Work Text:
Spider-Man first swings across Pepper Potts’ radar is when she’s reviewing DoDC footage of the battle in Germany. Her reaction is much the same as Winter Soldier’s: What the hell is that? The wall-crawling is creepy, but she can’t help smiling a little at the unmistakable New York accent.
And that’s that, for a while. They’re all worried sick about James. Tony comes home battered and bruised, the arc reactor all but shattered. There are so many other things to process.
Time marches by. Tony tries for her, he really does, but she can tell there’s a part of him that’s hollow - not quite grounded in this world. For once he does as he’s told. Attends meetings that he’s asked to, stays most of the way through. Signs important documents only a few days after they’re due. It’s weird. Pepper hates it.
Some time later, Tony first mentions ‘the kid.’
“Who?” Pepper scrunches her nose, trying to remember if she’s fielded any fraudulent paternity suits recently.
“You know. Spider-Man.” Tony takes a nonchalant bite of his pasta.
“Who?” Pepper repeats.
Tony props his chin on his fist, making a sappy expression at her that she’s tempted to think is a joke but deep down she knows is totally sincere. “It’s really cute when your nose scrunches up like that.”
“Help me out here,” Pepper says with a frown. “There’s so many of you people popping up every day - Oh! The guy who can shrink, right?”
“It’ll come to you, honey.”
Suddenly, it does. “The creepy sticky one!” Pepper exclaims, with a snap of her finger. “How does he do that, anyways?”
“Oh, wait till I relay that little gem, he’ll die of embarrassment,” Tony guffaws.
Pepper frowns. “Why? He’s probably heard worse. If you’re going to crawl around in spandex you’ve got to have a thicker skin than that.”
“He’s young,” Tony says airily, waving his hand. “He’ll grow into it.”
That’s nice, Pepper thinks. Mentoring a young superhero seems pretty harmless, out of all the things Tony could be using to distract himself right now.
Mentions of ‘the kid’ start cropping up a bit more frequently from that point on, and Pepper starts doing some of her own research. She can tell that Tony’s worked hard to cover the kid’s online tracks - she’s no slouch in the internet sleuthing department, and she’s hard pressed to find even the smallest crumbs of information about Spider-Man. What she does find is a treasure-trove of YouTube videos.
SPIDER-MAN’S TOP 10 DUMPSTER DIVES!! crows one video, playing jolly music as Spider-Man falls into one dumpster after another. Pepper can’t help but snort as she watches the poor kid haul himself out again and again, covered in old pizza boxes and banana peels. She clicks on another one: Spider-Man Being Too Pure For This World. This one is a compilation of him rescuing kittens, helping old ladies across the street, and playing tag with gangs of little kids. The next one: someone PLEASE buy this man a sandwich, in which Spider-Man accidentally drops half-eaten hot dogs, churros and sandwiches from his various perches across the city, set to ‘The Sound of Silence’ by Simon and Garfunkel. Pepper forwards that one to Tony.
He texts back in thirty seconds: Newest member of the Spider-Man fan club?
Pepper doesn’t dignify that with a response. Even though it’s kind of true. She likes Spider-Man. He’s a real people’s hero - not worried about aliens or gigantic sentient robots. Just cleaning up his little corner of the world, one lost old lady at a time.
Then there’s this whole thing with an alien weapons smuggling ring and Spider-Man blows up a ferry and Tony is really, really stressed out about the whole thing, which Pepper takes as her cue to intervene.
“Tony, it’s sweet that you’re mentoring this kid,” she says carefully. Tony is sitting on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table, his arms crossed firmly against his chest. He’s looking up at a nonexistent point on the ceiling, scowling.
“But?” he snaps.
“I’m just wondering if you’re maybe a little...over-invested?” When Pepper receives no response, she plows on. “I mean, it’s not the worst thing in the world for him to start spreading his wings and learning on his own. The ferry thing is unfortunate, but it’s no Ultron. He’s probably learned his lesson. You don’t need to take away his suit like he’s a child.”
Tony takes one deep breath, and then another.
