Archive of Our Own

Michelle wakes up to a text from Peter saying he has a surprise for her, but she has to go all the way to Stark’s place in Manhattan to get it.

Terrible, really.

But it’s a late Saturday morning and she has nothing better to do. Her Uncle Jake volunteered for a 72 hour stake out and Amy is overseeing some training session, so she’s by herself. She makes a quick breakfast, calls her moms back, and then heads out the door, nabbing the keys to Jake’s car on the way out.

Except they aren’t there.

“Goddamn it,” she curses and pats her pockets down for her metro card instead before she rushes out the door.

It’s not that she dislikes Tony Stark; she’s never met him to make a fair assessment. It’s just that his whole media persona makes her nauseous. She’s smart enough to know that he’s been putting up a front of years, and if he’s got someone like Peter’s approval he truly can’t be that bad. Hell, he’s probably pretty tolerable. But ever since Peter outright shared his Spider-Man secret with her, Stark has kinda festered in the back of her mind, perpetually hitting a sour note on the keyboard of her thoughts. He’s the one that gave Peter the high tech suit, the reconnaissance tech, and probably the sporadic confidence boosts that can only come from another fellow superhero. He’s a big part of Peter’s life, one of his best friends, and a good one at that. But the bottom line is, he prepares Peter for bigger dangers. And even though Big Danger is something he will inevitably find on his own, Stark is certainly speeding up that process.

So not the biggest fan.

“Your AI has an attitude problem ,” Michelle announces once she finally, finally gets in the building. “She wouldn’t tell me where you were for like five minutes.”

Where he is, is underneath a ‘65 Mustang in Stark’s personal, fancy garage. His voice is muffled. “She’s not my AI, she’s Tony’s.”

“Is that supposed to explain the messing with me?”

“Uh, kinda?”

Peter’s lying on his back, on top of one of those rolling, mechanic things, and Michelle can’t resist jutting out a foot and pulling him out.

“You look like that guy from Greased Lightning,” she says flat, before she hands over his equally flat white coffee.

Peter lights up, oil and grime stuck in the dimple of one of his cheeks. “Well this car is automatic, it’s systematic it’s,” he takes a deep breath before his voice takes an unappealing screech, “ hyDroMa tic -”

“No, no,” Michelle attempts to push him back under the car; his hand comes out to slap against the front bumper before he goes under, the other still holding the coffee. She takes a sip of her own and says, “I don’t remember asking you to sing.”

“But that’s how life works. People bust out into song unannounced all the time.”

“I hate to break it to you, but your life is not High School Musical.”

“Damn. High School Musical 2?”

“No.”

“High School Musical 3: Senior Year.”

“No.”

“High School Musical 4: Romeo and Julliard.”

“That last one isn’t real.”

“But it should be.”

Michelle rolls her eyes and thinks one of these days they might actually fall out of her head. “If anything, you’re in a rendition of Grand Theft Auto.”

“That’s a video game,” Peter needlessly corrects her, setting aside the coffee he likely won't touch again and sliding back underneath the car. If course she knows it’s a video game. You can’t hang out with Peter Parker and not absorb this kind of nerd. Even though she’s pretty sure he’s never played that game. Goody two shoes and all.

She decides to ask. “Do you even play that game.”

“No.” Bingo. “Spider-Man stops carjackers he doesn’t become one.”

But she ignores that, reaching out to tap the front bumper of the car. “You stole this.”

“Borrowed. To fix it. Plus, that was like a week ago. You just noticed? You’re really off your game, MJ.”

She ignores the dig. “I had to take the subway here.”

“Aww, the subway?” he coos. “ Pobrecita.”

She kicks at the sole of his shoe and he laughs before the clinking of metal kinda drowns the sound out. His leg kicks out and kicks over the coffee. Typical. Her eyes do a quick scan of the car, buffed out and covered in primer, and she remembers the credit card she stole off Peter a few days ago, heavy in her pocket. Infinite access to funds and resources, the perks of being friends with Tony Stark, has led Peter to not only fix Jake’s car, but give it a complete face lift.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” she notes, running her hand along the roof of the car. The primer feels uncomfortable under her fingers.

“I know, but…” Peter trails off, sounding a little guilty. “It was too tempting. I’ve been dying to basically take apart a car and put it back together. May won’t let me really mess with hers, and then Jake just let me and his was so…”

“Fucked up?”

“...I couldn’t resist. Especially when you said he’d be busy with a stake out. He’s gonna love it. I basically rebuilt the engine. It’s been really fun!”

What a dork. “Please tell me you aren’t going to paint the hood with a giant Spidey emblem.”

“I thought about it -”

“-blegh -”

“- but no,” he finishes, laughing. “No Spidey emblem. Although, it’d be pretty wicked to have a Spideymobile.”

“You can’t drive.”

She can’t see him, but she can imagine his over-exaggerated shrug. “That’s what Jake’s for. He is my unofficial sidekick.”

Michelle snorts behind her coffee cup. “If Ned heard you right now, he’d die.”

“No he wouldn’t!” His voice gets all squeaky, defensive just with the implication of betraying Ned. “Guy in the chair and sidekicks are very different job descriptions, MJ.”

“Fair,” she admits, thinking back to the conversation they once had at the hospital when they were discussing radioactive induced heroism. “And I do believe you said that you were my sidekick.”

He shoots out from underneath the car, wearing a grin. “Still holds true.” He hops to his feet and greets her properly, leaning over to kiss her with a loud smack against her cheek. He looks forlornly at the spilled coffee for a brief moment before he shrugs it off and asks, “Wanna pick out the color for Jake’s car?”

“Blue,” Michelle answers, but she still follows him over to Stark’s computers and holograms where he has samples rendered. “That was the color it was before. I think. Underneath all the rust and dirt, of course.”

