering at his look of absolute despair. The class erupted into excited chatter, but Elizabeth looked as though she’d been expecting someone to gatecrash her tour.

“Mr. Stark,” she greeted with a small smile.

“Ms. Megna,” he returned, and Peter didn’t have to turn around to know he was grinning. A pause, then an amused, “Pete, aren’t you going to greet your old man?”

Wow, he is really stretching the limits of that NDA, Peter thought, disregarding Ned’s muttered, “Told you so.” which MJ responded to by elbowing him in the gut. It was tempting to ignore him, but Peter knew that the longer he put off the inevitable the more eccentric Tony would get with his greeting.

“Tony,” he said evenly, turning around and deliberately using his given name.

“Ouch, kid, first name,” the older man replied teasingly, but his eyes crinkled with the force of his smile, getting a kick out of Peter’s poor attempt of an evil eye. Mercifully though, or maybe MJ was giving her much more intimidating glare (the one that promised she’d sick Pepper on him), he turned his attention to the rest of the class. “Hey, Midtown punks.”

They were all staring in absolute shock at the exchange they just witnessed. If only they knew this was just the warm-up. Just wait until the rest of the Avengers were there. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to antagonize Sam. He and Bucky didn’t get on unless it was to team up to take the mickey out of Peter. The meet and greet was an opportunity too good to pass up.
Flash in particular looked floored. Eyes darting between Peter and Tony.

“Mr. Stark are we really gonna go see your lab?” Ned piped up.

Tony slid his hands into his pocket. “Yeah, why not. I’ve got nothing better to do than commandeer your tour group,” he said with a casual shrug.

“That is patently untrue, Boss. You have three deadlines for this afternoon,” Friday piped up cheerfully.

“Baby girl,” Tony reprimanded with absolutely no heat. “Those can be pushed back.”

“That’s a very generous offer, Mr. Stark. I’ll cede my control to you,” Elizabeth said.

Tony clapped his hands together. There was a mischievous glint in his amber eyes that did not bode well for Peter. Out of the corner of his vision, he noticed MJ snap a picture of his face and knew another addition to the distressed Peter collection was imminent. “All right, kiddos, we’re throwing out the rulebook and going off the beaten path! This-a-way!” he crooned.

Peter’s classmates were all but trampling each other to follow the super-hero turned super-sized pain in his ass. Since their lab was in the opposite direction they’d originally been heading in, the back of the group became the front, and Peter was reluctantly by his mentor’s side. “I’m telling mom,” he said lowly.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “If you tell Pepper I took over your tour I’ll tell her it was you who broke that vase,” he threatened.

“He’s got your number, Peter,” MJ said, amused.

“Hey, who’s side are you on anyway?” he demanded.

She raised an eyebrow. “Chaos,” was her deadpan answer.

A moment of silence (apart from their classmates), which Tony broke by saying, “This is why we don’t leave you unsupervised with Loki. Anyway!” he said the last part loudly, addressing the group as they reached the blacked-out glass of the lab. He pressed his hand on the pad and the doors slip open. “Welcome to Candy Land! General guidelines, if it looks dangerous it is, if it doesn’t look dangerous, it still is, so let’s keep our paws to ourselves, yes?”

They poured into the lab, eyes wide, fingers twitching.

“Are you sure this was a good idea,” Peter asked. Thankfully, it appeared Tony had cleared away anything too sensitive last time he was in here, and Friday had wiped the screens of anything important.

“Of course not!” Tony said. “I think we should show them one of your projects.”

Peter wrinkled his nose. He didn’t even have that many projects in this lab. His personal lab was in the residential area, same with Tony and Bruce. This one just held all their Avenger projects, but everything personal or SI involved was in the other. “No,” he said simply.

“Come on. Your work on the Iron Legion is badass,” Tony probed.

“Dad, no,” he repeated more firmly.

“If you let me show them the Iron Legion, I’ll let you fly the Iron Man armor for five minutes,” Tony bargained.

That gave Peter pause. “Outside?” he asked.

Tony hesitated, but relented. “Fine, but you can’t tell Pepper or May.”

“Deal!” Peter said quickly. He’d been nagging Tony for a year to let him try out the Iron Man armor, just to see. He had a feeling he’d prefer his webs by way of travel, but it was the Iron Man armor, who would pass up the opportunity to try it out?

“It’s probably better he fly it outside anyway,” MJ said knowingly. “No ceilings or walls to crash into. Grass to cushion his inevitable fall.”

“Hey!” Peter exclaimed.

“Peter,” Ned said, amused. “I’ve seen you try to drive a car and it was not good, bro.”

Well, okay, that was true. But Peter lived in the city, he didn’t need a license. He got his permit when he was sixteen same as everyone, but had yet to take his driver’s test. Then, he, MJ, and Ned had started planning a graduation trip for the first few weeks of summer, and had decided on taking a road trip, and suddenly driving became a more urgent thing to learn. Tony took him out in the red Audi once. Once.

Tony chuckled at his defeated expression. “Alright, who wants to see a project your very own Mr. Parker has been working on?” he called out.

That got their attention.

“Peter has projects here?” Betty asked, looking suitably impressed. The blonde gave Peter an appraising look, lingering below the belt speculatively for a second too long.

A hand with familiar warmth clasped his shoulder and Tony said proudly, “Peter, is my personal intern. Smart as a whip, he is.” And Tony didn’t often get the chance to show Peter off like the proud dad he was, so Peter couldn’t blame him.

“Wanna show them the specs, Pete?” Tony asked warmly, all signs of teasing gone.

Peter felt his face flush a bit red when everyone turned to stare at him. Did we want to present his project? No, not even slightly. But, there was gonna come a day where he’d have to suck it up and present in front of more intimidating people than a group of high schoolers. He knew that, Tony knew that. Peter sighed. Do it for the Iron Man armor, he thought.

“Hey, Karen, bring up the Iron Legion specs, would you please?” Peter called out, probably to the confusion of his classmates.

“Sure thing, Peter!” Karen answered, causing some of his classmates to jump at the new voice, and one of the holo-tables lit up with Peter’s designs.

“Uh, yeah, that’s Karen. She’s my AI,” he mumbled, fumbling with the holograph.

Next to him, Tony cleared his throat in askance for him to speak up. That’s one of the things they’d been working on, public speaking. MJ gives him a look that screams, don’t disappoint me, and Peter feels a surge of confidence.

“Er, one of the projects I’ve been working on is updating the Iron Legion from only assistance in evacuation and crowd management to search and rescue. I’ve even been toying with some anti-terrorism measures, like giving the suit the ability to enclose a suicide bomber and fly them away, to avoid tragedies like what happened in Lagos three years ago,” Peter explained.

As he talked, he manipulated the holograms more smoothly. “In the past, the Iron Legion was run by an AI of Tony’s before they were retired, so I’ve been raising a new AI to take over since Friday is very busy with SI, the compound, and the Iron Man suit, and Karen already helps out me and Spider-Man. Um, the AI obviously has a learning algorithm, so he’s still a baby, but, ah, Ben, say hi to everyone.”

“Hi to everyone,” came a male voice from the holo-table.

The class chuckled, and Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “Like I said, he’s still learning and takes things quite literally. Karen and Friday are pretty mature. And by that, I mean are sassy and can take initiative with their own coding,” he explained sheepishly.

“I take offense at that, Peter,” Friday simpered. “I’m going to make sure when you take a shower tonight the water temperature is just south of a comfortable temperature.”

Peter shrugged. “I won’t shower then,” he replied.

Tony wrinkled his nose. “Um, no. I’m making an executive decision as the patriarch of this household. You are gonna shower, you teenaged heathen.”

“I think we all know Pepper wears the pants in this family,” Peter said sagely.

“This household is matriarchal, Tony,” MJ put in.

“And on that note, I think it’s time we break for lunch,” Elizabeth called out, clearly sensing the growing confusion from the class at the easy banter between them.

Tony ruffled Peter’s hair affectionately. “Well, I’ve got some deadlines anyway. Pepper won’t let me go to the meet and greet unless they’re complete, so this is where I leave you.”
“In that case, stay for lunch,” Peter encouraged.

His father scoffed. “Yeah, right. You were antagonizing Wilson on snapchat earlier. I’m not gonna miss him exact his unholy revenge in front of your classmates,” he told him. “What were you thinking anyway? It’s like you wanted to get your ass handed to you.”

Suddenly, it hits Peter that he’d been played for a fool. “It wasn’t my idea,” he said, turning to glare at his girlfriend. “You set me up!”

“Guilty,” MJ said with a shrug. “But you really should have seen that coming.”

-SY-

The meet and greet was taking place in one of the rooms designed for press conferences. Peter was, unfortunately, very familiar with this particular room, he just wasn’t quite used to sitting in the audience. Pepper and Tony insisted Peter practice speeches at the podium every so often. He’d been made to recite everything from Shakespeare to Socrates standing up there in a suit. Public speaking came far easier to MJ who always got off light one those occasions.

He took a seat in the back row with his friends and had little hope that his family would let him off scot free. His fears were confirmed when the Avengers took their seats on stage and Sam and Bucky shared a devious grin before waving cheerfully, suspiciously so, at Peter.

“Dude, it’s been nice knowing you,” Ned whispered.

“RIP, Peter Benjamin Parker-Stark, cause of death, publicly dragged by Falcon and the Winter Soldier,” MJ added.

Peter finally gave into temptation and buried his head in his hands. Not only did he have to worry about Sam and Bucky, but Elizabeth had been right. It was if Peter having a school trip to the compound had sounded the Avengers alarm. They were basically all up there. It was quite the sight, and outside an official press conference or world ending disaster, he doubted anyone had seen them all together like this. Even Strange, Scott and Hope were there! The only earth-based Avengers who were missing were Prince T’Challa and Clint.

MJ pulled out her phone, and Peter groaned, “Not another picture for reference!”

She just shook her head. “Nah, Imma film your massacre for Shuri.”

“Fuck,” Peter said, a lot louder than he’d intended, and in that exact moment (thank you, Parker luck!) Elizabeth called for the class to quiet down.

His classmates whipped around to look at him and the silence in the room was stifling for a split second, before, “Language, Peter! Don’t make me get the soap!” Steve called out.

“Oh, strong start,” MJ muttered and Ned snickered.

“If it’s all right with you, Petey-Pie, we’re going to start the Q&A,” Tony said dryly, but underneath the sarcasm, he was genuinely amused by his outburst.

Peter sank into his seat at the embarrassing nickname.

“All right, unless Mr. Parker has any other colorful language he’d like to share with us. You know who we are. Any questions?” Which was a very Stark thing to say, and Steve’s exaggerated eye roll agreed.

Hands shot up in the crowd.

“You, in the jean jacket!” Tony called, pointing at a Charlie Murphey.

“Where’s Spider-Man?” he asked quickly. “Practically everyone else is here.”

Tony’s eyes danced. “Closer than you think,” he said slyly. “But Spider-Man doesn’t really participate in these kinds of shindigs and probably won’t until such time where he comes forward with his identity, if he chooses to do so.”

Charlie slumped in his seat, disappointed. A lot of his classmates loved Spider-Man, ever since he saved the decathlon team in D.C all those years ago. It was still weird to see merch with his alter ego’s face on it in the hallways. Tony had snatched up the rights to his image as soon as the trend started to seriously pick up pace, and on Peter’s request, the money mostly got donated to various charities in the city.

“I have an idea,” Sam said in a sing-song voice. He turned a shark-like grin in Peter’s direction. “Spider-Man might not be here, but his techie is. Peter, wanna come up here on your buddy’s behalf?”

Peter didn’t think his demise would come so soon. At the first question, too.

“That’s a great idea,” Bucky added. “C’mon Peter. If you don’t come up and answer any questions for Spider-Man, Sam and I would be more than happy to-”

He stood up so fast the chair scraped against the ground loudly. No way was he letting Sam and Bucky tarnish Spider-Man’s good name. He turned his chin up, ignoring the stares of his classmates. “Fine. I don’t mind at all,” he said with false bravado.

As he walked up to the stage, MJ wolf-whistled. He grabbed an empty chair from one of the rows on his way and planted it on Bucky’s other side, sitting with as much confidence as he could muster under the circumstances. Crossing his arms, he asked crisply, “Any questions about Spider-Man?”

“You work with Spider-Man’s tech?” Flash called out incredulously.

Maybe it was that he didn’t want to let Sam and Bucky win. Maybe it was the fact that he was surrounded by his family. Maybe he was just sick of Flash’s tone, but Peter sat up straighter snapped, “Yes, Flash, I do. I don’t know how it escaped your notice, but I’m not an idiot. Actually, I’m pretty smart, smarter than you. Smart enough to keep with Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, and Princess Shuri of Wakanda. Now do you have any actual questions, or are you done wasting everyone’s time?”

Flash’s jaw dropped, not used to his prey biting back. He floundered for another second, before shaking his head and muttering, “No other questions.”

“Good.”

In the back, MJ gave Peter an appreciative look from behind her phone, which was still filming. He breathed out, and relaxed back into his seat. Maybe this hadn’t been so bad.

Chapter Text

October

“You are not flying the Iron Man armor. You are hovering in it, do you hear me, Parker? I need verbal confirmation that you understand you will not be more than three feet above the ground.”

Peter shifted in the armor, caught between feeling ecstatic that he was finally encased in the infamous titanium-gold alloy suit, and discomfort at having his senses dampened and his mobility seriously hampered. Spider-Man wore what was basically reinforced spandex (though he’d never call it that to Tony’s face). All the strength of carbon nanotubes, all the flexibility of graphene.

He couldn’t even imagine how clunky the original armor was. The nanotech was light years ahead, almost fluid in its design, but it was still centimeters of metal between his skin and the air. His spider-stickiness wouldn’t function in the suit, and his sight was impaired far beyond the minor corrections the mask of his suit offered. All the lights from the heads-up display were unsettling.

But it was still insanely cool, don’t get him wrong. It was a fanboy’s dream come true, and Peter had been an Iron Man fanboy since Tony Stark stood up in front of the press and dramatically declared, “I am Iron Man,” in 2008.

“Peter Benjamin Parker-Stark,” Tony reprimanded.

“Right, yeah, sorry, Dad. Hovering, not flying, three feet above the ground, got it. I got it,” Peter rambled excitedly. Shifting his weight from foot to foot. The suit wasn’t as heavy as he thought it would be.

Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Friday is gonna be on standby to take over the suit,” he said. “Five minutes, I promised five minutes, but if you stark dicking around in that thing I’m cutting you off. I’m serious, Pete,” he said.

Peter rolled his eyes at Tony’s molly-coddling tendencies. Honestly, he was worse than Aunt May sometimes.

“Okay, I can’t see your face because of the mask, but I’m positive you just rolled your eyes at me. Watch the attitude. God, is this what I was like as a kid?” Tony groused.

“I thought you were supposed to be the cool mom,” Peter teased.

His father looked affronted. “Um, excuse you. You’re literally wearing the Iron Man armor, it doesn’t get much cooler than that,” he shot back.

“Point,” Peter conceded. He took a deep breath. “Okay, I think I’m ready, Fri!”

“Alright, Peter. Engaging flight mode.”

It was the weirdest sensation, flying the armor. For some reason, he’d expected flight to feel as though he was just weightlessly floating in the air. Thinking back, that was absolutely ridiculous, considering he knew how the repulsors functioned. They expelled a force from the boots, gauntlets, and back that pushed Peter into the air, so it was like standing on a compact, more technologically advanced rocket. It wasn’t exactly a solid or secure feeling.

“How you doing, Petey?” Tony asked anxiously, a worried furrow in his brow.

He was only hovering a few inches off the ground, straight in the air. “Good!” he said excitedly nonetheless. “I’m gonna try moving.”

“Careful,” Tony warned. “You have to coordinate your hands and feet perfectly, otherwise you’re going to throw off your balance. And that won’t be pretty, trust me.”

Peter shifted his hands minutely, or what he thought was minutely, but the way he suddenly shot up and to the left told him maybe he hadn’t been as cautious as he thought. “Woah!” he shouted, throwing his hands out to balance himself.

He teetered in the air, but after a tense second, remained upright and stable.

“Woah,” he said again, laughing a bit from the adrenaline. “Hey, can I fire a rocket?”

“Nope, that’s it. Land. God, this is worse than being in a car with you behind the wheel,” Tony said, shaking his head. “I feel like I’m watching you try to take your first steps, except you’re taking them right next to a staircase. Parenting is hard, how does May do this?”

Peter snorted, but didn’t protest as Friday powered down the armor and then directed it to recede into the unit that housed the nanotechnology on his chest. Tony descended on him and plucked it from where it had been anchored on his shirt, shoving it into his pocket.

He’d been cheated out of his five minutes, but it was also more than he’d expected despite Tony’s promise.

“I think I’ll stick to web-slinging,” Peter said cheekily. “But, that was pretty neat!”

“Neat?” Tony sniffed. “Who are you? You’ve been spending too much time with Cap. Now get out of my sight, don’t you have a college interview to prepare for? T-minus two weeks, Peter, tick-tock.”

Peter honest-to-god cringed at the reminder. October 19th was a day he’d been dreading for months, ever since Tony had informed him that was the weekend they would be driving out to Massachusetts to visit MIT with Ned, and MJ tagging along to see Harvard. As a kid with borderline ADHD, sitting in an interview setting was not something he relished, even though he’d been prepped come hell or high water for those kinds of situations.

“How much does the interview count towards getting in again?” Peter asked.

Tony’s face softened, and he took off his sunglasses so there was no barrier between them. “Pete,” he started with a small sigh. “You got a 1600 on the SAT, your GPA is a perfect 4.0. Aside from sophomore year, your school record is all but flawless. You speak like four languages. You’re on decathlon, you do robotics lab, and you’re my intern and legacy. Bambino, you have nothing to worry about.”

Peter felt his lip wobble at the Italian endearment Tony only broke out when he was feeling particularly paternal, or missing his mom. “I just don’t want to disappoint you again,” he managed to say without his voice cracking.

In all honesty, Peter had been looking at NYU for most of junior year. Being away from Spider-Man for most of the year was going to be hard. But then Tony and Rhodey had started leaving MIT pamphlets on his desk, and Ned and MJ were looking in Massachusetts, and Tony’s face had all but split in two when Peter mentioned possibly applying to his alma mater.

Arms encircled his shoulders and Peter was pulled against Tony’s chest. His father’s chin rested on top of his head, one of his hands entangling in Peter’s curls. He smelled like motor oil, the slightly burnt smell was buried in his skin and all his clothes. “I thought we were past the Ferry Incident?” he asked.

Peter shrugged helplessly. He felt Tony’s sigh start in his chest and blow across the top of his head, causing his hair to flutter on the artificial breeze.

“Okay, one more time,” Tony said firmly. “Peter, I might not have raised you from birth, but you are my kid. You will never disappoint me, because you are too good, do you understand? You might frustrate me from time to time, we might get on each other’s nerves, but no matter what happens, I will always love you.”

Peter managed to nod his head. They stood there in an embrace for a few moments longer before Tony pulled back and began straightening out his jacket, pulling at the sleeves and lapels, giving Peter the time to collect himself.

“Okay, that’s enough parenting for like, a week. Look at me, I’m breaking out in hives,” Tony joked, but kept a straight face. “Go find someone to help you practice. I’ve got to go meet Pepper down at SI, but I think Buckaroo is still looking to get back into your good graces after your field trip, so try him.”

“’Kay,” Peter answered, a grin creeping its way onto his face. “Thanks, Dad.”

Tony’s eyes crinkled and he reached out to ruffle Peter’s hair. “Yeah, sure thing kid. Anytime. Well, maybe not anytime, but within certain, reasonable parameters-”

“You’re ruining it,” Peter told him, rolling his eyes.

“If you aren’t careful, they’ll stick like that,” Tony said flatly.

Peter groaned. “I’m leaving now,” he said, running back towards the compound.

Bucky ended up being in the yoga room. He spent almost as much time in there as Bruce did, which was surprising giving how vehemently he had protested against the idea when the smaller man had initially proposed it.

Bruce’s theory had been simple, likening the Winter Soldier to the Hulk. It had taken the scientist a long time to find a balance between himself and the big guy, but he’d achieved a compromise/stalemate by meditating and retreating into his mind to negotiate with his other half. To be fair, the Winter Soldier wasn’t an entirely different person, just leftovers from removing Hydra’s triggers, sort of like an autopilot that Bucky would fall back on when fighting, but would also sometimes negatively affect his mood and personality.

As it turned out, meditating did help Bucky keep those dark parts at bay, the pieces that even Tony and Shuri’s combined technology could not get rid of. Sometimes, the basics worked better than anything flashy, Bruce had philosophized, much to the confusion of Shuri and Tony who believed everything could be improved upon (particularly with vibranium).

Peter took off his shoes at the door and opened it quietly, treading lightly so as not to disturb Bucky, who was standing in tree pose, perfectly balanced on a yoga mat in the center of the room with his eyes closed. No doubt the man heard him enter anyway, but he’d appreciate Peter’s tact.

The mats were kept right by the door, so Peter grabbed his favorite pink one (it was really squishy, okay?) and lay it out next to Bucky’s. He didn’t know much about yoga, never needing the extra practice with balance and coordination since they fell under the purview of his powers, but he knew enough to get into downward dog.

He practiced the limited maneuvers he knew for a few minutes, waiting for Bucky to acknowledge him.

“Have you ever tried crow pose?” Bucky finally asked, breaking the silence.

“No,” Peter answered promptly.

“It’s slightly more advanced, but you shouldn’t have any trouble with it, punk,” Bucky said with a smirk. “Wanna try?”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “Is that a challenge? I accept.”

Bucky barked out a laugh. “Okay, squat down then,” he commanded, waiting for Peter to comply before continuing. “Now, place your hands flat on the mat, shoulder width apart, yeah like that, but spread your fingers a lot wider, cause they’re gonna have to support all your weight.”

Peter splayed them further, using his powers to stick them to the mat, and then looked to Bucky for further instruction.

“Lift up your hips, and bend your knees. When you pick up your feet, balance yourself by resting your knees on the outside of your elbows,” he said. “It helps if you look between your legs and behind you.”

Peter easily contorted his body into the pose and held it perfectly. It was kind of fun. It wasn’t particularly challenging, but he wouldn’t mind learning new poses. He dropped out of it after a minute or so, and grinned at Bucky. “That one’s cool,” he said approvingly.

Bucky’s eyes crinkled. “Yeah? Did you need me for something?”

“I need someone to ask me interview questions so I can practice for MIT,” Peter explained shyly.

The ex-assassin pursed his lips, and his brow knit together. “You aren’t still worried about that, are you, punk? You know you’re getting in. I already know what cake I’m going to bake to celebrate when the the results come out, and I know Tony’s already planned a dinner.”

Peter couldn’t help but throw his arms into the air with exasperation. “Everyone keeps saying that. But what happens if I don’t get it? What happens if I bomb this interview so bad, they don’t want someone like me at their school?” he demands.

“Someone like you?” Bucky scoffed. “What, you mean the most kind-hearted, smartest cinnamon bun on this entire damned planet? Pete, you could tell them you murdered someone and hid the body, and they wouldn’t even believe you. You’ve got the face of Bambi.”

“No I don’t,” Peter denied, even knowing it was true. His face was perpetually stuck at the appearance of a twelve-year-old. He might have lost his baby fat, but he knew he was still a cherub-cheeked, curly haired looking kid with ears too large for his head.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. “Get into workout clothes and meet me in the gym,” he said.

“What? Why-”

“Just do it,” he ordered.

Fortunately, Peter kept spare workout clothes in the locker room, so he didn’t have to go all the way up to his bedroom to get them. Once he was changed into a pair of running shorts and an old t-shirt, he found Bucky in the sparring ring.

“Uncle Bucky?” he asked tentatively. There was a dark shadow behind the older man’s eyes.

“You’re worried you’re gonna crack under pressure, right? That you’ll freeze up as soon as the interviewer asks you a question?” The sentences were punctuated with question marks, but they were more statements than anything.

Peter fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “Yes,” he admitted.

“Okay. Come here.”

Peter moved to stand in front of him. Bucky looked relaxed and at ease, but Peter knew better. The fingers on his vibranium hand stretched, then clenched into a fist. His eyes moved calculatingly over Peter’s body, probing for weakness.

Suddenly, he leapt with the grace of a cat and Peter was immediately thrown onto his back foot, blocking the left hook Bucky had chosen to start with. They grappled for a minute, Bucky, testing Peter’s defenses, but not attacking with his full force. Even with the older hero holding back, Peter was struggling to counter.

When they first fought in Germany, Peter had brought the element of surprise with him, catching Bucky off guard with his strength. And Bucky hadn’t been in the best place mentally at the time, so the fight had been relatively even. But now, Bucky knew Peter’s style, and his mind was sharper than ever. Peter’s powers might be superior to the bastardized serum, but Bucky had decades of experience over him.

“Why are you interested in MIT?” Bucky grunted out of the blue.

Peter’s mind short circuited and in his moment of confusion, Bucky got the upper hand and swept Peter’s feet out from underneath him. He landed on his back, but quickly scrambled back up, diverting part of his attention away from analyzing Bucky’s attack and towards answering the question.

“I like to challenge myself,” Peter managed to get out between blocking and ducking Bucky’s hits. “MIT is the only school I feel would not only provide that, but also support me-” he grunted when Bucky landed a blow, “I come from a large family, and we have the philosophy that the best way to help ourselves is to help each other, and the community at MIT is known for student collaboration, with the way classes are set up and the way dorming is approached.”

“Good!” Bucky encouraged, easing off, but only for a second. “What would you say your weaknesses are?”

That was an easy question. Peter was intimately away of his flaws. “I spread myself too thin,” he said immediately, making a push towards something more offensive and attempting to disable the vibranium arm by twisting it behind Bucky’s back to no success. “I’m also known to run myself into the ground trying to do everything, even when that’s not possible.”

Bucky kicked Peter backward a few feet but he easily regained his balance and threw himself back into the fight.

“But, with the help of my family, I’ve learned to take breaks for my mental health and- shit!”

Vibranium to the gut wasn’t a good feeling, but Peter was strong enough that the punch was more of an inconvenience than actual pain.

“I’ll let that curse go,” Bucky said magnanimously.

Peter scoffed, and managed to force Bucky onto the defensive for a whole five seconds, before continuing, “And I’ve learned that even if the result of a test or a paper isn’t perfect, as long as you’ve come away having learned something, it isn’t worth an anxiety attack.”

“What are your strengths?”

Oh.

The next thing Peter knew he was on his back again. His reflexes had him rolling to his feet though, and Bucky’s next hit missed by inches. He frantically tried to sort through his thoughts.

“I don’t quit,” he said. “I always stand up, no matter what is waiting for me when I get back to my feet.”

With those words, he threw himself at Bucky and managed to tackle him to the ground. They grappled on the mat for a solid minute before Peter pinned the super soldier. He knew Bucky let him, but the man was grinning at him with so much pride, Peter knew he accomplished something anyway.

“Okay?” Bucky asked, and his eyes were soft again, his body completely relaxed. “You didn’t freeze up. You didn’t quit. You answered the questions, and if you can do that while fighting off a super-soldier, there’s no way an interviewer will intimidate you.”

Something like hope bloomed in Peter’s chest. He stood up and used his strength to pull Bucky to his feet, before crushing the man in a hug.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Bucky squeezed him back. “Sure thing, punk.”

-SY-

Flash had been unnaturally quiet since the field trip a week ago. He sent furtive glances towards Peter in class, but didn’t so much as say a word to him in the hallways. The look in his eyes was always calculating, if not slightly pained. The thing about Flash was that, he’d never really been a physical bully. Sure, he pushed Peter around, sometimes slapped his shoulder or ass with more force than strictly necessary, but for the most part, he’d stuck to verbal insults.

Freshman and sophomore year, the words had undoubtedly hurt. But then Tony had taken him under his wing more firmly, and taught Peter a few tricks of the trade when it comes to dealing with insecure people with big mouths. Eventually, the rest of the Avengers trickled into their makeshift family, returning from being on the run after the Accords had been mended into something they felt okay about signing, and Natasha had stepped in to assist as well.

So, Peter had come to realize that Flash was like most any other bully. Tearing people down was the only way he knew how to build himself up. Flash was smart enough to get good grades at Midtown, but he wasn’t the smartest in the class. Peter suspected a lot of pressure to perform perfectly came from his father- sometimes Peter couldn’t help but overhear phone conversations on days his senses became a bit overwhelming- and he sympathized with feeling like the weight of the world was on your shoulders.

As for the rest of his classmates, it seemed like Peter had gained their respect. Though he was approached by a few of them who had less than pure ulterior motives. He had, of course, been expecting that, and turned down all their ‘kind offers of friendship’.

But despite those changes, life continued as though normal, which was why Peter was surprised when after AP English, Flash called for him to stay behind for a second, looking more worried than Peter could ever remember seeing him. Even before the SAT last year Flash hadn’t looked this tense.

MJ raised an eyebrow in Peter’s direction, and he quickly murmured, “Go on ahead. I’ll meet you at lunch.” She obliged, but only after staring coolly at Flash for a long second until he squirmed uncomfortably.

The classroom was vacant, the rest of the class and their teacher gone. So, Peter cautiously asked, “What’s up, Flash?”

Flash didn’t say anything right away, clearly struggling to find the right words, but eventually, he did manage to mutter, “I’m sorry.”

Peter blinked in surprise. “Look, if you’re just going to try and apologize so you can try and get near Tony or the Avengers or anything-”

“No!” Flash cut in loudly. “That’s not, I mean, ugh!” he closed his eyes and took a couple of breaths. “I always knew what I was doing to you wasn’t right,” he admitted. “But it was like I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop for the longest time. And then the words just became habit.”

Peter listened patiently, eyes softening the further Flash stumbled into his apology.

“It wasn’t cool of me, okay? I don’t want to leave high school and be known as that dickhead bully,” he said lowly. “So, I don’t expect you’ll believe me, or even accept my apology, but I wanted to let you know that I won’t shove you into lockers or anything anymore.”

“I believe you,” Peter told him firmly.

“You- what?” Flash asked, dumbfounded.

Peter cocked his head to the side and gave Flash a blinding smile. “I believe your apology is genuine. And I accept it. Thank you, Flash, it means a lot to me that you’re mature enough to come to me and try and make things right,” he elaborated.

The former-bully, looked hesitant, if not a bit hopeful. “Really, Parker?”

“Really,” he promised. “Look, and call me Peter, okay? We’re friends now, right?”

Flash’s jaw dropped for a moment, stunned. “Yeah,” he rasped out. “Friends.”

Peter clapped his shoulder. “Well, I’m going to head to lunch now. I think MJ might come in here and try and kill you if I’m any later. On Wednesday after school we’re all- I mean, Ned, MJ, and I- we’re all going to go to Eddie’s for shakes and to study for calculus. Do you wanna join us? Mr. Fritsch said this test was gonna kick our asses, so we could use all the help we can get.”

“Um, sure,” Flash stuttered.

When Peter left the classroom, he felt lighter than he had in ages.

-SY-

It took forty-five minutes for Peter to get to Eddie’s Sweet Shop from Queens, but it was always worth every second of travel. Eddie’s was iconic, there was no other word to describe it. It was a corner shop with a brilliant red door and above it the word soda was lit up in retro neon lights. The window display was always filled with sweets and plushies and fun decorations. On the inside, they had this old-fashioned soda fountain behind the bar and displays with glass jars full of candy. It was basically heaven.

Ned and he were the first to arrive, having left together from Peter’s apartment. It was a bit farther for MJ, but she’d assured them she was on her way and asked (told) them to order her usual so it would be waiting for her when she got there. They set their bags down at their favorite table in the back corner.

“I still can’t believe you invited Flash of all people,” Ned said for what felt like the eightieth time in the last hour.

Peter sighed through his nose. “I told you, he apologized. And he really meant it. Flash was always annoying but he’s not like the spawn of the devil or anything, Ned. Give him a chance.”

“Fine, but only because you’re my best friend,” Ned grumbled. “I’m gonna head up and order. You want your usual?”

“Yes, please.” Peter was already salivating. He always got plain vanilla, but that was just so he could load it with every topping behind the counter without the flavors clashing. “And MJ wants the raspberry freeze!”

Ned rolled his eyes. “Dude, I know. Be back in a few.”

As Ned waited in line, Peter began pulling out his books and binder. As the resident math whiz, he’d made practice tests for his friends last night. The test was on infinite limits and asymptotes, which Peter felt pretty comfortable with.

A shadow fell over him, and Peter looked up half expecting it to be MJ. But it was Flash, standing awkwardly next to the table, fiddling with the straps on his backpack.

“Hey, Par- Peter,” he said. “I half didn’t expect you’d actually be here.”

Peter gestured to the seat next to him. “Dude, I’d never joke about Eddie’s. Do you know what you want? Ned’s still on line, he’s going to order for us.”

“Uh, the chocolate malt shake,” he said, taking his seat. “That’s the best thing here.”

Peter couldn’t help his laugh. “That’s what Ned always says,” he told Flash, before shooting off a quick text to his friend. “So, where have you gotten up to in class? You’re in the morning section, right? That must suck.”

“Mr. Fritsch is a zombie without his coffee, I’m shocked that we’re actually learning anything at all,” Flash admitted, with a smirk. “We finished vertical asymptotes and just started horizontal.”

Peter nodded. “Okay, yeah, that’s just about where we’re at. How comfortable are you with the material?”

“I’ve got a good handle on it,” Flash said, sounding like his usual cocky self.

“Hm, we’ll see. Hey, dork,” MJ dropped her bag on the floor, and keeping eye contact with Flash, kissed Peter on the corner of his mouth before taking her seat across from him. “Flash,” she said evenly.

“Just to be clear, I don’t expect that kind of greeting,” Flash quipped, though he looked nervous. Greater men than Flash had crumbled under MJ’s direct gaze.

But MJ just tilted her head to the side. It didn’t look like much to an outsider, but Peter could tell she was reluctantly amused. MJ had never hated Flash, thinking it too petty of an emotion to waste energy on, but she hadn’t appreciated his unwarranted arrogance or the way he picked on her boyfriend and friend.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page about that,” she said, and Flash blew out a breath of relief.

“Orders up!” Ned said cheerfully, impressively balancing all their ice creams without dropping them.

MJ sipped appreciatively at her raspberry freeze when Ned set it down in front of her. “Good timing, loser,” she said.

Ned sat down next to her, looking warily at Flash before answering, “Well, wouldn’t want to keep Queen MJ waiting.”

“Thanks,” Flash said quietly, testing the waters.