“Tony,” Pepper says dangerously.
He doesn’t answer.
“Tony, please tell me Spider-Man is not an actual child.”
“Spider-Man is not an actual child.” Tony pauses. “He’s...more on the teenage side of things.”
“I’m not doing this with you, Tony,” Pepper admonishes. “Exactly how old is he?”
“Fifteen.”
Pepper sits down heavily, dragging a hand across her face. “Jesus Christ.”
They have a long talk about Spider-Man. Pepper feels uneasy about the whole thing, and her feeling is validated when a few weeks later Spider-Man crashes one of Tony’s jets trying to stop a heist and nearly gets himself killed. Again.
Tony’s response is to offer Spider-Man a spot on the Avengers. Pepper decidedly doesn’t agree with this course of action, but it doesn’t matter in the end, because the kid turns it down.
Then Spider-Man’s unusually attractive aunt marches her tiny self up to Stark Tower, bulldozes her way past security, and smacks Tony full across the face.
After that Pepper and Tony have another long talk, but this time it’s about Peter Parker.
“Pep?”
“Yes, Tony?” Pepper says crisply, smiling apologetically at the cluster of prospective donors she’s courting and excusing herself to the balcony. Tony hadn’t even had the decency to beg off the event - he’d just forgotten, leaving her to explain away his absence. Christ, he was hard to love sometimes.
“Pep, the kid is coming here. Tomorrow.” Tony’s voice is pinched with stress.
Pepper sighs. “Kid?”
“You know. The kid.”
“Oh,” Pepper says, a smile curling across her lips. “Peter Parker.”
Peter Parker is a frenetic ball of earnest energy, and he is also absolutely terrified of her.
The first time they meet she manages to coax him out of his shell a little bit. Then the next time they’re back at ground zero. A simple “Hello, Peter” in passing is enough to shut off his motor mouth and turn him into a wide-eyed mute.
“Your kid doesn’t like me,” Pepper complains to Tony one morning as they get ready for an early-morning meeting Tony hadn’t been able to weasel out of.
“Wha?” Tony says, through a mouthful of toothpaste.
“I’ve heard him talking your ear off, but he barely speaks around me at all.” Pepper frowns. She know she’s being a little childish, but this kid is important to Tony. She wants him to like her.
Tony spits his toothpaste into the sink. “Oh, he’s like that around everyone he thinks is cool. Enjoy it while it lasts. I remember back in the good old days when I intimidated him. Now he’s just a mouthy little shit.”
Pepper can’t help but feel pleased. “He thinks I’m cool?”
“Duh,” Tony says, drawing out the syllable. He pitches his voice high in mockery. “Wow, did you see the new magazine cover with Ms. Potts on it? That interview was so badass! Hey, did you know Ms. Potts is starting this new outreach program for girls in STEM? Blah blah blah.” His voice drops back to its normal register. “Yes, I know about the outreach program that my own company is developing. The nerve.”
“Okay, okay,” Pepper says, mollified. “I still want him to be able to talk around me. How do I...”
“Be less of a powerful, awe-inspiring, thoroughly intimidating woman?”
“Tony,” Pepper chides. She swats his behind as he ambles past in search of pants. “I’m serious.”
“So am I,” Tony says with a saucy wink. “You are who you are, Pep. You’ll just have to wait until his brain stops exploding and he acclimatizes.”
So Pepper waits. Not passively, of course - that’s not her style. She makes an effort to go and change into casual clothes before Friday dinner. She re-watches Star Wars for the first time since the eighties so that she can nod knowingly at the references. Tony teases her relentlessly, but it pays off.
“Ms. Potts!” Peter exclaims one day, bounding into the kitchen. He skids to a stop and clears his throat. “Um, Ms. Potts,” he tries again.
Pepper can’t help but smile. “Hi, Peter.”
Peter smiles back shyly. “Uh, I just wanted to tell you something kind of cool that happened at school today, we covered you in History-”
“Oh god,” Pepper says, putting a hand over her eyes. “When did I get that old?”