Peter breathes out a laugh, his attention more so on the screens before them. “Yeah, but I can do any custom paint job with this stuff,” he gestures vaguely over to a corner with a large, outdated looking robot squeaks to life, startling Michelle a bit. “Not you!” Peter yells, snapping his head up. “Leave the paint alone, DUM-E.”

The robot deflates, almost whining.

“DUM-E,” Michelle echoes, unimpressed. “I thought you’d be kinder to Stark’s machinery.”

“Tony named him, not me. And he’s not just machinery. He has feelings.”

“If that’s the case, you just hurt his by yelling at him.”

“Yeah, well, he deserved it. He doused me with the fire extinguisher twice this morning. He should be cleaning up coffee instead.”

Michelle looks around, trying to find scorch marks or ash. Something to indicate there was a fire in here. “What on Earth did you set on fire?”

“Nothing. That’s the point,” he glares at DUM-E, who turns away in shame. But Peter’s fake-glare melts away and his eyes shine with fondness before he goes back to typing a million miles an hour. “Pick a color.”

She arches a brow and leans over, shoulder brushing his. The screen blinks with a constant revolving rendering of Jake’s shit car. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Orange with black stripes.”

Peter doesn’t have to do anything. He simply calls on Tony’s AI with a firm, “FRIDAY?” and a module appears on the screens of Jake’s car, sharp orange paint with two long stripes down the middle. Wild, but it looks nice enough.

But nice isn’t what Michelle was aiming for.

“FRIDAY,” she says, “Make the stripes tiger stripes.”

She does, and Peter laughs at the sight. “Oh, man. All he needs is a Frosted Flakes endorsement and he’s all set. FRIDAY, keep the orange, nix the stripes, add a 51.”

It takes her a moment, but once the rendering is up, she gets the reference. “I’d bet Jake doesn’t even know what Dukes of Hazzard is.” She pauses, thinking Peter’s suggestion over, as she sets her coffee aside. “How do you know what Dukes of Hazzard is.”

“Uncle Ben. He always wanted a replica. I was always a Jurassic Park Jeep enthusiast myself.”

“Figures,” and she nudges Peter over with her hip so she’s front and center in front of the monitors. Peter moves behind her, one arm loosely wrapped around her. “FRIDAY, make it look like the dino-mobile.”

She replicates the colors and logo of the jeeps from the Jurassic Park movie, but it falls flat without it actually being a jeep. All of the renderings do. But that doesn’t stop the two of them for trying a million different options.

“Herbie the Love Bug.”

“Speed Racer.”

“Lightning McQueen.”

“Pizza Planet Truck.”

“Ghostbusters,” Peter says, word choked up in his laughter. When it shows up, Peter starts to snicker. It doesn’t look that bad, but she suspects Peter is imagining Jake driving some Ghostbusters knock off while he’s out policing and doing detective work. “Not very subtle, is it?”

“Oh, I got just the thing,” Michelle says, smirking. “FRIDAY, let’s see the Mystery Machine.”

When the rendering is done, Peter doubles over, wheezing. It’s like he’s an asthmatic ninth grader all over again.

“This is so fucking stupid,” Michelle mumbles as Peter keeps laughing. “What’s worse is that he’d love it.”

Peter’s eyes go wide with excitement. “Done! FRIDAY, go ahead and set the paint - mmph!”

Michelle reaches over and slaps a hand over Peter’s mouth. “Don’t you dare.”

He moves her hand and instead she jumps on his back, hands covering his eyes, as if that’ll do anything.  “Aww, c’mon! Why not?”

“Because I also have to drive this car.”

“Aha! An even better reason to Yabba Dabba Doo his ride.”

“That’s - that’s the Flintstones.”

“Ru-Roh!” Peter says in the worst Scooby impression her ears have ever had the misfortune to hear.

The realization is equally awful. “You set that up on purpose.” She jumps off his back with a sigh. She turns to grab her coffee off one of the work benches and enjoy the last few warm drops but Peter grabs her by the hand first, spinning her around and kissing her on the cheek.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not,” she sighs, but a small smile betrays her words.

Peter shrugs and yields. “Fine, no Mystery Machine. FRIDAY, Spideymobile.”

FRIDAY’s rendering is quick and detailed, which means Peter has more than just considered this paint job. “You’re such a dork .”

He takes it as a compliment these days, especially from her. His smile is still a thousand watts. He gestures to the screen, the mustang painted a blue chrome with a red spider on the hood. The most terrible thing of all is that...it kinda looks good. Not that she’d ever admit it to him.

But she doesn’t have to. Peter can read her like a book.

“You like it!” He accuses, a finger poking into her cheek. She attempts to swat him away but he wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “Admit it. The Spideymobile is cool.”

“I’d rather eat my shoe.” she ducks when he tries to plant a kiss against the shell of her ear.

He’s not deterred. “Look at it. Look at that metallic chrome. It’s amazing.”

“Your ego is getting bigger than Stark’s.”

“Not sure that’s possible.”

Both Peter and Michelle snap their heads to the left at the third voice to see no other than Tony Stark himself.

He’s dressed...plainly. Michelle has never seen him outside of televised press conferences and even when he was filled to the brim with fresh PTSD and Burger King after he got back from Afghanistan, he was still wore a tie. Now, he’s dressed like he’s raided Peter’s closet: a ratty shirt with what appears to be the caffeine molecule on it and jeans that have seen better days.

Peter brightens at his presence, and his hold on her waist loosens considerably until his hand falls slack against her arm. “Hey, Tony!”

“Hey, Pete,” he smiles back, but his eyes are entirely on her. “And you must be the infamous Miss Jones. It’s nice to meet you.”