“You’re welcome,” Ned replied, looking equally uncomfortable, as if Flash was going to suddenly transform into a cobra and lash out.

Peter had immediately dug into his ice cream as soon as it was in front of him, but he paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. He debated if he should step in and try and act as a go between for Ned and Flash, or if he should let them work out their own problems. Flash had apologized to Peter, but he’d also picked on Ned. Not as much, but Ned wasn’t ready to just let the past go like Peter had.

There was a strained silence for a few seconds. He shared a look with MJ, but she appeared to be thriving off the awkward tension, and was no help. Peter was just about to open his mouth when Flash beat him to it.

“I apologized to Peter already,” he said in a stilted manner. This was different than being in alone with Peter. “So it’s only right I apologize to you too, Leeds. I’m sorry, I picked on you. It wasn’t cool, and I’m trying to change.”

Ned pressed his lips together, but Peter’s best friend was a big softy, and they both knew it, so after a moment he said, “I guess we’re cool. You’ve got good taste in malt shakes at least.”

Peter leaned back in his seat. It was a start. A good start, even.

-SY-

At MIT, we bring people together to better the lives of others. MIT students work to improve their communities in different ways, from tackling the world’s biggest challenges to being a good friend. Describe one way in which you have contributed to your community, whether in your family, the classroom, your neighborhood, etc. (200-250 words).

Peter had never wished he could talk about Spider-Man more than as he stared at one of the MIT supplemental essay prompts. He meant to start these last week, but had gotten caught up in busting a drug traffic ring as Spider-Man, ironically.

He bit his lip and sighed heavily. “Hey, Friday? Is anyone around?” he asked from where he was sat, upside down on the ceiling with his tablet.

“Boss has the lab on lockdown, but Dr. Banner appears to be free at the moment,” Friday replied. “He’s in the living room.”

Peter nodded his head, and unstuck himself from the ceiling, dropping down onto his bed. He made his way to the living room.

Bruce was on the couch, silver frames perched on his nose as he peered down at a stack of papers. In his hand, he twirled a red pen.

“Hey, Dr. B,” Peter said, jumping onto the couch.

Bruce clutched his papers as Peter jostled him, and raised an eyebrow in amusement as Peter wiggled around until he was comfortable pressed into the scientist’s side. “Hey, Pete,” Bruce greeted once he was done.

“Watcha doin’?” Peter asked

“Well,” Bruce said, “I’m reading a paper on the detection and identification of nascent proteomes in vivo, but it’s nothing urgent if you needed something.”

“Why does Dad have the lab in lockdown?” he asked instead of acknowledging Bruce’s concern.

Bruce’s nostrils flared with the strength of his exasperated sigh. “He kicked me out because I offended him by preferring to read on paper and use an actual pen.”

Peter giggled, because that sounded like something Tony would do.

“Did you need something, Peter?” Bruce asked again, more gently.

There was no avoiding it. Bruce always had a sixth sense for whenever something was bothering anyone. Peter suspected that it had something to do with his better communication with the Hulk. Hulk was less intellectually driven, and more in tune with emotions and instincts. So, Bruce was pretty good on picking up on emotional cues.

“I’m just working on my supplemental essays,” Peter mumbled, looking up at him with his puppy eyes. “And I don’t know how to answer one of the questions.”

Bruce put aside his papers, giving Peter his full attention. “What’s the question?” Peter brought out his tablet and showed him. Bruce pushed his glasses up on his nose and said, “Peter, I’d think you of all people would be able to answer this question.”

“Maybe Spider-Man could answer it,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping back against the cushions.

“You do know Peter Parker and Spider-Man are the same person, right?” Bruce asked lightly.

“No, we’re not,” Peter grumbled. “Spider-Man is better. Spider-Man saves all those people.”

Bruce was quiet for a moment, gathering his words. “Last week, when I almost hulked out because I saw that news report about the man who shot his wife and child, Spider-Man wasn’t around, but Peter Parker was there to calm me down and make me feel better.”

Peter’s cheeks flared red. “But-”

“A month ago, Peter Parker spent the whole day with Natasha practicing ballet, and letting her paint his nails and play with his hair because she was having a bad day and he wouldn’t stand for it. You weren’t wearing the Spider-Man mask then, were you?” Bruce continued. “Were you wearing the mask when you designed Bucky a new arm? Or when you and Wanda nursed a sick kitten back to health?”

“No,” he answered resignedly.

“No,” Bruce reiterated. “Because without Peter Parker, Spider-Man would be nothing. And you don’t stop being a hero when you take the mask off, Peter.”

Without warning, Peter threw his arms around Bruce’s neck and hugged him tight. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

Bruce patted his back. “Do you wanna work on finishing your essay in here with me while I read?”

Peter nodded and opened a fresh document of his tablet. Bruce picked his red pen back up, and refocused on his paper.

-SY-

May hovered over Peter, hands fluttering from smoothing down his hair, to evening out the strings on his hoodie, to just cupping his cheeks and peering at him with watery eyes. If this was Aunt May sending Peter off for one weekend to tour MIT and have his interview, Peter didn’t think he’d be able to handle Aunt May actually saying goodbye to him as he headed off to attend college.

Peter hadn’t gone up to the compound after school. The car ride was going to be a couple hours longer leaving from his apartment, but May had really wanted to see Peter off, so Tony had agreed to pick him up. His father stood in the doorway, smirking as he watched May work herself up into a state. Ned and MJ already had their bags on their shoulders, snickering at his expense.

“You’re going to do wonderfully in your interview, Peter,” May said. “So, don’t do that thing you do where you act all grumpy because you’re nervous. Be good for your father.”

Peter blushed, but dutifully answered, “Okay, May. I love you, but can we leave now? It’s like a four-hour drive.”

May leaned down and kissed his forehead again, before turning back to Tony and asking for the fifth time since he’d arrived, “Are you sure you’re okay taking all three of them? They can be a handful, Tony.”

Tony just grinned. “I’m sure, May.”

She nodded, but looked reluctant. “One more hug,” she decided, before grabbing Peter’s shoulders and hauling him into her chest. She didn’t let it linger, but she did kiss the top of his head one last time before nodding. “Have fun. Take pictures.”

“I will. Love you, Aunt May!” Peter said, before hastily shoving his friends and father out the door before she could change her mind.

He didn’t let out his breath until Tony pulled the car out onto the street and they were a couple of blocks away from his home. They were taking Tony’s mint green, 1959 Ford Galaxie because, according to him, road trips needed to be taken in classic American cars. It was warm out, so they had the top rolled down.

“Alright, kiddos,” Tony said, glancing in the rearview mirror to smile at Ned and MJ who were in the back seat, and then grinning at Peter who’d called shotgun. “200 miles, and counting down. Who made a playlist?”

MJ dug her phone out of her pocket, since that had been her job. Peter and Tony had been on snack duty, while Ned had made a list of interview questions so they could practice. She handed it to Peter so he could plug it in. It might be an old car, but Tony and Peter had spent all last summer restoring it and adding modern features to it.

The first song that came up was Lane Boy by Twenty-One Pilots and Peter nodded his head in approval.

Tony rolled his eyes. “I still don’t understand how this is music. It’s just talking to a beat, it’s not singing,” he complained, like he always did when Peter played rap music.

“This is why you weren’t in charge of the music,” Peter said. “TØP is art.”

The older scientist sniffed indignantly. “I’m going to make you walk to Massachusetts if you keep sassing me, Parker.”

“No you won’t,” MJ said. “You’re too much of a helicopter parent to ever let your precious baby walk anywhere without at least having Friday stalk him with security cameras.”

“You’re scary, so I’m not going to argue with you,” Tony told her, but didn’t deny her accusation.

Peter was about to let the topic lie, but something occurred to him and he whipped his head around to look at Tony instead and asked, “Wait, does Friday actually spy on me through security cameras?!”

“What? No. Don’t be ridiculous, Peter,” Tony reprimanded.

“He means yes,” MJ piped up, looking smug. “Pepper told me. She thinks it’s adorable.”

“Dad!” Peter exclaimed.

Tony huffed. “I’m not going to apologize for loving you.” Then he hastily changed the topic. “We’ll make it to the hotel by nine, adding in an hour or so to get dinner on the way. We’ll spend Saturday at MIT. Peter, Ned, your interviews are in the morning. And then Sunday we’ll head down to Harvard. MJ, yours is in the afternoon, right?”

“Yup,” she answered, popping the ‘p’. “One o’clock sharp.”

“Don’t think that made me forget about the fact that you have Friday stalk me,” Peter said.

“Pete, did Rhodey or I ever tell you the banana story?”

Now, that was a better distraction.

-SY-

They left the car in the hotel parking lot, because according to Tony, there was pretty much no parking on the MIT campus whatsoever (something the faculty spend a great deal of time complaining about). So, they hopped on the Red Line and arrived at the admissions office at 9:40, leaving a whole twenty minutes for Peter to sit in one of the waiting room chairs and bounce his leg.

He and Ned were feeding into each other’s nervous energy and the feedback loop was driving MJ and Tony insane. After ten minutes of this, Tony couldn’t take it anymore. “The person interviewing you is a recent graduate, practically your age,” he told them. “It isn’t going to be some scary adult, it’s someone whose been in your shoes.”

“I know,” Peter murmured, “You’ve said that before.”

“Then why are you still so nervous?” Tony asked. “Tell me so I can help.”

Peter shook his head. “You can’t help. It’s just my anxiety.”

His father sighed. He hated feeling powerless, and the severity of that issue was Peter’s fault, he knew. He could still remember clearly that day on Titan. The day he’d faded into ash in his father’s arms, begging for Tony to make it stop even though there was nothing he could do but cradle his son to his chest and hold him tight as he faded out of existence.

Ever since then, if there was something Tony could do to help Peter, he did it. Even if it was considered helicopter parenting, or coddling, he didn’t care. So, Peter hated to tell him there was nothing he could do, but unless Tony could hijack his brain chemistry, there weren’t any words that would stave off his nerves.

Tony reached out and rested his hand on Peter’s knee anyway, forcing him to stop bouncing it. Just then, a young, red-headed woman that vaguely reminded Peter of Pepper stuck her head into the waiting room and called out, “Peter Parker?”

He stood up on weak knees, and Tony murmured, “Take your time answering. No rush.”

“I’m Abi Walker,” the redhead introduced herself, holding out her hand.

Peter remembered to control his super-strength, but kept his handshake firm and confident, just like his Uncle Ben had taught him when he was little. “Good morning,” he said, the formal words feeling awkward on his tongue.

She smiled, as if she sensed that too, and gestured for him to follow her. They ended up in a little room on the second floor with a table and two chairs. There were a few windows, and Peter seriously considered diving out one.

“I wanted to jump out the window before my interview too,” Abi said knowingly, she took a seat at the spot that had a notepad, a stack of papers, and a pen.

“I, uh-” This really wasn’t how Peter wanted to start his interview. He was pretty sure his knees buckled as he sat down.

“It’s okay to feel a little nervous,” she assured him. “When I sat for my interview there was another kid and he threw up in the bathroom. But he still got it and graduated.”

Peter couldn’t help it. He laughed a bit. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. The nerves had abated enough so that he didn’t feel the urge to tab his fingers restlessly on the table.

Abi clicked her pen open and got comfortable in her seat. “So, Peter, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself? And, it’s okay if you need to think for a second. Take your time.”

Peter hated this question both because of how general it was and because of how little he enjoyed talking about himself. Before leaving, Pepper had assured him that it was okay to speak a little of his family, and the work he did with Tony, which he was thankful for, because it would be hard to talk about his life without mentioning either of those things.

“I think the thing that most defines who I am is my family,” Peter started. “When I was little, my parents died in a plane crash, so I didn’t really know them, and I was sent to live with my Aunt and Uncle. But four years ago, my Uncle was killed in a mugging in front of me, so for a while it was just me and my Aunt May.

“And then two years ago, I was adopted into the biggest, craziest family you can imagine, and it was pretty hard to learn to trust that they’d stick around, and it was really weird suddenly having such a large support system. But I’ve learned so much from each and every one of them. Primarily, I think they’ve given me a lot of confidence, and I’ve definitely had to learn cooperation,” Peter said, chuckling. “Our home is big, but we like to be around each other, so the fights over the TV remote are epic.”

Abi smiled. “I can’t even imagine. I’m an only child and when I was growing up my parents divorced so there was only my mom around.”

“I’m the youngest. None of us are really related, but I call them all my aunts and uncles anyway. The next youngest is Wanda, and she’s in her mid-twenties,” he explained. “She’s basically my older sister.”

She took a few moments to scribble in her notepad, and then looked at the papers in front of her. “It says here you work for Tony Stark. I saw him in the waiting area with you. Why don’t you tell me about that?” she encouraged sounding interested, but professionally.

“Tony’s my mentor,” he said right away. He had no trouble speaking about his father. “He’s a little overprotective, but he lets me be pretty independent in the lab.”

“What kind of work do you do in the lab?” Abi presses.

“Well, I’m really interested in biology and chemistry, and Tony’s obviously primarily an engineer, so we like to pool our knowledge and collaborate,” he said shyly. Normally people who ask that question expect him to say something along the lines of, ‘I get Tony coffee and hand him tools’, but that was why they had the bots. Well, for the tool handling, not coffee. Never ever trust the bots with coffee.

She nodded, looking pretty impressed. “So, you have your own projects, but you also work together?”

“Yeah. Sometimes Tony helps me out, but I like to try and problem solve on my own. If I’m really stuck, he just points me in the right direction. He never outright gives me the answer,” Peter said.

“A good philosophy. So, Peter. Why MIT?”

This question made Peter nervous. Especially considering he’d come with Tony Stark, probably the most influential and well-known Alumni MIT ever produced. His answer couldn’t just be, ‘because I’m a legacy’ and it wasn’t, but he was scared Abi wouldn’t believe him anyway.

“Tony talks about MIT a lot,” Peter said honestly. “But for the longest time I didn’t think I’d ever end up anywhere outside of New York City. You know, that’s where my aunt is, that’s where my entire family is. I love the city. Everything about it.”

He took a deep breath. “But Tony started dropping the pamphlets on my desk, so I started doing my research, and I really think MIT is the perfect fit for me. The built-in support structure of how you approach dorming and the way collaboration amongst students is encouraged is just so appealing coming from a large family like I do. And I know I have a lot to offer. I’m very lucky to get to work with closely with Tony, but also Bruce Banner and Princess Shuri, so I not only have a lot of knowledge, but I know how to creatively apply it.”

When he finished, Abi was smiling at him. She’d put her pen down by then. “Well, Peter, it’s been lovely getting to know you. You’re a very interesting young man.”

She stood up and pushed her chair back, and he copied her movement. They shook hands, probably exchanged a few more pleasantries, but Peter could barely remember them. He was too busy floating on the absolute relief of having finished and having answered the questions satisfactorily.

They walked back down to the waiting area, where Tony was stood by the window, tapping his fingers anxiously, and where MJ sat coolly with her sketchbook out and the likeliness of Tony blossoming under her pencil. Ned wasn’t there yet, but if he concentrated he could hear his distinctive voice on the floor above them, so he was still in his interview.

“Pete!” Tony called upon seeing him. “How’d it go, kiddo?”

He smiled in return. “I think it went okay,” he said. “Better than okay even!”

“Told you so, dork,” MJ said, but she sounded a little proud of him at the same time. “Ned got taken up like a minute after you so he should be done soon.”

Tony nodded in agreement. “Then we can grab lunch and I’ll take you on a tour of the old place. Sound good?”

“Sounds good!”

They only had to wait another few minutes for Ned to come bounding down the stairs and into the waiting room. He was sporting the same relived grin Peter had been. “Oh my god, I’m so glad that is over!” Ned said in a rush. “The lady you had looked so nice Peter, I thought my guy was going to kill me, he looked so severe, but he turned out to actually be pretty nice!”

“Well, you survived,” Peter replied, laughing.

“Are you ready to go?” Tony asked, and they nodded, following him out the door.

-SY-

It was October 31st. Every other year, Halloween to Peter meant hanging out with Ned and MJ and eating a concerning amount of candy and binging scary movies. They’d gone to a Halloween party once, last year. It had been in the suburbs, and they’d called it Insanity. The parents had paid off the neighbors so no one would call the police and true to form, it had been insane.

There’d been drinking, and smoking, and a hook-up spot in the woods. The music was so loud Peter was almost thrown into a sensory overload a block away from the house, and combined with the nauseating scent of alcohol infused vomit, weed, and the blinding strobe lights, Peter lasted all of five seconds.

MJ, bless her soul, had clearly expected something like that to happen, and had come prepared with Peter’s light-diffusing glasses and his noise-cancelling headphones. Ned and she had immediately gotten him away, away, away, and they’d spent the night eating junk food and watching Supernatural with the lights off and the volume on low.

This year, October 31st did not mean Halloween. This year it was known as the day before early decision applications were due.

Peter had his teacher-recommendations from his Physics and Biology teachers. His supplemental essays were finally done. The actual essay had been completed weeks ago with MJ and had been proofread by Pepper Potts herself. He’d finished his list of extracurriculars and accomplishments. But he’d been hoarding away the application like an old miser, scared to hit send.

Ned was the same, though MJ had submitted hers yesterday to their applause.

The two of them were sitting on Peter’s bedroom floor, computers open, staring at the common app.

“On the count of three?” Ned asked.

Peter nodded. “One,” he said.

“Two,” Ned murmured.

“Three!” they finished together, clicking submit.

“Mine sent,” Peter told him, breathing out a sigh of relief that had been months coming.

Ned was grinning. “Mine too.”

They just sat there in silence for a tense moment, before Peter started giggling, which set Ned off and then they were laughing so hard they were leaning on each other.

“What do we do now for a month and half while we wait for the results?” Peter asked.

“I dunno dude, cry?”

Peter shut his laptop, stood up and stretched, his back popping in a way that made Ned flinch. “Wanna go down to Delmar’s and get all the candy? MJ should be here in an hour for movie night,” he said, extending his hand.

They clasped fingers and Peter easily lifted Ned to his feet. When they were both standing, they grinned at each other and did their handshake.

An hour later, all three of them were snuggled up in a puppy pile under blankets on the couch. Halloweentown I was ready to play on the TV, and they had pizza and a bowl of candy on the table in front of them. MJ had brought a gallon of fresh apple cider her mom had picked up, and she raised her glass to them.

“Here’s to you two being the next generation James Rhodes and Tony Stark,” she said.

“Here, here!” Ned and Peter cheered together, laughing.

“Here’s to MJ kicking ass at Harvard and starting at least three student rallies in her first term,” Ned added.

“Here, here!” Peter shouted, and MJ just smiled smugly. “Here’s to the best senior year ever!”

“I’ll drink to that,” MJ said.

They clinked their glasses and took swigs of the cider. The crisp apple taste burst across Peter’s tongue, and he couldn’t help the smile on his face as Ned reached forward and pressed play on the movie.

Chapter Text

November

“Rise and shine, kid!”

Peter startled into wakefulness so violently, he sprang out of bed and stuck to the ceiling. Steve lowered an eyebrow. Well, he probably raised it, but Peter was too busy being upside down and half asleep to know the difference

“Wha-?” His fingers unstuck from the ceiling and he dropped back onto the bed with an oomph. Peter groaned and covered his eyes with his arm. “Times’it?”

America’s Golden Boy strolled across Peter’s room and flung open the curtains. Peter prepared to flinch, but there was no light to blind him. The sky was still a mellow purple. “It’s 0500. Put on clothes comfortable enough to run in, and meet me in the kitchen.”

He was gone so fast Peter wasn’t even sure he was there to begin with. Surely he’d hallucinated the whole event. The bed was so warm and comfortable that he began to doze again.

“Peter, it isn’t advisable that you fall back asleep,” Friday said cheerfully.

“That really happened?” he grumbled, pushing himself out of bed and stumbling to his closet, blindly throwing on a pair of shorts and t-shirt.

“Yes,” the AI answered pleasantly. “The Captain did warn you last night he’d be waking you up for an early morning run.”

Peter dragged himself towards the kitchen and mumbled, “I thought he was joking.” He was a teenager, and teenagers did stupid things like stay up until midnight to read Star Wars fan theories online. Surely, Steve knew that.

“Hey, Webhead, looking a little peaky there,” came Sam’s teasing voice.

Peter glared at the older man. How dare he look so awake. Cap being alert and one of those disgusting morning people was practically a given, but Sam? “I don’t even have to get up this early for school,” he complained.

“A run in the morning is good for the soul,” Steve promised. “It gives you more energy for the day. Besides, it’s been awhile since you ran and it’s going to get too cold for the trail soon.”

That caught Peter’s attention. “We’re going on the trail? Not the treadmill?” he asked. Suddenly the prospect didn’t seem so horrible. Despite leaving the city to come up here often, he didn’t often take full advantage of being away from the concrete jungle.

“City kid,” Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Running outside is the only way to run.”

The rest of the compound was still asleep as they passed through on their way out. It was a brisk morning, but Peter figured he’d warm up on the run.

“Don’t forget to stretch, kid. You don’t want to pull something,” Sam said as leaned against the side of the compound and stretched his calves.

Peter nodded, and bent down, pressing his hand flat against the ground with ease. “How far are we going?” Peter asked.

“It’s not about distance. Sam here is going to go his usual six miles, and we’re going to lap him as many times as possible,” Steve said, giving Sam a teasing look. “Think you can keep up, Spider-Man?”

Peter scoffed, not one to back down from a challenge. “What are you, like a hundred, yeah I can totally keep up,” he sassed.

Sam snorted, and turned it into a cough.

“All right, you whipper-snapper,” Steve joked back.

And then he took off like a bullet from the barrel of a gun. “Run, Spider-Man, run!” Sam shouted as Peter chased after him.

Peter had to admit, Steve was right. The trail was beautiful as usual. It winded through the surrounding woods, following a babbling river, over a bridge and back around. It was a two mile, well beaten path. The sun rose gradually, casting the trees in a pink light, and Peter thought maybe he should join Steve and Sam on their morning run more often.

It was quiet, bar when Peter and Steve ran past a groaning Sam shouting, “On your right!” and “On your left!” respectively.

When Steve came to a halt at the bridge, Peter did his best not to bend over and wheeze. Steve was breathing a bit heavy too, with a light sheen of sweat compared to the wet mop that was Peter’s hair. He was about to ask what was wrong, but Steve held up a finger to his lip, and then pointed. Peter followed his finger and grinned.

There was a small family of deer a couple yards away. They were stock still, staring at Peter and Steve warily. But after a long minute, the buck lowered his head and began to graze again, the rest of the family following suit.

“I wish I had my sketchbook,” Steve said wistfully at the same time as Peter mumbled, “Wish I brought my camera with me.”

They looked at each other in surprise, and then smiled.

“C’mon,” Steve said, picking their original pace back up.

Sam was back at the start, sucking down a water bottle. He waved when he saw them. “So,” he said when they got within hearing range. “How you doing, kid?”

“It was great,” Peter gushed, catching a water bottle when Steve tossed it to him. “Uncle Steve and I saw this family of deer!”

They walked back to the compound and Peter chattered excitedly about his plans to go apple-picking with Wanda later in the day. It was a little past six in the morning according to the clock in the kitchen, and Steve walked over to the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs, a loaf of bread and a few packets of bacon.

He began frying up the eggs and bacon, while Sam tossed the bread into the toaster, then began slicing up some fruit. They worked like a team, and Peter settled at the bar, choosing to lean on his arms and watch, not wanting to get in the way of the dynamic.

Before Peter knew it, the air in the kitchen smelled like a diner. Sam had made smoothies and Peter sipped on that as Steve plated the rest of the food.

“Morning, boys,” Pepper said brightly as she click-clacked her way into the kitchen in a pair of heels and a pencil skirt.

Sam, apparently having anticipated her arrival, tossed her a tinfoil package of peanut-butter slathered toast and handed her a travel mug of coffee.

“Morning, Pepper,” Sam and Steve said at the same time, and Peter chimed in, “Hi, mom!”

She paused to take a sip of coffee and sighed. “I’m going to be gone for the rest of the day. Justin Hammer of all people is kicking up a fuss and I have to deal with him. Tony wasn’t in bed this morning, and I don’t think he ever came up from the lab, so if someone could fetch him for me, that’d be great,” she said.

“I can lure him out,” Steve assured her. “Bucky made banana bread. You know how much he loves that stuff.”

Peter perked up. “Bucky made banana bread? Wait, can I have some? That stuff is literally crack,” he said eagerly.

“Thanks so much, Steve,” Pepper said, before glancing at her watch and groaning, “I’m already running late.” And then she was gone.

“Man, I never want to run a multi-billion-dollar company if mornings are that stressful,” Sam commented once she was out of ear-shot.

“Banana bread?” Peter asked again.

Steve rolled his eyes fondly. “Later. Now eat your breakfast and go take a shower, you smell.”

It was a little later in the morning. Those residents who weren’t insane enough to get up at the ass-crack of dawn on a Saturday were just waking up. Peter was showered, dressed, and enjoying a slice of banana bread as he did some reading Tony had asked him to do.

Wanda threw herself onto the couch next to him, still in pajamas. “Hope you don’t mind, but I invited Thor to come with us later,” she said through a yawn. “I was braiding his hair last night and he said he’d never gone before, so.”

“Yeah, sure, the more the merrier,” Peter said. “Is Loki coming too?”

Loki and Thor weren’t attached at the hip, at all, but in general, Thor liked to drag his brother around for bonding whenever he thought he could get away with it. Besides, Loki, while accepted amongst their rag-tag family, didn’t necessarily get along with everyone. The set group of people he spent any substantial amount of time with was limited to Thor, Wanda, Peter, Tony, and Bruce.

“No,” Wanda answered. “He left the room as soon as I offered and was muttering something under his breath about golden apples. Thor was laughing and wouldn’t tell me why. Anyway, is that Bucky’s banana bread?”

Peter immediately narrowed his eyes and snatched his plate up, clutching it close to his chest protectively. “Maybe,” he said shortly.

She pursed her lips. “Do you know where he hid it?”

“No, Steve gave it to me and wouldn’t let me see. And this is mine. You can’t have any of it. I had to run, like, a million miles at dawn this morning to earn it,” he said matter-of-factly.

Bucky’s baking was so good he literally had to hide his bakes around the compound or else they would be gone in minutes. And he was really good at hiding things. The only other people who knew where his hidey-holes were was Steve and Friday. Not even Clint or Natasha could ferret them out.

Wanda pouted. “Peter,” she whined, “Come on, mladší brat.”

“Nope, that won’t work on me,” Peter said in a voice that wasn’t quite as stern as he’d intended. “I’m not gonna give you my banana bread just because you called me ‘little brother’ in your native language, nope. I’m far stronger than that. You see, I’m hardened now from my time as Spider-Man, just completely heartless and-” Peter sighed, and held out the slice of bread. “Okay, fine, but just one bite!”

Wanda leaned over and chomped off at least half the slice and didn’t even finish chewing before she landed a banana bread-y kiss on his cheek and stood up, throwing a, “Thanks Petey-Pie,” over her shoulder as she went into the kitchen.

Peter stared forlornly at the remnants of his mid-morning snack, absolutely betrayed.

“Thanks, Spider-Punk!”

Sam came up behind him, freshly showered, plucked the rest of it from Peter’s hands and tossed it into his mouth. The teenager crossed his arms. “It had Wanda’s slobber on it anyway,” he said, refusing to be bothered.

The older man shrugged and grabbed the remote.

Peter turned back to his reading, though he was distracted by his revenge plans on the bird-themed hero. Maybe he’d get Loki involved in it, that would teach Sam a lesson. Wanda wandered back in ten minutes later and sat down, her breakfast of avocado and poached egg on toast balanced on her stomach.

“Put on Brooklyn Nine-Nine,” she told Sam through a mouthful.

Sam who’d settled on reruns of Fixer Upper snorted and said, “No. You snooze you lose.”

“Brooklyn Nine-Nine!” Peter repeated, setting his book aside once again in favor of retrieving one of his spare pairs of web shooters from under the side table. He kept them strategically planted around the house in case of emergencies, which this certainly qualified as.

Sam didn’t notice as Wanda’s eyes had flared red and the remote was suddenly summoned to her awaiting hand. In the next instant Peter had webbed Sam to the couch and bound his hands.

“Hey!” he shouted, squirming. “Ugh, I hate your webs, they feel gross!”

Wanda and Peter high-fived as they put on their show. “I wanna snap this,” Peter said, pulling out his phone. He and Wanda sat on either side of Sam, grinning with the remote in victory and Sam gave an absolutely venomous glare in response.

“You two are my least favorite,” he said.

“What a pity, I’ve lost my prized spot,” Loki said as he sat primly on the the reclining chair.

Before Sam could respond, Peter webbed his mouth shut. “Hey, Loki, why don’t you want to come apple-picking with Wanda and I? It’ll be fun,” he promised.

Loki’s lip curled up into something akin to a grimace. “I don’t like apples, child. And I especially don’t like apple orchards. I’m afraid I’ll have to decline,” he replied easily, though there was a strangled quality to the words ‘apple orchard’.

“But why,” he pressed, almost whining with his curiosity.

The god of mischief raised an eyebrow. “Don’t think simply because I tolerate your presence I won’t hesitate to turn you into a cat for the day if you continue to bother me,” he said in an attempt to be icy.

“If you did turn me into a cat,” Peter asked, “What would it be like? Would I still have my human memories? Would I still be able to understand English? Oh! Would I be able to talk to other cats? Loki, I think you should turn me into a cat anyway so we can find out.”

Loki sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Wanda pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Cat Peter would probably have the softest fur because Human Peter’s hair is already really fluffy. I want to pet Cat Peter,” she declared.

“Hey, Rock of Ages, what have I told you about turning Peter into a cat?” Tony said in exasperation.

Steve had Tony by the scruff of his neck. The insomniac genius was wearing nothing but a grease-stained t-shirt and a pair of sweats. He certainly looked like he’d spent all night in the lab, judging by the bruises beneath his eyes.

Loki rolled his eyes, but dutifully replied, “Not to.”

Steve was all but pushing Tony towards the elevator. “Do I need to supervise you all the way up to your room or can you make it there yourself?” he asked

“Um, I was promised banana bread,” Tony said through a yawn, offering no resistance as Steve forced him into the elevator.

“And you’ll get it as soon as you sleep,” Steve promised as the doors closed. Then, he turned around and heaved his exasperated mom sigh. “Peter, no webbing people to the furniture. They’re hard to get off.”

Peter crossed his arms. “He deserved it, he ate my banana bread! And he was outvoted two to one and wouldn’t change the channel.”

Steve sighed. “Fine, I’ll get you another piece. Let him out. Wanda, aren’t you and Peter leaving in forty minutes? Go get dressed,” he said.

Wanda flicked her hand and sent her empty plate towards the kitchen before heading off to her room, mumbling something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Yes, Captain Mom.”

- SY -

Wanda drove them to the orchard, insisting they take her yellow buggy. Which meant Thor had to cram his massive body into the laughably small car, but he did so in good spirit. He didn’t often travel by car, preferring to use Storm Breaker’s bifrost, so the novelty was enough to compensate for his cramped legs.

The only problem with taking Thor was that he was very recognizable and loud. Outside of her costume and wearing her favorite beanie, Wanda didn’t really register as ‘the Scarlet Witch’, but one look at their huge, blonde companion, and fans were whispering and crowding to get a picture. They hadn’t even made it into the actual orchard yet, still stuck at the entrance with their empty baskets.

Wanda and Peter watched from a few feet away as a couple teenage girls took a selfie with the god. “D’you think if we stuck him in a hat and glasses he’d blend in more?” Peter asked, head tilted to the side.

She narrowed her eyes as if trying to picture it. “Maybe. You brought your glasses?”

Peter produced them from his pocket. When they weren’t turned on, they looked like a regular pair of black-framed glasses, only, they didn’t have a prescription. Wanda pulled off her beanie as Thor jogged over to join them.

“Sorry, my friends!” he said, beaming at them.

“Put these on,” Wanda said, handing him the hat and glasses.

He frowned in confusion. “Whatever for?” he asked, but obliged anyway.

“We’re performing an experiment,” Peter explained and Wanda nodded along seriously. “We wanna see if Clark Kent’s disguise works in real life.”

Thor finished arranging the beanie and asked, “Well? Is it?”

“How is it possible he looks even more attractive?” Wanda demanded after a moment’s pause, throwing her hands into the air, exasperated. “If anything people are going to stare more.”

“Shall I take them off then?” Thor asked, reaching for the glasses.

Peter hastily threw his hands out. “No, no! You can leave them on,” he said, not ashamed at all as Wanda snickered into her hand. “I’m straight, not blind,” he replied.

“Peter, you’re bi,” Wanda said flatly.

“Well, yeah, but I’ve always wanted to say that,” he told her.

She rolled her eyes fondly. “Let’s go before Thor gets mobbed again.”

The best part about taking Thor with them was definitely his height. Wanda and Peter were stuck in the ‘our powers would be really useful right now but we shouldn’t use them’ club and therefore, Thor and his very broad shoulders were perfect. Peter and his spider biology liked being up high, so Peter spent more than half their time in the orchard perched on Thor like a little kid.

That is, until they found an abandoned patch of trees and Wanda and Peter decided to have a competition about who could get the most apples the fastest. Wanda was using her magic to pluck them and put them in the basket as Peter scuttled up a tree and began jumping from branch to branch, throwing them down with accuracy.

They called it a tie, but only because Thor had gotten hungry and started eating the apples from both their bags and no one had kept count.

As they made their way back towards the entrance to pay and swing by the little farmer’s market they had, Peter asked, “D’you think Bucky will bake us apple pie if we asked?”

“He’s going to be making apple pie anyway, for Thanksgiving,” Wanda reminded him.

He took a second to consider how many people would be at the compound this year. All the avengers and their families were coming, up to and including the royal family. That was going to be a lot of food, and Steve insisted it all be home made, otherwise it was cheating.

“He better make a lot or Thanksgiving is going to end in murder,” he said ominously.

- SY -

Peter remembered what Thanksgivings were like when it was just him, Aunt May, and Uncle Ben. Aunt May was, how do you put it nicely, exiled from the kitchen for the morning, and Uncle Ben would make the turkey and the potatoes and the stuffing and the green beans and because none of them could bake they’d buy a pumpkin pie. The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade was in the background but aside from that, it was pretty quiet. Peter helped out in the kitchen until the dog show came on after the parade and then he’d be glued to the TV begging Aunt May for a puppy.