“No, nonono,” Peter corrects frantically, “it’s not history exactly, I mean, it’s part of the history curriculum but it’s called Current Events-”
“Okay, okay,” Pepper laughs. It’s not hard to see why Tony is giving the kid shit all the time. It’s adorable to watch him freak out. “Current Events isn’t so bad. Why on earth did I come up in your class curriculum?”
Peter looks offended. “Well, why wouldn’t you? You’re like, one of the most powerful women in the world. You’re CEO of the world’s biggest tech company. You designed the world’s first arc-reactor powered building. Plus, like, you survived Extremis. That’s pretty hardcore, Ms. Potts.”
God, as if she didn’t love this kid already.
“Hardcore, huh,” Pepper muses. “Well, at the risk of ruining that reputation, I was kind of thinking of making some grilled cheese sandwiches. Would you be amenable, Mr. Parker?”
“Yeah!” Peter chirps, sliding onto a stool and dropping his backpack. “Thanks, I love grilled cheese!”
I know, Pepper thinks to herself as she reaches for the breadbox with a smile.
When Tony walks into the kitchen later, his expression softens into something unbelievably tender, for just a half second.
Then he strides across the kitchen and smacks Peter lightly on the back of the head in one swift motion. “The way you eat is horrific. I’ve never seen anything like it. Close that gigantic mouth of yours for one god damned second, would you?”
Peter grins up at Tony, baring a mouth full of chewed-up bread and cheese. “Can’t. Best grilled cheese ever,” he says, muffled by the food.
“Best grilled cheese ever,” Pepper says, waving her own sandwich at him. “Eat your heart out, Stark.”
“Ew,” Tony complains as he takes a seat. “You’re gross, you’re mean and I dislike both of you very much. Give me a sandwich before I evict you from Pepper’s tower.”
Pepper and Peter share a little smile, and something very warm takes hold in Pepper’s heart.
The thing about Parkers is that they have a way of sneaking up on you.
At first Peter is just Tony’s excitable intern, glimpsed in passing trailing Tony through the halls like a pint-sized golden retriever. Then he’s Peter, who comes for Friday dinner and never ever gets tired of hearing Pepper talk about the boring minutiae of Stark Industries day-to-day operations. Then she meets May and at first they just have lunch every now and again to touch base because it’s the responsible thing to do, keeping Peter’s guardian informed on his internship and his...other internship.
Then Peter and May are over more weekends than they’re not, and Pepper has Peter’s school schedule memorized and she and May are texting nonsensical stacks of emojis back and forth all day, and when they all pile onto the couch to watch a movie she puts her arms around both of them and can’t imagine life without them.
Pepper has always been ambivalent about kids. They’re messy, loud, and often mysterious to her. Teenagers even more so. She doesn’t have that natural way with kids that Tony does and often feels awkward around them.
But as Peter becomes more and more entrenched in their lives, strange things start to happen to her brain.
Suddenly she finds that when she asks how school went that day, it’s not a pleasantry - she really wants to know about the ups and downs of a New York public high school. Mentions of that stupid Flash kid start to annoy her irrationally. Sometimes she drifts off during extremely long meetings and starts wondering if Peter remembered to have that permission slip signed, or how long his current backpack is going to hold on before it gets lost or disintegrates into a pile of thread.
Pepper and Tony decidedly don’t talk about it but she suspects his brain has been similarly compromised. Because obviously he’s not adding Froot Loops and Cheetos to the grocery list for himself.
For all the bizarre new protective feelings she’s having towards the whirling dervish of geeky enthusiasm that’s situated himself in her day to day life, Pepper also realizes she just really enjoys Peter’s company.
“Hey kid,” she says, kicking off her heels and shucking her blazer as she enters the living room. Peter is sprawled out with what looks like all of his textbooks, a laptop, a notebook, and more pens and highlighters than he’ll ever use.
“Ms. Potts,” he says, rolling dramatically onto his back, “I’m conflicted.”
“I can see that,” Pepper says, a smile involuntarily tugging on the corners of her mouth. She takes a seat right there on the floor with him, poking nosily through his books while he makes an anguished face at the ceiling.