It’s a pleasant surprise to see Stark unfitting to his media persona. His eyes don’t look so smug; they look kind. But that doesn’t mean she’s ready to put him her on his list of favorite superheroes. Spider-Man barely makes the list as it is. So she simply offers a two fingered salute and a tight smile in response.

Stark’s eyes linger for just a moment before he looks back at Peter, expression soft. The lines around his eyes become more prominent, but he looks happy. “How’s the car coming along? FRIDAY told me DUM-E has been giving you a hard time.”

“Yeah,” Peter scoffs, looking at said robot from across the room. He crosses his arms across his chest and Michelle is reminded of unfairly buff he really is. “Few mishaps with a fire extinguisher, but we’re all good. MJ and I were just trying to pick out some paint.”

Stark looks at the last rendering and laughs; Peter immediately flushes. “Your own little Spidermobile, huh?”

“Spideymobile,” Peter defends, trying to play it off cool. Spoiler alert: Peter isn’t cool.

“You’re adorable.” Stark says.

His nose wrinkles and Michelle internally agrees that Peter is, in fact, adorable.

“Need me to take a look at it?” Stark asks, running a finger along the hood like he’s swiping for dust. “Or maybe give a decent opinion on color?”

Peter’s grin is mischievous. “Michelle wants to paint it like the Mystery Machine, Mr. Stark, I’m trying to stop her -ow!” he yelps, laughing, when Michelle pinches him to get him to stop. “No, I’ll handle the paint. But if you could check over the engine? I think everything’s right, but I don’t want to….uh….”

“Kill anyone,” Stark finishes flatly, shooting Michelle a wry grin. “Good call.”

His nose wrinkles again. “I doubt the car would like, explode, or anything -”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but, uh, you were the one that blew up the Washington Monument, yes?”

“That was technically Ned and also not entirely our fault.”

Stark breathes out a laugh before he reaches over and ruffles Peter’s hair, pulling him into a half hug. “I’ll look over the engine, bud, no worries. In the meantime, why don’t you take Miss Jones out to lunch? I’m sure watching you play mechanic isn’t her idea of a fun Saturday.”

“Eh. It’s always fun to watch Peter flail.”

Stark laughs again, a little heartier. “Alright, lunch it is,” Peter yields. “Where do you want to go?” he asks Michelle.

She shrugs. “I dunno. Don’t really know what’s around in Manhattan.”

“Doesn’t have to be here. We could go to Queens. Brooklyn. Spider-Man can get us wherever pretty quickly.”

For the past several days, Peter has been trying to pitch the idea that swinging around New York at high velocity with all the dangers of snapping her neck is a good idea. She trusts Peter, she does, but this just doesn’t sound like a good idea. Or, fun for that matter. Michelle isn’t the biggest fan of heights. Or roller coasters. Or throwing up. And swinging on his webs sounds like she’d hit the jackpot for all three.

So she crosses her arms and says, “No. No swinging. We can take a subway.”

Peter starts to deflate, but before he can get too sad, Stark pipes in with, “Just take one of my cars.” He gestures to where he must keep the prim and pristine ones over yonder. “But don’t let Peter drive.”

“Duh,” she snorts, ignoring Peter’s protests. “Which one?”

“Any of them.”

“Seriously? You’ll let me drive any of your cars?”

Stark shrugs. “Sure. They’re meant to be driven. Have fun.” He gives Peter a little kick at the back of the shins and he fakes an exaggerated stumble into Michelle before wrapping an arm around her waist. “If I’m not here when you get back, just leave the car where you found it.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out two hundred dollar bills, and hands it over to Michelle. “Lunch is on me.”

Suddenly, she feels the need to fess up that she knows about the card he gives Peter that she...from time to time uses it as well, but she has a feeling Stark probably knows that. So she takes the cash without complaint. “Thanks.”

Peter ends up jumping into a convertible Audi, bright red and very Stark-eque. “I love this one,” he admits as she circles around and uses the door like a normal person. “Do you know what they call this model?”

“I’m afraid of the answer.”

“The Spyder.”

“I’m getting out.”

“No, no, no!” he laughs, tugging her back when she reaches for the door.

But she’s only kidding. “So many spiders,” she grumbles as she turns the car on, fiddling around with the settings as her phone automatically syncs up. Peter starts messing with the internal lights that flash different colors and ends up settling on a neon purple. “At this rate I should become an entomologist.”

“You can ask one, see if the fit is right,” Peter says. “Betty’s dad is an entomologist, he’s coming in for Career Day.”

Michelle’s slow press on the gas lifts up and she accidentally hits the brake a little hard. “Career Day,” she echoes.

“Yeah, I know. I can’t believe our chemistry class got slapped with choosing the participants and I -” he stops short, and she feels her eyes on him as she pulls out of Stark’s garage and into the streets. “Wait, did you forget?”

Yes. “No.”

“You did!”

She sighs. “Fine, I did. Blame it on my concussion.”

“Your concussion was almost a month ago.”

“Shut it.”

Peter does, leaning back into the seat. The hair whips at the curls that bounce at the top of his head and around his ears and he almost stays quiet for ten whole seconds. “May couldn’t get out of work, so Tony’s coming.”

She prides herself for not slamming on the brake in surprise. Seeing Tony in jeans and a tee being all nice to Peter was an acid trip in itself, picturing him at a PTA worthy event at their high school is another. “Pepper Potts wasn’t available?”

“No,” and Peter actually sounds sad about it. “I asked her first. Which, in turn, kinda made Tony jealous. It was fun. But she’s got a meeting she can’t reschedule. She does very important things, you know.”

“More important things than Iron Man.”

“Of course.”