When Uncle Ben died, things had changed. Money had been tight with the funeral expenses and lack of income. Aunt May tried that year to make dinner and almost set the kitchen on fire so they had dry cereal and slightly burnt pumpkin pie instead. The following year they’d had store bought, precooked dinner. It had tasked okay.

When Peter woke up the third Thursday in November that year, the compound was suspiciously quiet. “Friday?” he’d asked when he went into the kitchen and Steve and the army of sous chefs he’d acquired weren’t there. The fridge was practically empty aside from basic staples.

“Yes, Peter?” Friday asked pleasantly as he shut the fridge doors.

“Is there some world-ending emergency and I missed the call to assemble?” he asked.

“Captain Rogers thought the communal kitchen wasn’t prepared to handle Thanksgiving cooking for a family of this size and has hijacked the industrial kitchen in the nonresidential area of the compound,” Friday explained. “You will find him, Sergeant Barnes, Dr. Banner, Ms. Maximoff, and Mr. Wilson there. Your Aunt is still in her room getting ready. Ms. Romanoff took the quinjet to pick up the Bartons and Langs. She took Vision with her to keep him from the kitchen, I believe. The Odinsons are in Norway retrieving Asgardian mead for the occasion. And Boss-”

“Right behind you, kiddo,” Tony’s voice came.

Peter grinned as Tony strolled into the kitchen, Pepper trailing in behind him, frowning at her phone in concentration. Tony noticed his fiance’s wayward attention and grabbed it from her hand, tossing it onto the counter. Pepper scowled at him briefly, but moved further into the room to hug Peter.

“Good morning, darling. Happy Thanksgiving,” she murmured into his ear.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” he repeated, bouncing on his toes. Then he bounded over to Tony and wrapped him up in a spider-hug, which involved clambering into the receivers arms, wrapping his legs around their waist and using his powers to stick so they couldn’t get rid of him.

Tony grunted and sighed in acceptance of his fate. “Yeah, yeah, Happy Thanksgiving, bambino.”

Peter grinned and pecked Tony on the tip of his nose before he let go all at once and ran into the living room to put the parade on.

Tony followed him after retrieving a mug (read: bowl) of coffee. He frowned over the lip and asked, “Did you want to go this year, Pete?”

“No,” Peter said. “I like watching it on TV. It’s too cold out. Besides, then I’d miss the dog show after.”

Tony nodded, knowing Peter had trouble thermoregulating in the Winter and Aunt May strolled into the room. She kissed Peter on the head. “And we wouldn’t want to miss the dog show, would we?” she said teasingly. “Happy Thanksgiving, honey.”

“You too, Aunt May!” Peter replied.

On the other side of the couch Tony groaned. “How many times am I going to have to hear and say Happy Thanksgiving today. There’s too damn many people in this compound,” he moaned.

“Shut up, Tony, you know you love it,” Pepper said fondly. “Good morning, May, and Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving to you as well, Pepper,” Aunt May replied in good humor. “And Tony, gosh, where are my manners. Happy Thanksgiving!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

A comfortable silence filled the room, the sound of the parade in the background almost muted.

“Hey, Friday, Happy Thanksgiving! I’m very thankful for all you do around the compound!” Peter called out.

“Thank you, Peter, Happy Thanksgiving!” Friday replied brightly, sounding more human and touched than should be physically possible.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m banning that phrase,” Tony said loudly, but his eyes were soft as he looked at Peter in adoring wonder. He put his coffee aside and pulled Peter into his side. They settled into the couch and Tony called out, “Hey, Fri, turn the volume up a bit would you?” She complied, and Tony murmured, “And Happy Thanksgiving.”

Friday didn’t reply, but Peter knew she’d heard and appreciated the gesture. Aunt May was at his other side and Pepper settled onto the floor at Tony’s feet, so he began running his fingers through her hair and she tilted her head back to smile.

Peter wanted to melt into the moment and never get up from the couch. Just stay swaddled in the smell of motor oil and perfume, still in his stupid Avenger’s themed pajamas, hair awry, completely warmed to his core.

It was quiet for about fifteen minutes before a voice called, “Incoming!”

And suddenly Peter was caught up in a vicious hug attack. Tony reared back in surprise but Aunt May merely scooted to the side to allow Lila and Cassie to crawl on their favorite superhero / surrogate cousin. Cooper launched himself on top of the pile last and Peter felt the air rush out of him in a great swoosh.

“You guys got big,” he managed to wheeze out. “Aren’t we missing one?”

Little Nathaniel, who was being carried by Laura Barton, was immediately set down when he began to kick his legs in protest. Peter easily stood up under the combined weight of all the kids and swept Nate up in his arms as well.

“Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter,” Cassie was chanting into his ear.

The adults weren’t even trying to hide their smiles at his predicament. “What’s up Cassie?” he asked.

“My team won our soccer championship,” she said proudly. “And I scored the winning goal!”

“Wow!” Peter enthused, “That’s amazing!”

“Peter I moved up a level in gymnastics,” Lila told him. “One day I’m gonna be just as flexible as you. I can even do a full split now!”

He barely managed to get out, “You’ll have to show me,” when Cooper added loudly, “Well Dad said I could enter an archery competition this year.”

“That’s really cool, Coop,” Peter said sincerely. He scooted Nate further up on his hip and asked, “What about you Nate? What’s new with you?” he asked.

The toddler smiled, “Got a fish!” he said brightly.

Peter looked at Laura for confirmation and she laughed. “Cooper won it at the school fair, but he thinks it’s boring so we agreed Nate could help look after it,” she explained.

“What’d you name it?” Peter asked Nate.

“Rock,” Nate said matter-of-factly.

“Alright kids, go put your stuff in your rooms and give Peter a second to breathe,” Clint called out.

Laura touched his arm and said, “I’ll put Nate down for a nap, he’s bound to crash after the flight.”

“And I’ll show you the way,” Pepper added, standing up. “We had to do a bit of rearranging so the rooms are different than you remember,” she explained.

As they all retreated from the room Tony shouted, “Pepper, you better not check your email!”

“No promises!”

Scott was rolling his eyes. “Aren’t you, like, a famous workaholic, dude?” he asked.

“Yeah, but Steve doesn’t let me work on holidays and if I have to suffer so does Pepper,” Tony explained. Then he cut his eyes to Peter. “You’re not going to catch a break with all the tiny little ones here.”

“Hopefully, Peter won’t be too busy babysitting to play with me,” came Shuri’s voice.

Peter launched over the side of the couch, grinning at the Wakandan Princess who was standing primly in the doorway. He came to a halt a foot away from her and said, “Oh, I like your accent, where you from?”

Shuri lowered her voice and replied, “I’m liberian.”

“Oh, my bad. I like your accent, where you from?” he whispered.

They immediately broke into giggles and Shuri gave him a brief hug. When T’Challa came in behind her Peter cleared his throat and said cheerfully, “Hi, Mr. King Black Panther your highness sir!”

T’Challa just sighed, “Peter, how many times-?”

“Too many, trust me on that,” Tony said, strolling over and clasping T’Challa’s forearm. “Hello, General Okoye,” he added when the near-silent warrior slipped into the room as well.

She nodded in response, but there was a quirk to her lips. All the Dora liked Tony Stark. He was extremely respectful of them, which was more than they could say about the dozens and dozens of other businessmen and politicians they’d interacted with since Wakanda stepped into the world.

Shuri rolled her eyes at the pleasantries. “Peter, let’s go down to the labs. I want to see the suit update you mentioned the other night,” she said, grabbing his hand.

“Oh! Um,” Peter stuttered and felt his face flush a bit red.

She tilted her head to the side. “What is it?” she asked.

When Peter hesitated a second too long, Aunt May called out from the couch, “Peter watches the National Dog Show and then proceeds to spend the next hour begging for a puppy. Every. Year.”

Shuri laughed and punched Peter in the arm. “Why didn’t you just say so, silly boy,” she scoffed fondly. “Let’s watch this dog show then. And maybe T’Challa will get me a puppy.”

“No!” The African king said preemptively.

-SY-

The compound erupted into applause when Steve carried the Turkeys into the dining room. Wanda followed close behind, theatrically floating the rest of the dishes in using her powers and the kids were far more impressed by that display. The rest of the sous chefs followed, bowing dramatically. Shuri was grinning at Peter like mad from their spots at the kids table.

“My first Thanksgiving!” she whispered. “This is so exciting!”

“Okay, okay,” Steve was laughing. “Settle down. It still has to be carved. Tony?” he was holding out the knife and prongs.

Tony raised his eyebrows in surprise, champagne glass with sparkling cider halfway to his lips. He snapped himself out of it and played it off with a cough.“Me? Carve the turkey?” he asked. “You’re the one who spent the last few hours whispering love poetry to it in the oven.”

Steve’s head cocked to the side with a small smile, like that was exactly the snarky reaction he’d been expecting. “Tony, without you, we wouldn’t be here, together, at all,” he said simply, pushing the carving tools into his hands insistently.

The billionaire stood with a dramatic flourish, but Peter’s eyes were trained to pick up every single one of his father’s idiosyncrasies. Tony was fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt in a way that told Peter he was uncomfortable with the positive attention. To be frank, Tony Stark had been raised to thrive in chaos and negativity. Someone paying him a sincere gesture like that was probably almost unbearable.

“Okay, sure, why not,” he said, sniffing slightly. “Uh, is this like a toast am I supposed to be gracing all of you with words of wisdom?”

Pepper rolled her eyes fondly. “Just carve the turkey, Tony. We’re hungry.”

“Now that didn’t sound very thankful,” he said teasingly as he sunk the prongs into the flesh of the bird and began to slice downward in precise strokes.

He made quick work of it and soon the food was being passed around and distributed. After everyone’s plates were weighed down with food and the adult’s glasses were brimming with fine wine and the kid’s cups were bubbling with sparkling juice, Pepper stood up from her spot at the head of the table and clinked her fork against her glass. The commotion died down quickly, although Lila did have to punch Cooper on the arm to get him to put down his spoonful of mashed potatoes.

“I just wanted to say a couple words,” she said, eyes smiling. “I’m very glad we could all be here today. It’s been a lot of hard work to create this family, and I don’t think any of us imagined this is how we’d spend our Thanksgiving a couple of years ago, but I’m truly grateful that each and every one of you are in my life.”

Tony tipped his glass to her, “Hear, hear!” he said loudly.

There was a chorus of “Cheers!” and everyone began clinking their glasses.

“Peter, Peter!” Nate squealed reaching out with his plastic cup in both hands.

Peter complied with the toddler’s request and bonked their glasses together gracelessly, some of his cider spilling onto his hand. The rest of the kids clambered energetically to clink glasses with everyone at the table and then everyone began to dig in.

“What is this dish, Peter?” Shuri asked, poking her fork into the green beans curiously.

“That’s green bean casserole,” he answered. “It’s just green beans cooked in mushroom soup, and the little crispy things are fried onions.”

He cast a cursory glance across the table where Cooper was stuffing his face with mashed potatoes, Lila was attacking a turkey leg with the decorum of a wild thing, Cassie was already serving herself more stuffing, and where Nate was just playing with his food with his hands. He was particularly interested in the cranberry jelly. “And you all should have some on your plate as your vegetable,” Peter said seriously.

Shuri immediately began to laugh at his tone and Cassie wrinkled her nose. “Peter, you’re supposed to be the fun one,” she said accusingly.

“They’re good, they don’t even really count as vegetables,” he defended, stabbing some onto his fork and eating it. It really was delicious. Steve was seriously an amazing chef.

Shuri copied him and her jaw worked deliberately as she processed the taste thoughtfully. “I like this,” she said decisively. She pointed across the table and demanded, “Pass that red stuff I want to try it.”

As Peter passed her the cranberry sauce, he caught Aunt May’s eyes from across the room where she was sandwiched between King T’Challa and Thor. She was smiling, but she subtly jerked her chin in T’Challa’s direction and then Thor’s as if to say, Can you believe this?

And if Peter weren’t seated next to Princess Shuri, having Thanksgiving dinner with the Avengers, he wouldn’t have.

Chapter Text

December

It all started with a debate that Peter and Ned had all the time. Krispy Kreme vs Dunkin Donuts.

Now, Peter liked to think of himself as a bit of a donut connoisseur. He’s had many kinds of donuts. In fact, whenever he and Tony travel, they find the nearest approximation to a donut they can in whatever country they’re in and eat as many as they can until Pepper or MJ or Happy or whoever is travelling with them drags them out of the shop by the ear.

Peter has an Instagram dedicated to it.

He’s eaten baluhahi (the one time he went with Tony to India- apparently that’s where he goes to escape Peter and his teenage antics), he’s had buñuelos (a personal favorite) and beignets and bomboline and youtiao. Peter can sniff out fried dough in any part of the world. He’s basically a professional donut eater, so Ned can take whatever opinion he has a stuff it.

Dunkin Donuts is clearly superior.

group chat: 2 school 4 cool (02:37)

guyinthechair: dunkin doesn’t even make their donuts in shop anymore!

whiteboi: neither does KK??? try again

guyinthechair: k but some stores do, so

myfriendscallmeMJ: are you two having this fucking argument again
myfriendscallmeMJ: at 2 in the fucking morning

whiteboi: ofc

guyinthechair: maybe

wakandanonsenseisthis: it’s 8 am here and still too early for ur bullshit boys

myfriendscallmeMJ: don’t take that tone of text with me peter

whiteboi: sorry mj

guyinthechair: oof

wakandanonsenseisthis: whats kk?

guyinthechair: THE BEST FUCKING DONUTS
guyinthechair: your highness

myfriendscallmeMJ: see peter ned’s respectful

whiteboi: yes mj
whiteboi: aND NO IT’S DUNKIN DONUTS YOU UNEDUCATED PLEB

wakandanonsenseisthis: fools you’ve never had a koeksister

whiteboi: and you’ve had a donut ???? without me ????

wakandanonsenseisthis: not yet
wakandanonsenseisthis: i’ve been saving myself for u peter

guyinthechair: pete you thinkin what i’m thinkin

whiteboi: i thunk that thought long before u did

guyinthechair: black label

whiteboi: black. label.

wakandanonsenseisthis: ????

myfriendscallmeMJ: do NOT
myfriendscallmeMJ: get them started

Black Label Donuts. The best donuts in Queens. The best donuts in New York, Peter was qualified to say. Or at least it had been. Last summer when Peter had been patrolling he’d heard gunshots and swung into the shop to find the owner, Rich, the victim of a robbery. Rich had been shot in the cheek, a lucky dodge, but Peter, or rather, Spiderman, had webbed up the shooter before his fumbling hands found the trigger again.

Peter didn’t expect to see the man back at it again so soon, but Black Label had officially reopened and Peter had been meaning to, uh, swing by. Literally and figuratively. Spiderman got free donuts, and Peter was not the kind of person to turn down free food, no sir.

- SY -

It was the Friday after Thanksgiving weekend when all four of them were finally available to hang out. Seriously, trying to coordinate all their schedules was a task that would send even the most seasoned PA into a frazzled spin out. Getting Shuri into the country was a nonissue compared to distracting Tony enough to sneak Shuri out of the lab. But, they’d managed it by the intervention of God (Pepper), who lured Tony away with a board meaning.

Luckily, once MJ let Shuri borrow some of her clothes, the African princess wasn’t terribly recognizable. Though, that didn’t stop Okoye from keeping watch a respectful distance away. They ditched Happy who’d tried to strongarm them into his usual town car, wanting to drive them, and hopped into one of Tony’s cars, MJ at the helm.

“You think Tony’s gonna mind we borrowed his car?” Ned asked. He and Peter were in the back, and Shuri had called shotgun.

Peter scoffed. “He’s gonna be more mad that he attended a board meeting he didn’t have to,” he said. “And he’s gonna be most mad when he finds out we left his car in a parking garage in the city.”

“What?” Shuri asked. She relaxed back into the supple leather seat. “I like this car. It’s quaint.”

MJ snorts as they pull out of the compound. Happy and Okoye were behind them in a separate, more discreet car. “You don’t use a car in the city,” MJ said.

“Why not?”

“Cause real New Yorkers take the subway and walk where they need to go,” Ned piped up. “And Peter said you wanted the real New York experience.”

Shuri nods. “I did say that,” she admits.

They passed the metaphorical aux cord around, sampling everyone’s music preferences before settling on singing along to old Disney classics. Shuri didn’t have the same nostalgic feelings attached to Hannah Montana, Camp Rock, or High School Musical, but she rocked out to them nonetheless, ratcheting up the volume until it was so loud Peter could swear he saw Okoye and Happy rolling their eyes when he glanced out the back window.

Soon, the trees melted into concrete and steel and they were on the outer edges of Manhattan. MJ flipped on the turn signal and said, “I know a place with pretty reliable parking at Lincoln Center.”

“By Vivian Beaumont?” Peter asked.

He was a bit of a theatre nerd, and it was entirely Pepper’s fault. Tony had gotten her tickets to the last showing of Les Misérables (not that it was her first time attending) for her birthday. Well, he says Tony, but he really means Friday. Dates really never were his thing, but the idea had been his, casually mentioned once in the lab, and Friday, being the fantastic thing she was, remembered. She got Pepper four tickets, actually. So, Peter and May tagged along with the power couple.

Next thing Peter knew he was accompanying his favorite strawberry blonde to shows, collecting playbills and proudly displaying them on his wall. He knew it was all over when he started receiving tickets for birthdays and Christmas.

“Yeah,” MJ answered.

They ditched the car with little fanfare, although Peter had rarely seen Happy look so constipated as he handed over the keys to his car.

“Where do you four hooligans plan on going?” he asked after leveling the attendant with a threatening glare.

“I want to see the Statue of Liberty,” Shuri said decidedly.

They piled into an elevator that took them up to street level right near one of Peter’s favorite theatres. Vivian Beaumont wasn’t on Broadway, obviously, so it was smaller, more intimate. Pepper and he had been here last month to see My Fair Lady (and it definitely rated in Peter’s favorite musicals).

Happy’s groan matched the creak of the ancient elevator as it opened with no little amount of resistance. “The last time those two dunderheads went to the Statue of Liberty, Ned managed to get pick-pocketed and he lost his SI pass.”

Peter made a token protest at being referred to as a dunderhead (that was the last time Happy was invited to their Harry Potter Movie Marathon Extraordinaire!) and Ned spluttered, “I thought we agreed to never speak of that again!”

Shuri raised an eyebrow delicately. “I thought the Statue of Liberty was a ‘tourist trap native New Yorkers would never be caught dead at’,” she said.

“See,” Peter started. “This was an exception being as that it was a scientific experiment.”

“Ned bet Peter that none of the tourists would know who Spider-Man was, so they went to Times Square, the Statue of Liberty, and stood outside the Empire State building and made fools of themselves,” MJ supplied.

Shuri laughed. “Well, did anyone recognize Spider-Man?”

“No!” Ned said loudly, and Peter shouted over him, “That one guy did!”

Shuri again looked to MJ, but it was Happy who grumbled, “‘That one guy’ recognized you from one of the fail compilations of you crashing into buildings and cars.”

“It wasn’t all bad, Peter did make a couple of dollars because an elderly couple thought he was a street performer,” MJ added.

Over the sound of Shuri’s howling laughter, Peter said defensively, “Hey I earned those two dollars! I did a backflip! It was very impressive! And it was a long time ago. People know me now!”

MJ rolled her eye and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth to pacify him. “I don’t think the Statue is a good idea anyway,” she said. “It’s pretty foggy out. We won’t even be able to see it.”

As usual, his girlfriend made an excellent point. It might be December, but it wasn’t officially winter yet. He and Shuri were bundled up against the mid-forties weather, but MJ and Ned were only wearing light jackets.

Shuri pouted, and then asked, “Where are we going then?”

“It’s Manhattan,” Ned said enthusiastically. “We could go to Central Park, or Times Square, or Rockefeller Center- oh! I think the tree is lit already! Dylan’s Candy Bar, um, the MOMA-”

“Highline?” Peter threw in. “And, Black Label, duh. But that’s in Queens. Hey, Shuri? Have you ever been ice-skating?”

Shuri shook her head no, and Ned and Peter grinned at each other.

“Rockefeller Center it is,” MJ declared, already heading in that direction. “It’s like, what, fifteen minutes by subway?”

They scrambled to keep up with her.

Bringing a Princess on the New York subway was an experience. Shuri wasn’t exactly pretentious, but it was true that Wakandan public transport had higher cleanliness standards than the city did apparently. It was worth it to see Shuri’s face light up like the tree. Wakanda wasn’t known for its towering pines.

“Happy are you going to come skating with us?” Peter called over his shoulder as MJ went to go rent skates for them.

The man scoffed, looking up from his phone. “I don’t think so.”

“Okoye?”

“I do not think that would be prudent, Princess,” the warrior answered, but she did look across the rink with curious eyes.

Peter helped to lace up Shuri’s skates and offered his hand as she stood up on them and wobbled. “You are not allowed to film me falling,” Shuri said seriously. “If T’Challa ever got ahold of that kind of footage…” she shuddered, and Peter laughed in understanding.

“Okay, ready?” he asked.

Shuri stepped onto the ice and made an indignant squeak as her feet skittered underneath her on the slippery surface, but the next second, she was laughing into Peter’s shoulder as he all but held her upright.

MJ came to her other side. She was as graceful on ice as she was in everything else, and Peter was only slightly disappointed he wouldn’t get to have MJ hold onto him the way Shuri was right then.

Ned was wobbly too, but he’d at least been skating before.

All four of them took a lap nice and slow. By the time they made it back to the start, Shuri wasn’t leaning her full weight onto Peter.

“This isn’t that bad,” she said with a grin. “I think I’ve got the hang of it.”

She shook off Peter and MJ’s support and went to move forward, and promptly lost her balance and fell on the ice.

“Oh my god, Shuri, are you okay?” Peter demanded, pulling her up.

But his worry was for nothing. The Princess of Wakanda was laughing at her own expense. “Oh, Bast, we need to bring T’Challa here next time!” she managed to get out. “He’ll flop!”

“You need to get better before you bring your brother,” MJ advised.

Shuri nodded seriously. Her eyes darted between Peter and MJ and she suddenly said, “Ned, hold me!” She pushed of Peter and skated into Ned and nearly sent them both sprawling onto the ice as Ned sputtered in confusion. “Bye losers, I’ve got a real man now!” she called as she and Ned went wobbling around the rink together.

Peter blinked after her in shock.

“Are you going to hold my hand or not?”

His attention went back to MJ and he couldn’t help the grin on his face. She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers impatiently. He slipped his hand into hers. With no sympathy, MJ took off, pumping her legs to get some momentum going and pulling Peter along at a speed far superior to anyone’s around them.

He laughed at the rush of wind in his face, and worked to keep up with girlfriend. Her brown curls bounced with her movements and the cool air and breeze had rouged her cheeks a little. She moved effortlessly, and he let her lead them, weaving them in and out of the other patrons.

They did a lap like that, leaving Shuri and Ned in their ice-shavings.

“Can you do any tricks?” Peter asked curiously. “You’re really good.”

“I’ve never tried,” MJ said with a shrug. “I’m more of a speed-skater than a figure-skater.” She smirked. “Bet you could pull of some moves though.”

He bet he could too… with practice. His natural balance and dexterity helped, but doing tricks on ice would be different then doing parkour as Spider-Man around the city.

“Try a spin,” MJ encouraged.

Peter shrugged and skated forward a foot before bringing his arms to his chest like he saw ice-skaters do all the time, and tried to swing his leg so he’d twirl.

It worked, sort of. He stumbled out of it, but there was no denying he’d managed to complete a full circle.

MJ analyzed his movements. “You need to get some more momentum,” she suggested. “And bring your leg in after you get your spin going.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “I can’t tell if that’s good advice or if you want me to fall.”

She rolled her eyes. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

Well, Peter was never one to back down from a challenge. He took a few more strides to build up his speed, after he turned his body to spin he pulled his leg in like MJ had suggested. Immediately, he started revolving much quicker on his right foot. So fast, in fact, that he wasn’t sure how to stop.

Then he accidently dug his left toe-pick into the ice and the problem resolved itself as he lost his balance and fell. He hissed as he landed on his funny bone, but couldn’t help but start laughing.

“That was so much fun!” he said. MJ reached down and helped pull him to his feet. “Do you think if I asked nicely, Tony would install an ice-skating rink at the compound?” he asked.

“The sad thing is that I know he would,” MJ answered.

They were standing really close together, Peter realized. She’d pulled him up and toward her chest. They were practically nose to nose. He could feel her warm breath on his lips.

Oh. This was nice.

And then MJ pulled back abruptly and he frowned in confusion.

“ICEBURG DEAD AHEAD!”

The next thing Peter knew he was flat on his back with Ned on top of him and Shuri next to him. Both of his friends were laughing like mad.

MJ loomed over them looking smug. “How’s that spider-sense working for you, Peter?” she asked.

Peter could only groan. “Ugh, no fair. You distracted me.”

- SY -

They were pretty tired after skating, but on Shuri’s insistence paid a visit to Times Square. It was getting dark earlier, not that you could tell. Artificial daylight was all around them. Peter brought them to his favorite hole-in-the-wall pizza place, Kiss My Slice, right there in Time Square, and they ordered a couple of pies to go. Then they hopped in the car and drove to Queens.

Obviously they stopped at Black Label on the way to Peter’s apartment.

“Do we have to drive all the way back to the compound?” Peter was whining as they all collapsed on his couch.

Happy rolled his eyes as he carried in the pizza and dropped it on the coffee table. Peter automatically sat upright at the promise of food and flicked open the box.

“Ugh, Parker, do you have no manners, get some plates. At least for your guests,” MJ said, but she was also taking a slice and digging in.

Ice skating burns a lot of calories apparently.

“And you can’t stay,” Happy said. “I’m supposed to watch you four until you get back to the compound, and I’m definitely not staying here and General Okoye isn’t either.”

Ned snorted into his slice. “Helicopter dad,” he muttered under his breath.

Peter sent him a nasty glare. “We’re home though,” he argued. “You don’t have to watch us at home. May will be back in an hour tops.”

“Please Okoye?” Shuri asked.

The General sighed. “You don’t have any clothes here, Princess.” But the protest was half-hearted. If Shuri wanted something, she was probably going to get it.

“MJ has clothes here,” Peter piped up. Sometime around finals week sophomore year, Peter’s apartment had become their meeting place for study sessions that went straight through the night. He was about half-way between Ned’s and MJ’s so their clothes had just started accumulating in his room. At first by accident, and then intentionally. “You can borrow.”

His girlfriend shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Come on, Happy,” Peter pressed.

The man relented. “Fine.”

Happy and Okoye left when May walked in the door, surprised to find four teenagers sprawled out on the couch watching The Nun, surrounded by pizza and donut crumbs and shouting obscenities at the characters to not do stupid cliché horror things.

Peter’s head was resting on MJ’s stomach and his feet were across Ned’s lap. His girlfriend was absently petting him like a dog and his best friend kept smacking his shin and shaking his leg in exasperation as the movie played out.

He swallowed hard.

He didn’t want to lose this next year.

Please don’t let him have to lose this next year.

- SY -

“Okay, okay, next you have to put on- just, just search ‘Christmas Can-Can’, please!”

“Peter if this is going to be something non-millennials can’t understand-”

“No! It’s isn’t! I promise! And I’m not a millennial, Dad, I’m Gen-Z.”

Tony shook his head in exasperation partly caused by Peter and partly caused by the Gordian knot of Christmas lights he’s been grappling with for the past ten minutes.

“It’s his turn, Tony,” Steve said patiently, fingers dexterously working through a knot on the other end of the string Tony had. “Let him play the song.”

Tony sighed. “Fine. Friday, play whatever the hell it is the Gen-Z over there said.”

It was December 8th and the compound wasn’t decorated yet. Peter had been appalled when he came up and found not a single wreath, not a single twinkly light, not a single sprig of mistletoe!

“We just haven’t gotten around to it,” Tony had said with a shrug when Peter confronted him in the workshop. “Besides, it’s only the eighth.”

Tony wasn’t exactly a big fan of Christmas. Peter knew it was because his parents had died on the 16th of December. It made for a crummy month. And, Peter wasn’t stupid. He knew Tony’s family hadn’t been warm and fuzzy, or religious. Christmas just wasn’t something he’d ever made a big deal of. At least, not until Peter.

That’s why he’d tracked down Steve and Bucky and dragged Tony out of the lab and insisted the Christmas decorations go up right in that very second.

“Playing ‘The Christmas Can-Can’ by Straight No Chaser,” Friday said.

Peter grinned. “I can sing this whole thing,” he bragged.

Steve and Tony shared a similar look of confusion. So far it was just the opening melody of ‘Silent Night’ sung in harmony.

Peter took a deep breath and then belted out in time, “Christmas, Christmas time is here, and Christmas songs you love to hear! Thoughts of joy and hope and cheer, but mostly shopping, shopping, shopping!”

A startled laugh came from behind him and Peter turned to find Bucky dragging in a pine tree he must have chopped down from the yard. Needles were coming off it in spades and Tony made a sound of protest in the back of his throat.

Nonetheless, as Bucky got it oriented in the tree stand with Steve’s help, Peter continued, “Christmas, Christmas time is here, the sleigh bells and the red-nosed deer, songs and songs we love to hear, all played a thousand times each year! Heard this same song twenty times and it's only Halloween!”

He kept on screaming the ridiculous lyrics as he sorted through all the stockings to hang them on the fireplace. His heart warmed when he found the one’s for Dum-E, U, Butterfingers, and Friday.

Unfortunately, his beautiful solo got cut short by Bucky dropping a box and shouting, “Fuck!” over the sound of dozens of decorations shattering.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve asked, abandoning the strong of lights.

Bucky was staring at the box, devastated. “Yeah, shit, I just… I don’t know what happened.” He was flexing his left hand and frowning.

Tony caught the movement. “Do you need maintenance?” he questioned. He too dropped the lights and went over to Bucky’s side.

But the poor man still looked so shocked he didn’t answer. Tony reached into his back pocket and produced a small toolkit. With little fanfare he opened the service hatch and began a quick examination.

Peter knelt on the ground and opened the carboard box Bucky had dropped. It turns out the box he’d been moving was the one that contained all the ornaments for the tree. They were the nice kind that Peter always saw in catalogues. You know, the fancy blown glass ones that looked like heirlooms. He cringed, hoping they weren’t. But almost all of them were in pieces. He reaching in and pulled out a shard of what had been a fragile glass bauble with golden yellow stripes.

“Don’t stick your hands in a box of broken glass, Peter, Jesus,” Tony scolded, barely looking up from what he was doing.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Is Bucky okay?” he asked.

“I’m looking,” Tony said. “I think- there’s just,” he pulled a pair of small tweezers from the kit and reaching into the complex circuitry like he was playing operation. “Aha!” He said in triumph, holding aloft a-

“Is that a pine needle,” Steve asked incredulously leaning closer to look at the offending green leaf.

“Sure is,” Tony said. He glared at Bucky accusingly. “Were you dicking with wiring again, Barnes? I swear. This thing is a work of genius. You must not have closed the panel tightly enough and this little sucker worked its way in and disrupted the stabilizer.”

Bucky looked genuinely sorry. In fact, he looked downright miserable. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to know how it worked. I wasn’t touching anything I was just looking, I promise.”

Tony gaped at the Winter Soldier, Hydra’s ghost story of an assassin, who looked like he was about to actually tear up, and hastily backtracked. “Jesus, Bucky. If you wanted to know how it worked you should have just asked Peter or I. Stop looking at me like that, only Peter is allowed to use puppy-dog eyes because he’s a kid.”

“Hey!” Peter protested, still sifting through the box.

Bucky’s shoulders remained hunched. “Sorry I broke all the ornaments.”

Tony sighed and began packing up his kit. “Don’t sweat it. They were only priceless heirlooms.”

Bucky reared back, horrified. “Tony- I-”

“I was just kidding,” he said, holding out his hands. “Well, no, actually, I wasn’t. Those were heirlooms, but, it’s fine. I thought they were obnoxious anyway.”

Peter kind of agreed to be honest. They were just impersonal. The tree he and May had up at the apartment was a mess of decorations. Homemade ones from when Peter was a kid, pictures printed onto ceramics that were horrible quality, plastic baubles. And their tree was so crowded. Every Christmas season they went to the store and each picked out a new one to put on the tree that year. None of them matched. Some were gags. And it was beautiful.

“Hey! The star survived!” Peter said, pulling it out carefully and holding it out to Tony.

He took it gingerly, looking like it might suddenly shatter in his hands. It was beautiful if Peter was being honest. It wasn’t like the cheap LED one he had clipped onto the tree back in Queens.

“Huh,” Tony said.

“We should go to the store,” Peter suggested. “And get new ornaments. We can all pick out a bunch, and we can replace the ones that broke. And we’ll actually like them.”

Steve smiled. “I think that’s a great idea, Peter.”

Tony put the star aside. “Okay, anything that gets me away from those damn Christmas lights,” he agreed.

“Now, now, Tony. The best prize that life has to offer is the chance to work hard at work worth doing,” Steve said in an overly-sagacious manner.

Peter snorted at Tony’s blank expression. “Okay, Uncle Theodore,” he said. “Can I drive?”

“Okay, first of all, no, you absolutely cannot drive,” Tony cut it. “And second, I’m impressed you know who said that quote, Peter.”

The teenager shrugged. “You act like I haven’t watched Bridge to Terabithia and cried a river worth of tears because of it.”

Tony looked at Steve and Bucky and said, “I swear. He opens his mouth and speaks and it’s another language.”

“Can I please drive?” Peter asked again. “I really need to practice.”

“No,” Tony repeated.

“Aw, come one Tones,” Steve urged. He gestured towards Peter who’d stuck out his lower lip and furrowed his brow in the way he knew melted his dad, who was resolutely looking anywhere but at him.

A minute passed and Tony cracked and glanced in Peter’s direction. He pursed his lips, and Peter thought for a minute he was going to stick to his guns, but then Tony threw his hands into the air and said, “Fine! I haven’t had a near death experience in a few weeks anyway. I’m overdue.”

“That’s the spirit!” Steve said.

“Can we listen to ‘Grandma got run over by a reindeer’ in the car?”

“Kid, what?”

- SY -

Tony gave Peter directions to a nursery in the closest town. He thought they were going to go to like Target or something, but he should have known better since Tony was involved.

He managed to get them there in one piece, and Tony only had to shout at him about going too fast three times. Steve left the car looking paler than normal, and definitely regretting talking Tony into letting Peter drive.

“I’ve seen that dumbass jump out of airplanes under heavy fire into enemy territory without a parachute without blinking an eye,” Bucky said. “That’s impressive kid.”