“Looks like you’ve got just about every subject represented here. What’s the assignment?”
“The assignment is to write about an influential woman in history,” Peter says, scowling.
Pepper raises an eyebrow. “And you can’t find even one?”
“No, I can’t narrow it down to one,” Peter says. “How do I even choose? Here’s the other problem. I go to a STEM school. Everyone is gonna write about Marie Curie or Rosalind Franklin. I wanted to write about someone in the humanities, but I kinda suck at Art and English Lit and stuff, so I’m worried I’m gonna write a crappy essay that wouldn’t do the subject justice, you know?”
“I admire your commitment to being a well-rounded scholar.”
“MJ says I’m not well-rounded enough and that’s my whole problem. She says I just need to apply myself in Art class and I wouldn’t suck so much. I highly doubt that. Have you seen MJ’s drawings? Have you seen mine?”
Pepper has seen Peter’s drawings. Sometimes he draws cool robots he wants to build on graph paper and leaves them around the lab as a not-so-subtle hint to Tony. They’re terrible. Tony saves every single one and would probably burn down the lab before copping to it.
“Well,” Pepper says diplomatically, “how about you compromise?”
“Compromise?” Peter sits up, a quizzical look on his face.
“Hildegard von Bingen.”
“Oh.” Peter’s eyes widen. “That’s brilliant, Ms. Potts!”
“You know who that is?”
“Duh,” Peter says with a grin. “One of the founders of scientific natural history, music composition and like, an insanely prolific writer? Who doesn’t?”
Pepper smiles back. “Many kids your age.”
“Hey,” Peter says, tugging the hem of his sweatshirt nervously. “I know you’re like, super super busy, but...”
“There’s nothing I’d rather do tonight, Mr. Parker.” Pepper pokes him in the shoulder. “I think we need some snack fuel, though, don’t you?”
Tony finds them two hours later, sprawled on their backs on the floor, animatedly discussing the ins and outs of monophonic monastic chant. Peter is so enthralled that he has entirely forgotten about taking notes.
“Woah,” Peter says. “So she was a musical rebel?”
“Kind of. She wasn’t really formally educated in either Latin or music composition, so it left her free to write more interesting melodies and lyrics as they came to her.”
Peter spies Tony and suddenly sits up. “Hi, Mr. Stark! Sorry, we were just - Ms. Potts was helping me with an essay-”
Tony sits down on the floor, squishing obnoxiously right in between them, then lies on his back. “Don’t let me harsh your buzz. In fact, pretend I’m not even here.”
“Okay,” Peter says shyly. “Um...”
Pepper pokes Tony in the ribs, eliciting a grunt, before continuing. “So Hildegard’s imagery and interpretation of medieval plainchant were pretty unconstrained for her time, leading to exceptionally vivid poetry and music.”
“What’s plainchant?” Tony pipes up.
Pepper pokes him again. “I’m pretending you’re not here.”
“Single-line choral music set to liturgical texts,” Peter answers primly.
“Hey, look at that, Pep,” Tony says, rolling his head to look at her. “You’re raising a well-rounded citizen. May would be proud.”
“May says I’m a nerd and you’re both enabling me.”
“Have you ever considered that you’re a bad influence on us, huh, Parker? My fiance used to go out with me on Friday nights to nice restaurants. Now all she wants to do is sit around and talk about badass lady monks. Look. She’s even eating Cool Ranch Doritos. Cool ranch, Peter.”
“It’s the superior flavour, you heretic.”
“I’ll show you heresy-”
They bicker until Pepper lays down the law. The three of them spend another hour discussing the finer points of Hildegard von Bingen’s Book of Divine Works, Tony asking FRIDAY to scour the internet for elaboration on particularly interesting bits, before Pepper finally caves and orders an obscene amount of pizza.
Tony’s right, Pepper muses as she blots grease off a slice of veggie; they may be the adults, but she suspects that Peter has in fact been the one influencing them. And what’s more, she can’t bring herself to see it as anything other than a very, very good thing.