“Sooo,” Michelle starts scanning the streets, trying to find places to eat, places to park. Manhattan isn’t really her scene, driving wise. “His career is what: superhero? Is that a BA or just an associates?"

"Certificate, actually. Comes with a shiny bow and Nick Fury's signature."

"Says the kid still in training," Michelle points out. "And don't you think superheroes are a bit of a selective field of study?”

“Nah,” Peter scoffs, digging around the glove compartment. He gives a little cry of triumph as he loots a pair of Stark’s designer sunglasses and puts them on. “Find a couple of spiders and you’re all set.”

She still can’t quite believe a radioactive spider did that to him, but it’s not like anything else makes sense. In fact, of most of the superheroes, Tony’s pretty much the only one who makes sense. He might just make her list after all for having a plausible origin story.

“He’s just going as an engineer,” Peter shrugs. “Electrical, mechanical, whatever they want him to talk about I guess.”

“Not a businessman? He used to be CEO of a Fortune 500 company, there aren’t so many of those.”

“He never liked business. Always liked engineering.”

“You do know they’re only going to ask him questions about Iron Man. And the other Avengers?”

Peter laughs. “I know. Abraham alone will ask a million questions about Bruce Banner and I promise you Tony will answer every single one of those. But first he’ll try to fit in a spiel about the wonders of engineering and MIT.”

That’s fair. She’d actually like to hear that.

“Are you going to ask Jake to come?”

Michelle grips the steering wheel a little more tightly that necessary. “Uh, I don’t know. Even if I hadn’t forgotten - “

“ - hah! - “

“-I’m not sure I would have asked them. If my moms were home, I don’t think I would have asked them, either.”

Peter frowns. “What, why not? Your parents have really cool jobs. One of your moms is an anthropology professor, that’s practically being Indiana Jones -” He stops suddenly with a gasp just as Michelle groans. “Oh my God. She’s Professor Jones!”

“Shush.”

"She really is Indiana Jones!”

“Trust me, I know. She never lets me forget it. Gave me the worst middle name ever.”

It takes her three seconds to realize she’s made the biggest mistake of her life.

And she once bought a Kylie Lip Kit.

“Your middle name is Indiana!?”

They come to a red light and Michelle has no reservations about letting her head fall forward, the horn going off.

He rips off the sunglasses. “Oh my God.”

She continues to bump her head against the wheel, letting the horn give off little beeps. Surely people are staring.

“I kissed Indiana Jones.”

Beep. “Keep talking and it’ll never happen again.” Beep

“I can’t wait to tell Ned.” Beep. “Light’s green, Indy.”

“Don’t call me that,” she tells him, but she lifts her head when the cars around them start to beep and forces herself to find a place to park. She’s hoping outside a prissy salad bar. Yeah. Yeah. She’s gonna make Peter eat a salad. That’ll show him. “Tell anyone this -”

She glances over and sees Peter on his phone. “I already texted Ned.”

A sigh. “If you two tell anyone my middle name, I will spill your identity, webhead. Which will make your life hell and Ned sad because he wasn’t the one to do it himself.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I got the Daily Bugle on speed dial. Try me.”

“Just how many times do you call them to file complaints for their, and I’m using your words here: shitty, deplorable excuse for journalism, in order to get them on speed dial?”

“A lot.”

“Well, don’t worry. I kinda like being the only one who knows,” Peter admits. “I mean, besides Ned. This secret holds so much power.” He’s practically twitching with his energy surge. “Is this what you and Ned feel like knowing I’m Spider-Man? This thrill? I’m feeling thrilled. A high. Michelle Indiana Jones is like, a drug.”

Michelle rolls her eyes and Peter continues to run his mouth as she finally finds a parking spot worthy of Stark’s bajillion dollar CEO-mobile. It’s in front of a McDonald’s, but like, a nice McDonald’s. There’s a play place and everything.

But as she’s reaching for the door to get out, Peter exclaims a “Wait, don’t move!” that freezes her in place. Her mind flashes back to the mugging a few weeks back and her eyes barely manage to follow Peter as he hops out of the car. Danger. Danger? She’s trying to see what’s wrong when he ends up circling the car and opening her door for her.

And just as quickly as the panic came, it leaves. She breathes a sigh of relief, and hastens to shove the keys and her things in her pockets so Peter can’t see them shake. He didn’t mean to make her nervous, he was just trying to be sweet. “Thanks,” she mumbles, slipping out of the car, and his confusion doesn’t go unnoticed. She’s quick to change the subject because trauma is not a fun lunch-time topic.  “I’ll ask my Aunt Amy to come to Career Day, okay?”

“Not Jake?”

She shrugs. “Amy and Jake do the same thing, but Amy made Sergeant. Women empowerment, you know? It’s no STEM career but we all know Career Day is gonna be a bit of a sausage fest.”

Peter pulls a face at her wording, but doesn’t disagree. “Amy’s cool,” he says, and she can tell he means it. He flashes her a pearly white grin. “She’s gonna kill it! Tony’s gonna love her.”

“You know who would love her more?” Michelle asks, as they step on the sidewalk. Peter’s quick to grab her hand and it feels so silly as they head for a McDonald’s. “Pepper Potts.”

“Ugh, I know! Amy’s organization skills are to die for. Pepper would love them. She’d take notes and give them to Tony. They’d trickle down into Avenger’s paperwork, believe me. Plans printed on Santiago customized stationary and colored tabs. God, I can’t believe she stuck me with Tony,” he pouts.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t mean that.” Peter says. His smile is back, the same kind that Tony had given him back at his place: warm and fond and kind. “He’s the best.”

He squeezes her hand. She squeezes back.

“Ooh, they have Lego toys in the Happy Meals!”