“Thanks!” Peter chirped.

“That was not a compliment,” Tony cut in hastily. “All in favor of Peter not driving us back, say aye!”

“Aye,” Bucky said shamelessly.

“Aye,” Steve muttered, still looking ashen.

“Good. Now that we’ve established Tony knows best, let’s shake a leg,” Tony said. He pushed a pair of expensive sunglasses up on his nose and strode towards the shop.

Peter was giddy with excitement when they got their first good look at the store. In the center of the shop there were three towering trees covered in decorations for sale. And the walls were lined with them as well. At the back of the shop there was a Santa and a small line of kids and tired parents.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, Tony, look!” Peter said loudly, grabbing the man’s hand and dragging him along. On one of walls there was a section of Avengers themed ornaments. “Look, look! There’s a Spider-Man one! And an Iron Man one!”

They were plastic, cheaper than the ones that looked like hand-blown glass proudly displayed on the trees, but Peter immediately wanted all of them.

Tony chuckled at his excitement. “Yeah, kid, there we are.”

There were a couple Iron Man decorations. One of them was shaped like the helmet, and the other was the arc reactor. Tony pulled them off the shelf with a grin, along with the Spider-Man one. It showed Peter in a position like he was swinging, hand grasping the wire used to hang it like one of his webs. It was the coolest thing he’d ever seen.

“Go find ornaments that won’t make us look like we’re self-obsessed,” Tony said, prodding him away from the Avengers section.

Peter went, but he watched Tony carefully selecting ornaments for everyone on the team, a small furrow of intense concentration in his brow.

Bucky was by one of the trees, fingers brushing against some beautiful ornaments shaped like various sea animals. He seemed particularly fond of the coral-colored sea-horse.

“I like that one,” Peter said encouragingly.

Bucky smiled at him. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Uh-huh,” Peter repeated. “I like the sting-ray too. But I’m still mad at that sting-ray for killing Steve Irwin, so. Oh! But look, it looks like Dory!” He pulled the royal blue tang look alike off one of the branches.

“Nice,” Bucky agreed.

They continued to examine the ornaments in silence for a minute before Peter said quietly, “Anytime you want to know about your arm, you just have to ask.”

Bucky paused. “Thanks,” he said quietly, and they continued browsing.

The poor cashier looked overwhelmed when Tony Stark and Captain America bought a few hundred dollars’ worth of ornaments. Peter had been shocked too. Despite having a billionaire for a father now, he still wasn’t used to writing off a three hundred and forty dollars as nothing, and honestly he hoped he never would be.

Peter had consciously chosen ornaments on the cheaper side, but Tony had not restrained himself from pillaging all the hand-made, blown glass and crystal ornaments. Bucky and Steve balked at the final price too, but still thanked Tony, who waved them all off.

“Hey, kid, you should go tell Santa what you want for Christmas,” Tony said jokingly, jerking his head in the direction of the line which had dwindled to only a couple kids.

“Actually, it’s only for kids under the age of ten,” the cashier stuttered out.

“How is this poor child supposed to contact Santa Claus and let him know he wants the Lego Star Wars Millennium Falcon for Christmas then?” Tony asked, grabbing Peter by the shoulder and holding him hostage against his chest.

The cashier looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Steve jumped in. “Ignore him. We do.”

- SY -

The trip was almost for nothing.

When they got back to the compound it was to the surprise of it somehow being decorated. There were lights up and wreaths on the door, and a fake Santa and sleigh on the roof.

Peter almost dropped all the bags in his excitement.

While they’d been gone, the remaining Avengers at the compound had apparently stumbled across the boxes that had been left out, and picked up where they’d left off.

“Woah, this is amazing!” Peter exclaimed, setting the bags down (gently).

Wanda was grinning at him. She was using her powers to hang lights on the ceiling. Thor was untangling another row on the ground. He kept glancing at Loki and asking for help, but his brother was too busy enjoying Thor’s suffering, and kept refusing. Sam was in the kitchen, pouring eggnog into a punch bowl and Natasha was mixing in a generous amount of whiskey. Christmas music filtered in over the speakers.

“We thought we’d pick up your slack,” Sam explained, taking a sip of eggnog and then promptly choking. “Christ, Nat!”

The spy shrugged, unbothered as the took a long drink from her own mug. “Tony has the good stuff,” she defended.

“Can I have some?” Peter asked.

“No,” Tony said.

But Nat winked at him, and later in the evening, after they’d managed to hang all the new decorations and Peter got to sit on Bucky’s shoulders and put the topper on, they all sprawled on the floor in front of the tree that was lit against the otherwise dark room, and she let him have a sip from her mug.

It tasted awful, and Tony immediately knew what he’d done when he started coughing through the horrible burning in his throat and scolded him.

- SY -

It was the 16th of December.

It was the Day.

Peter hadn’t been able to pay attention all day in school. All information had gone in one ear and out the other. Who was King Lear? Peter didn’t have a single clue. AP English had been his last period, and he’d been twitching so uncontrollably, MJ had kicked him under the table and given him an unimpressed look.

“How are you not freaking out?” he’d hissed when their teacher turned his back to scribble something on the white board that was almost illegible.

“The decisions have already been made,” MJ said. “There’s nothing we can do about them.”

But that wasn’t true.

Peter could anxiously bounce his leg and tap his pen against his notebook and generally engage in all manner of behavior that had his fellow classmates glaring at him.

At least, all his classmates that weren’t also waiting to find out about college decisions.

Flash, for example, had just plain given up and dropped his head against his notebook and hadn’t looked up or moved in the past ten minutes. Peter wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. Maybe he’d had a heart attack from the stress of waiting. Peter knew he’d applied ED to Caltech, his top choice.

“Okay, I know college decisions come out today for a lot of you,” their teacher said ten minutes later when no one besides MJ had raised their hand to answer a question about themes in King Lear. “I’m not even going to keep you till the bell. Get out of here, you’re all making me anxious and I graduated college fifteen years ago. Go on, scram.”

Peter flipped his notebook shut with a sigh of relief

“Hey, Peter,” Flash called from the doorway. “Good luck.”

“You too, Flash!”

MJ lingered, waiting for Peter to finish packing up. “You know you got in, right?” she asked, bending over and picking up the pen Peter had clumsily knocked off the table and handing it to him.

Peter froze.

“Come on, Peter. If you can’t get into MIT, none of us have a chance anywhere,” MJ said.

“I guess,” he muttered, finally standing up.

MJ didn’t say anything for a second. “Call me later, okay? I’ll be waiting to let you know I’m going to Harvard.”

He nodded woodenly.

The next thing he knew he was at home and hiding under the blankets in his room. His laptop was open and he was staring at the common app, waiting for the decision to become live. His stomach churned uncomfortably, and he’d snapped at May when she’d asked if he wanted a snack. And he felt horrible about that, but he was wound so tight he was scared he was going to come apart at the seams.

He’d turned his phone off too. His family had been texting him all day, but he hadn’t looked at any of the messages.

Peter tried to distract himself by tinkering with a pet project, but his hands had been shaking too much to be helpful, so he tried to watch Netflix, but nothing could hold his attention.

Time was going too slow until it was an hour before the decisions would go live and then suddenly he wanted time to stop and he didn’t want to know, and then minutes were rushing by him and he felt physically sick.

Five o’clock passed.

Peter didn’t refresh the page. He couldn’t bring himself to.

Then it was six, and without looking at his phone, Peter knew Ned and MJ had probably already called him a dozen times.

At six thirty Peter shut his laptop and threw it into his backpack. He slipped into his Spider-Man suit and pulled the straps of his bag tight, and then climbed out the window and swung off into the night.

- SY -

Swinging to the compound wasn’t ideal. Like, at all. There were only so many buildings and trees he could attach his webs too, but Peter didn’t care. Moving was better than being still. Better than having to sit in an Uber or take a bus. It got his blood moving. The mechanical motions were comforting.

He made it in record time.

It was nine, and it was quiet. Peter didn’t bother going in through the main entrance. He crawled around the outside of the building until he made it to Tony’s workshop.

He had Karen contact Friday and she let him in through the windows. But Tony wasn’t in the workshop.

Peter frowned. “Friday, where’s dad?” he asked.

“Boss is in his room.” Friday answered, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“Okay, thanks,” Peter said, still confused. Nine was the time most humans were retired to their room, or at least, no longer doing work, but Tony wasn’t most humans.

It was really quiet. Had something happened?

The Avengers compound was never this still. There was always something going on. Always someone awake and doing something.

Peter made it to the hallway where his and Tony’s room were housed. Sure enough, through the crack of the door, a stream of light poured out of Tony’s room. He heard a voice too, but it wasn’t Tony’s.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything, Tones?” That was Rhodey. There was no response, but the retired air force Colonel sighed and said, “Okay, buddy, okay.”

It wasn’t until Peter pushed open the door and poked his head into the room that he remembered what day it was.

His dad was curled up in his bed, face pushed into Rhodey’s hip, who was gently stroking his fingers through the younger man’s hair.

How could Peter be so thoughtless? He cursed himself. It was December 16th. Today was the day Tony’s parents had been murdered.

Rhodey looked up and caught Peter’s eye. Silently, he gestured for him to join them on the bed.

“Hey, dad,” Peter said quietly, dropping his bag onto the floor with a soft thud.

Tony flinched and sat up. His eyes were red and swollen, and he quickly wiped them in an attempt to look presentable. “Peter,” he croaked. His voice was raw and Peter’s heart lurched. “What- what are you doing here? It’s Wednesday. You have school tomorrow.”

Peter didn’t answer, he just crawled under the sheets and wrapped his arms around Tony. Tony’s breathing hitched, and he brought a shaking hand to rest in Peter’s curls. The other pulled Peter close against his chest and just held on.

He’d closed his eyes, so Peter didn’t see Rhodey get up and leave the room, but he felt his weight leave the bed, and he heard the door shut quietly. He didn’t know how long they lay there in each other’s arms, but eventually, Tony took another breath, this time much steadier, and he managed to ask, “How’d you get here?”

“I swung,” Peter answered honestly.

“Pete,” Tony grumbled.

Peter shifted in his circle of arms until they could look each other in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

Tony twirled his pointer in one of Peter’s curls. “What are you sorry for, bambino?”

“I forgot what today was,” he said quietly. “I was selfish.”

The hand in his hair stilled. “Then what are you doing here…?” Tony drifted off and then cursed, “Fuck. Fuck, Peter. I’m so sorry. College decisions came out today. Shit, you’ve probably been a wreck all day and I didn’t even think- fuck.”

“Stop that,” Peter scolded. He wormed an arm out of their cocoon and flicked his dad on the nose. “I’m the one whose sorry. Don’t steal my thunder, jeez, Dad.”

Tony was so surprised that he’d been flicked on the nose that he stopped his tirade and just stared at Peter. A warm fire burned in his eyes, and Tony gave a single breathy laugh before he pressed his lips to Peter’s forehead and just stayed there for a long moment. “Okay, how about we both stop being sorry and you tell me that you got into MIT and we can go get a tub of ice cream and eat it in bed.”

Peter flinched and turns his head away.

“Peter,” Tony said, strained. “Don’t tell me…?”

“I haven’t looked yet,” he admitted. “I can’t. I just couldn’t… That’s why I came.”

Tony sighed. “Oh, baby. Okay. Go get your computer. We’ll look now. Together,” he said, and then released him and nudged him to get out of bed.

Peter retrieved his laptop from his bag and logged on, then he shoved it into Tony’s arms and burrowed his head under the covers to curl up into a ball.

“You want me to open it?” Tony asked unnecessarily. “Okay, let’s see… Dear Peter, on behalf of the Admissions Committee, it is my pleasure to offer you admissions- oof!”

Upon hearing ‘pleasure to offer’ Peter had sprung up from the covers and slammed himself into Tony’s chest, knocking his computer off the side of the bed. He was sobbing his relief into Tony’s neck and he knew it was gross because his nose was running and he was panting open-mouthed but he couldn’t help it. All the tension left his body at once, and he was boneless against his dad.

Tony rubbed his back in circles. “Okay, mimmo, okay. Take a breath, you’ll make yourself sick,” he murmured soothingly.

Peter managed to collect himself eventually, but Tony kept up his gentle cooing, rocking them slowly. He swallowed thickly. “I love you, dad,” he choked out, a fresh wave of tears starting. They slipped down his cheeks in hot streams this time, quiet.

“Ti amo anch'io, mimmo,” Tony whispered.

- SY -

MJ and Ned were pissed at him.

Apparently not answering their calls all evening, disappearing from his home without a word, and showing up half-way through the school day made them worry. Who knew?

The truth was, after he and Tony had managed to get themselves together, they did exactly as Tony had said they would. They’d gotten a tub of ice cream and stayed up watching Star Wars to eat it in bed. Peter had woken up at eight that morning to Tony shaking his shoulder and shoving his cell to Peter’s ear.

Then May was shouting at him, and Peter suddenly remembered he’d shut off his phone yesterday and apparently, Tony had turned his off for the day too, so May hadn’t been able to get into contact with either of them when Peter left without telling her he was going. After briefly panicking, she’d thought to call Rhodey, who assured her that Peter was safe. And immediately all that worry had transformed into incandescent rage.

On top of all that, Peter was late for school, and also a two hour drive away. Not his best moment. He’d gotten dressed as quickly as he could, and then Tony had driven him back to the city. He’d managed to sprint through the door to his first afternoon class before his teacher took attendance.

“Glad to see you could join us, Peter” Mr. Harrington said, looking genuinely like he was glad. Mr. Harrington was one of Peter’s favorite teachers. Then he started the lesson.

Peter collapsed in his chair.

“What the fuck, Peter,” Ned hissed.

Peter dropped his head onto the desk. “M sorry, man,” he managed. “I freaked myself out last night. Went all the way up to the compound.”

Ned still looked annoyed, but he pursed his lips for a second and then whispered, “So, I got in.”

“I did too,” Peter replied, voice equally low.

“And MJ got into Harvard,” Ned continued.

Peter grinned and opened his mouth to reply, but Mr. Harrington cut in and said, “It’s not senior spring yet, boys. You still have to send these grades to your schools, pay attention!”

Right.

Peter scrambled to get his notes out.

- SY -

Bucky baked him a funfetti ice cream cake. It was delicious.

The excitement of being accepted into MIT hadn’t faded days later when he went back up to the compound for the weekend. May went with him, because the Avengers were throwing him a party.

“I have to graduate first, you know?” Peter had protested.

“You know, somehow, I doubt that’ll be a problem for you,” Sam had scoffed. “Congrats, Webhead.”

Peter was in high spirits. Christmas was creeping closer, and he wanted to do something special this year to give back. At his party he pulled Bucky aside and asked, “Hypothetically, if I wanted to bake like a few hundred cookies, like how many eggs would I need?”

Bucky choked on the beer he’d been sipping. “Peter, what the hell are you going to do with a few hundred cookies?!”

“I said hypothetically!” Peter exclaimed defensively. When that response earned him a glare the Winter Soldier would be proud of, he said seriously, “I want to go to some of the hospitals in New York as Spider-Man and bring the kids cookies.”

Immediately, Bucky softened. “Okay, how about we make small cookies, that way you won’t need to raid a small farm.”

“You’ll help me?” Peter asked excitedly.

“Yeah, like I’m going to let you use the oven for as long as it’s gonna take to make that many cookies,” Bucky scoffed, rolling his eyes. “When do you want to do it?”

That was how Peter found himself in the kitchen with a super soldier dressed in the frilly apron Steve had got him as a gag joke last year on his birthday.

Baking was serious business. Bucky was meticulous about prepping all the ingredients and setting all the measuring cups they’d need out beforehand in the order they’d be used. Peter worked with dangerous chemicals in the lab all the time and he’d never felt as stressed experimenting with those then he did leveling the sugar and creaming it into butter for these cookies.

Peter took inspiration from this YouTuber he liked, Joana Cedia, and they made little button cookies. Big enough to have one chocolate chip pressed into the surface and then baked. With cookies that small, he and Bucky managed to make several tubs worth of them over the course of several hours.

When they were done, he thanked Bucky profusely, and the man just gave Peter one of his rare, soft smiles, and sent him off.

Happy didn’t even ask why Peter was taking back about a bazillion cookies. Peter was pretty sure he didn’t want to know either. He was also sure Tony would be hearing about it.

The first hospital he swung to lugging a bin of cookies had been surprised. But then word got out that Spider-Man was jumping from hospital to hospital and they started welcoming him with open arms. The kids loved him, and it made his heart soar.

But it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.

“Spider-Man!” a nurse exclaimed when he bounced into New-York Presbyterian in Queens. “We were all hoping you’d come here.”

Peter smiled under the mask. “I’ve been trying to make the rounds, but there are a lot of hospitals in New York,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.

The nurse, her name was Jessica according to her ID, reached out and grabbed his hand, giving him a tug. Peter let her pull him along as she explained quickly. “There’s this boy in the peds ICU,” she breathed out. “His name is Tim.”

Peter nodded, but he didn’t really understand at first.

“God, he loves you so much. He’s got a little plushie of you,” Jessica continued. Her voice cracked. “He’s in the end stages of leukemia.”

Understanding crashed down around him, and his hearing went fuzzy for a second. They were outside a room. Through the window he could see a young boy lying in the bed. An older woman and man were sitting at his side, heads bowed. His parents, Peter guessed. Or caretakers. The woman’s shoulders were shaking. She was crying.

“He’s not going to make it to Christmas,” Jessica whispered.

There was a lump in his throat and Peter couldn’t swallow past it.

“He, well, there’s only one thing on his Christmas list to Santa,” Jessica laughed, but it was humorless and watery. “He wants to meet his hero. He wants to meet Spider-Man.”

“Can I go in?” Peter asked.

“God, yes. Yes, please. We don’t normally let people who aren’t family into the ICU, but, please, go in,” Jessica said, opening the door.

The parents look up. They don’t look surprised to see Spider-Man in the doorway. Maybe they’d heard he was visiting kids. The woman stood up and reached out. She was shaking his hand and Peter didn’t know why. The man said something. Peter barely heard it.

Then he was alone in the room.

“Are you really Spider-Man?”

The boy, Tim, blinked up at Peter. He had blue eyes. They were sunken into his pale face, impossibly old and impossibly out of time. God, what was Peter doing here. Spider-Man saved people. He didn’t- there wasn’t anything for him to do here…

“Yeah, buddy,” Peter heard his voice say. He swallowed and said, stronger this time. “It’s me. And you must be Tim. I heard you’re my number one fan?”

He collapsed into the chair the woman had been sitting in.

Tim was smiling, but he looked so tired. He coughed weakly and reached under his covers. When his hands reemerged, they were clutching a Spider-Man plushie. “You keep me safe at night!” Tim said. “Thank you!”

Oh, fuck. Fuck. How old was he? He couldn’t be more than eight.

“Of course I do,” Peter managed. He reached out and held Tim’s hand. “I’ll always look out for you. That’s what I’m here for. Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

Tim nodded and relaxed back into his bed. Peter knew he should say something, but he was at a loss for words. Tim filled the silence again. “I’ve been really tired. My mommy and daddy say it’ll be okay, cause I’m gonna be able to sleep soon without being so sick.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Peter choked out.

“Spider-Man?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

A pause. “Do you ever get scared?”

Peter took a deep breath. “I get scared all the time, Tim,” he said seriously. “But it’s okay to be scared. My aunt and my dad give me really big hugs and I feel better. Do your mommy and daddy give you really big hugs when you’re scared?”

A small smile quirked Tim’s lips up. “Yeah, they give the bestest hugs ever.”

“Are you scared now, Tim?” Peter asked, and when the little boy answered affirmatively, he continued, “Do you wanna hug from Spider-Man?”

“Yes please!” Tim nodded, and it looked like even that small movement sapped a lot of his energy.

Peter shifted so he was sitting on the edge of Tim’s bed. Then carefully, more carefully than he’s ever done anything, Peter closed him in the circle of his arms. Tim was small. Really small. Peter wondered if this is how Tony feels when he hugs Peter. Like Peter is just so small and fragile and needs to be protected from the world.

Tim hummed, content. “Hey, Spider-Man?”

“What’s up, Tim?”

“What’s your name?”

Peter stroked Tim’s hair like Tony did with him when he needed comfort and took a deep breath. “You can’t tell anyone, Tim,” Peter whispered. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Jessica had closed the blinds. They were alone. “My name is Peter.”

“Peter,” Tim repeated. Then he giggled, the sound so young. “I like it. Peter. I won’t tell anyone, I promise. Pink swear.”

He could barely pull his hand off the bed, but Peter linked their fingers for him solemnly. Then he reached up, and tugged the mask off.

Tim’s eyes were wide. “Woah!”

Peter laughed a little at his astonishment. “What did you think I was hiding under there? Pincers? Extra eyes?” he asked jokingly.

Tim giggled again. “Noooo,” he dragged out. Then he coughed weakly, and said quietly. “Peter, I think I’m still scared.”

“Oh, buddy. That’s okay. Here, you know what,” Peter fumbled with the mask for a second his hands were shaking so bad. “Try this on for size.” He slipped the mask on over Tim’s face. “Now you’re a super-hero, huh? You can borrow my bravery. I keep it in the mask.”

The mask was too big. Of course it was. Tim was small, and the mask didn’t have the suit to seal too. Peter couldn’t see his face anymore, but Tim clenched his hand tightly, and Peter got the feeling it was working.

“Woah,” he said again.

Then there was a knock on the door. Hastily, Tim pulled the mask off, and pushed in into Peter’s hand’s like he understood how important it was his parents and nurse not see Peter’s face. Peter slipped it on just as the door creaked open.

It was Jessica.

“Hey, Timmy,” she said softly. “Spider-Man has to go now. Why don’t you say goodbye so your mommy and daddy can come back in?”

Tim nodded furtively. He reached up and put his hand on the cheek of Spider-Man’s mask and Peter leaned down at the unspoken command. “Thank you, Peter. I love you,” Tim whispered.

Peter gave him one last gentle squeeze and whispered back, “I love you too.”

He floated out of the room on autopilot. He was pretty sure Jessica was thanking him profusely. Somehow, he managed to get back home.

- SY -

It was the first day of winter vacation. Naturally, he was up at the compound enjoying a lazy Monday morning lounging in front of the TV, leaning sideways against his dad who had a tablet in his lap.

“Oh no!” Peter exclaimed suddenly, disrupting the quiet. Tony jumped in surprise as Peter began desperately scrambling for the remote. When he couldn’t find it he shouted, “Friday, mute the TV!”

The AI obeyed quickly, and Peter sighed in relief, covering his eyes with his hands.

“Okay, do I even want to know?” Tony asked, sounding amused.

“It’s that time of the year again,” Peter said vaguely. He twisted on the couch until his head was buried into Tony’s shoulder. “Tell me when it’s gone.

A hand dropped into his hair with an amused huff. “When what’s gone, Pete?”

“The sad puppies!” Peter exclaimed, gesturing blindly to the TV where he’d immediately muted a commercial for donating to animal shelters. He absolutely could not stand all the videos of puppies and kittens shivering in the cold and looking at the camera with big, sad, dewy eyes.

“Oh, Peter. Only you,” Tony laughed. “It’s okay, it’s over now.”

Peter pulled back and peeked at the TV. It was a commercial for Bounty. Satisfied, Peter resumed his previous position. Friday helpfully restored the sound. Tony had set aside his tablet, but he didn’t pick it back up. He was watching Peter thoughtfully.

Peter felt his gaze and said, “Sorry, but I really- I just can’t watch those commercials. They’ll make me cry.”

“You’re too cute for your own good,” Tony mumbled under his breath, mostly to himself. Then, louder, he said, “Go get dressed, I have an idea.”

- SY -

Tony brought them to an animal shelter and he had to shout at Peter for being reckless, because Peter was out of the car before it had even stopped moving. The prospect of getting to spend the morning playing with some puppies was too exciting to care about silly things like ‘personal safety’.

“We’d like to see the dogs,” Tony said to the woman at the front desk, putting his hands on Peter’s shoulders to hold him steady because he was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Are you looking to adopt?” the lady, her name was Liz, asked.

Peter was pretty sure he’d somehow fallen into an alternate reality when Tony said, “Yes.”

“Wait, really?” he demanded. “You can’t joke about something like this, dad.”

Tony brushed a knuckle against his cheek. “I’m not, Peter.”

The lady smiled brightly. “Great! Well, the dogs are over this way,” she said, gesturing for them to follow her into a back room.

Peter could have found them on his own. He could hear them the second the car had pulled into the parking lot. All the yapping and barking and the sound of nails scratching the ground and tails wagging so violently that they smacked into the metal of the cages with persistent little thumps. He was so happy Peter was pretty sure if he had a tail it would be wagging to.

Tony had him by the scruff of the neck as they trailed after Liz.

“Oh my gosh!” Peter exclaimed, tearing away from Tony’s grip when the door opened and immediately falling to his knees in front of the first cage that housed a few equally excited yellow lab puppies. “Oh my gosh, hi! Aren’t you precious! Yes, hello!”

“You can look around,” Liz said. “If you want to go into any of the cages, just let me know.”

“Can I go into all of them?” Peter asked without looking. He was too entranced by all the puppies bumping their wet noses into his hand, which he’d stuck through the gate. He giggled as they licked his fingers.

The lady just laughed.

“Go take a lap, Pete,” Tony said.

Peter took his sweet time going from cage to cage and giving all the dogs his equal attention. Every time he had to walk away, he felt a small amount of guilt bubble in his stomach. He wanted to take them all and give them a good home, but he knew even his puppy-dog eyes had limits when it came to persuading Tony.

“Woah, you’re a big guy, huh?” Peter said when he got to one of the last cages.

There was only one dog in it. And it was humongous! Big, brown, could have passed for a bear if it was in the woods. It was curled up on the ground, and he didn’t get up to greet Peter, but his tail did give a half-hearted wag.

“Liz!” Peter called, curling his fingers into the chain-link fence.

She appeared a second later with Tony, who whistled lowly upon seeing how big the dog was. “Oh, you found Bear,” she said. “He’s a newfoundland.”

“Why is he so sad?” Peter asked, pressing closer to the cage.

Liz was fumbling with her keys and she unlocked the cage for him as she answered, “Well, he’s been returned a couple times,” she admitted. “We warned the families that he’d get big, but they didn’t realize just how big. Now he’s no longer a puppy, and no one has really been interested in him anymore.”

Peter was pretty sure his heart dropped out of his ass. When the cage door opened, he sat down cross-legged next to Bear and sunk his fingers into his thick fur coat. He was so soft and so big that Peter couldn’t resist laying his head lightly against the animals back.

A heavy weight settled against his shoulder, and Peter couldn’t help the giggle that escaped his lips when he realized Bear had curled around him to rest his head on Peter. A large tongue dragged against his cheek and licked his hair up into cow-lick. Or a bear-lick. Reluctantly, he pulled away and turned to look at Tony with pleading eyes.

“Oh no, put those eyes away, Pete,” Tony said, immediately putting his hands up. “I already said I’d let you get a damn dog.”

Liz crossed her arms, looking stern. If she recognized who Tony was, she didn’t look intimidated. “You have to be absolutely certain,” she said. “That poor thing deserves better than to keep being returned because people can’t handle a dog of his size.”

“Yeah, well, I think my kid would rather fling himself off a building than part with that dog,” Tony snarked back, but it was good-naturedly. “Trust me, big isn’t a problem in this household. I’d actually be more concerned if he chose a lap dog. It’d get stepped on.”

The woman eyed him carefully, trying to discern if he was telling the truth. “Well, okay then, Mr. Stark. Congratulations. It’s a boy, 150 pounds, and 28 inches long.”

An hour later, they pulled away from the shelter, Tony’s trunk piled high with dog toys and basic necessities. Bear was curled up in the back, heavy head in Peter’s lap. And when they got back to the Compound, Peter decided the best part about having a dog the size of a small bear was the look of mute horror Tony adopted when Peter picked Bear up like he weighed no more than a loaf of bread and carried him inside.

- SY -

“I cannot believe you actually let him get a dog.”

“Pep, you should have seen how sad he was when that stupid animal commercial came on. I could barely stop myself from donating my entire fortune to the ASPCA.”

“You did donate a million dollars.”

“Yeah, but now I’ve got a cool blanket.”

Pepper sighed heavily and turned back towards Peter. He was supposed to be practicing his public speaking skills, so they were in the conference room, but Bear had leapt onto the stage and demanded Peter’s undivided attention, so he’d given it freely. Everyone at the compound had loved the new addition to their family. Bear got nothing but love from all the Avengers, but Peter was his undisputed favorite.

“Come on, Peter, focus up,” Pepper called. “You’re going to have to do this speech for real in a few weeks.”

Peter scratched behind Bear’s ears. “Sorry, Mom,” he mumbled, pushing himself back to his feet. Bear whined bit in the back of his throat, and Peter’s fingers twitched back towards him.

Tony whistled sharply and said, “Bear, come here, you big lump. Let Peter be.”

Bear bounded off the stage and to Tony’s feet. He wasn’t Peter, but he was a close second. Over the past few days Tony had had to accept the fact that Bear loved him nearly as much as he loved Peter. The first time he’d tried to brush the dog off, Peter had glared at him so scathingly, he hadn’t tried again.

The newfoundland settled once again at Tony’s feet, and Tony called out, “Okay, Pete, one last time and you can go outside and play with Bear. Promise.”

Pepper made a sound in the back of her throat and muttered under her breath, maybe forgetting Peter could hear her no matter how softly she spoke, “You’re too soft on him.”

Tony didn’t reply to that.

Peter looked back down at the cards with his speech written on them and nervously bit his lip. It wasn’t even public speaking that scared him anymore. Okay, it still did, but not nearly as much as it had back when he’d first started preparing to be CTO for Stark Industries when Tony finally retired. It was this speech.

This was the speech he’d have to give at the conference when Tony revealed to the world that he’d named an heir was training him. They could only keep the fact that Peter had been adopted by Tony a secret for so much longer. MJ was lucky, she didn’t have to worry about doing anything like this until it was time for her to take over for Pepper.

It was actually a miracle the press hadn’t found out about Peter and Tony with how many times they appeared in public together and with how many times Peter had slipped up and called him dad in front of strangers.

He kept staring at the cards, and his mouth refused to open and form words. It wasn’t that he wasn’t proud to be a Stark, or that he wasn’t looking forward to the day he didn’t have to worry about hugging his dad in public in case someone took a picture. But there was a reason Peter wore a mask to be Spider-Man. He liked his privacy. He like being able to walk through the streets of New York and just be a kid.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for today,” Tony said abruptly, standing up.

“Tony,” Pepper said, exasperated.

“What?” he asked. “It’s Christmas time! And he did it perfectly twice already.”

Pepper pursed her lips, clearly unhappy, but Peter was already running from the conference room, Bear hot on his heels.

- SY -

It wasn’t a white Christmas. When Peter woke up in his room in Queens, it was to a distinct lack of snow. It was disappointing, but not shocking. Peter lingered in bed for another ten minutes and soaked up the warmth of his weighted blanket as he gave himself time to just wake up.

He could hear May in the kitchen. She was making Pillsbury cinnamon rolls like they had every Christmas morning, and talking to… Peter bolted up in bed, grinning. He’d almost forgotten that Pepper and Tony were in the apartment. That meant-

“Bear!” Peter shouted, throwing off his covers and running into the living room.

His beloved dog pounced on him in the next second and Peter let him knock them to the ground and lick his face. Dogs weren’t allowed in the apartment, so Bear lived at the compound, but Tony had promised to bring Bear with them for Christmas morning.

“Hey buddy! Merry Christmas, huh?” Peter laughed, scratching underneath Bear’s chin like he loved.

“Wow, can you believe Peter replaced us with a dog? I feel so betrayed,” Tony said sarcastically.

Peter pushed on Bear’s chest to let him up, and the dog obliged, but was no less excited. Peter gave May a kiss on the cheek, and hugged Pepper and Tony and grinned as he said, “Merry Chrysler!”

None of the parent-figures in his life looked phased at that, which was honestly just disappointing, but they chorused back a more traditional season’s greeting nonetheless.

May pulled the cinnamon rolls out of the oven, only slightly crispier than they should ideally be, and began drizzling icing on them. When she was done, she passed a plate to Peter that had three, and he happily dug in.

Tony watched fondly as Peter managed to get the icing all over his face. “Isn’t that cannibalism?” he stage-whispered to May and Pepper, who laughed.

A Christmas Story was playing softly in the background. Bear was a heavy weight on his feet. Peter smiled and leaned into Tony’s touch, when he jokingly ruffled his already sleep-mussed curls.

And yeah, Peter would give that stupid speech a thousand times if it meant he got to keep having Christmas mornings like this in the future.

Chapter Text

January

SI @StarkIndustries ✔️

Press conference that will change the future of Stark Industries scheduled for January 3^rd!

342k likes 147k retweets

            |

            notice me senpai @tonystarkismybaee

            well this should be good

you know who I am @TonyStark ✔️

I have done nothing to deserve this kind of scrutiny

2M likes 967k retweets

            |

            War Machine @colonelrhodes ✔️

            I have a list and it starts the first night of MIT

            |

            you know who I am @TonyStark ✔️

            That’s fair but also shut up Rhodey

- SY -

The press conference was meant to begin promptly at nine o’clock, but the reporters were sat restlessly before the podium for an extra ten minutes before Tony Stark popped his head into the room with an unapologetic grin, eyes hidden behind a pair of red tinted sunglasses. A second later, he opened the door all the way and was followed in by Pepper Potts, his security guard, Harold Hogan, and an unidentified boy.

“Hey, all. I’d say I’m sorry for the wait, but we all know that’d be a lie,” Stark said charismatically, leaning casually onto the podium.

There were a couple of chuckles in the crowd, though most reporters were craning their necks to get a look at the curly-haired, bespectacled teenager. He had his head lowered and was clearly listening to something Hogan, who was standing beside his chair, was saying. A couple of stray flashes from photographers had the skittish thing twitching minutely, fingers tapping out a staccato beat on his pant leg.

“I see you’ve all noticed the subject of this conference,” he continued. “But, I’m a bit of an attention whore, so eyes on me until it’s his turn.”

They snapped their attention back to Stark, who was now standing with a straight back. He’d pulled his sunglasses off so it was easier to see how serious he was being. The more astute reporters noticed Potts sigh at his phrasing, although the boy’s lip twitched up into a small, lopsided smile.