She’s suddenly struck with the thought of having to possibly pull Peter out of the Play Place.

When Michelle gets home, Amy is done with her training session, but Jake is still stuck in his stakeout. Rosa’s over and the two of them are looking over a strange combination of case files and what seems to be...homemade jewelry.

“Hey, honey,” Amy says. She sounds a little more tired than usual. Must have been a rough training session. Rosa offers a nod in greeting as Michelle shoves her shoes in the corner and drops her bag by the Die Hard movie poster hanging in the entryway.

“What are you guys doing?” Michelle asks. Case files are interesting but the jewelry is downright perplexing.

“Multi-tasking,” Amy explains. “I had said I’d help look over Rosa’s jewelry collection, but then Holt told me there was another….incident.”

Michelle picks up a necklace with a pendant in the shape of Saturn. It’s not something she would have pegged Rosa to make, but it’s nice. “Incident.”

“Well.. .incidents. ”

Michelle sets the necklace down, looks up, and waits.

“Three more people have reported being attacked with a crowbar,” Amy winces and looks at her like she can still see the remnants of the wound on her head. “The witness reports are a little lacking.”

“Seems like this guy is good at being sneaky,” Rosa adds. “But don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. Pieces are all here. Just gotta put ‘em together.”

With a nod, Michelle looks down and tries not to appear, well, like it bothers her. The little not-so-apparent episode with the car door freaked her out, yes, but it’s not like it’s a big deal. The truth of the matter is Michelle got attacked. She got robbed. And the fallout really hasn’t been that bad. So she’s had maybe two nightmares. So what? And sometimes she feels like she’s being followed, even though the majority rational part of her brain knows she isn’t. It’s not a big deal. She’ll get over it.

Hopefully.

But for now she’s desperate for a bit of a subject change. “Are open case files up for discussion at Career Day?”

Amy’s eyes go wide, her whole body jolting with excitement. Rosa just...blinks. “Career Day!? I loved Career Day! I didn’t know high schools still did that.”

“Yeah, me either,” Michelle shrugs. “But my moms aren’t home and...you and Rosa are both really accomplished women in your field? I know it’s not STEM but -”

“Yes!” Amy shouts. “I’m so there. Rosa’s in, too.”

Luckily, Rosa doesn’t argue with that. “Sounds fun. I love scaring children.”

“Rosa.”

“What?” she gruffs. “I pay attention. I know there’s some Grade A dickwads in her class. What’s the one always picking on your boyfriend? Has a name like a street drug.”

“Flash.”

“Yeah. Gross. I’ll bring my knives.”

“Rosa!”

“Intimidation factor, no slicing. Bullying for bullying. An eye for an eye.”

“That’s how you treat police work?”

“Of course not. This is different. Here,” she reaches down and picks up a pair of earrings shaped like daggers. “Take these. They’ll look dope with that hairpin.”

“I don’t think you can bring knives to a high school, Rosa,” Amy presses as Michelle puts in the earrings. There’s no mirror around but she supposes they look okay when Rosa offers a thumbs up.

“Okay. Taser.”

“Don’t know if you should bring that, either.”

Rosa rolls her eyes. “Fine. All I really need is a few rubber bands and a loaded stapler. You guys still use that stuff, right?”

Michelle gives a dreamy sigh. “You are so cool.”

And in a rare moment, Rosa smiles. “Back at you, mini-me. Now, try this pendant on.”

By the time Career Day rolls around, Michelle doesn’t really care much about exposing the school to her extended family. Amy’s cool. Rosa, definitely cooler, but hey, it’s all good. It’s not like anyone’s gonna remember anything else with Iron Man there.

But then, when Michelle uses her lunch break to meet them outside as planned, it’s not Amy riding in on the back of Rosa’s motorcycle.

“Oh no,” Michelle grumbles just as Peter nudges her with his elbow.

“I thought you said Amy was coming.”

“That was the plan.”

Jake is paler than normal as he and Rosa walk up to greet Michelle, Peter, and Ned at the school steps. “I’ve joked about him giving a two mile Heimlich before,” Rosa admits, rubbing a bit at her back. “But from Brooklyn to Queens, he straight up rearranged my organs. It was like wearing a corset.”

“Now I’m picturing you in a corset and my brain is kind of melting.”

Rosa smirks. “I wore one once when I was in the musical Annie Get Your Gun .”

“I -what - corset - musical - huh?” Jake shakes his head, as if trying to physically shun the imagery away. “Follow up questions later.” He looks over at Michelle and visibly relaxes before he pulls her into a hug. “Amy got tied up at work,” he says, smile tight. “I know you wanted her but there’s a reason why they called her, not me.” He flicks at her hairpin. “She’s more in charge, y’know?”

Michelle does now. She understands. Women really do run the workforce. But at least Rosa is here and maybe if they can get inside fast enough they can avoid running into Tony -

A familiar Mustang with a fresh coat of blue paint comes pulls into the school lot.

“Be. Cool.” She warns, already tugging Jake towards the front door.

“Be cool? I’m always cool. Who - wait that’s my plate. Is that my car? Peter, you said it wasn’t done yet, what’s going OH MY GOD IT’S IRON MAN.”

Yeah, that’s not being cool.

Stark is dressed flashier this time around: slacks, suit vest, tie, white button up rolled up to the elbows and a pair of rose gold sunglasses. His shoes alone are probably worth more than a month’s rent at her parents’ place.

“Hey squirt,” Tony greets, walking over to give Peter a hug before he tosses Michelle the keys to the Mustang. He seems to be oblivious so her uncle’s mini stroke. “Just finished her this morning. Like brand new.”

Jake blinks. “Whoa whoa whoa.” He points a finger at Peter. “What’s happening. Why is Tony Stark driving my car?”