“Now, the kid I’m about to call up, he’s a press conference virgin, so here are the rules. He’s got a prepared speech, he’s going to recite it. You aren’t going to shout questions at him while he’s speaking. Kindergarten rules, okay, he’s got the talking stick and anyone who interrupts him will be escorted out. Yes, we’ll be answering questions, but only three at the present time. Don’t worry we’ll be doing plenty of interviews in time. Finally, photography will be kept to a minimum. We’ll be releasing a photoshoot so you’ll get your pictures. Capiche?” 

He pinned them with a look until there were murmurs of assent from the crowd of reporters, and most of them had lowered their cameras reluctantly.

“Great!” Stark said with saccharine cheer. “Now, it is my pleasure to introduce my adopted son and the heir to Stark Industries, Peter Stark.”

The boy, Peter, stood fawn-legged, but quickly stepped up to the podium. As Stark stepped back, he brushed an errant curl from his son’s face, the touch lingering.

“H-hi!” Peter said, his voice kind of squeaked and he glanced back at Stark and Potts, who gave him encouraging smiles. “Sorry, um, I’ve done this speech a bunch of times but there’s never actually been anyone in the crowd,” he admitted, clearly adlibbing.

He paused, surveying the crowd, then a shaking hand pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. His shoulders settled.

“My name is Peter Parker, but it’s been Peter Parker-Stark for the past two years to those who knew about the adoption, which was a handful of Stark Industries employees, the Avengers, and a couple of my closest friends. And, well, I guess my entire school year when dad accidentally spilled the beans on our field trip back in September.”

It was easy to tell what was rehearsed, and what Peter was inserting on the spot. When he spoke freely, his posture relaxed noticeably and his voice picked up speed.

He huffed out a laugh, but quickly composed himself and continued. “I met da-Tony three years ago when I was barely fourteen and was his personal intern for a year before the adoption went through. I-I’ve been… integral-” the word came out like it tasted sour “-in several major projects since then and have my own projects that will be announced soon. In the fall I’ll be following in my father’s footsteps and attending MIT and I’ll be studying biochemical engineering.”

Peter took a deep breath, and shot another glance over his shoulder.

“Since the adoption I’ve been working with Ms. Potts and my dad to understand the company and how to best serve her and the public’s interests so I’ll be ready to take over as head of Research and Development when the time comes that Tony is ready to step down. Thank you.”

The last part was said slowly, as if he wanted to rush through it and get it over with but was consciously monitoring the speed of his words. With that, he stepped back from the podium and practically into Stark’s chest, who’d stood up once his son had finished. He had his hands on top on Peter’s shoulders, holding him firmly in place, thought his left hand rubbed up and down the side of his son’s arm in comfort.

With a mega-watt smile, Stark asked, “Questions?”

The room erupted with noise. No one dared to scream out their questions, not after Stark’s warning, but the rustling of clothes as people shot their hands into the air and the scraping of chairs as reporters scrambled for their notes and pens and recorders was deafening in the otherwise silent room.

“Yeah, you in the red tie,” Stark called out.

“Mitchel Davis from the New York Times,” the man said. “I think we all want to know Mr. Stark: how did you find Peter and what made you want to adopt him?”

“Sneaky, sneaky, that’s two questions, Mitchel, but I’m feeling generous,” Stark said magnanimously. “Here’s a fun fact. Pete’s a dumpster diver. He likes making things from trash. Even now, can’t stop him. Got a lab full of equipment and parts and enough money to buy him whatever his little heart desires, and he comes home with busted DVD players and radios and what have you, and MacGyvers shit from it.”

“Dad,” Peter says. It was under his breath but the microphone picked it up anyway.

“What? Anyway, the point is, he used to post videos of his projects and I stumbled across one. I was impressed, as anyone would be, and wanted to see what he could make in a real lab. And the answer is revolutionary technology,” Stark answered. “And the reason I adopted him? Well, look at him, he’s adorable. It’s the ears.”

Peter’s face lit up red and he self-consciously tugged on an earlobe, which only drew attention more attention to how they impishly poked out from his curly hair. He scowled up at his father, but Stark didn’t seem bothered by it.

“Next question!” Everyone’s hands shot up. “Yellow sweater in the middle row!”

“Hi, Christine Everhart from WHiH World News. This question is for Peter. You mentioned you’ve been working behind the scenes on several SI projects. What are they?”

Peter looked at his dad for help or permission and Stark answered for him. “Peter doesn’t like talking about his accomplishments. It’s like he’s humble or something? Don’t know here he got that from, it certainly wasn’t me.”

That drew a couple of laughs.

“I think we’ll wait until the projects are ready to be announced, but I’ll tell you that one in particular will provide disaster relief on a massive scale worldwide,” Stark said more seriously. “Okay, one last question, who’s it gonna be? How about the red head in the back? I love red hair.”

The red head consciously brushes her hair back. “Megan Stewart from the Wall Street Journal. Peter, what are your other interests? Tell us a bit about yourself.”

There were a few grumbles of dissent about the last question being wasted on something so mundane, but Peter visibly perks up and he takes the mic.

“Hi, Megan!” he said with a smile and wave. “Um, I think I’m just like any other teenager. I take care of my dog. I’m on my school’s AcaDec team, so that takes up a lot of time. My girlfriend is the captain and she’s kinda scary serious about practices. I guess I’m just a family person? Oh! I like Star Wars and Legos!”

Stark ruffles Peter’s hair, looking amused at the answer. “He’s a big nerd and a softy,” he summarizes. “Anyway, thanks for the stimulating dialogue. Say, bye-bye, Peter!”

“I am not saying ‘bye-bye’,” Peter said before Stark guided him away from the podium with an arm over his shoulder.

- SY -

SI @StarkIndustries ✔️

We are pleased to finally, officially welcome Peter Stark to SI!

[attached: A posed picture of Peter, Tony, and Pepper in the lobby of SI. Peter is in front of his parents, and they each have a hand on his shoulder]

5.5M likes 759k retweets

you know who I am @TonyStark ✔️

press conferences take a lot out of a person, apparently @peterstark

[attached: A picture of Peter, though it’s hard to tell it’s even him. He’s sprawled on the couch, all but spooning a massive, brown dog. His smile is hidden in the dog’s fur, but his eyes are lit up and his curls are on full display]

8.2M likes 2.1M retweets

            |

            Gotta catch ‘em all @gonnnabthevrybest

            Oh my gosh Peter is absolutely precious

Pepper Potts @VirginiaPotts ✔️

Finally, I can share this photo. My boys… @TonyStark @peterstark

[attached: Peter is wearing what is clearly a hand-me-down MIT sweatshirt. It’s missing its cord, the sleeves are a frayed at the cuff, and there are a couple of stains. More impressively, he’s carrying Tony on his shoulders effortlessly. Tony is wearing a maroon t-shirt that proudly says ‘MIT Dad’ on it and his arms are thrown out grandly. He’s smirking whereas Peter is grinning]

7.5M likes 1.9 retweets

            |

            WINTER IS HERE @ineedallthestarkss

            Tony, babe, what are you doing up there oml

            |

            Peter with a B @peterstark ✔️

            @ineedallthestarkss he likes to be tall

            |

            you know who I am @TonyStark ✔️

            @peterstark DISOWNED

            |

            Peter with a B @peterstark

            @VirginiaPotts dad’s bullying me

            |

            Pepper Potts @VirginiaPotts ✔️

            @TonyStark No.

            |

            you know who I am @TonyStark ✔️

            @VirginiaPotts sorry, ma’am

            |

            Peter with a B @peterstark ✔️

            @TonyStark haha whipped

            |

            you know who I am @TonyStark ✔️

            @peterstark DISOWNED

            |

            Pepper Potts @VirginiaPotts ✔️

            @TonyStark @peterstark BOYS

VIVA LA HUFFLEPUFF BITCHES @theheirofhufflepuff

okay but how strong is peter he’s just got a grown ass man on his shoulders nbd???

104 likes 34 retweets

- SY -

[BuzzFeed presents: The Puppy Interview ft. Peter Stark]

Peter is on the floor playing with a couple of puppies. He has a little squeaky toy in his hand, totally enraptured by their wiggling bodies.

“Yes, yes,” he said, his voice shifting up a couple of octaves. “You smell my dog on me, don’t you? He’s a big boy, though, and you are so tiny, aren’t you?”

One of the puppies nipped his finger.

Peter looked up and behind camera. “Hey, dad?”

“No,” Tony Stark’s voice came from off camera.

[Who is your favorite superhero?]

Peter looks up, momentarily distracted from the dogs. “What? That’s such a mean question. You know I live with the Avengers? Iron Man is right there!” he complained.

One of the puppies yips and Peter picks him up the little golden retriever, holding him to his face and receiving a bunch of kisses in return. “What’s that? This puppy wants to answer. His name is Goose, and he says Loki is his favorite avenger. And no one can get mad because Goose is a strong independent puppy who is allowed opinions,” Peter said.

[Who is your favorite Disney Princess?]

“Can we have more puppies?” Peter asked.

A second later, his request is obliged and another couple of puppies run on camera. One goes straight for a chew toy and the other rams headfirst into Peter’s thigh and then topples over.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Peter demanded, picking up the fallen puppy. “Wait, sorry, what was the question again?”

The scene cuts and Peter finally gets around to answering. “Mulan for the old princesses, and maybe just overall, but Moana is putting up a really good fight for the 3D princesses. And I have to include Merida because Uncle Clint will hate me if I don’t,” he said in one great big rush.

[What are the Avengers actually like?]

“That’s a loaded question- woah!” The same puppy from before came crashing into Peter’s side. “You just want so much attention, don’t you? Yes, I think I’ll call you, Anthony.”

Peter sent a cheeky grin behind camera.

“Um, the Avengers are just a super dysfunctional family,” he answered. “Emphasis on super. I don’t know how to answer this question. Uncle Bucky bakes a lot. Uncle Steve makes me smoothies all the time. One time Aunt Nat put poison in Uncle Clint’s apple juice and he was paralyzed for like a week because he ate her leftover lo mein. Totally normal family stuff.”

[If you weren’t at Stark Industries, what job would you have?]

Peter was quiet for a moment, his fingers brushing through the puppies’ fur, and his brow is furrowed, clearly putting some thought into his answer.

“I like photography,” Peter admitted. “And I like to travel. Maybe I’d take photos for like National Geographic or something?”

A puppy licked his chin and the contemplative frown on his lips is immediately wiped away in favor of a beatific smile.

“I would die for you, Goose,” he said seriously.

[What’s it like to finally be ‘out’ to the public?]

“Weird,” Peter answered instantly. “Hey, come back! Goose, don’t leave me!”

Goose the puppy had wandered off camera but someone immediately turned him around and Peter reached out and pulled him back into his arms.

“I’m not really anyone special, like, at school or anything? I’m just some kid Tony found of the internet. But I get to play with puppies in interviews now so that’s pretty cool!” Peter said sincerely, kissing the top of Goose’s head. He turned a pair or lethal puppy-dog eyes behind the camera. “Dad, please? Bear needs a playmate!”

“Bear would step on Goose and crush him,” Tony retorted off screen.

There’s a cut and Peter has three puppies in his lap. “These adorable beans were provided by the Best Friends Animal society. You should adopt them. All of them but Goose. Goose is mine.”

“Peter,” came Tony’s exasperated voice.

____

34,567 comments

            The ScreenSlaver

            petition for Peter Stark to adopt Goose

            Sam Wesson

             “totally normal family stuff” this boy I cannot

                        |

                        Just an ant

                        okay but poisoning a family member for eating your leftovers is the most relatable part of this video

            Nadia was here

            peter would die for goose but we would die for peter

            Captain Canada

            imagine just casually having america make you a smoothie wtf

- SY –

BuzzFeed @BuzzFeed ✔️

Peter Stark does the Puppy Interview!

[link.]

The New York Times @nytimes ✔️

Meet Peter Stark, the future of Stark Industries and the world.

[link.]

positiviᵗᵉᵃ @TeaSpillYT

NEW VIDEO! Tony Stark adopts a SON…

[link.]

The Washington Post @washingtonpost ✔️

Tony Stark announces his heir! Introducing his adopted son, Peter Stark!

[link.]

Incorrect Avengers Quotes @incorrectavengers

GUYS THIS IS NOT DRILL ahkjq hfskfq;

guy in the chair! @nedleeds

hey @michellejones whats it like to have the whole world thirsting after ya boy

34 likes 7 retweets

            |

            my friends call me MJ @michellejones

            it smells like victory

Chapter Text

February

It was hard settling back into school once winter break had ended. Even though the whole grade had essentially been in on his secret before, nothing had really changed about him, so they’d treated him the same. He was still Peter Parker to them and, yeah, they saw him once with the Avengers, but he still wore nerdy science t-shirts and sat in the back with Ned and MJ (and occasionally now Flash) during lunch, so it was easy to forget that. And maybe if he wasn’t missing school to do interviews or if there weren’t reporters camped in front of the school they could ignore the addition to his last name.

There were, unfortunately, reporters in front of the school. At least for half of January there had been. It was the first week of February now and Pepper had put the fear of god (specifically the god of mischief) into them, citing how he was still a minor and they were disrupting the other students trying to get an education. He hadn’t seen any reporters stalking him since, though that might be down to Happy doing his job. Or it could be the fact that it was the dead of winter therefore too damn (and yes, that was a formal unit of measurement) cold to be outside with or without thermoregulating abilities and tragically he was without, making it worse.

“Hey, MJ, have you seen Peter, because all I can find is a blob wearing my sweatshirt that’s vaguely in the shape of Peter,” Ned joked as he took his seat next across from Peter at lunch.

Peter glared at Ned, not that his best friend saw since Peter had the hood of his stolen sweatshirt pulled up and cinched so his reddened nose poked out. He was miserable despite wearing several layers. It was the coldest winter the city had experienced since he’d been born. That is to say, colder than a well-digger’s ass.

MJ pushed her mug of tea towards her boyfriend, her lips drawn back in an approximation of pity. “This is seriously pathetic,” she said. “Just call Tony and have him pick you up. You’re useless like this, Parker.”

Ned nodded empathetically. “First period he answered Señora Gonzales’ question in Russian instead of Spanish.”

“I was half-asleep, okay?” Peter huffed defensively, cupping his stiff fingers around the hot mug. “I was cold, Russia is cold, my brain connected the two dots.”

His best friend snorted. “Your brain didn’t connect shit.”

MJ was unmoved, lips pressed into a thin line as she scrutinized him. “Have you not been getting sleep, Peter? Because don’t think I won’t ask Karen for the time log on your suit.”

“No, that’s not the problem,” Peter muttered, blinking hard. The warmth in his fingers was traveling up to his head and making it foggy. He could feel sleep pulling at his eyelids. “If anything, this is the most sleep I’ve gotten since I was a baby. I went to bed at eight last night, MJ. And I slept through the night, through my alarm. Aunt May barely got me up in time.”

“Well, that at least explains your wardrobe,” MJ muttered.

Peter couldn’t even refute that. He was still in his pajama pants, he was wearing a pair of May’s Ugg boots, he was swimming in Ned’s sweatshirt and an oversized trapper hat. Not one of his teachers had scolded him for the hat despite it going against dress code. Either a previously undiscovered perk of being Tony Stark’s son or a sign that he looked like such crap no one had the heart to tell him to take it off.

Ned took an over-sized bite of his sandwich and through that mouthful of cheese and deli meat, managed to say, “Maybe your body wants to hibernate. Honestly, I’ve always thought it was a major flaw in human evolution that we don’t hibernate in the winter. Imagine, just for a second, gorging yourself at Thanksgiving and just going straight into a food coma until spring like a bear. The only problem is that we’d miss Christmas. Some people might get upset about missing the birth of Christ, but-”

“Actually,” MJ cut in. “In all likelihood, Jesus wasn’t born in the winter. The best estimation we have is that he was born in like September or October.”

“That’s perfect!” Ned enthused, gesturing with his sandwich. Peter watched a piece of cheese fly off it almost in slow motion, nearly missing his next words. “We just have to take Christmas and push it to another month!”

“Okay, you’re being absurd right now, but I think you might actually be onto something. Somehow,” MJ said, resting a hand on Peter’s forehead, actual concern making an appearance on her features when he didn’t even acknowledge it. 

Ned paused and furrowed his brow. “About Christmas…?”

“No, you absolute turnip,” MJ said, rolling her eyes. “About Peter’s body wanting to hibernate.”

Their conversation might have continued, but Peter involuntarily tuned it out. His eyes glazed over staring at Ned’s piece of cheese which was now on the floor by the wheel of the table. He lowered his chin until it rested on the table. That was better. Since when was his head so heavy? Was it possible to learn so much your head physically weighs more? Had Peter reached his peak intelligence? Was that why nothing seemed to be sticking in his head anymore?

“Peter!”

He snapped back into reality when he opened his eyes, not even sure when they’d closed. The cafeteria was way too bright and he hissed, squinting at the dark shape he thought might be his girlfriend.

“Peter, you are really out of it,” MJ said. She grabbed his backpack off the floor and fumbled in the main pocket before producing his glasses case and slipping them onto his nose. “I’m calling Tony and telling him to pick you up, this is ridiculous.”

The glasses helped and Peter sighed in relief when they dampened his senses. With that dealt with he leaned forward onto his hand and –

“No! Bad Peter, snap out of it! Ned, pinch him.”

“Gladly!”

Peter yelped and rubbed his side where Ned had gone in with no mercy and pinched the skin over his ribs. “Come on man, do you even cut your nails?” he complained, though he did feel more aware. When had the cafeteria emptied out? Was lunch over?

But the little jolt of adrenaline was already wearing off. The next thing he knew, his phone was being pressed to his ear and Tony’s voice was asking in practiced calm, “Peter, what’s wrong? Do I need to pick you up?”

“Oh, hi, Mr. Dad,” Peter almost slurred.

MJ took the phone back. “See what I mean? There’s something actually wrong with him… Yeah, we can do that… Okay, see you soon.”

“What are we doing?” Ned asked. 

“We’re taking him to the nurse so he can be picked up,” MJ replied decisively. “Okay, you grab his left arm, I’ll get the right.”

Peter wanted to tell them that he was perfectly capable of walking on his own, but he couldn’t find the words. Something about that should have worried him, but worry burned too many calories. The most feeling he could manage was a warm fondness for his friends as they hauled him out of his seat.

Between Ned and MJ, they got him to the nurse, who looked overwhelmed when they dragged his half-dead looking ass through the door.

“I already called home for him,” MJ said with authority. “His dad is coming to pick him up. Didn’t get any sleep last night. Can you believe the education system overloads it’s students with so much work they can’t be productive during the day because they’re sleep deprived?”

At this point Peter was so tired he’d sleep on anything vaguely horizontal that wasn’t made entirely out of knives, so he was very grateful when he found himself sitting down on the nurse’s bed. He felt Ned pinch him again, but it wasn’t nearly as effective as the first time. He couldn’t even manage a flinch from the sharp pain.

He spent an indeterminate amount of time drifting on the sound of MJ’s voice. It didn’t matter what she was saying, for all he knew she was still ranting to the school nurse about how flawed the education system is, but he liked the sound of her voice. It covered him like a warm blanket…

- SY -

“Oh, Underoos, you never do anything halfway, huh? Are we going to have to start going south for the winter? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Warm beaches, lots of sunshine, proximity to Disney World. Maybe just ship you off to Wakanda when it starts to get cold.”

Awareness bled into Peter’s body. He wasn’t at the nurse anymore, but he was in the med bay at the compound. He was all too familiar with the sterile white walls and the scent of disinfectant that liked to bury itself in his skin and haunt him for days even after he was released. He was under a heated blanket with an IV in his arm.

Tony smiled when Peter managed to grumble, “No, wanna leave.”

“You’re lucky Bruce is such a conscientious person,” Tony continued in that same soothing voice. Peter realized Tony’s hand was combing through his hair and if he were a cat, he’d definitely be purring right now. “Said he thought this might become a problem eventually. Had a little shot to counteract your spider DNA’s attempts to put you in hibernation right on hand when I called him in a panic.”

“Should thank him for that,” Peter managed, even without his tongue fully cooperating.

His dad hummed in agreement. “Been thinking while you were out. I think I have a solution.”

“Am I going to Wakanda?” Peter asked. “Can’t. Got school.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Wakanda might survive your and Shuri’s combined genius for three months, but King T’Challa’s sanity most certainly would not,” he joked. “No. You know how you have a heater in your Spidey suit? I’m thinking you wear under armor with the same kind of smart fabric. Put a little monitor in it. If your core temperature dips below acceptable parameters it’ll give you a little adrenaline shot and call me.”

“Oh, okay, that sounds nice.” Peter closed his eyes again, breathing out through his nose. Then it suddenly occurred to him and through the sludge in his brain he shot up in bed. “How long was I asleep for?!” he demanded.

“Easy, Sleeping Beauty, it’s only been a few hours since you pricked your finger on the magic spinning wheel,” Tony said while simultaneously pushing his shoulders back to the bed. “You might want to give your girlfriend a call though. She was experiencing emotions when I picked you up. It looked painful.”

Peter settled back into the pillows with a scowl. “MJ has feelings, dad. She just likes to keep people guessing.”

“Of course, my bad,” he amended. “So, while I have you trapped here for the next few hours, you know what you’re doing for your first Valentine’s day yet, champ?”

Peter shrugged and fidgeted with the corner of his blanket. “MJ says Valentine’s day is a capitalist holiday and that anyone who spends their money on overpriced chocolate and flowers is a fool.”

“You are lucky you have me. Girls say that kind of thing, but they never mean it,” Tony explained sagaciously. “If you don’t have anything planned, MJ is gonna find her sharpest heel and throw it at your head.”

Peter couldn’t imagine MJ losing her composure like that. The closest he’d seen to her getting mad like that was at the Pride Parade last year. Peter had been proudly wearing a bi flag around his shoulders, and someone had gotten in his face about it. Apparently, he couldn’t be bisexual if he was currently in a heterosexual relationship. MJ’s anger was never explosive though. She just got this terrifying smile fixed on her face. Whenever she smiled like that he and Ned scrambled for a camera because she would verbally eviscerate anyone in a ten-foot radius and it was always epic.

“That’s very specific, should I file down mom’s heels or something?” Peter finally said. 

“You only touch your mother’s shoes if you have death wish, understand?” When Peter managed to nod with a straight face, Tony pressed on. “You can’t not acknowledge Valentine’s day, Peter. Especially your first Valentine’s day while dating MJ”

“I think you’ll find that I can,” he retorted, though now he was getting nervous. Which was ridiculous. MJ, despite enjoying being enigmatic, wouldn’t leave him guessing about how she felt about something. Especially something she had a strong opinion about.

“Relationships are built on communication, Peter,” MJ told him when they first got together. “I’m not gonna get mad when you can’t read my mind. If I want something from you, I’ll let you know. But same goes for you.”

They’d been together for just about a year now and there hadn’t been a problem they’d encountered that they couldn’t talk through like rational people. That’s not to say they didn’t have arguments, it was just that the arguments never got to the ‘throwing-pointy-objects’ stage.

“If you do nothing for Valentine’s day everybody is going to think you’re a bad boyfriend,” Tony pointed out.

“But, dad,” Peter said slowly. “I’m not dating everyone. I’m dating MJ. And MJ doesn’t like Valentine’s day.”

Tony leans back in his chair, digesting Peter’s words. “Good job, Peter. You passed the girlfriend test. I was just making sure you stuck to your guns,” he said in a grandiose tone.

“I’m not falling for that again.” Peter wrinkled his nose. “What are you and mom doing for Valentine’s day?” Tony opened his mouth and Peter quickly added, “And keep it PG or I’m going to throw my shoes at your head!”

Tony smirked. “What, don’t want a little sister or brother, Petey-pie?”

“I’d love a sibling,” he answered honestly. “But if it happens I’d like to live in denial about how it happened. Just tell me the stork dropped it off or something, I don’t care.”

“Okay, okay, that’s fair.” Tony laughed. “I’m going to get her flowers, take her to dinner and the ballet. She still hasn’t forgiven me for donating our art collection like ten years ago, and she’s going through a German expressionism phase, so I had my eye on a Kandinsky.”

Peter’s art history was a little rough around the edges, but MJ took AP art history and he’d helped her study enough that he knew the name. “The fact that you can say that so casually is not normal,” he said.

“Oh, Peter. You’re a rich kid, and the whole world knows it now. You’re lucky I haven’t raided your closet yet for all your nerdy pun t-shirts,” Tony told him, tone dripping in fake sympathy.

“What, to wear them yourself? You literally wore that shirt I got you at Target for two weeks straight last month.”

Tony sniffed. “I did not raise you to sass me like this.”

“Dad, I have some news for you. It might be hard to take, I’d stay sitting if I were you… you didn’t raise me. I’m adopted,” Peter said seriously.

“You’re what!?” Tony shouted, clutching his chest.

- SY -

It was a lazy Saturday, about a week before Valentine’s day. Peter still didn’t have any plans, despite various family members reminding him of the upcoming date repeatedly. He told them the same he’d told Tony and tried not to think too hard about it. If Peter was being completely honest with himself, he was a bit of a romantic. He liked sappy gestures, but he’d curbed the desire to shower MJ with his affection in respect to her dislike for those very same things.

“Do you think MJ would hate if we went out on Valentine’s day?” Peter asked Ned.

His best friend didn’t even look up from the Lego instructions of their newest project. “Dude, MJ might scratch your throat out,” he replied. “Hey, pass me that flat tile, will you. The one by your toe?”

Peter flicked the requested piece over. “Yeah, you’re right. But, like, what if it wasn’t a date. What if we were just hanging out like a normal Friday?”

“Only, I wouldn’t be there?” Ned asked suggestively.

“Shut up, man.”

Ned only laughed in response. “It’s cool, Peter. I’ve got a date for Valentine’s day anyway,” he said slyly.

“What?” Peter demanded, reaching over and ripping the instruction booklet from his hands. “Who? When? Why am I just now hearing about this?”

Ned smirked. “Okay, so remember the day you almost went into hibernation? Which, by the way man, I still can’t believe that actually happened to you. Your life is so weird now. You really freaked the nurse out, your heart rate was literally non-existent I thought Ms. Cough was actually going to hyperventilate when she couldn’t find a pulse, and, man, Tony-”

“Ned,” Peter cut in.

“Right, right, sorry, but, dude, you really scared me that day. Anyway, I was super freaked out for you, right? So, I almost walked into Betty on my way back to class and she asked if I was okay, so I was like ‘no, of course not, my best friend had to get carried out of school by freakin’ Iron Man’. And she was comforting me, but anyway, she thought I was like sweet and sensitive or something, so I took a chance and asked her out for Valentine’s day and she said yes!” Ned said, barely taking a breath.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Peter asked, clapping Ned on the shoulder.

He shrugged. “Well, I thought because you weren’t doing anything with MJ you might be upset, but if you are gonna hang out with her.”

Peter decided he didn’t want to be alone on Valentine’s day, and if his best friend already had plans, he’d just ask MJ to hang out. Not a proper date or anything, just as a couple of friends. He came to the conclusion that he needed to pick his moment carefully though. There could be nothing special about how he asked her, otherwise she might think he was planning something.

So, after English, when everyone was racing to get to lunch, he asked her as casually as possible, “Hey, do wanna come over Friday?”

MJ raised an eyebrow, head tilted to the side. “Friday as in Valentine’s day?” she asked.

“Um,” Peter stuttered. He was totally caught. “Is that this Friday?” he asked, voice an octave too high to be believed. “Whaaaat?” he laughed awkwardly.

MJ hummed and left him hanging for about ten seconds. “Can’t. My mom is going on a blind date or something. I told her I’d watch my brother,” she finally said.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Peter managed. “Yeah, that makes perfect sense. Cool, um, I have to ask Ms. Finnegan a question about- about, uh…”

“About The Things They Carried?” MJ supplied, taking pity on him, holding up her copy.

“Yeah! About… about the book we’re reading, obviously. So, I’ll- I’ll meet you at lunch?” he finished lamely.

MJ stared down her nose at him and didn’t say anything for another long moment. “Okay, I’ll get you a chocolate milk from the lunch line,” she said, before leaving.

Peter continued to flounder, even after she had disappeared through the door. He was so caught up in his thoughts he almost didn’t notice Flash until he strolled over and slapped his back in a way Peter supposed was meant to be sympathetic.

“That was sad, Parker,” he teased. “Can’t even get a date with your own girlfriend on Valentine’s day.”

“MJ doesn’t like Valentine’s day,” Peter felt compelled to explain. “It’s nothing.”

“Sure it is.”

Peter glanced at Flash, who looked genuinely like he was sorry for Peter. Their relationship had obviously gotten a lot better, but they still never really got together outside of school situations like AcaDec and study groups. “Hey, are you doing anything, Friday?” he asked as a last ditch.

“I got a hot date,” Flash said instantly. Then, sincerely, he adds, “Rain check?”

“Sure, rain check,” Peter responded feeling kind of hollow.

Despite that disappointment, the rest of his day was good. MJ did, in fact, grab him a chocolate milk. She’d even heated it up to make it more like hot chocolate, which he appreciated. Although, he and Ned still weren’t sure where she was getting her mugs from. Did she steal them from the teacher’s lounge? Did she bring them from home? They hadn’t asked, and she hadn’t told.

Betty sat with them at lunch that day, and it was kind of nauseating watching her and Ned together. She sat practically in his lap, and he would occasionally feed her a French fry if they weren’t too busy making eyes at one another.

MJ had her nose wrinkled the whole time and Peter reevaluated his opinion on sappy romantic gestures. Still, he was happy for Ned, if not totally grossed out by him.

By the time he got home, he almost wasn’t upset about not having plans for Valentine’s day. It’s not like he’d be alone, anyway. He had May. He always had May. Happy picked him up from school, like always, and Peter invited him in for coffee or something, like always. He was pleased when Happy began randomly accepting his invitation one day and staying for an hour sometimes instead of saying, “Parker, if I wanted coffee, I’d go to a coffee shop.”

“May, do you wanna order in Thai or something Friday night?” Peter asked as he swung his backpack onto the counter and began rummaging through the cupboards for a snack. He’d gotten his homework done during study period so he’d get to go out on patrol earlier than normal.

Happy dropped the coffee pot and Peter reflexively caught it, frowning at his pseudo-uncle.

May appeared in the kitchen with a look of surprise on her face. “You don’t have plans with MJ or Ned?” she asked uncertainly.

Peter shrugged, ripping into a bag of chips. “MJ has to babysit her brother so her mom can go on a date, and Ned has a girlfriend now. Did I tell you that? It’s Betty Brant, and they are really gross. That much PDA should be illegal.”

His aunt was unusually quiet, so he glanced up from the fridge where he’d been looking for the salsa. She was in the middle of mouthing something to Happy, but smiled serenely when he caught her eyes. He turned to see Happy looking guilty.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Is that my phone?” Happy asked loudly, fumbling in his pocket. He pulled out his silent phone and said into it, “Hey, boss! Yeah, I got the kid home, I’ll be right there.” Then he turned to Peter and May and told them, “Gotta go, Tony needs me.”

Peter watched Happy escape out the door in shock, and May sighed. “We were waiting to tell you, baby,” she admitted. “Happy and I have been seeing each other for about a month now. We have a date Friday. I didn’t realize you didn’t have any plans, I can cancel and we’ll hang out, don’t worry about it!”

“No!” Peter almost shouted. May paused. “Um, I mean, totally weird, but, if you’re, uh, happy, then I’m happy. I’ll be fine. Seriously,” he promised.

May walked over to him and pulled her nephew against her chest, resting a hand in his curls. She kissed the top of his head and said, “What did I do to deserve you?”

“I think it’s the other way around, May,” Peter laughed awkwardly.

He felt her smile into his hair. “Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself? I know Tony is taking Pepper out of the country for the night. And it’s not a Compound weekend.”

“Yeah, I’ll be good,” Peter promised. “I don’t think I’d want to go to the Compound this weekend anyway. Might walk in on something mentally scarring,” he joked. “Um, maybe I’ll just go to the tower and hang out with Bear. So, I’ll be out of your and Happy’s hair.”

May pulled back and pinched his cheek teasingly. “You’ll have fun with Bear,” she said. “Thank you for understanding, Peter.”

“Yeah, yeah of course. Love you, May.”

“Love you too, baby.”

Peter forgot all about his salsa and just went out on patrol.

- SY -

The day had arrived.

Student council had been busy during the week and doilies, lace, and a combination of pink and red decorations had been steadily appearing all over the school, but on Friday they’d reached peak Hallmark. Still, the little Dove chocolate that had been taped to his locker that morning was a pleasant treat, even if it meant Betty and Ned had all but super glued their hands together.

MJ was dressed in all black and she greeted him like she did every day at school, with a nod of her chin and a quirk of her lips. Peter smiled back dopily as always.

“Did you end up making any plans?” MJ asked.

“Yeah, Bear and I are going to do something real special tonight,” Peter replied. “I found a recipe for these peanut butter dog treats I want to try making. Maybe light a candle to really set the mood.”

His girlfriend laughed, and the sound made Peter’s stomach swoop like always. “Okay, lover-boy, have fun Frenching your dog tonight,” she said. “But not too much fun. A girl might get jealous.”

After school Peter turned down a ride from Happy, telling him to go get some flowers for his aunt or something, and he walked to grocery store to get a fresh jar of peanut butter and some pumpkin puree. Bear liked Skippy peanut butter the best (he’d done extensive tests to determine this).

As he was searching for the pumpkin puree (seriously what aisle would that be in?) a giggling gaggle of teenage girls approached him.

“Um, hi?” he said, smiling despite not knowing what to make of the situation.

“Are you Peter Stark?” one of them asked, pushing her hair behind her ear nervously.

“Oh!” Peter said in surprise. He hadn’t exactly gone into public alone a lot since the announcement and his subsequent launch into fame. “Yeah, that’s me,” he managed. “What’s your name?”

She smiled and he felt like he said the right thing. “I’m Shannon,” she said. “Wow, um, can we take a picture with you?” she asked.

Peter rubbed the back of his head and laughed nervously. “Uh, sure, if you really want.”

Shannon fumbled to get her phone out and her friends piled around him. Peter managed to smile for the camera and look somewhat normal. It was after they’d taken a couple of group selfies that he realized he was almost cuddling his jar of peanut butter for security.

“Ah, sorry. I’m baking tonight, that’s why I’m here,” he said, gesturing to the shelves with the peanut butter.

Shannon looked almost disappointed. “Oh, yeah, you’ve got a girlfriend. I nearly forgot.”

“Oh, this is for my dog,” he said. It was almost a reflexive instinct to tell the truth despite these girls being strangers. “MJ, my girlfriend, doesn’t really do Valentine’s day.”