Ned tries filling the pieces to Peter’s ridiculous backstory, and fast. “Peter is Stark’s intern. They met through his application for the September Grant.”

“Yep!” Peter nods. “Mr. Stark let me borrow his garage and use his supplies to fix your car!”

“You never told me you know Tony Stark!” Jake squeaks, tossing Peter a half-hearted dirty look. “That’s like, the coolest fun fact about a person. That should have been the first thing you mentioned. And you!” he looks at Michelle. “You’ve met Spider-Man and Iron Man?”

Tony elbows Peter when Jake and Rosa aren’t looking. Michelle just shrugs.

“You should write a novel,” he goes on to say before he looks at Stark with what can only be described as childlike wonder. “Hi, Mr. Iron Man, I’m Jake Peralta. I’m Michelle’s uncle. And, not to brag,” he starts before he totally starts to brag, “But I’m kinda Spider-man’s sidekick.”

Both Rosa and Ned have impressive, matching eye rolls.

“Oh really?” And Stark’s eyes briefly flicker Peter’s way. Peter is looking down, finding his shoes just downright fascinating. “Didn’t know he was shopping for help. Good to know.”

“Yeah, it’s - it’s still pretty new. But we’re buds, for sure. Thanks for the car."

"You like it?" Peter asks, clearly desperate for a subject change. "We spent forever on the paint color. I wanted to paint it like the Mystery Machine, but Michelle said no."

"What!? That would have been so cool!"

Peter's smile is too smug for her liking.

"I kinda see how you work so is it safe to assume this is a bit of an Oprah give away sort of sitch? I’m not about to get some astronomical bill in the mail?”

Stark relaxes a bit. “Of course. I don’t like to see classics go to waste and yours was…”

“It was garbage.”

“Your words, not mine.”

Jake takes a deep, calming breath. “Iron Man fixed my car. This is the best day ever.”

Peter raises his hand like he’s in class. “Actually, I fixed your car.”

“Peter, don’t ruin this for me.”

“Okay, enough of this,” Rosa says, tugging on the zipper of her jacket and pulling it down. “I wore my formal leather jacket for this shit. Let’s go.”

As they head towards the school entrance, Ned begs the question, “What constitutes a formal leather jacket?”

“The one without any blood on it.”

“I seriously can’t wait for your presentation.”

Due to the fact that the Tony Stark is on the playbill for the day’s festivities, the kids arranged for the Career Day presenters to speak in the auditorium. He’s the grand finale.

Jake and Rosa are the opening act.

“Do you think he’ll talk about the overturned van of escaped convicts?” Ned asks as he takes a seat on the other side of Peter.

“I dunno,” Peter says, reaching into his pack to pull out three packages of gummy worms. Jesus. They’re treating it like a movie. She’s about to say something when she remembers Iron Man is here and it really is that theatrical. “I’m hoping for their Florida undercover case.”

“You should take Career Day more seriously,” Michelle says, taking the bag of gummies offered to her.

“Why?” Peter grins. “I have a career.”

That grabs the attention of Flash, who’s sitting in the row in front of them. He turns around, arm resting on the back of the chair, and gives them a wicked grin. “Lying about your Stark Internship isn’t a career, Parker.”

Ned scoffs. “Dude. Tony Stark is literally here because of Peter.”

“This is New York’s top high school STEM program. Morita just sent a request through his offices.”

Peter blinks before he tosses a gummy in the air, catching it in his mouth. “I mean, yeah. That’s the more plausible reason,” he says and Michelle wants to laugh at his honesty. It is the most plausible reason, after all.

Flash looks rather smug about his statement until Stark appears from backstage and does this weird run-crouch thing that people do at movie theaters down the aisle. She briefly spots Rosa and Jake fiddling with their mics before Stark leans over Ned and whispers not-so-quietly, “Pete, I’m gonna hide back here and take a power nap during the stock market analyst’s spiel.”

Flash sputters, expression an interesting concoction of surprise and offense. “That’s my dad!” he squeaks, but he sounds more awed than miffed.

Stark grins at him. “I know. Later, Thompson.” He pats Peter on the head before he runs back to the auditorium, disappearing in the low lights.

Michelle tosses a gummy in Flash’s open, jaw-dropped mouth. “Turn around.”

He does, slowly spitting out the gummy in his hand. It’s a satisfying watch.

Jake and Rosa head for the podium while Michelle leans in and whispers. “Another pack of gummies says he mentions the Goodwin incident.”

“I don’t know what that means, nor do I like your confidence. I’m out.”

“You wouldn’t risk a pack of gummies for me?”

She always knows just the right buttons to press. “...Make it two packs of gummies.”

Jake taps on his mic and the feedback is deafening; the whole room cringes at the noise. “Sorry,” he apologizes with a wide, awkward grin. “I’m Jake Peralta and this,” he gestures to Rosa, who offers a peace sign. “Is my colleague Rosa Diaz. We’re both NYPD detectives working out of the ninety-ninth precinct in Brooklyn. My lovely niece, MJ - hi, MJ! - invited us to talk about what it’s like to do police work. Now I know what you’re thinking - is being a New York detective just like movies? The answer is, yes, sometimes! I totally had a Die Hard moment at the Goodwin department store. It was Christmas, I was John Mcclane. Sorta. The bad guys were Canadian, but it was still awesome.”

“Aw man,” Peter grumbles and he drops a few of his gummies in her hand as a truce.

Rosa clears her throat and gestures to the large projector screen behind them. “Right, I’m getting ahead of myself. Cool cop stories are at the end. Since you guys are into science, I thought I’d talk about how reliant police work is on the forensics departments. DNA analysis is a huge help in catching the right criminals, and the science is getting more accurate as time goes by. We thought we’d start with a specific case in which blood analysis really saved the day.”

Jake presses the button on the clicker and the projector lights up with a crime scene photo.

Complete with a very unseemly dead body.

The whole auditorium gasps.

“Right,” Jake says, laughing nervously. He looks up at the projector with regret. “This is a room full of children. I should of thought this through uh, okay let’s see -” he clicks again and another photo appears of the same dead body, just at another angle. “Oh, God,” another click, and a close up of his face. “I’ve made a horrible mistake. Just...don’t look! Close your eyes!”

"Jesus," Michelle grumbles.

He flies through a series of crime photos and the school erupts in various degrees of horror depending on just how graphic the picture is. It isn’t until Rosa walks behind the stage to pull one of the curtains over the screen does the auditorium quiet and Jake’s body sags with relief.

“Anyway. What we were talking about before I gave you all nightmares for the next week? Ah, yes, G rated DNA analysis. Rosa?”

Michelle has to admit: the rest of the presentation goes pretty well. Very, well, in fact. It’s interesting, it holds everyone’s attention, and the questions that her classmates ask at the end really do pertain more to the forensics aspect of detective work rather than Jake’s story of hostages in a department store at Christmas (which was, truthfully, a fourth of the presentation). But of course, someone somewhere in row F just keep superheroes out of their brain.

“I heard Spider-Man helped out the ninety-ninth precinct with those escaped convicts, is that true?”

Jake’s smile is smug. “Oh yeah. And not to brag,” Michelle really thinks he should consider saying something else before he starts bragging, “But Spidey and I’s epic high five totally broke my hand.”

Peter whines beside her. “You said I didn’t break it!”

“Whoops.”

Someone else raises their hand, a question for Rosa. “Do you guys know anything about that hack going around hitting people with a crowbar?”

Michelle feels her heart leap into her throat.

“Uhhh,” Rosa gruffs before she leans off the podium, straightening her jacket. “There’s a sergeant in our precinct heading the case.”

The girl continues with a, “He got two more people just last week.”

Michelle hadn’t known that. Her aunt and uncle hadn’t told her that. There’s more people getting hurt? Why wouldn't they tell her?

She takes a deep breath and finds that she can’t.

Oh. Maybe it's because she'd freak out.

What the absolute hell.

But the rest of the world goes on, oblivious to her oncoming spiral. “I know,” Jake says gently. “I know it’s scary. As far as we know, this guy is just in Brooklyn and hopefully the most of you are safe here in Queens. But the truth of the matter is, we don’t know. So take precautions when you go out. Buddy system still works.”

Michelle’s a smart girl. She knows the signs of a panic attack: racing heart, dizziness, trouble breathing, tingling hands, the feeling that you might drop dead.

What she doesn’t understand is why she’s having one.

“Hey, are you okay -whoa!” Peter’s question is cut off when she abruptly sits up, knocking over the candies that were in her lap. Her ears ring and she doesn’t pay attention to whatever Ned and Peter say as she scoots out of the aisle and speedwalks out of the back of the auditorium.

The hallway outside is empty and brightly lit with afternoon sunshine coming through the large windows. Michelle stumbles to a bench underneath one of the windows and barely rests her head in her hands when she sees a pair of shoes worth more than her parent’s rent come into view.

Tony Stark.

“Michelle? Michelle, can you hear me?”

She can’t breathe and everything has spots,  but she can hear him. “I can’t breathe,” she wheezes.

“I know, I know. Hey, look at me?”

She manages, lifting her head, and sees the familiar kind, wrinkles around his eyes.

“There you are,” he says softly. “You’re okay. Take a deep, slow breath, hold it for a few seconds, and let it out, just as slow. I’ll do it with you. In -”

It’s silly, really. Michelle doesn’t really do panic attacks. She’s never really been overly anxious before. But ever since she got mugged it hasn’t been that simple. It’s not like anything really happened. She got hurt, but she was fine in a few days. Her things were stolen, but nothing that couldn’t be replaced. There are worse muggings. Some that even end in gunshot and death. Peter knows this best of all.

But the the truth of the matter is she’s freaking out anyway. She can’t function. And Tony Stark is kneeling in front of her, walking her through breathing. And she needs the help.

After a few cycles her breathing isn’t so erratic, but she still sees the spots. “I don’t -” she stutters, not the best at speaking right now. She puts her head down again. “I don’t know why -”

“Hey, here’s my hands. Squeeze ‘em as tight as you need.” She grips them like they’re a lifeline.

Now she feels extra silly. Tony Stark wrote the textbook on modern day PTSD. And she’s having a panic attack for what? “I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

“Don't be. We all freak out sometimes. I know about the mugging. You went through something traumatic. Sometimes, this happens. That’s okay. It won’t happen forever.”

“No,” Michelle shakes her head. She keep her eyes down and continues to squeeze his hand. “You were kidnapped. Waterboarded. Fell through a wormhole when aliens attacked.”

“I see you read my biography.”

She knows he’s joking, but she actually has. “What happened to me, it isn’t...it’s not like you or Peter...nothing really happened -”

“Hey. Look at me?”

She does.

“Just because you didn’t make the front page of some bullshit newspaper doesn’t mean what happened to you didn’t matter. You got hurt. Even if it wasn’t life threatening in the end, it was scary. Going to the hospital, waiting for Peter, all that, scary. And sometimes, for awhile, it makes everything that wasn’t scary before, scary too, right?”

Michelle thinks of Peter’s cry outside the restaurant, the way she constantly watches her back, the two or three sleepless nights she’s had. She nods.