One of the other girls, the only blonde in the group of four, nodded. “Yeah, Valentine’s day sucks. We’re just hanging out as a group tonight because none of us have boyfriends or girlfriends.”

She didn’t look too bothered by it, but the other three, including Shannon, did look disappointed by that.

“Well that doesn’t make any sense, you guys are so nice, and you’re all really pretty, any boy or girl would be lucky to have a Valentine’s date with you,” he said reassuringly.

“He really is a Stark,” the blonde joked.

Peter felt his face light up red. “I didn’t, I just-”

“Shut up, Sydney. She’s just teasing, Peter,” Shannon cut in. “Thanks, you’re really sweet. Your, uh, dog is lucky to have you.”

He laughed. “Well, we’ll see. I can’t find the pumpkin puree to make his dog treats.”

“Pumpkin puree?” another of the girls piped up. “That’d be in the baking aisle. That way.” She pointed in the opposite direction he’d been heading.

“Right,” Peter said, bonking himself on the head jokingly with the jar of peanut butter. “That makes sense. Thanks.”

“Well, it was really nice to meet you Peter,” Shannon said. “Thanks for the photo.”

“It was no problem,” Peter assured her.

With the girl’s directions, he found the puree quickly and went to checkout. As he was standing in the short line, he spotted the display of Valentine’s day chocolates. Shannon, Sydney, and the other two girls were still in the store, he could hear them talking softly if he listened for it.

“Is that all?” The cashier asked, grabbing his attention.

“Um, just one last thing,” he said, scooping up four boxes of the overpriced chocolate and adding it to his small pile. “Thanks.”

The cashier nodded, looking bored, and Peter paid quickly, gathering his two bags and heading back to the aisles. The girls were gathered in front of a freezer arguing about Ben and Jerry’s flavors when he called out, “Uh, Shannon!”

Shannon turned quickly, looking shocked.

“Um, I just didn’t want you guys to have sucky Valentine’s days, cause everyone deserves to feel special today, so I just…” he thrust out the bag, suddenly regretting his decision. This was incredibly weird. He was a total stranger just buying them chocolate after one conversation on Valentine’s day. Was that creepy?

Shannon opened the bag and grinned when she saw the chocolate, passing a box to each of her friends. “You’re really something, Peter Stark. Thank you,” she said, and then she pulled him into a hug which he reciprocated.

“Happy Valentine’s day!” he said cheerfully, before giving a small wave and hightailing it out of there before they could change their mind about him not being weird.

On his way back to the tower he couldn’t help but smile at the warm feeling in his chest. This was the reason he liked being Spider-Man, making people’s days. It felt nice to be able to do that as Peter too.

“Good afternoon, Peter,” Friday greeted him when he got into the elevator. “Boss said he left some money on the counter for you to order in tonight.”

“Thanks, Friday!” Peter chirped. “Happy Valentine’s day!”

“Thank you, Peter, you as well,” the AI returned warmly.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Bear jumped on him, barking madly and wiggling his whole body in excitement. Peter laughed and scratched at his ears and sides.

“Who’s my good boy? Is it you, Bear? Is it? Good boy!” Peter cooed at his dog, jerking his head from side to side to try and avoid getting Bear’s tongue in his mouth as he talked. He was only mostly successful.

Bear followed him into the kitchen once he’d calmed down. Peter spotted the money Tony had left and pushed it to the side so it wouldn’t get covered in peanut butter or pumpkin. Without Bucky hovering over his shoulder and judging him, Peter found that baking was fun. He turned on his throwback playlist and danced to ‘Wannabe’ while singing into a peanut butter covered spoon as a microphone.

Bear loved dancing with him, though it might just be because he liked licking peanut butter off of Peter’s fingers and face when he got a little frisky with the makeshift mic. He was half way through a rendition of ‘It’s Raining Men’ while shaping the treats into little bones when his phone buzzed.

IronDad: you absolute dog

Peter frowned in confusion and quickly texted back, what’s that supposed to mean?

IronDad: check twitter

He’d pretty much turned off his notifications for Twitter after the first week because there was just too much to process when his follower count jumped into the millions. But he went into the app anyway. He’s not sure why he was so surprised to find that Shannon and her friends had posted the photos they’d taken with him and shared the story of him buying them chocolate, but he was. He hadn’t done it for attention, and yet, it was all anyone could seem to talk about on the platform.

Peter wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Once he got talking to the girls he’d pretty much forgotten that they only approached him because he was a famous name now. He didn’t resent that they’d posted it. It was just weird.

There was a clatter and Peter whipped around to find that Bear had put his paws on the counter and stuck his tongue deep into the peanut butter jar.

“Hey!” he shouted.

Bear grabbed the jar in his massive jaw and took off with it. Peter dropped his phone in favor of chasing after him.

“Get back here!”

- SY -

Peter was woken up the next day at noon by Pepper sitting on his bed and brushing her fingers through his hair.

He rolled over and yawned. “Mom?” he asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Hey, sweetie,” Pepper said softly. “Your dad and I just got back. He’s walking Bear for you. Do you want breakfast?”

Peter nodded. “Yes, please!”

“Sure. How was your night?” she asked, scooting further down the bed when Peter threw the covers off and sat up.

Peter brightened. “It was great! I made Bear dog treats and they came out pretty good. And then I ordered in Chinese and I got an extra fortune cookie and my wonton soup had like four dumplings in it instead of three. Where did you guys end up going?”

“We went to Paris to see the ballet and have dinner,” Pepper said. “It was very nice. When you’re ready, come downstairs. There’s a surprise waiting for you, okay?”

He nodded, but frowned as she closed his door. Had they gotten him something from Paris? He brushed his teeth quickly, not bothering to get dressed or do something to tame his bedhead and then went downstairs.

MJ was sitting on the couch in the living room with Bear’s big head in her lap. She smiled when she saw him. “Hey, loser,” she greeted.

“Hey!” he said brightly, surprised, but pleased as he sat on the couch next to her.

She thrust a box into his chest and said, “Happy ‘all-the-Valentine’s-day-candy-is-now-on-sale’ day.”

It was, indeed, a box of Valentine’s chocolate. She must have picked it up this morning on her way to the tower. Peter couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “This is great! Thanks, MJ!” he told her sincerely.

MJ shrugged, and pulled him into a chaste kiss. “Want to go on a date tonight?” It was phrased like a question, but he knew she wasn’t really asking, more like telling him they were going on a date.

“I thought you didn’t like Valentine’s day?” he asked, ripping the clear plastic off the box and setting it on the table. He went for the little book that gave the flavors, but MJ reached in boldly and grabbed the big dark chocolate in the center.

“Yeah, but you like stupid romantic stuff. So, compromise. We’ll do Valentine’s day the day after when everything is on sale,” she said matter-of-factly.

Peter turned his head to hide his blush. “Oh, but I don’t have anything for you,” he said guiltily.

“You’re buying dinner,” MJ told him, and he couldn’t help his laugh. “We’re going to the Yummy Noodle House. I want hot pot rice.”

“Sure thing,” he said. In the little booklet he found the chocolate covered marshmallow and carefully selected it from the array.

“Peter Benjamin Parker-Stark, I know you’re not about to eat that chocolate before your breakfast,” Pepper called in her best stern mom-voice, appearing at the threshold to shake a wooden spoon with little bits of scrambled egg stuck to it at him.

Peter dropped the chocolate. “What? No, of course not. That’d be absolutely ridiculous when you’re working so hard to make me such a nice breakfast. Did I say thank you for that yet? Because, thank you.”

“Nice save,” MJ snorted.

Pepper rolled her eyes fondly and returned to the stove. So, while Peter waited for breakfast, he and MJ showered Bear with their attention. The big lump had his tongue flopped out and his tail was going like a motor.

“Do you remember what I said to you when we first got together?” MJ asked suddenly.

Peter paused. “You said that you would tell me when you wanted something so I wouldn’t have to guess because that’s how relationships fall apart,” he answered dutifully, slightly nervous as to why she was asking. Had she asked him to do something and he’d totally blanked?

His girlfriend sighed through her nose in exasperation. “Yeah, and then I said ‘same goes for you’, remember?”

“Yes…?” he said, drifting off. Still not sure where this was going.

MJ punched him in the shoulder and he yelped. “So,” she drawled. “You should have told me Valentine’s day was important to you. I had to find out from Ned that you were being all mopey during Lego night. Last night.”

“Oh! Uh…”

“But this compromise is fine, right?” she continued. “You get to have Valentine’s day, but we aren’t pandering to money hungry companies by buying their trashy overpriced products.”

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, this is great!” he agreed.

“Well, think about how much less mopey you’d have been all week if we’d figured out this compromise on Monday when you asked me to hang out?” she said.

“Considerably less mopey,” Peter admitted, twisting his hands together. “Sorry, MJ, you’re right.”

“Wow, I didn’t even have to teach him the magic words,” came Tony’s voice from behind them. Then his hand was in Peter’s hair messing it up. “Pepper, aren’t they cute? They’re adorable, right?”

Pepper laughed as she walked into the room with a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon for Peter. She set it down on the table in front of them, fending off Bear’s go at the bacon, and said, “Well, I think it’s great that they’re so mature. Unlike someone I know.”

“Hey!” Tony complained.

MJ and Pepper shared a knowing look, and MJ stood up. “Well, I’ve got a date later tonight, so I’m going to go back home get ready. See you at six, Parker,” she said.

“See you later, MJ,” he called back as she got into the elevator.

“We are lucky men, Peter. Well, man and boy,” Tony amended, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Pepper pressed a chaste kiss to Tony’s lips, then dropped one onto the top of Peter’s head. “Yes, you are,” she teased. “I heard Happy is a lucky man too, right Peter?”

“Wait, what?” Tony asked. “Happy’s getting some?”

Peter stood up abruptly, exclaiming in disgust. “May! He’s with Aunt May! Don’t talk about it like that!” he shouted, covering his ears. “They went on a date last night. Why do you think I’m here?!”

“I thought it was because this is where your dog is,” Tony laughed. “But seriously? Happy and May? I did not see that coming,” he admitted.

Peter scowled. “Neither did I. Can I eat my eggs in peace now, please?”

“Yeah, yeah. I need a shower after the flight anyway,” Tony said, extending a hand to his fiancée. “Pepper, will you join me?”

“NO!” Peter shouted. He grabbed his plate and began walking towards the elevator. “I’m going to eat in the lab. Bear, come!"

The sounds of his parent’s laughter followed him out of the room.

Chapter Text

March

Peter watched as MJ handed off her luggage to an attendant on the runway. She thanked him, and then turned back to Peter, arms crossed. A bit further down the way, Tony was saying goodbye to Pepper, looking exactly how Peter felt.

“Have fun in California,” Peter told her, trying, and probably not succeeding, in wiping the pout off his face.

She raised an eyebrow like she didn’t believe him, which, you know, she probably didn’t at all. “It’s only for tomorrow and the weekend. I’ve been a lot further for a lot longer,” she pointed out.

“I know,” Peter said, shoulders slumping. “It’s just, we had plans for this weekend.”

“Well, I didn’t call an emergency board of directors meeting. Pepper wants me to come with her this time,” MJ told him, not for the first time. “Besides, you’ll still have Ned.”

He scuffed his foot on the ground. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

There was a pause. “Maybe you should invite Flash. Have a boy’s night or something, whatever you bearers of the y chromosome do when I’m not there to supervise,” she suggested. Her tone was casual, almost too casual.

“Flash?” Peter repeated, wrinkling his brow. He wasn’t opposed to the idea, although Ned might be. He just wasn’t aware that MJ had any investment in Flash’s weekend plans. “Why?”

“Look, it’s not my place to divulge anything I may or may not have heard him say on the phone when he thought he was in private,” she said firmly. “If you don’t want to, I don’t care. It was just a thought.”

Peter recovered from his surprise easily. “No, I trust you. If you think it’d be a good idea, I’ll invite him tomorrow at practice. Boys night,” he said, testing out the phrase. “Yeah, that could be fun.”

“Cool, keep me updated. Oh, and you’re in charge at AcaDec tomorrow. We should be back in time for Monday’s practice,” MJ told him. “I left the notes for what we’ll be covering on your desk. And I put an extra copy in your backpack. And in case you lose your backpack again, Karen knows them, you just have to ask.”

He laughs a little at her forethought. “I’m not completely helpless without you, you know.”

“That’s up for debate,” MJ teased. She leaned down and pecked his lips. “I’ll call when we land. Stay out of trouble.”

“You know I can’t promise that,” he said, only half joking.

MJ frowned and stepped away. “I know. Bye, Peter.”

“Bye MJ,” he said. Then he shouted down the runway. “Bye mom!”

Pepper turned around, already halfway up the stairs to the plane, and waved back. Then she gestured for MJ to hurry up, and he watched his girlfriend pick up the pace to a jog. Tony came to his side and said, “Let’s go in. I have to drive you back to the city. You have school tomorrow.”

In first period Spanish, Peter told Ned about MJ’s idea. His best friend didn’t look too pleased about it, just as Peter had predicted. He hadn’t quite warmed up to Flash yet. But he did agree that MJ usually (always) knew best. So, as the team packed up after decathlon practice later that day, Peter approached Flash.

Now that he was looking for it, Flash did seem pretty agitated. He hadn’t really been paying attention when it was his turn at the buzzer. He just kept glancing at his phone like he was waiting for it to bite him. Peter had been unintentionally privy to a few hushed phone conversations Flash had had in the past. If they were like the one MJ had overheard, maybe Flash did need something to distract him.

“Hey, Flash.”

Flash glanced up from where he’d been stuffing his English binder into his backpack. “What’s up?” he asked, still semi-cautious, as if, even after all these months, Peter would retract his forgiveness.

“Ned and I are going to hang out at the tower this weekend, and I wanted to know if you wanted to cash in that rain check?” Peter asked.

“The tower?” Flash repeated, looking shocked. “As in, the Avenger’s Tower?”

Peter tightened the straps on his backpack and smiled cheekily. “No, Sear’s Tower,” he teased. “Yeah, Avenger’s. What do you say? It’s got a surround sound theatre and my dad’s gonna make Italian tonight.”

“Is Leeds fine with it?” Flash asked.

Peter nodded. “Yeah,” he assured him. “Ned’s going to drive right over with me, but you probably want to stop home and, like, grab clothes or something. So, when you get to the lobby, just ask Christine, she’s the receptionist, where the private elevators are. I’ll let her know you’re coming, and Friday will take you to the right floor. You remember Friday, right?”

“Yeah, the AI,” Flash said. “Um, thanks, Peter.”

“Peter!” They both turned to see Ned at the door looking nervous. “Happy is getting annoyed and you know he scares me still. He says to hurry up.”

“Be there in a sec!” Peter calls back, then he turns to Flash. “See you later?”

“Yeah,” Flash said numbly. “See you later. At Avenger’s Tower. No big deal. Iron Man will cook us dinner. That’s fine.”

- SY -

“I don’t like this,” Tony muttered in Italian.

Whenever he decided to cook, especially any of his mom’s old Italian recipes, he slipped into his favorite tongue. Peter thought it was endearing, especially combined with the apron he was wearing. The one Bucky had bought for his birthday last year that said “boss of the sauce”.

Tony was dicing tomatoes on a cooking board with a little more force than strictly necessary. When he pulled a large pot out of the cupboard, he dropped it on stove top with a clang. “This is the boy that tormented you for three years, yes?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Papa, I told you, he’s cool now.”

“Ned, hand me the olive oil,” Tony said. The boy scrambled for the bottle. “I don’t care if he’s ‘cool’ now. He used to shove my son into lockers, and you want me to welcome him into my house? I have grudges older than the both of you combined.”

Tony poured the olive oil into the pot and then reached for the red pepper flakes. Peter, having witnessed Tony make this recipe more than once, was already handing it to him. “Do you want me to chop up the garlic?” he asked.

“No, the last time I let you chop the garlic you hissed like some vampire extra in a b-list movie and knocked it onto the floor,” Tony said scathingly. “And don’t think we’re done talking about, Dash.”

“His name is Flash. And that was one time,” Peter deflected.

Ned was watching them like a tennis match even though he couldn’t understand half their conversation. Peter felt kind of bad about that, but his dad had started it.

Tony scoffed and handed Peter the onions instead, mincing the garlic himself. “Ned, add half a teaspoon of oregano and another half teaspoon of basil to the pot,” he directed. They worked in silence for a couple of minutes. “Look, if it’s really important to you, I’ll play nice. Mostly.”

“Grazie,” Peter breathed out.

Tony dumped the garlic and onions into the pot and then cracked some salt and pepper into it. “Now get out of my kitchen, and take your beast with you” he said, covering the pot and turning up the heat. “Dinner won’t be ready for another couple of hours.”

“Okay, thanks, dad! Bear, come on boy!” Peter said as Ned nodded his head aggressively. As they shuffled into the living room, Bear at Peter’s heals, Peter’s phone buzzed against his hip. He checked it and then informed Ned, “Flash says he’s on his way up.”

The elevator doors open a moment later, and Flash stepped out. He looked as devil-may-care as always, carrying a brown paper bag in one hand, a duffle slung over his shoulder. Bear’s tongue flopped out of his mouth and he went to investigate the new person.

“Hey!” Peter said cheerfully, trying to counter the slight bit of tension in the room.

Flash held out the bag. “Uh, for your dad. Figured if he was cooking I should bring a gift,” he said, looking slightly uncomfortable. He eyed the large dog warily as Peter peeked into the bag, saw it was a bottle of wine, and tried not to cringe. “My father always says when in doubt bring a bottle of wine. I just grabbed one from the cellar.”

“Oh, uh-” Peter wasn’t sure how to tell Flash that his dad had been sober for years. Tony resolutely didn’t let a drop past his lips. But he took the bag anyway, intending to hide it from his dad until he could find someone to pawn it off onto. May, perhaps?

“Mr. Stark doesn’t drink,” Ned said unhelpfully.

Flash looked caught off guard and it was that moment Tony chose to come out of the kitchen. He looked down his nose at Flash, and maybe that would have been intimidating if he wasn’t wearing a novelty apron and holding a spoon covered in tomato cause. Given Flash’s expression, Peter guessed it was still pretty scary to someone who hadn’t seen Tony burn his homemade bread and break down in tears over it at three in the morning wearing nothing but that exact apron. Bear lost interest in Flash’s duffle and lopped over to Tony’s side, nosing at the spoon he was holding.

“I’m a recovering alcoholic,” Tony said, unashamedly, holding the spoon out of Bear’s reach.

Flash’s jaw dropped, looking horrified, so Peter quickly jumped in. “Mom loves wine!” he said loudly. “We do keep alcohol in the house. It’s okay, Flash, you didn’t know. Right, dad?” he asked leadingly, pinning Tony with his puppy eyes.

Luckily, Tony relents. “Yeah, fine. I guess I have a reputation,” he admitted, quelling Peter by holding his hand about before his son could jump to reassure him. “What’s the varietal?”

“It’s, uh, a pinot noir, I think,” Flash mumbles.

“Best give it your Aunt Natasha, then, Peter,” Tony said, specifically highlighting the familial term. “Your mother prefers cabernet.”

Peter breathes out a sigh of relief. “Good idea,” he said. “So, uh, Flash, this is my dad. Dad, this is my friend, Flash.”

Flash held out his hand. “Good to meet you, sir. Uh, thank you for your service.”

“I’m not a soldier,” Tony said, stiffly shaking his hand. “But, I am Iron Man, and I’ve got my eye on you, kid.”

“Papa! You promised!” Peter scolded harshly.

Tony breathed out through his nose and smiled like his lips were being pulled back by sharp hooks. “I mean, it’s nice to meet you,” he amended. Then he added in Italian, “I will kill you if you touch a hair on my baby’s head.”

“Okay!” Peter said. “We’re going to the movie room. Can you have Friday call us when dinner is ready? And then maybe go blow off some steam in the lab or something?”

Tony pursed his lips, looking distinctly unhappy. “I’m going to go check on the sauce,” he said. “Be good, Peter. Remember-”

“The gray area, I know,” Peter said. “Let’s go guys.”

He led the way to the movie room and then collapsed on one of the reclining chairs in the front row. Bear, who had followed his favorite person, leapt up and onto his lap as if he were a chihuahua instead of 150 pounds of massive newfie. Ned flopped down on his favorite beanbags and Flash sat in the chair one over from Peter’s. “I’m sorry, Peter, I didn’t know…” Flash started before drifting off.

“No, it’s really okay,” Peter said, reassuring. “I’m sorry. Dad’s kind of, well…”

“A total mama-bear,” Ned suggested.

“He’s protective. And he takes a while to warm up to new people. I had to wait, like, a year before I could even hug him,” Peter explained. “He’ll come around.”

Flash looked dejected. “Right, yeah,” he mumbled.

“No, seriously,” Peter insisted. “Look, if anyone knows about having done shitty stuff in his past and then redeeming themselves, it’s Tony Stark.” That, at least, looked like it resonated with Flash. So, Peter switched the topic of conversation. “We have just about every gaming system ever here, if you want to play something while we wait for dinner.”

Ned rolled off the beanbag with the grace of a drunk giraffe and opened the cabinets under the TV. “Can we play Mario Kart?” he asked, already pulling out the Wii remotes.

“Flash?” Peter asked.

“Sounds good to me. I’m always down to kick your ass, Parker,” he joked, looking a little uncertain.

Peter grinned. “You’re on, Thompson.”

- SY -

“I can’t believe you won on Rainbow Road hanging upside down!” Flash was saying as they left the theatre room, having been called up to dinner by Friday. “How?! Why?!”

Ned and Peter were laughing at his expense. Flash put up a good fight, but Peter had ultimately prevailed like he usually did playing without any handicaps against unenhanced individuals. Most of the time Ned made Peter botch the start and agree to not use the items, but, they’d wanted to mess with Flash for a couple of rounds.

“I just play better upside down,” Peter said, not adding in the fact that normally he hung from the ceiling to accomplish that instead of laying upside down on the recliner.

“Uh-oh. You agreed to play Mario Kart with a master, didn’t you?” Tony asked when the boys entered the kitchen. His tone was completely joking, his smile even looked more natural. It was an olive branch.

Thankfully, Flash seemed to understand that even though Tony was being polite, it was for Peter’s sake, and he kept his tone as respectful as possible when answering. “Yes, sir. And thank you for making dinner.”

Tony nodded. “I’ll be in the lab if you need, Pete. The pasta is on the counter, the sauce is still on the stove. And for God’s sake, eat some of the salad I made. Your aunt and mother will come for me if you get scurvy or whatever,” he said seriously. “And do not feed Bear, Okay? You’ll make him fat.”

“Got it, dad,” Peter said in exasperation, all but shooing him out of the kitchen. “We’re basically adults. We can feed ourselves.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know when I’m not wanted,” Tony said dramatically. He gave Peter a joking salute before taking his leave.

Peter grabbed plates from the cupboard and Ned was familiar enough with the kitchen to get the glasses out. They served themselves the pasta, grabbed sodas from the fridge, and begrudgingly picked at the salad. Then they gathered in front of the TV in the living room. Bear chose to settle down on one of his beds.

“I kind of want to watch a movie, but that’s, like, such a commitment,” Peter said.

Flash snorted, and elegantly twirled his fork through the spaghetti, using his spoon to efficiently ensnare the pasta and bring it to his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and turned to Peter with incredulous eyes. “Is this homemade?” he asked.

Peter nodded, slurping his noodles with less grace than Flash. “Yeah, the sauce is fresh. The pasta is handmade too but I think it’s frozen leftovers from the last time dad made team dinner.”

“Iron Man can cook,” Flash stated, looking surprised.

Peter shook his head aggressively. “Correction, Iron Man can cook some things,” he said with a grin. “Any of his mom’s old recipes are great. They’re mostly pasta and Italian deserts, and everything else he burns.”

“Once when I stayed over he tried to make an omelet for breakfast,” Ned said solemnly, like he was recalling a war story. “Tried.”

“Okay, but to be fair, he’d just come off like a fifteen-hour lab binge,” Peter pointed out.

Tony used to be able to go a lot longer in the lab, but then May had lay into him about being a good example for Peter and he’d installed a black out protocol. If he was in the lab for more than fifteen consecutive hours, everything he was working on would save and then shut down. He began getting more sleep and eating better, and it turns out the human body can get used to regular sleep schedules and a steady calorie intake and his stamina for such ludicrous hours in the lab with little rest and sustenance declined severely. Who knew?

Flash just shook his head like a dog trying to clear water from his ears. “So, where’s Michelle anyway? She misses school nearly as much as you, Peter.”

Ned and Peter shared a look. After a second of debate, Peter answered honestly, “California.”

“Why?” Flash asked, wrinkling his nose in confusion.

Peter shrugged and said, “She’s mom’s intern. There was some company emergency and they had to leave yesterday. She’ll be back Monday.”

“For some reason, compared to Iron Man threatening me in Italian with a wooden spoon, that just makes sense,” Flash admitted, taking it pretty well.

“Wait, do you speak Italian?” Peter asked, feeling suddenly very naked for some reason. There’s something slightly unnerving about speaking in a language you think no one else can understand and then learning maybe someone did understand it. He immediately began mentally reviewing everything he’d said to Tony.

But, thankfully, Flash shook his head. “No, but I can tell when I’m being threatened. What did he say anyway?”

Peter felt blood rush to his cheeks. “N-nothing,” he stuttered.

“He called Peter his baby, that’s why he’s blushing so much,” Ned cut in, and Peter jerked his head around to stare at his friend with wide eyes. “Please, he calls you bambino so often I just looked it up,” Ned said, rolling his eyes. “I think it’s sweet.”

Peter glared at his best friend, and turned to defend himself to Flash, but if he expected Flash to be teasing him for the childish term of endearment, he was completely mistaken. If anything, Flash looked a bit forlorn. He shook the expression off as soon as he realized Peter was looking at him, but Peter knew what he’d seen.

So, Peter cleared his throat.

“Anyway, do you want to at least put on a TV show while we eat?” he asked.

That easily distracted both Ned and Flash with a debate about what to watch that they didn’t resolve until all the pasta was gone and the point was moot.

- SY -

They stayed up until three in the morning playing video games. Tony poked his head in at about two to scold them, but it was half-hearted at best. He didn’t actually care because it wasn’t a school night. At two-thirty, they lost Ned. He nodded off mid-game. Neither Flash nor Peter moved to wake him. By three, their eyes were fatigued from the screen and they were mentally exhausted from a long week of school, so they shut off the game and curled up on the beanbags under a pile of blankets.

Peter was drifting somewhere between awake and asleep when Flash whispered, “Peter? Are you awake?”

He managed to mumble his affirmation as he rolled over. It was only mostly dark in the room, so Peter was able to make out Flash’s eyes. “Yeah? Did you need something?” he asked in low tones.

“No,” Flash said quickly. “I was just wondering… why did you invite me?”

Peter hadn’t expected that, so he didn’t know how to answer it. There was something about the hour. When it was this late at night, it felt like no one else existed. Well, besides Ned, snoring away on the other side of the room. It gave this illusion that you could say anything and it would have no consequences. It would just stay blanketed in the dark room, swallowed by the silence of the night. Maybe that’s why Flash looked more vulnerable than Peter had ever seen him before. It compelled him to answer honestly, but he didn’t think the truth was exactly what Flash wanted to hear.

“MJ suggested I invite you,” Peter admitted. “You looked like you’ve been having a hard time lately. And I consider you a friend. Thought it might cheer you up.”

Flash didn’t answer for a long time. Peter thought he might have actually fallen asleep and considered rolling over and going to sleep himself, but just as he’d given up on getting a response, Flash said, “You’re lucky. Like, I know you lost your parents and your uncle, and that sucks, but you are. Lucky.”

Peter stared up at the ceiling. His so-called Parker luck worked in funny ways. He’d lost a lot, and yeah, what wouldn’t he give to have his parents and uncle back? But at the same time, he didn’t think he’d give up everything he’d gained from and in spite of those losses. They were apart of him now, and Flash was right. He was lucky, in some weird, twisted way.

“Because I have my family?” he whispered back. “Tony and Pepper and May and everyone else.”

“Yeah,” Flash said.

Peter didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure how to, and he wasn’t sure he should. If Flash wanted to talk, he’d listen, but he wasn’t going to push what was clearly such a sensitive topic.

After a long minute, his patience was rewarded. Flash rolled over so his body was a bit closer. “My parents don’t want anything to do with me,” he said. “My father is always away on business and my mom… I don’t think she even remembers her own name she’s so far down a bottle. He promised this weekend that he’d come home and spend some time with me, finally. Cancelled the other day. Don’t know what else I was expecting.”

Peter bit his lip. When things were bad after Ben, May had to work so much overtime just to make ends meet that Peter hardly saw her. He knew that loneliness, but at the same time he also knew May would have given her left arm to be able to spend time with him. And Tony and Pepper, they could get really busy with SI, but they always made found some way to spend time with Peter. Even if it was just video calls, even if they had to physically take him with them on the trips.

“Flash…” Peter didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t exactly a psychologist. He wasn’t even that good at articulating his thoughts. He barely even knew Flash, in the grand scheme of things. But he knew he was supposed to say something.

“Never mind. I don’t even know why I told you that,” Flash rushed to say. “Just, forget it Parker, I-”

“I’m Spider-Man,” Peter blurted out.

Silence fell over the room. Even with his enhanced senses Peter couldn’t hear anything. Not a single breath or heartbeat or tick of a watch. That was probably just the panic clogging his ears though. Because Peter had no clue why or how he’d just said that.

“I-I mean-!” Peter stumbled over his words. He felt his breath hitch.

“I’m sorry, what?” Flash demanded.

It was absurd. Puny Penis Parker couldn’t be Spider-Man.

That’s what Flash should be thinking. What he might have been thinking six months ago. But, even in the dark, Peter could see Flash quickly connecting the dots. And really, it was obvious. Who else would it be when you put any thought into it? And Flash wasn’t stupid. Of course it was Peter, the only person missing from their decathlon trip to DC three years ago. Peter, Iron Man’s adopted son, with an ambiguous story of how they first met. Peter, who showed up with inexplicable injuries, who went missing from school during times that line up perfectly with Spider-Man’s appearances in the field with the Avengers. Peter, who if you paid careful attention, would randomly excel beyond human reason in gym if his attention slipped.  

“Holy fuck,” Flash said loudly. “You’re Spider-Man?!”

He couldn’t deny it. “You were spilling your guts,” Peter said accusingly, feeling no small amount of panic well up in body. “It was like it was contagious or something!”

“Holy SHIT.”

“Was’ goin’ on?” came Ned’s half-asleep voice.

“Peter’s Spider-Man that’s what’s going on!” Flash rasped.

Ned snapped awake in a second, laughing nervously. “Peter? Spider-Man? Pffft, what makes you think that?” he asked, voice going three octaves higher than normal.

“Because he just told me,” Flash retorted. Peter wasn’t even sure what emotion Flash was experiencing right now. Was he angry that his favorite superhero was someone as lame as the kid he used to bully? Was he going to go straight to the press with his revelation?

“It slipped out,” Peter said weakly. “It just slipped out.”

Ned’s jaw dropped as he looked between them. “Oh my god, this is great news!” he said suddenly.

Peter glared at him. “How is that great news?!” he demanded. “I just spilled my biggest secret to someone who might not keep it!”

“I always thought I’d be the one to accidently tell everyone you’re Spider-Man! Wow, this is such a load off. I’ve been living with that on my chest for three years now,” Ned said.

At the same time, Flash piped up, “I won’t tell anyone.”

“You- wait, you won’t?” Peter asked, ignoring Ned for the time being and zeroing in on Flash with wide, desperate eyes.

Flash shook his head. “I mean. I’m going to need some time to adjust because holy shit but, I’m not going to tell anyone, Peter. I promise. And, I know my word isn’t much to you, but…”

The thing was, though. Peter did trust that Flash wouldn’t tell anyone. “No, no, I trust you. Just… thank you. Thank you,” he managed to get out. His throat felt tight. Like he might start crying from relief. He wasn’t ready yet for people to know. He could barely handle being Peter Stark to the public. He needed more time.

Flash awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. “I guess I’m the one who should be thankful,” he said slowly. “You could have handed my ass to me at any time. And you didn’t.”

“I’ve dealt with much worse injuries than being knocked around by a high school bully,” Peter said matter-of-factly, even though it made Flash flinch to hear.

“Yeah. I guess you have,” Flash said quietly. “So, who else knows?”

“Aside from Ned and the obvious? Just MJ,” Peter answered. “Uh, welcome to the club I guess.”

Flash lay back down on the beanbag and pulled the blanket up to his chin. “This has been the weirdest day of my life,” he told the ceiling.

Peter dropped back onto his beanbag like a marionette whose strings were cut. “Yeah.”

- SY -

Flash left the next morning before breakfast. Ned also departed, understanding that Peter needed some space to deal with his new reality. It wasn’t like anything had really changed. So one more person knew his secret identity?

It felt like a big deal.

Maybe if he’d meant to tell Flash he wouldn’t feel so sick to his stomach right now, but the fact of the matter was it had been entirely by accident. He wanted to sew his lips shut he was so stupid.

Tony found him in his room twenty minutes after his guests had left. He came bearing food, a box of donuts from Dunkin. “So, I heard Flash knows your spidery secret,” he said, cutting straight to the chase as he sat on the bed Peter was face-down on. Bear has his head resting on his thighs.

Peter rolled onto his back, annoyed to find tears had gathered in the corners of his eyes. “Did Friday snitch?” he asked, though it was the only explanation.

“Do I need to have my lawyers draw up an NDA?” Tony asked quietly, setting the box aside and reaching out to stroke Peter’s hair when he saw the distress on his face.

But Peter shook his head. “No, I don’t think Flash will tell anyone. I just… God, I can’t believe I told him that. It just slipped out. How is that even possible?”

“Iron Man was supposed to be a secret,” Tony said lightly. “Did I ever tell you that story?” When Peter shook his head, Tony continued, “Yeah, Shield came up with a cover story for me with all these witnesses who were going to swear up and down Tony Stark was partying on a yacht with them at the time Iron Man was blowing the reactor at SI. They gave me cards to read at the press conference and everything.”

Peter knew exactly what conference he was talking about. Everyone did.

“I told the whole world I was Iron Man basically the first time anyone ever questioned me about it,” Tony told him. “So, you’re already doing a lot better than me in the whole secret identity department.”