“Don’t compare the two, okay? It’s not a competition. It doesn't work like that. You’re allowed to be scared. You’re allowed to freak out. But I find it’s best to let people know when you are, okay?”

“What, like you?” she says without thinking.

But Stark nods. “Yeah, like me. If you want. Any friend of Peter’s is a friend of mine. But I’m guessing you’d prefer Peter. Or Ned. Or your funny uncle who brings pictures of dead bodies to school events.”

She tries to laugh, but it sounds strangled. Her breathing feels easier, the spots less...spotty. “It…this feeling doesn’t last forever?”

He offers her another smile before he reaches over the flicks the chains in her hairpin, just like Peter always does. “It doesn’t last forever. It gets much, much easier, you’ll see.”

Michelle nods and takes a long, deep breath. She feels much more like herself already, though considerably drained. It’s like she actually participated in gym class or something. “Thanks, Stark.”

“Tony is fine. And it’s no problem, Michelle.”

He continues to smile at her and she caves. She’s starting to get why Peter likes hanging out with him so much. “...MJ. My friends call me MJ.”

“Good to know, MJ.”

A pause. "If we're gonna be friends, you should probably know I lifted the card you gave Peter to buy pizza for Jake's co-workers."

He laughs. "I know."

"I also used it to buy three lattes."

"I know. After the third is when Peter noticed it was missing."

She reaches into her pocket to grab it and give it back, but Tony shakes his head.

"Keep it, it's got a limit. If it gets stolen, they can't buy too much."

Another pause. "You anticipated him losing it, didn't you."

"That kid loses his backpack every other week. Of course I knew he was gonna lose it." He grins. "Just didn't expect you to swipe it."

"It was an emergency."

"Sure."

"Pizza and coffee emergencies."

"Hey, no one knows a coffee emergency better than me. It's all good, kid."

There’s some muffled applause from inside the auditorium before the door opens and the whole gang comes rushing out: Peter, Ned, Jake and Rosa. “MJ!” Peter cries. “What happened?”

“You looked really sick,” Ned adds as Jake takes Stark’s place kneeling in front of her.

“Yeah?” Jake asks, brushing some of Michelle’s hair out of her face. “You got sick?”

“Sorta,” she admits. She looks down and realizes now that she isn’t holding Tony’s hands they’re shaking, and she hastens to sit on them to hide her freak-out. “I’m okay now.”

Peter takes the empty seat on the bench beside her and leans into her side, first pressing a kiss to her temple and then asking, “Panic attack?” as quietly as he can.

Of course Peter knows what those are. She nods, still feeling a bit embarrassed despite Tony’s words.

Jake seems to have heard, but he doesn’t press. “Want me to take you home? I can do that now since I have the car and I don't have to kiss death on the back of Rosa's motorcycle."

Michelle looks past Rosa and Ned and sees Tony offering her another kind smile. “No,” she says. “Not until this is all over. I know you want to hear Iron Man’s speech.”

Jake scoffs. “I don’t care that much.”

“He does,” Rosa says, “But we can make Ned record it for him.”

“It’s true,” Ned nods. “I’d do anything for Detective Diaz.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Michelle says, and they all laugh a little too hard. She must have really freaked them all out. “Look, it’s fine. We can stay. But Peter, you go back and sit with Ned. Throw gummy worms at Flash’s head. I’ll...sit in the back with Rosa and Jake. Just in case...” Just in case she does need to leave goes unsaid.

They all seem to agree on that. Ned, Peter and Tony all slip back in the auditorium first while Jake and Rosa linger behind with her; Jake has a bit of a screaming match at a nearby vending machine when he tries to buy her a water and it eats his dollar.

“One day, he’s really gonna try to fight one, and it’s gonna fall on him,” Rosa says. She slips off her leather jacket and pulls it over Michelle’s shoulders before she walks over to where Jake is attempting to lift the vending machine Hulk style. In one swift motion she pushes him aside, kicks the machine in one hard go, and the machine finally coughs up not one water, but two.”

“How do you do that?” Jake asks, passing one of the waters over to Michelle.

Rosa takes a swig from the second. “I’m intimidating.”

“Yeah, but machines? You just bullied a robot. You are the sole human survivor in every apocalyptic scenario imaginable.”

“John Mcclane?”

“I mean, I don’t know. You’d probably beat John Mcclane.”

“What about Kevin Mccallister.”

“Yeah- well. Huh. Okay. You and Kevin Mccallister.”  

“Nice,” she agrees before she pushes them towards the auditorium.

Michelle wraps the leather jacket more snugly around her as they find some seats. The lighting is still dim but she can still pick out Peter and Ned who seem to be debating on whether or not they can toss a gummy down the back of Flash’s shirt without getting caught.

“Couldn’t find a stapler,” Rosa admits. “But I tried glaring at him the whole time.”

Michelle smiles. “I noticed.”

“Why do teenage boys think pencil mustaches are a good idea.”

Jake pulls Michelle away from Rosa and lays her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know what Gina told you but it was only the first day of junior year and I shaved it off the next day. God, get off my back, Rosa!”

It isn’t long before the next presentation starts, and then the next, and then the next. Stark falls asleep during Flash’s dad’s talk as promised, and Michelle dozes off in the middle of the entomologist’s speech. It isn’t until Tony steps up to the podium that she wakes up from the sheer applause going on in the room.

“Okay, before we start I will allow…” he looks at his watch. “Three minutes of Avenger related-questions before we talk about the good stuff.”

Jake and half the student body’s hands shoot up. “Oooh, me! Pick me! PiCK ME!” Jake yells.

And of course, Tony does. “Yes, in the back. Detective Peralta?”

“Do you have Black Widow’s number because Rosa could seriously use a date -”

Rosa elbows him in the gut. Hard.

“Nevermind.”