Peter sighed, and turned his body so his face was pressed against Tony’s hip, reaching out and sinking his fingers into Bear’s fur for comfort. Tony continued to pet his hair as he said, “It just feels like I keep slipping. You found out. Then Ned. Then the Vulture. I mean, there’s a supervillain running around out there that knows! And then May, and I know we told the Avengers and MJ, but still. And now Flash? I just…” he groaned in frustration.

“You just what?” Tony pushed.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I can barely handle all the attention I get as Peter Stark. What would I do if the whole world knew I was Spider-Man?”

Tony took a minute to gather his thoughts. “First of all, you handle the media beautifully as my son,” he said firmly. “Seriously, they all love you. You have them eating out of the palm of your hand. Second, you said you don’t think Flash will tell anyone, so don’t work yourself up over it, okay, mimmo? And last, if the time comes that your identity comes out when you aren’t ready, we’ll handle it together. You won’t be alone. I promise you that.”

Peter nodded, unable to speak. He was sure if he opened his mouth he’d start crying.

Tony seemed to understand. He stood up, and said, “I’m going to give you some space to process, okay? If you need me, I’ll be in the lab. Eat your donuts, they make everything better. And, call MJ when you feel up to it, okay? She’s pretty smart, I’m sure she’ll have something insightful to say.”

Again, Peter just nodded, and Tony smiled a sort of sad smile, and then left, shutting the door behind him. The donuts did sound appealing, so he opened the box and was delighted to find Tony had gotten him his favorite flavors, though one did have a big Tony-shaped bite taken out of it.

He pulled out his phone and texted MJ, Flash knows.

It was about eight in California, which was early for Peter, but he was sure Pepper and MJ had been up for hours. Five minutes later, Peter’s phone was ringing and he accepted the call from his girlfriend.

“Do I need to kill Ned?” MJ asked right off the bat. Her voice was kind of hushed and Peter imagined she’d stepped out of a meeting and was hanging around outside the door.

Peter sighed. “No, it was me. I told him,” he said. “Although we might have to watch Ned more closely. He seems to think it’d be okay if he accidentally told someone now.”

“Do I need to kill Flash?” was her next question.

“You sound like Aunt Nat, you guys have been spending too much time together,” Peter said, huffing out a laugh. Tony was right, he felt better already. “And no. I don’t think Flash is going to tell anyone. I just didn’t mean to.”

“Well, we’ll just deal with it,” MJ said. “Maybe it’ll be good that Flash knows. One more person who’ll be able to cover for your ass when you do something stupid.”

“Hey!” Peter exclaimed.

“I’m just being realistic,” she retorted. “Look, I need to get back in there, but I’ll call your later. Try not to freak out too bad.”

He sighed, wishing they had more time to talk. “I won’t. Talk to you later.”

- SY -

Monday came although Peter had been dreading and anticipating it in equal measure. With Monday came MJ’s return to New York, but it also meant Peter had to see Flash again. He wasn’t sure how the other boy was going to treat him. Flash was a notorious Spider-Man fanboy, and Peter was half worried if he didn’t end up hating Peter for being Spider-Man, he’d, even worse, revere him for it or something.

MJ made it back in time for lunch, beating Flash to their table in the back by a few minutes, so Peter had Ned and MJ by his side when Flash dropped his lunch tray on the table and then slid into his seat. Peter braced himself, but Flash just opened his milk carton and started eating lunch.

“Flash,” MJ acknowledged.

“Have you guys started that essay yet?” Flash asked.

Peter let out a sigh of relief.

“Well, he’s taking it a lot better than Ned did,” MJ commented, smirking.

“Come on,” Ned complained.

- SY -

“DAD,” Peter shouted as he sprinted out of the lab at two in the morning. As he skidded into the hallway, he couldn’t even wait for the elevator to come to his call and instead took off up the stairs, climbing the wall when that route was too slow as well. He burst onto the common floor of the compound. “DAD!”

But the only person in the common room was Wanda. She was scowling at Peter because he’d startled her into dropping a handful of popcorn. “You are the worst,” she hissed, licking the butter of her fingers and turning her attention back to the show she was watching.

Peter glanced out the window and was surprised to find it was dark out. “Wait, what time is it?”

“It’s two-thirty-seven,” Friday answered helpfully. “Might I remind you that Boss and Lady Boss had to go back to the city for business and won’t be back until tomorrow evening?”

“What? They left and didn’t tell me?” Peter asked.

“No, they said goodbye to you before they left at two in the afternoon,” Friday told him. “You said goodbye back.”

Peter furrowed his brow. He must have answered back on autopilot. He hadn’t even been aware of the passage of time let alone that his parents had poked their head into his lab to tell him they were leaving. Feeling deflated, Peter sank into the couch next to Wanda.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. “Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll bite. Why did you run in here like your ass was on fire?”

“I finished testing my project and it’s successful so far and I wanted to tell dad about it,” he explained, twisting the hem of his sleeve. “Now I have to wait until morning. If he’s with mom then she definitely put him to bed early.”

Wanda sighed and reached for the remote, pausing an episode of Law and Order: SVU before twisting to face him. “Okay, tell me about the project,” she said.

Peter could physically feel his face light up before he launched into explaining how he’d found Tony’s old Iron Legion in storage about a year ago. When he’d found out they’d been designed to assist the Avengers in crowd assistance during their fights before Ultron had highjacked them, he’d thought they were an incredibly underutilized resource. These were basically Iron Man suits, though they didn’t contain any weaponry, which meant they had could lift incredible amounts, perform all kinds scans, and they were pilotless, which meant the could go into hazardous sites without risking a life.

He’d asked Tony if he’s ever used them for search and rescue instead of crowd management and his father had just stared at him blank-faced for a long moment. Apparently what Peter had thought was obvious, Tony hadn’t considered. And so, Iron Legion 2.0 was underway.

“Jarvis used to control them,” Peter explained breathlessly to Wanda. “So I’ve coded and raised a new A.I. I named him Ben, and he controls them now.”

The new and improved Iron Legion was capable of flying into areas affected by any disaster from aliens to earthquakes to assist rescue efforts. They could use infrared to scan collapsed buildings, bodies of water, anything really, and calculate the most efficient way to get the victims out safely. Ben was also well versed in emergency medical practices. That combined with his x-ray feature which made him invaluable for triage units.

When he was done talking his mouth was dry and he was starting to feel that it was two in the morning. He yawned, laying back to stare at the ceiling and said to Wanda, “Sorry for talking so much. I was just super excited.”

Wanda didn’t say anything and Peter pushed himself on his forearm to check that he hadn’t put her to sleep with his technobabble. But Wanda was definitely awake. She was staring at him with wide eyes, one hand pressed to her mouth. Then he noticed the tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and he began to panic.

“Are you okay?” he demanded, sitting up more fully. “I didn’t mean to- actually, I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry if I made you cry, holy crap, I mean-”

“Peter,” she cut in. She was shaking her head rapidly, but when she lowered her hand he saw that she’d been covering a watery smile. “Shut up, okay?”

He opened his mouth to apologize again and then promptly snapped it shut with an audible click.

Wanda took a moment to gather herself. She wiped away the tears, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then pulled Peter to her chest. “You’re incredible, mladší brat,” she whispered into his curls.

Peter squirmed a little at the sincere words. The warmth in his chest was part pride and part embarrassment at the praise. “Why were you crying?” he asked.

They stay curled up on the couch and Wanda whispered, “Did I ever tell you how my parents died?” When he shook his head, she started, “We were just having dinner. Pietro and I were ten. A shell hit our apartment, and it took our parents.”

“Wanda,” he tried to say, but she covered his mouth with her buttery popcorn fingers.

“The whole building was already collapsing when the second shell hit. Pietro and I were trapped under all this debris, but the second one, it didn’t blow up. We- we were stuck for two days just waiting for something to set it off, waiting to be found,” she told him, her voice cracking on the words, wobbling like dreidel that hadn’t been spin with enough force. The tears traced a path down her cheeks.

Peter wrapped his arms around her, adjusting their position so she was cradled against his chest instead of the other way around. Wanda settled her head so she could hear his heart beat and they lay in silence for a long minute.

“You invented a good thing,” she mumbled.  

- SY -

Wanda had called for an emergency girl’s night the next day.

Because it wasn’t a scheduled night, she had to make do with the women who were currently at the compound. So, the call was sent out in the group chat and it was decided it would be hosted in Wanda’s room with Pepper, Natasha, Peter, and Loki in attendance. Peter and Loki were honorary girls and Natasha, who had made this declaration one night before dragging them off to a meeting, wouldn’t share why they made the cut for the exclusive fortnightly meeting when no other male on the team qualified.

Peter didn’t care. He loved girl’s night.

When Pepper and Tony finally made it back to the compound, Peter got five seconds to tell his dad his good news before Natasha showed up and dragged him and Pepper off to Wanda’s room, leaving Tony spluttering in the dust.

Wanda was setting out the Chinese take-out she’d ordered and Loki was sprawled on the bed when they got there.

“Here’s your uniform,” Wanda said, throwing Peter’s white unicorn onesie at him, which he caught deftly.

She was already wearing her rainbow one, and Loki was stripped of any intimidating persona in his black cat onesie. Pepper’s was actually Iron Man themed and she loved it, but under no circumstances was Tony to find out about it. In fact, Natasha, with her soft blue Stitch onesie had forbidden photography during girl’s night under pain of death.

Peter changed in Wanda’s bathroom and when he came out it was to Natasha and Loki bickering over dividing the dumplings. He went straight to the sesame chicken, never really one for dumplings. He thought they looked too much like brains. If he accidentally saw the inside of one before he ate it, he wouldn’t be able to put that thing in his mouth.

He served himself a heaping plate with lo mein, sesame chicken, broccoli in brown sauce and a colorful array of sushi. As he settled on the bed next to Loki, Natasha handed him a wine glass with sangria.

“Did you put bourbon in this again?” he asked, sniffing the ruby concoction suspiciously.

She rolled her eyes. “I made a separate pitcher for you and Wanda, don’t worry. It has extra brown sugar and orange juice.”

“Good. I don’t like my alcohol to taste like it has alcohol in it,” he said, not for the first time. The sangria wasn’t enough to get him drunk with his metabolism, but it did make him a little giggly and he liked the way it tasted.

“Amen to that,” Wanda called from her spot on her beanbag chair. She tilted her own glass in his direction as if to toast him.

“Children,” Loki said over the rim of his glass, but his tone was less scathing and more fond.

“Okay, as the person who called this emergency session, I want to watch The Devil Wears Prada,” Wanda declared.

“Miranda Priestley is quite possibly Meryl Streep’s greatest character,” Pepper says agreeably.

“Please, it’s like you’ve never seen Mamma Mia,” Wanda scoffs.

Peter pauses in shoveling noodles in his mouth to pitch in, “I used to love The Devil Wears Prada movie when I was a kid, but then as I got older I started hating the ending. Aunt May and I used to watch it at least once a year.”

“Why don’t you like it anymore?” Wanda demands, finger hovering over the play button on the remote.

He shrugs. “It’s just, Andy’s friends were so unsupportive of her career, I guess? And Nate got so mad when she missed his birthday party. It’s not like she forgot either, she even went and got him a special cupcake and everything. I don’t know. It’s just, MJ has to leave all the time for SI stuff and sometimes she has to back out of plans but even if I'm a little sad cause I'll miss her I’m mostly just proud of her. I can’t imagine being angry because she’s successful and busy.”

Pepper reached out and ruffled his hair. Natasha just smirks. “And that is why Peter’s an honorary girl,” she said grandly.

“Wait, what?” Peter asked, head tilting to the side.

“Why am I here, again?” Loki asks, trying his best to look annoyed but the look really lost its edge because Wanda had reached over at some point and pulled his hood with cat ears up.

“Good taste in fashion,” Natasha said sagely. “Plus, sometimes you look like you’re two seconds away from stabbing Thor and when we braid your hair it calms you down.”

Pepper nods. “That’s true, your hair is your weakness. Imagine how fast the Manhattan invasion would have been over if we’d known that back in 2012.”

“That is false,” the trickster god almost snarled. It fell flat and came across like a pout.

“Oh, so Peter shouldn’t braid your hair later in the evening?” Wanda asked teasingly.

Loki didn’t say anything for a second. “The spider-child is good at weaving,” he finally settles on, which wasn’t a confession though it was pretty close. “Hand me the soy sauce.”

Graciously, they all let the topic drop, and Peter tosses the soy sauce he’d been hoarding for his sushi.

“So, are we watching The Devil Wears Prada or…?” Wanda asks.

“Oh! I didn’t mean to say we shouldn’t watch it,” Peter injects. “May and I still watch it all the time.”

“Perfect,” Wanda said, finally pressing play.

Friday helpfully dimmed the lights enough so they could enjoy the movie, but not so much they couldn’t see their food.

- SY -

One movie and three bottles of wine later Peter was using his chopsticks to pluck the alcohol-soaked apples from the bottom of the pitchers. Part way through the movie Natasha had demanded Loki use his magic to retrieve some stronger alcohol. He’d procured Natasha’s favorite vodka and some Asgardian mead for himself. Now all of them, besides Peter who wasn’t allowed to be more than tipsy until he was twenty-one (maybe not even then knowing his Dad), were sufficiently drunk.

Peter somehow always ended up the responsible sober one. But if he was being honest, he didn’t think he’d enjoy being drunk. It would probably wreak havoc with his spider senses. He didn’t even like the way painkillers dulled his senses when he was stuck in the med bay.

“Petey,” Wanda sang. She was hanging upside down off the beanbag which meant her face was totally flushed, though part of that might have been the alcohol. She was a bit of a lightweight. “Can you- can you braid my hair for me?”

“Are we doing a braiding line already?” Natasha asked. The only way you could tell she was intoxicated was the rosy hue to her cheeks. Other than that, her speech and reflexes were as on point as ever. “Loki! Braid my hair.”

“No, shan’t,” Loki replied lazily. His eyes were closed and his arms were crossed behind his head.

Natasha growled and swung her legs to straddle Loki. With a mean glare she began insistently poking him in the chest with her pointer over and over again. At first, the god put on an air of indifference, but, as Peter retrieved Wanda’s brush and her hair supplies collection, he saw Loki’s cheek begin to twitch.

“You mewling quim,” Loki eventually snarled, eyes snapping open. “I will snap your pathetically fragile neck.” Though despite that threat he still didn’t bother to move.

“Loki,” Pepper said lightly, swirling a glass of wine.  

The god sighed in exasperation. “Get off me and remove your ridiculous hood and maybe I won’t rip out your ostentatiously red hair while I’m braiding it.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Natasha said decisively, tugging her hood off and turning her back to Loki. “Do your worst.”

Peter ended up giving Wanda two perfect Dutch braids and Pepper only wanted a simple fishtail braid straight down the middle. He mostly just played with Loki’s hair. Brushing it out and then twisting little braids and unraveling them just as quickly. He was almost purring under Peter’s hands, and Peter was reminded why Loki’s onesie was a cat.

From there, Wanda insisted on painting his nails a very pretty shade of blue and Natasha dug out a bottle of black nail polish for Loki. By three in the morning he was so exhausted Pepper guided him back to his room and had to help him into bed.

“Night, sweetie,” she murmured as she pressed a kiss to his head.

“Night, mom,” he mumbled, already turning over and burying his face in the pillow.

- SY -

“Oh my gosh, mom, you look stunning!”

“Tony isn’t going to know what hit him when you come down the aisle.”

Pepper, for the first time in Peter’s memory, blushed under his and May’s praise. But they weren’t blowing hot air, Pepper was a vision in white. The dress was simple. As it had been explained to Peter, who didn’t know much about fashion, it had a scoop neckline with three quarter length sleeves and an open back. The bodice was all lace and pearls and the skirt was silk that fell to just above her ankles.

When she put the veil on, she teared up in the mirror. May immediately rushed forward, prepared with a packet of tissues that she pulled from her purse.

Pepper and May had been sneaking off to the bridal store for months and today, exactly three weeks before the wedding, the final alterations were done. Peter had been thrilled when Pepper had asked if he’d wanted to tag along.

“You should have done Say Yes to the Dress,” Peter piped up.

A wet chuckle broke through the tears May’s tissues hadn’t been quite able to contain. “I don’t think I want my tears to be recorded for entertainment,” Pepper told him, smiling. She hadn’t quite been able to pull her eyes away from the mirror.

May fussed over her, arranging the skirt and adjusting the veil and pushing Pepper’s orange hair behind her ear. “But the wedding is being recorded, correct? Because, I want Tony Stark’s tears to be immortalized,” she joked.

“Then you should just catch him watching Marley and Me,” Peter said. “That gets him every time. In fact, I’m sure it’s saved somewhere on Friday’s servers.”

No one responded to his quip though, because they were all too busy staring at Pepper in the mirror again. Peter was just excited for his parents to finally tie the knot.  

Chapter Text

April

“Wake up! It’s the big day!”

Aunt May’s voice filtered in through the haze of his dream. It hadn’t been a nice dream. Actually, it’d been a weird stress dream. Peter dreamt he’d been back in middle school and running late trying desperately to find the train he was meant to take to school. In fact, even as he opened his eyes with the knowledge that it was a Saturday he couldn’t completely dispel the tendrils of anxiety the dream had wrapped him up in.

Then he abruptly sat up when he remembered what Saturday it was. The press had been drooling about it for months. Pepper Potts and Tony Stark were getting married today.

May pushed open the door to his room. She had her cell phone balanced between her shoulder and her cheek as she used both hands to get her left earing into place. “No, he’s awake,” she was saying to whoever was on the other line. “I know this is a lot to ask, but don’t worry about anything today, Pepper. All you need to do is put on your dress and marry that fool of yours. Nat and I have the rest handled.” She got the earing secured and then pressed the phone to her sweater as she addressed Peter. “Get dressed and grab the rest of your toiletries and throw it in your overnight bag, okay? Breakfast is out on the table, baby.”

“Thanks, Aunt May,” Peter chirped. “Can I say hi to mom?” He made grabby hands at phone and grinned when May acquiesced.

She put the phone back to her ear and then lightly rolled her eyes. “No, Pepper, everything is still fine. Our boy just wants to say hi… Okay, I’m putting him on.”

Peter gratefully accepted the phone and said as May left the room. “Morning, Mom!”

Pepper’s warm voice greeted him. “Good morning, Peter. Are you excited?”

“Am I excited?” Peter gaped, choking on a snort of a laugh. “You’re the one getting married and then running off to Italy for her honeymoon. I should be asking you that!”

Pepper laughed, but there was something a little off about it. “Well, I’m sorry, dear, but I wasn’t the one who had such a strong opinion about how the napkins were folded that I spent the entire day on YouTube looking at tutorials.”

“That’s not fair, the Sydney Opera House napkins were clearly superior to the swans!” Peter started to protest. “And before you say anything, it really has nothing to do with that Sherlock episode, although, I’m just saying, it’s really weird how similar Doctor Strange looks to Benedict Cumberbatch. And actually, while we’re on the topic, Dad really looks like that other dude who plays Sherlock in the movie adaption, what’s his name again, it’s like Robert something or other- hey!”

His mom was laughing again, cutting him off mid rant. This time though, the strange, slightly strangled quality was lost. She was genuinely amused. “Sorry, honey, it’s just, I don’t even have to see your face to know you’re doing that thing you do when you start talking about your conspiracy theories. The little nose wrinkle.”

Peter relaxed his face and was horrified to discover he had been wrinkling his nose. “Was not,” he said weakly, but that only caused Pepper to start giggling again.

“All I was trying to say was that you’re very invested in the wedding succeeding,” Pepper told him after getting her peals of laughter under control. “It’s endearing,” she continued. “Thank you for all your help.”

“Well, someone had to stop Dad from getting an Iron Man ice sculpture for the reception… and you were in Germany for that conference,” he said lightly.

“I taught you well,” Pepper replied in the same tone. “I have to go tie up some lose ends at SI before we leave for the honeymoon. I’ll see you later, Peter. Love you.”

“Bye, mom! Love you too!”

He hung up the phone. When he emerged from his room, Happy was at the table drinking coffee from his favorite mug which seemed to have migrated from his own apartment. May was sitting on his right, intently staring at her iPad. Peter new her checklist was open and she was double checking all her duties for the day to run as smoothly.

“Good morning, Happy!” Peter said cheerfully as he sat down across from the older man where May had left out a plate with approximately all the eggs in Manhattan.

Happy grunted in response. Apparently, this was only his first coffee. The man wasn’t much for talking until his second cup, although that didn’t stop him from giving Peter a disgruntled look when Peter began shoveling eggs into his mouth at an alarming rate.

“Honey, slow down,” May said without looking up.

Peter did. Barely. He still probably finished too quickly for Happy’s taste, but May had glanced at the clock approximately six times in the last minute and Peter was pretty sure she wasn’t above leaving him behind if he didn’t finish packing quickly enough.

With that thought, he put his dishes in the sink and then backtracked and put them in the dishwasher when Happy gave him a look before hastily throwing his toiletries in his bag and meeting Happy and his Aunt at the door.

Wanda’s yellow buggy was idling at the curb and Natasha leaned out the passenger side window and said calmly, “There’s a veil crisis we’re stopping at the bridal boutique on the way.”

May cursed and then kissed Peter on the head and Happy on the cheek before getting in the back in a whirlwind. “See you at the reception, boys!” she called out as Wanda hit the gas and the tires squealed on the asphalt.

Happy put his hand on Peter’s shoulder and guided him towards the black townhouse car. “Alright, let’s go pick up Tony.”

- SY -

Months ago, Tony and Pepper had purchased a lake house in upstate New York a few hours’ drive from the city. The property had been gorgeous from the pictures Peter had seen, but the actual structure had been in a total state of disrepair. In fact, Tony had the whole thing knocked down and had designed a sustainable eco-friendly house in its place.

That’s where they were driving now. They’d picked Tony up from the Tower, having rescued him from his walk-in-closet where he’d been panicking and trying to find the correct pair of shoes (not having realized Pepper had left them out for him on the bed specifically to avoid this exact scenario).

Peter had never actually seen his dad this type of frazzled before. Panicked sure, they all had attacks from time to time. Nervous wreck, well, Peter was in the med bay more times than he cared to admit from patrol accidents and Tony always got this look in his eyes when Peter got more than a scratch. But this?

“Dad, that’s the wrong foot,” Peter had said when watching Tony put his right foot into his left shoe went from amusing to mildly concerning.

Tony paused. “Of course,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Rhodey, who was in the passenger seat while Tony and Peter were in the back of the car, snickered to himself.

“Honeybear, I’m betrayed,” Tony said, pouting in a way that would give Peter a run for his money.

Of course, that just made Rhodey laugh even harder.  “Sorry, Tones,” he said even though he clearly was not. “I haven’t seen you this spaced since you accidentally at that whole plate of pot brownies sophomore year.”

Peter coughed to cover his laugh. “What?” he demanded.

“Nothing, Underoos, your poor uncle Rhodey is just confused,” Tony said quickly, glaring at his best man.

Rhodey had just put his hands up and turned back to the front of the car. By the time they got to the lake Peter had just finished witnessing Tony wiping his sweaty hands against his starched white shirt for the fifth time. He didn’t get what Tony was so nervous about. He’d been dating Pepper for years now, it wasn’t as though she was gonna leave him at the altar.

“You’re an idiot,” MJ told him when Peter reported his confusion to her over the phone. MJ was with the girls getting ready while Peter was sequestered on the opposite side of the house with Happy, Rhodey, Steve, and Tony.

Guests had been arriving for the last thirty minutes, taking their seats and enjoying the view of the lake. The altar was set up under a willow tree by the dock.

“MJ,” Peter whined.

“He’s not afraid that Pepper’s going to get cold feet,” MJ said, and Peter couldn’t see her, but he was pretty sure she was fondly rolling her eyes. Well, at least, he hoped it was fondly.

“Then why is he so worked up?” Peter asked, keeping his voice low. Not that he was terribly concerned about Tony overhearing despite the fact that he was just on the other side of the room. He was so busy pacing back and forth that he hadn’t even teased Steve for struggling with his bowtie for a full five minutes.

“Figure it out yourself,” MJ said, and then she hung up on him.

Peter sighed and tucked his phone into his pocket, fidgeting with the collar of his dress shirt. God, he hated being in formal wear. It brought up bad memories of caskets and gravestones.

It wasn’t until he was standing up at the front of the service with the rest of the groomsmen when he though he understood an inkling of what Tony was feeling.

MJ was a vision in sunny yellow. Wanda was in front of her wearing a powder blue dress and Natasha and May, as co-maids of honor, quickly followed in pale pink, but Peter only had eyes for his girlfriend. He rarely saw her in dresses. It wasn’t that MJ was against traditional forms of femininity, she owned dresses, it was just that MJ liked to kick her legs up and make herself comfortable by making others slightly uncomfortable, which was slightly impractical in any kind of skirt.

Peter almost missed Pepper’s grand entrance. If it wasn’t for MJ jerking her head towards the aisle, he would have missed it completely.

The actual ceremony was relatively short. Peter couldn’t remember anything accept when Tony fumbled the ring with fingers that were normally so sure and his spider-senses kicked in, catching the hand-made band before it could hit the floor.

When the wedding officiant said, “You may kiss the bride,” Tony apparently came back to his normal suave self and dipped Pepper. She laughed and smacked him lightly on the chest before giving in and kissing him.

Peter gravitated to MJ when Tony and Pepper had made it all the way back down the aisle, but didn’t get a chance to properly talk to her until after they were all finished taking photos.

“You got a little,” MJ gestured to Peter’s chin jokingly, and Peter glared half-heartedly.

There was only supposed to be a small blip between the ceremony and the party, and Peter knew it was because Pepper was changing into a more practical dress to dance in. There was a flurry of activity around them as chairs were cleared to make a dance floor and the caterers brought the food out. Peter tuned them out.

“Yellow is a good color for you,” Peter told her sincerely, having long ago learned not to tell her she looked pretty so directly. MJ would only turn the compliment on its head just to watch Peter squirm.

But MJ blushed uncharacteristically, glancing down at the knee-length, silky material. She was wearing fully white converse, Peter noticed with a smile. “Thanks,” she said, and she didn’t even tag a ‘loser’ on the end, which is how Peter knew she was being unusually serious.

“Guys! Guys! I can’t believe I was at Iron Man’s wedding, I mean, wow! Are we allowed to post any photos to Instagram cause I know Mr. Stark was being real uptight about the paparazzi and cameras and stuff but I totally snuck my phone out anyway.”

Ned had apparently finally caught up to them, beaming and nearly tripping over himself in his excitement.

“Ned,” Peter said, exasperated. Tony had been threatening the press for weeks about unwanted paparazzi. There would be one official wedding photographer, and he’d been adamant about plastering the poor guy in NDAs. For the most part, Tony didn’t expend much energy worrying about his own privacy in the press, but the second his family was involved he suddenly got very scary about the invasion.

“Okay, fine, I won’t post them on my main account, just my finsta,” Ned reasoned but when MJ punched his shoulder the boy yelped and finally said, “Okay, okay! My eyes only! Oh hey, is that Thor playing with Bear!”

Peter watched his excitable best friend rush off towards the god of thunder who was in fact throwing a frisbee for Bear to lumber after.

MJ caught his eye and they started to laugh. Peter hoped Ned would never change. When their full-bellied laughs had tapered off into giggles, MJ reached out and grabbed Peter’s hand, intertwining their fingers. His pulse jumped, but he squeezed back. The sun tickled his nose and made MJ’s brown eyes look gold.

Peter swallowed hard and imagined if MJ’s dress was white instead of yellow. The thought wouldn’t leave him alone. It followed him to dinner, distracted him from the speeches, and was a silent third wheel on the dancefloor where he was still so flustered by it that MJ ended up leading him around.

- SY -

The official party ended relatively early in the evening. Considering it was still only early spring and had been an outdoor party, this made sense. Peter had waved goodbye to Ned, the Barton’s and Lang’s with their young children also made their exit. The Royal Wakandan family were next. Peter watched Nick Fury slip away silently (the man was not as sneaky as he could have been). Doctor Strange and Wong caused a bit of a scene when they used their sling rings to portal back to the sanctum. One by one the Avengers trickled off the property to the nearby hotel Tony had offered to put them up in, until only the core of their family remained.

But even then, Happy left briefly to drive Tony and Pepper to the airport where their private jet would take them to Italy, and May retired to their room. Rhodey had drunkenly stumbled off in the direction of his own room thirty minutes ago, leaving Peter and MJ alone in the living room.

MJ had a glass of red wine caught between her pointer and middle finger. Her legs were tossed over the side of the loveseat she was lounging in and her dress was hitched up near her waist because of it. Peter had tried very hard not to notice the fact that she had a freckle on the outside of her thigh up close to her hip, but that didn’t stop MJ from noticing him noticing and smirking at how he blushed.

She abandoned her wineglass on the coffee table and rearranged herself on the chair, folding her body elegantly to make enough space for him. “C’mere.”

Peter toed off his dress shoes and joined her. When he’d made himself comfortable MJ flopped sideways again, this time casting her legs across him. There must have been a light rainfall the night before because the earth had been a bit soft, most of the woman had abandoned their high heels at some point, and MJ’s white converse were a bit muddy.

Without thinking he started to undo the laces and pulled them off her feet, neatly placing them on the floor.

“How forward of you,” MJ said lightly.

He would have blushed earlier in the evening, but there was something soft about the lighting and MJs tone. Peter didn’t rise to her barb. He just slipped off her socks as well, and pressed his fingers into the arch of her foot. They’d been dancing all evening, surely, they were a bit sore.

MJ groaned lightly, proving his theory correct, and melted into his side, eyes fluttering shut.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked suddenly.

She didn’t open her eyes, but she hummed and said, “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not actually a mind reader.”

Peter back tracked, mentally reviewing what he’d just said and realized he’d given her no context. “Getting married,” he clarified.

MJ opened one eye, the one that wasn’t semi-squished against his shoulder. “I don’t have a Pinterest board with dresses and color schemes if that’s what you’re asking,” she replied, the snarky comeback second nature.

“Hm, that’s odd, because everything I know about you makes me think that you would,” he replied in kind.

For a second, he considered leaving it like that. He hadn’t actually meant to ask her that question anyway. But then she closed her eye again, unconsciously curling further into his body. Her nose pressed up against the juncture of his neck and shoulder

“I meant…” he paused, searching for the right words. They were so obvious, and yet so hard to actually say. “To me. Do you ever think about getting married… to me?”

It was silly to ask. They were still only seventeen. Both of them had summer birthdays, so they’d always been the youngest in the grade.

MJ didn’t respond immediately, and if Peter’s senses weren’t so acute, he might have assumed she’d fallen asleep. But apparently, she was just formulating an answer, because finally she did say, “Not before today,” leaving the ‘but I have now’ unspoken.

“Same,” he said. He’d started the conversation but now he was unsure of where to take it.

Luckily for him, MJ took pity on him. She cracked open her eyes and smirked at him. “Oh yeah? Gonna get down on one knee for me, Parker?”

“You didn’t hear this from me, but hypothetically there’s money on you being the one to one day get down on one knee,” he said. He might not have ever put heavy consideration into his marital status and how MJ would factor into that in the future, but other people with nothing better to do had and those same people enjoyed teasing him.

MJ snorted. “Who would have guessed that the Avengers are all nosy, gossiping Aunts.”

Peter smiled and MJ smiled back. And then, Peter wasn’t sure who moved first, but he became privy to the knowledge the red wine MJ had been drinking was still lingering on her tongue.

“Oh, god, take that to a bedroom.”

Peter and MJ separated and gave twin looks of annoyance to Happy who’d made it back from the airport and was standing at the threshold of the living room with a hand over his eyes. Normally, Peter thought he’d be embarrassed, but honestly, he considered this payback for all the times he’d stumbled upon May and Happy making out since they’d come out to him.

“You really wanna tell two teenagers to take that into a bedroom?” MJ asked, relishing in the way Happy’s face twisted into a grimace.

“I’m going to sleep,” he muttered.

Peter almost started wheezing he was laughing so hard.

Chapter Text

May

Of course, Stark Industries waited until Tony and Pepper left on their honeymoon to have a crisis. While the CEO and owner of the company were in Italy for two weeks, that left Rhodey in charge by default. And it was Rhodey who showed up at Midtown during lunch to pull Peter and MJ out of school.

Literally showed up during lunch.

He didn’t text to warn them, or have the front desk make an announcement, he landed in the War Machine armor outside the doors (never let it be said that Tony was the only dramatic one between the two), marched in, and knocked Peter’s chicken nuggets out of his hands.

“No time for food,” Rhodey said sternly. “Ned can bring your things by later, let’s go.”

The whole cafeteria was staring at the scene they were making, but Peter’s focus was on his nuggets which had fallen onto the floor next to a discarded, empty bag of cool ranch Doritos. “Uncle Rhodey,” Peter whined. “What…?”

“SI emergency. I need you and MJ to come in,” he said curtly, grabbing Peter by the scruff and herding him towards the door. “I promised Pepper she could relax and I’m not gonna call her unless I really need to.”

“But I skipped breakfast this morning,” Peter said mournfully, glancing back over his shoulder at Ned who was cackling, filming the encounter on his phone with no remorse and already eating Peter’s leftover chicken nuggets with relish.

One of his special protein bars was thrust under his nose by an irate MJ. “Do I have to scold you for missing a meal with your metabolism?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, and damn, if she didn’t look like his mom in that moment.

He peeled back the wrapper, took a bite and immediately pouted, “Ugh, lemon,” he murmured under his breath.

MJ was distracted by something on her work phone, but she still managed to tell him, “Cookies and cream bars are for little boys who don’t skip meals.”

Peter took another sulky bite but made no further comment.

Rhodey snorted to himself. They left the cafeteria through the back, the way Rhodey came in, and Happy was already there with the townhouse car, impatiently tapping his foot and leaning against the passenger side.

They all piled into the car, Rhodey retracting the suit into the housing unit. The second the door was closed, Happy hit the gas.

“So, what’s the big problem?” Peter asked.

MJ glanced up from her phone, “Someone actually managed to get in past Friday?” she asked incredulously, holding her phone out so Peter could read the email she’d received from the security department.

Peter read through quickly and his eyebrows shot into his hairline. “She’s okay right?” he asked, concern for the AI bleeding into his voice.

“Yes, Peter, I am fine, thank you,” Friday’s voice said from Rhodey’s watch.

“This was a finesse job,” Rhodey explained.

Peter breathed out a sigh of relief. He’d never met the late Jarvis, but Tony had told him about his first AI and long-time companion. There were bad days when the man couldn’t stand to be around Vision if he spoke, but those were few and far between. Peter couldn’t imagine life without Friday, or Karen for that matter.

“That’s impressive,” MJ said. She sounded as cool as always, but the small furrow in her brow was giving away her worry over the situation.

Rhodey waved her off. “Yeah, yeah, Tony can hire this person after we’ve caught them.”

“If they’re so good why do we know at all? What have they done?” Peter asked.

The older man sighed heavily, leaning forward to pinch the bridge of his nose. Peter only saw him do that when Tony was being particularly… himself. In the rearview mirror, Happy had pressed his lips into a thin line.

“They’ve gotten control of the audio on every floor of the tower,” Rhodey said slowly.

“And…?” MJ pressed.

“Spice Girls,” Happy grunted from the front. “For about forty minutes now. Any time the tech guys try to turn it off it just gets louder.”

Peter let that sink in for a moment before a laugh bubbled up in his chest. “I’m sorry you pulled us out of school cause of the Spice Girls?”

“They’re worried it might be a distraction,” MJ said seriously, she was typing rapidly on her phone.

He sobered a bit as he considered the possibility. Still. Spice girls. “Are we sure…?”

“I already asked Shuri,” MJ cut in without glancing up. “She says she has nothing to do with it.”

“Okay,” Peter sighed, turning to face Rhodey. “So, what do you need us to do?”

“You know Friday’s coding almost as well as Tony,” Rhodey said. “I want you to kick whoever this is out, and keep them out of the important stuff. I need MJ on damage control- some of the staff are panicking. And they like her better than they like me.”

His girlfriend smirked behind the screen.

They pulled into the underground garage at the tower, and sure enough, ‘Wannabe’ was blasting at an unreasonable volume that had Peter wincing. Before they went separate ways, MJ reached into Peter’s back pocket and pressed his sound blocking earbuds into the palm of his hands. Then she strutted off towards the conference rooms and Peter, after stuffing the buds into his ears and sighing in relief, followed Rhodey to Friday’s server room.

“I just don’t get it,” Peter muttered as he began sifting through Friday’s coding.

“What?” Rhodey asked. He’d been pacing up and down the length of the room impatiently.

Peter sighed heavily and gestured to the screen. In another fifteen seconds he had the music stopped and Rhodey sent him a thankful look. “This wasn’t a distraction. This person, literally all they’ve done is play music. They haven’t even attempted to get into anywhere important, and I don’t doubt they could have. It’s like they’re just- oh.”

“What?” Rhodey asked again. He’d stopped pacing and was staring over Peter’s shoulder.

But Peter wasn’t interested in that anymore. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Well, I was almost right,” he said absently.

“About what?” the older man demanded in exasperation.

Peter scrolled part way down his contact list before he found who he was looking for. He put the phone up to his ear and said to Rhodey, “About accusing Shuri.”

Rhodey’s face twisted in confusion.

The other line was picked up almost immediately and before the person he called could even get in a word Peter was saying, “Spice Girls? Really, Keener? You know I got pulled out of school for this.”

Understanding slammed into Rhodey like a freight train. The man threw his hands up into the air and with a huff he was marching out of the server room, presumably to call off the code red.

“I didn’t get invited to the wedding. I was starting to feel like y’all had forgotten about lil ol’ me,” Harley Keener said, really pumping all the faux-hurt he could into his words.

Peter rolled his eyes. He’d only met Harley in person a couple of times, typically over summer vacation, but that didn’t stop them from texting all the time and calling on occasion. The blonde was about a year older than Peter, and currently attending Caltech, purely to spite Tony, Peter thought.

“You were invited,” he said. “You RSVP’d no, citing, and I quote, ‘allergies to over emotional love-fests’.”

“Okay, you got me,” Harley replied easily. “And it took you long enough to figure out it was me. By the way, why isn’t it the old man who’s calling to chew me out?”

Peter shut off the light as he left the room and started towards the elevator that would take him to the penthouse. “Because he just got married and is on his honeymoon, you dolt,” he said. “Dad doesn’t even know about this yet, hence my chicken nuggets being on the floor of the cafeteria.”

“Your chicken nuggets?” Harley asked, sounding amused.

“On the floor of the cafeteria,” he reiterated. “You owe me lunch.”

The elevator doors slid open to reveal MJ with a scowl on her face. She held out her hand and Peter mercilessly handed his phone over and stepped back to enjoy the show.

“Keener,” MJ nearly growled into the phone. “Give me a reason, and it better be good.”

Peter didn’t even have to strain his ears to hear Harley’s stuttering. The few words he managed to get out apparently hadn’t been enough to satisfy MJ and she immediately tore into the older boy. Peter thought Pepper would be proud.

- SY -

When Pepper and Tony got back from their honeymoon three days later, glowing and golden, Harley got a phone call wherein Pepper gave him another thorough dressing down for wasting company time and inciting panic. Tony followed up by congratulating him on a prank well done.

“If you can get past Friday’s firewall, maybe Caltech hasn’t been completely useless,” he admitted on the phone, though it looked like it pained him to do so. “Anyway, I’m here with the answer to your cry for attention.”

As it turned out there was a one weekend overlap between Caltech’s spring break, and Midtown’s spring break. On that weekend, Tony had set up a get-away for the parent Avengers, enlisting Peter’s help as babysitter. Cassie, Lila, Cooper, and Nathan were already going to be visiting, why not throw Harley into the mix as well. That was Tony’s theory, at least.

So, on that Friday, Tony and the hoard of children he’d agreed to look after waved their parents and May off to the Hamptons.

Tony had Nathan on his hip and he peered over his sunglasses at the other two Bartons and Cassie Lang, and then over his shoulder where Peter and Harley were waiting. “There’s only six of you,” he said. “How hard could it be?”

Harley smirked at Peter, and Peter thought Tony would eat those words by dinner.

- SY -

Peter was wrong.

Dinner was fine. The younger kids were thoroughly distracted by Tony showing off his little-known skill of pizza tossing. He made a few pies, and left the kids to put on their own toppings. The kitchen was looking worse for wear, but the kids were happy and fed. Tony was looking particularly pleased with himself, sipping coffee from his #1 Dad mug despite the hour (and no, Peter had not been the one to purchase that- he strongly suspected Tony had bought it for himself).

“Let him have a night,” Harley had murmured under his breath to Peter between bites of his Hawaiian pizza. He didn’t even like pineapple on pizza, but apparently sacrificing his taste buds was worth the disgusted curl to Tony’s lip when Harley thrust a slice under his nose to ask if he wanted a bite.

Similarly, the rest of the evening passed breezily. They watched Frozen 2 while eating ice cream directly from the tub, Tony managed to orchestrate their nighttime routines with only a few bumps, bedtime stories were read to those who wanted, everyone got tucked in, and Tony’s smug grin was getting increasingly wide.

“Pepper told me Tony’s trying to prove he can handle younger kids,” MJ said when he’d called her to say goodnight.

“Oh,” Peter replied, he was hanging upside down from the ceiling. “But, why?”

“I’ll let that sink in for a second,” MJ told him dryly.

It took Peter a long second to process what she meant. “Oh,” he said. “OH.”

“There it is. And they call you a genius,” she said wryly.

“So, if Tony can make it through the weekend they’re going to try for a baby?” he asked.

There was a long-suffering sigh on the other end. “No, of course not,” she replied. “Look, you didn’t hear it from me, but Pepper is already open to trying. Tony still thinks he has to convince her though and he’s being extra. What else is new.”

Peter hummed to himself. “That explains why he waited until my break, and why he invited Harley this weekend. Extra hands, extra eyes. Though, he didn’t account for one thing.”

“And what’s that?” MJ asked.

“That Harley lives to make his life harder.”

- SY -

It was the very next morning when Harley revealed his grand plan.

Peter had gotten up early, or, relatively early for a Saturday over spring break. Tony had gotten all the kids to bed at such a reasonable hour that he’d felt himself drifting off too while reading Nate a bedtime story. That’s why he was able to witness Harley sneaking out of his room and into the kid’s rooms.

“We’re gonna wake up Uncle Tony with a surprise!” Harley told him when Peter had raised his eyebrow inquiringly. Harley shared a devious smirk with Cassie, who was a little trouble maker all on her own.

Peter trailed along curiously as the caravan of kids snuck into Tony’s room. Pepper was, thankfully, at the compound this weekend handling the renegotiation of some points in the Avengers/SI business contract. So, Tony was all alone in the huge bed, spread eagle and snoring into the pillows.

“GOOD MORNING, UNCLE TONY!” Cassie shouted at the top of her lungs when Harley gave her the go-ahead, before diving into the bed, quickly followed Lila and Cooper.

Harley had Nate in his arms, but happily dropped the three-year-old onto the bed so he could crawl all over a disgruntled Tony too.

He’d shot awake, clearly startled, and clutched a hand to his chest as he muttered under his breath in Italian. Harley was bent over laughing at his expression, and Tony glared at him briefly before focusing on the kids in his bed who were demanding breakfast.

“Can we have pancakes? Please?” Lila was begging.

Tony was beginning to look a bit like a dear in headlights. Peter was sure he was remembering the last time he’d attempted to make pancakes. More flour had ended up the ceiling than in the actual batter. To this day Peter is not sure how that happened. In any case, Peter took pity on his dad and walked over. He scooped Lila and Cassie off with ease and held them upside down over his shoulders.

“How about we go start pancakes and Uncle Tony can get Nate all taken care of,” he suggested. “Cooper, let’s go.”

Tony mouthed, thank you, to Peter before he disappeared out the door.

“Spoilsport,” Harley whispered at him when he passed.

By the time Tony joined them in the kitchen with Nate, Peter had managed to get breakfast on the table. The man was looking significantly calmer. Nate’s clothes weren’t inside out and his shoes were on the right feet- he’d honestly done better than Peter had expected.

“Unca T’ny?” Cassie asked through a mouthful of pancakes.

“Swallow then speak,” Tony chastised, pointing at her with his fork.

Cassie did, then said, “I want to go to Dylan’s Candy Bar. Can we?”

“Sure,” Tony said indulgently, “I don’t see why-”

“Oh!” Lila interjected, “Can we see a Broadway show? Please? The Lion King, no! Hamilton!”

Tony set down his fork, his easygoing smile beginning to wane. “Well, even I might have a hard time getting last-minute tickets to-”

Cooper cut him off with an over-exaggerated snore, “Ugh, no, not Broadway! I want to go to the Natural History Museum!”

“Museum!” Nate repeated, slamming his hands into the table.

“I want to go shopping in big fancy stores with a fake British accent!” Cassie practically screamed.

From there an argument broke out about what they should do. Over the din, Harley whistled sharply and the kids’ mouths snapped shut. “Thank you,” he said when he had their attention. “Fellow children, why argue over one thing or the other, when you can do all of it?”

“Harley!” Tony hissed, but the kids were already cheering excitedly.

And Peter winced. They only had two days. You could spend two days in the museum alone. As the kids began chattering loudly about all the things they wanted to do and see, Peter leaned over to Tony and whispered, “If you want to make some calls about the Hamilton tickets, I can keep the horde entertained.”

Tony sighed, already reaching for his phone and nodded.

- SY -

“I don’t know whether to be impressed with Harley or not,” MJ said.

Peter grunted, “Or not.”

“Come on, Peter, you have to admit it’s a bit funny,” Ned told him.

“I don’t have to admit shit,” Peter retorted, leaning his head against the car window tiredly and watching the scenery pass by.

After the longest, most hectic weekend of Peter’s life had finally ended, Tony had offered Peter, MJ, and Ned the use of the Lake House for the last week of their spring vacation. That’s where they were headed now. MJ was at the helm, with Ned riding shotgun, and Peter sprawled in the backseat trying not to fall asleep. Long car rides tended to have that effect on him, and after helping his dad wrangle three kids and the man-child known as Harley for two days, his body wanted the rest.

He must have fallen into a light doze after all, because the next thing he knew, Ned was shouting, “Holy shit! That’s Captain America!”

And Peter pushed himself up in the seat to see Ned was right. Steve was on the porch, waving and smiling. Bucky was at his side as well.

“This is private property!” MJ called through the open window as she parked the car.

Steve grinned. “What, you thought Tony would let you stay up here for the whole week without adult supervision?” he asked wryly.

“Uncle Steve!” Peter whined. “Ned’s literally turning 18 in two weeks!”

“And I’m gonna be 101 in two months, but you don’t hear me bragging about it,” Steve retorted. “Come on, could be worse.”

“Yeah, it could just be Stevie,” Bucky joked, ducking instinctively when Steve went to swat the upside of his head in retaliation.

Despite the token of protest he’d put up, Peter was actually kind of excited to have Bucky and Steve there. For one, they wouldn’t be living on frozen dinners, cereal, and takeout like he’d expected they would this week.

They chucked their bags into their rooms, quickly changed into swimsuits, and ran down to the lake front with Steve shouting at them to put sunscreen on the entire way. Their feet pounded the dock and the sunlight glinted off the water.

“Cannonball!” Ned screamed.

The water was cold and Peter’s teeth were chattering the second he was under, but they’d come to a lake house and god damnit they were gonna swim in the lake if it killed them. MJ popped up next to him, laughing in a carefree way that made Peter’s heart stutter. 

“It’s gonna be warmer tomorrow,” she said. “Your lips are turning blue already, Peter.”

“G-great,” he managed, and then yelped when hands reach down from above and he’s being plucked out of the water like a half-drowned kitten. “H-hey!”

It was Bucky, and he was wrapping Peter in a towel while muttering about how Peter couldn’t thermoregulate and was an idiot. And Peter was loath to admit it, but the cold water had quickly leached what little energy he had from his body. He was exhausted all over again.

MJ leaned her arms on the dock and smirked at him.

- SY -

The next day, the temperature hit ninety degrees by the early afternoon and Steve gleefully revealed the three paddle-boards he and Bucky had bought and hauled upstate. Peter had never been on a paddle-board before, but found it pretty easy. MJ had dared to bring a book with her and sat cross legged in front of Peter as they explored the lake.

“Using your spider stickiness is cheating!” Ned complained after he wobbled and fell into the water for the third time in a row.

“I wasn’t aware there was a competition,” Peter replied.

“Competition?” Steve called over eagerly. He and Bucky had been on the last paddle-board, wrestling and trying to throw each other into the water a good few yards away. Not even Captain America and the Winter Soldier were willing to risk incurring MJ’s wrath if they accidentally got her book wet. “We could race!”

His distraction cost him, and Bucky swept his feet out from underneath him with a well-placed kick. Steve yelped and flailed his arms, but ultimately lost his fight with gravity and ended up belly-flopping into the lake while Bucky hollered in victory. His triumph was short lived though, as Steve swam under the paddle-board and flipped it.

Steve resurfaced, and started to say, “We could race to-” only to be cut off as Bucky popped up from the water and wrapped himself around Steve like a koala, pulling him under.

“With each passing moment I can feel Ned’s hero worship finally wearing off,” MJ muttered, even though she was smiling fondly.  When Steve and Bucky came up again, gasping for air, she called sharply, “Boys!”

The two super soldiers stopped trying to drown one another immediately.

“You learned that voice from Tasha,” Bucky said accusingly.

MJ shrugged, and turned back to her book.

“Look at that huge boulder!” Ned said suddenly.

Peter glanced over automatically and whistled. They’d drifted past the middle of the lake, and could now make out the far bank. The boulder was probably twenty-five feet high, about as tall as the house, and Peter’s sharp eyes could make out a rope tied to a tree hanging over the water up at the top.

“I want to jump off that rock,” he said decisively.

“We could race to it!” Steve said excitedly. “Loser has to do the dishes tonight.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but Peter was intrigued. “Loser has to do the dishes every night,” he countered.

Steve got a competitive glean in his eyes. “Bet.”

“Oh my god,” Ned whispered. “This is the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Ned, MJ, and I vs. you and Bucky,” Peter offered.

Bucky nodded sagely. “The centenarians vs the teens. It’ll look real bad for you three when you lose to a couple of hundred-year-olds,” he said.

“It’s on,” Peter said. “Ned, get up here. MJ, put the book down… please,” he added at the last second.

MJ marked her page and then put her book in a Ziploc bag she’d brought. “Peter, would you-?”

Peter had already hit the trigger on his watch that called out his web shooters, and webbed MJ’s book to the paddleboard so it wouldn’t be lost as she helped Ned climb up top with them.

“First team to the top?” MJ offered.  

“Sure,” Steve replied, and then with no warning he shouted, “GO!”

“Hey!” Peter shrieked, but Bucky and Steve were already gone, Steve laying belly down on the board with his legs dangling off the back end so he could kick, and Bucky paddling like mad on top.

Ned spluttered as he caught the backsplash of Steve’s powerful kicks. “Okay, plan?”

“Ned, move to the back and get ready to kick. Peter, do you have your waterproof webs on you?” when Peter nodded, MJ continued, “Make a towline, you’re gonna be pulling us.”

As quickly as his clever fingers could, Peter weaved the requested makeshift towline, giving MJ one end and then with a bit of awkward maneuvering, attaching the other end to his back. MJ sat down, wrapped the end of the web around her hand and asked, “Ready?”

Peter dove into the water and gave a couple of experimental strokes. It was janky as hell, but his towline would do the job. He got MJ’s go ahead, and then took off, swimming like his life depended on it.

“Woah!” Ned yelped, momentarily caught off guard.

“Kick your legs, Leeds!” Peter heard MJ command.

He was slicing through the water like a shark, aided by Ned, and the rock was looking closer. They were catching up, but Steve and Bucky had gotten too big of a lead with their cheating cheater ways.

As if sensing his worry, MJ reminded him, “It’s a race to the top, Spider-Man!”

And, oh, she was clever to think of that stipulation. Bucky and Steve probably hadn’t given her wording a second thought. Their mistake was forgetting MJ was a CEO in training and that she ate contracts for breakfast.

By the time they got to the base of the boulder, Steve and Bucky were already well on their way up, finding foothold and handholds like they were part mountain goat.

Peter climbed on top of the board, and hauled Ned the rest of the way up. He braced himself, sticking his feet to the board and said, “Hold on tight!” then shot a web at the tree and pulled.

Ned was screaming, even MJ was screaming- she never had enjoyed swinging with him- as they rapidly ascended, rocketing past a gob smacked Steve and Bucky. The landing was rough, but once Peter’s ears stopped ringing from how loud his friends had been screaming, he registered their laughter.

MJ, already composed, leaned over the edge of the boulder to flip Steve and Bucky off. Ned, who’d wrapped himself around Peter’s leg like a child, rolled away, and lay face up to stare at the sky, giggling like mad.

When Steve and Bucky finally crested the top, it was with protests already on lips, but Peter basked in sweet, sweet victory. 

Chapter Text

June

group chat: 2 school 4 cool (11:39)

whiteboi: wish me luck guys im bout to take my drivers testttt

guyinthechair: ahhhhh good luck bro!!

myfriendscallmeMJ: don’t crash

guyinthechair: you just have to be as confident as possible

guyinthechair: like even if you’re running off the road you have to pretend its part of the plan

myfriendscallmeMJ: “remain calm, civilian, I am a trained assassin and that man was my target”

whiteboi: omg mj im not gonna run anyone over!

myfriendscallmeMJ: we hope

wakandanonsenseisthis: ha you americans are still driving your cars?? pfft

whiteboi: i hate all of you so much

guyinthechair: :’(

whiteboi: fine i don’t hate you ned but you’re on thin ice

- SY -

“I- I passed?”

The driving examiner adjusted his glasses, squinting at the clipboard resting on his lap as if searching earnestly for some error in his math that would prevent him from giving Peter his license, but eventually he nodded. “You did, congratulations, Peter.”

A weight lifted off Peter’s shoulders and he grinned. “Thank you, sir!”

“Yes, well,” the man blustered, waving off his gratitude and handing Peter the appropriate paperwork. He looked a little green at the gills.

Peter scrambled out onto the sidewalk, looking down the line of cars dropping off and picking up the teenagers taking their driver’s test. It didn’t take much effort to pick Happy’s town car out of the lineup. May and Happy were waiting nearby and Peter made a run for them, waving the papers in the air above his head as he hurtled toward them at a slightly inhuman speed to anyone paying attention.

“I passed!” he shouted, pulling back on his strength just enough so that he didn’t tackle May off her feet as he hugged her.

“I’m so proud of you, Peter!” May laughed, squeezing him back with all her might.

Happy’s hand clapped down on Peter’s shoulder. “It’s a miracle, kid.”

Peter pulled back from May’s embrace just long enough to scowl at Happy, but May dragged him back into her chest, rocking him back and forth. “You’re growing up too fast, Peter!” she bemoaned. “Next thing I know you’re going to be off at school and I’ll only hear from you when you need to figure out how to get a ketchup stain out of a white shirt!”

He let his aunt coddle him for a moment longer before he realized if he spent one more second with his face held hostage against her chest he might actually suffocate. He had to use a bit of his super strength, but he did manage to pry himself out of May’s grasp.

Happy took pity on him, and said, “Why don’t we go get burgers from that joint you like to celebrate?”

“Yeah!” Peter agreed readily. “But, we have to order something for Dad to take back. He’ll flip if he finds out we went to the Blazer without him and didn’t bring back a bacon cheeseburger.”

“So, is Peter going to drive?” May asked as she climbed into the passenger seat.

A weird croaking sound escaped Happy’s throat and his hand jerked, smacking against the mirror with a painful sounding thud. “That menace is not getting behind the wheel of my car,” he said quickly. “I just got it detailed!”

Peter would have taken offense, but he was grimacing too and added, “No way, the Blazer parking lot is a car accident waiting to happen!”

“Yeah, waiting for the kid to happen,” Happy stressed.

May put her hands up, glancing between the two of them with thinly concealed amusement. “Woah, just an idea, boys,” she said. “No need to get your panties in a twist.”

Peter crawled into the back, and Happy took his customary spot in the driver’s seat. Happy always drove Peter, even if he’d always complained about it good-naturedly. The thought of Peter driving Happy was too weird to comprehend. You just don’t mess with a good system.

They popped into the DMV to get Peter’s picture taken and deal with the paperwork before heading to the Blazer. The little burger joint was crowded, as was to be expected at lunchtime, but their favorite seat was open, and the hostess, Judy, waved them in with a welcoming smile.

“Hey, guys!” she said, not even bothering to give them menus. “No Tony today?”

“Boss had a meeting he couldn’t get out of,” Happy explained in a gruff tone that didn’t even phase the hostess.

She just nodded and said, “Your usual?”

“That would be lovely, thank you, Judy.” May smiled.

“And could you pack Dad’s order to go, please?” Peter requested.

“You got it!” Judy bustled off with a wink in his direction.

The three settled into a comfortable silence for a moment, and Peter pulled out his phone to check his texts. MJ, Ned, and Shuri were all offering him congratulations amidst some good-natured ribbing. With the road trip he, Ned, and MJ were taking coming up in July, he’d really needed to get his license.

“-isn’t that right, Peter?”

Peter snapped his head up. “Sorry, what was that, May?”

His aunt shook her head, smiling despite her exasperation. “I was telling Happy how Midtown celebrates the graduating class.”

“Oh, yeah,” Peter said. “We’ve got this, like, tradition, on the last day of classes. The seniors get out of morning classes and we can decorate a white shirt however we want, but usually people put their college logo on it and stuff, and then we get to wear them on the Senior Run.”

“What’s the Senior Run?” Happy asked, his nose wrinkled slightly like he already didn’t like whatever it was.

Peter laughed because Happy would hate the Senior Run. “We start at one end of the school and run through the hallways screaming while everyone else is in class and out onto the field where there will be food trucks and music and activies!”

“That sounds horrible,” Happy said decisively.

“Oh, hush, Harold, it’s great fun for the kids,” May chastised, lightly slapping him on the arm.

“We’re not kids, May!”

“Maybe we’ll take you seriously if you can say that without whining,” Happy told him.

And Peter rolled his eyes, but didn’t deny he’d been whining because upon mentally reviewing the interaction, maybe he had. Just a bit. Judy brought them their burgers, and the conversation moved on. Peter listened to Happy and May chat with a small smile.

He hadn’t seen May this type of relaxed since Ben. And maybe it should have hurt. Maybe it should have felt like May was replacing Ben, but it didn’t. It’d been weird at first. Really weird. But, as Peter watched Happy give May the extra pickle on his plate because it would make her happy despite the fact that Peter knew Happy loved pickles, he couldn’t help the warm feeling that spread throughout his chest.

They left forty minutes later. Happy held the door for May, clutching the bag with an extra burger and fries for Tony.

“We should go for lunch just the three of us more often,” Peter decided.

Happy jolted and glanced back at Peter with a rare flash of vulnerability reflected in his eyes. It occurred to Peter that maybe Happy had been nervous about Peter’s opinion of his relationship. They’d been dating openly in front of Peter since February, but they hadn’t really talked about it, about what it meant the more serious their relationship got.

“Yeah?” May asked softly, reaching out and squeezing Peter’s hand.

“Definitely,” he said.  

- SY -

On the last day of classes the art room was overrun with students scrambling for art supplies with which to decorate their shirts. MJ had to glare down a couple of boys for rights to the last bin of markers while Ned and Peter guarded their table, but it was worth it. Their once white shirts were now a riot of colors and they were beautiful.

MJ, the only one of the three of them with a modicum of artistic talent, was carefully copying a number of sketches from her ‘distressed people’ art collection onto her shirt. She’d given the Harvard logo a miss and was relishing rendering her classmates at their low moments with too much glee to not be vaguely scary.

“That one is my favorite of yours,” Ned said, pointing to her original sketch of Flash looking like he’d been slapped with a fish from back in September when Peter’s identity had been all but outed on the field trip.

MJ nodded sagely. “That was truly a blessed moment,” she agreed.

“Pass me the red marker, Ned?” Peter asked, making grabby hands.

Ned flicked it over, and then returned to his own monstrosity. He and Peter were sticking to tradition (or mindlessly following the crowd if you asked MJ) and drawing representations of their favorite moments of the year to surround the MIT logo. Peter needed the red marker for the Iron Man armor he was drawing. Flying in it, even for five seconds, was still one of the coolest things to happen to him.

“What the heck is that, Leeds?” MJ demanded, pointing to the stick figures he was working on with intense concentration.

“It’s when we went skating with Shuri!” Ned said defensively. “See, those are our skates, and that’s Peter falling on his ass.”

“Hey!” Peter complained.

Ned just shrugged. “Sorry, bro, but it’s not every day Spider-Man loses his balance and falls on his ass like that. It needs to be commemorated.”

MJ nodded in agreement before she reached over with a black marker and drew an arrow very clearly labelling the stick figure on its butt as ‘Peter B. Parker-Stark falling on his ass 12/8/19’.

Peter spluttered. “We aren’t supposed to write any profanity on the shirts!” he protested.

She stared at him unblinkingly as she underlined the word ass twice with bold strokes. “Whoops.”

He stuck his tongue out at her because he was mature, but let it go otherwise. He finished the Iron Man armor and then scrounged in the box for a green marker. Ned had given him an idea and he wanted to draw the Christmas tree he’d decorated with the Avengers that year.

“Do you have an orange marker?”

Peter glanced up to see Flash standing in front of them, holding his own t-shirt. The Caltech logo dead center was only partially colored in.

“Yeah, here!” Ned said brightly, pushing the orange marker that had been by his elbow over towards Flash.  

“Thanks, Ned,” Flash said with a nod and a smile before returning to his table.

The interaction was over in a second, but had Peter smiling down at his shirt as he colored in his Christmas tree. A lot had changed this year.

“Okay, seniors! Finish up what you’re working on! The Senior Run will start in ten minutes, don’t be late!” Mr. Harington called into the art room.

Peter hastily finished his Christmas scene, fondly remembering how the whole team had laid on the floor in the dark to watch the lights twinkle for a good twenty minutes. MJ and Ned put the finishing touches on their t-shirts too, and then they followed the streaming crowd of their classmates out of the art room and to the starting location.

The hallway was full of excited chattering, everyone complimenting each other’s shirts, and pulling out their phones for pre-run photos. Peter, Ned, and MJ managed to squeeze in for selfie, and the next thing Peter knew, Principal Morita was calling for their attention.

“On the count of three, you may commence running!” Morita said. “Remember, no pushing or shoving. One… Two… THREE!”

Morita had to leap out of the way and cover his ears, because as soon as he’d said three their entire class of 117 students was screaming like a pack of hyenas and thundering down the halls like the stampede that had killed Mufasa. Even with his headphones in to dampen the noise, Peter was blown away. Still, he was yelling too, so loud he knew his throat would be sore later.

The doors to every classroom were thrown open and the underclassman were piled up at the threshold, cheering and clapping, being almost as loud as the seniors. Their teachers were shouting out encouragements too, even if some of them were desperately covering their ears as they did so.

As Peter ran alongside his classmates and they passed all his old hang-out spots, the places where he’d laughed and stressed and lived, he realized this was good-bye. It was really good-bye. Part of him wanted to stop. Why were they running? It was all passing by too fast. His locker from freshman year was gone in a flash. The trophy case that held the championship trophies the AcaDec team had won was there and then gone in a blink.

He almost stumbled, but then Ned and MJ were there, each grabbing one of his hands. They pulled him along and Peter shook off his melancholy. Was he really leaving anything behind? The physical places, sure, but everything that made his time at Midtown special was coming with him to Massachusetts.

They burst out into daylight, somehow still screaming just as loud as they’d started. Neither Ned or MJ let go.

- SY -

MJ’s valedictorian speech had been short, but impactful. To be honest, Peter had been surprised she’d accepted doing one at all, let alone that she’d taken it as seriously as she had. When Peter had looked up at the podium while she’d spoken, he’d expected to see Pepper Potts reflected in her every movement. But MJ was her own person, and she’d captured him in a way entirely her own as she started, “I know that we all think we’re immortal…”

The applause when she’d finished had been raucous.

After that, Peter barely remembered walking across the stage. Barely remembered accepting his diploma and shaking Principal Morita’s hand. When he’d paused for his picture to be taken, though, he gotten a complete view of the crowd, and of his large cheering section.

The Avengers hadn’t even attempted to be discrete. They were there in all their glory, cheering and wolf-whistling. But no one was louder than his Dad and May. If they could have brought signs lit up with neon and covered in glitter declaring their pride for him, Peter was sure they would have. When Tony saw him looking, he grinned and flashed a peace sign.

They had to rent out an entire restaurant for dinner. There weren’t that many of them, but no culinary crew would have been able to handle cooking for a family full of enhanced metabolisms and the normal dinner rush on top of that.

Peter pulled at the collar of his dress shirt grumpily. He wasn’t sure who this formal farce was for. He would have been equally as graduated if they’d decided to eat at the Blazer in t-shirts and jeans. Still, it made his whole family happy to make this meal feel more special than any other, so he went along with it.

Besides, Tony had apparently bribed the restaurant owner to let Bear in, and watching his huge newfie lumber around in a black bowtie was worth suffocating in his own tie. Bear at least seemed to like the addition to his collar and trotted from table to table to receive love and attention with pride.

The sharp sound of a spoon clinking against a glass caught Peter’s attention, and he glanced to his left to see Tony standing up to make a speech. A mixture of excitement and trepidation, which had been the predominant combination of emotions he’d been experiencing all day, bubbled up in his stomach once again.

“Hello,” Tony said when he was certain everyone’s eyes were on him. “We all know why we’re gathered here today, and that’s to celebrate our Peter.”

A few cheers went up at the tables housing the Avengers. Peter felt the tips of his ears burn, but instead of sinking into his chair, he sat up straighter, not bothering to hide his small smile. Our Peter.

“I have a confession to make. I was going to begin my humble, little speech by saying ‘my son, Peter’.” Tony glanced at Peter with soft eyes, as if to convey that he’d never get tired of saying those words, before turning back to the rest of the room. “But then I realized I’d be doing him and all of you a disservice.

“Because Peter is not just my son. Or Pepper’s or May’s. He’s not just Ben’s or Richard’s or Mary’s- who would all be so proud of him if they could see him today- but he’s all of ours. Our son, nephew, cousin, friend. Our Peter. Who we will have to share with the world even more than we already are the older he gets. Here is a kid- man, that’s going to change the world. Who already has changed the world. Who I knew was going to change the world the second he had the audacity to web Tony Stark to his bedroom door.”

At that, Peter groaned audibly and put his head in his hands. Tony waited for the chuckles to die down before continuing. “But, in all seriousness, before we tuck into our meal, I just wanted to say how proud I am of Peter. And I wanted to say, that even getting a fraction of him is worth more than all the money in my bank account- which, by the way, is a sizable sum. So, I’d like for us now to all raise our glasses. To Peter!”

“To Peter!” the room chorused.

And Peter looked out at the room to all the people who’d come to celebrate him. More people than he ever could have imagined a few years ago. To May and Tony and Pepper. To Rhodey and Happy. To Steve and Bucky, Bruce and Thor and Loki, Natasha, Sam, Wanda. To the Wakandan Royal family, the Bartons and Langs and Harley. To wizards and gods and superheroes.

With his senses, he could hear all their hearts beating, all the people who he loved and was loved by in return. It almost knocked the breath of his lungs.

Everyone raised their glasses and then went to take a sip of their drinks. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Pepper put her glass of red wine to her lips, and without thinking, his hand shot out and caught hers in a vice grip.

His mom startled, almost spilling her drink. “What’s wrong Peter?” she asked in concern.

Everyone had frozen and was staring at him. It took Peter’s brain a second to catch up with what his ears had heard, but when he realized, a wide grin split his features. “The heartbeats,” he said, which wasn’t much of an explanation. He pressed on, feeling his own heart rate  pick up. “There’s one too many.”

“I don’t understand,” Pepper said, shaking her head.

“Peter…” came May’s cautious voice.

And Pepper was still staring at him in confusion, so he said, “Pregnant women shouldn’t drink alcohol, right? It’s bad for the baby.”

She gasped. Her hand flew to cover her stomach. To his left, something shattered, and then there was a thud. Peter didn’t have to turn to know Tony had dropped his glass before his knees had given out and he’d collapsed in the chair.

He saw Pepper swallow. “Are you sure?” she whispered.

Peter nodded. It was dead silent for a long moment.

And then, Rhodey’s voice rang out, “To Peter! And to Tony and Pepper’s second kid!”

The room erupted in cheers. A hand grabbed his, and Peter turned to see Tony gaping at him, mouth moving on silent words, before he was being pulled into a hug. It was brief, but Peter didn’t mind, because then Tony and Pepper were locked in an embrace, laughing and crying in pure joy.

Peter grinned. Yeah. Life was good. And it was only going to get better as his family grew.