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“I feel like you could hear a mouse fart in here,” Clint whispered.
Tony had to agree; everyone was ostentatiously pretending they were all hard at work and not watching the elevator as they waited for Fury to bring in the new guy. This one wasn’t a new guy the way James had been the new guy, like new to the station. This one was new new, straight out of the academy, and everyone had placed bets on what they would be like. Sarge figured it was going to be another former military person, switching careers after enough years in to qualify for the GI bill. Natasha thought it would be an all varsity type looking to earn some street cred working the mean streets of NYC before retiring to a more senior position in a small Midwestern town. James, who had been having a bad day when they placed their bets, put money on it being a bully who was more enamored with having a gun and ordering people around than serving the community. Clint’s money was on a someone from a cop family, keeping the family tradition alive. Tony was hoping for a young idealist hoping to make a difference. Fury had been keeping them in the dark since he announced someone would be joining the precinct; he hadn’t even told them which team the new guy was joining, which would have given them some kind of clue into his background.
“Doesn’t help that they are running late,” Tony muttered, eyeing the clock on the wall. He was on his third cup of coffee already because he wanted to be sipping it casually when they came in, but they were taking too long and he kept finishing it and having to get a new one. “Fury’s probably doing it on purpose.”
“Probably,” Natasha said, and both Tony and Clint jumped because the last time they’d seen her she’d been typing at her desk. “They’re in the building, so Fury must be wasting time downstairs with the uniformed officers before bringing him up.”
“Sadistic bast-” Tony started, then everyone was scrambling back to their desks as the elevator dinged. The bullpen went even quieter somehow as everyone stopped pretending to work to watch Fury stride in, cover under his arm, trailing the new guy in his wake. “Everyone,” Fury said to get their attention, as if they all weren’t staring at them already, “welcome the newest member of the 99, Detective Peter Parker.”
The new guy started to cross his arms over his chest then thought better of it and put his hands on his hips, only to accidentally land on his service pistol holstered on his hip. He jerked his hand away like it burned him and ended up with his hands behind his back in loose parade formation. “Hi, everyone,” he said with a formal nod. "It's, uh, a pleasure to be here."
Tony heard a chime from his computer and looked down to see a new instant message pop up from Natasha. “OMG him baby.” She wasn’t wrong; the new guy looked like he was barely out of high school, and his uniform was so new and stiffly starched that it could probably stand up on its own. The open, honest face and brown hair with a hint of curl didn’t help.
“Hello, Peter,” Tony said, standing up to get a better look at the new kid. “I’m Tony, and welcome to the 99.”
“Parker, Stark here will show you the ropes. You’ll be working with him as soon as we get your desk ready,” Fury said.
"With me?" Tony said with surprise. He'd been badgering Fury for weeks for more help, but he'd thought Fury had been ignoring him like he always did. “But I'm not ready to be a father!”
“Parker specializes in digital forensics and cybercrimes,” Fury said over his shoulder, already heading back to his office. “That’s you, right, Detective Stark?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Tony came around his desk and held his hand out for Peter to shake. “Pleasure to meet you, Peter.”
“You too, sir. I mean, Tony.” Peter took his hand then his eyes suddenly went wide as he put two and two together, and Tony suppressed a grimace. “Captain Fury said your last name was Stark, are you the Tony…” Peter’s voice died and he looked confused as he noticed everyone else in the bullpen was shaking their heads at him furiously. “Oh, um...Never mind. I, uh, look forward to working with you,” he finished instead, and let go of Tony's hand sheepishly.
“Let me introduce you to everyone,” Tony said into the awkward silence, and Peter smiled gratefully. After everyone had made their polite hellos and my name is, he took him around to the holding cells and interrogation room and evidence locker and secret nap room, then explained the quirks of the printer/copier and how to get two for one from the vending machines. Explaining the refrigerator and microwave protocols took as much time as the entire rest of the tour, because everyone knows the fastest way to piss of your office mates was to violate break room etiquette and Tony wanted to get this kid started on the right foot.
“I can also help you get your accounts set up,” Tony said as he pulled up a chair at his desk for Peter to sit down. “Not going to help you much until we get a desk for you, but this way you can go ahead and get into the system because it will take a while to get all of your permissions activated.”
“Oh, do you do IT for the precinct, too?”
“Am I supposed to, no,” Tony said as he unlocked his computer. “Technically the NYPD has an office for that, and turns out they don't like precincts to do it themselves. But do I, yes. Unofficially. By which I mean I hacked in and gave myself administrator privileges, and no one has noticed yet.”
“Oh.” Peter’s wide-eyed gaze made Tony feel like the kid was taking notes on everything he said, and he knew that the kid hadn’t forgotten the whole “Tony Stark” thing. “I, uh, hacked into my high school’s computers once,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper. "The teacher was being a bi- unreasonable about accepting late work, and it was going to make him lose his scholarship. It wasn’t fair,” he added, clearly still feeling guilty about it but also defiant.
Holy shit that was adorable. Tony couldn’t wait to tell Natasha. “So that’s how you got into cybercrime? You were good at computers in school?” Cuz it wasn’t like that was something they were teaching in the academies yet, despite Tony’s persistent lobbying for the state to change the curriculum requirements.
“Yeah.” Peter watched while Tony set up Peter’s email and account log-ins, then took notes as Tony walked him through all of the computer programs that they used in the office, the ones for HR and for paperwork and for reporting statistics and for looking up information and for the myriad other applications an officer might need in the pursuit of justice. Tony had been working in his spare time to create a single program that could incorporate everything into a single user interface, but kept getting sidetracked by other projects and by having a boyfriend who enticed him away from his computer on a regular basis.
By the time all that was done with, it was lunchtime, so Tony, with Peter in tow, locked up his systems and went to the local diner where everyone else had already gotten a booth. As everyone scooted over, Tony greeted James with a kiss, feeling Peter stare for a moment before hastily looking down to study the menu. The team made small talk until the orders were placed, then the grilling began.
Natasha opened, crossing her arms over her chest and resting her elbows on the table. “So where you from, Peter?”
“Queens,” Peter said. “You?”
"A local boy," James said approvingly. “What made you decide to join the force?”
“My uncle was killed in a hit and run,” Peter said. He fidgeted with the paper place mat and crayons that Clint had gotten for him from the waitress. “My aunt barely slept until the police caught the guy. The officer in charge of the case really made an impression, so I changed my major from science to criminal justice.” Tony swallowed a victorious "ha!" as everyone surreptitiously handed him bet money from under the table.
Sarge was up next. “How’d you do at the Academy, Mr. Parker?”
“Top of my class,” Peter said with a hint of pride. “That’s how I got into the 99, I was allowed first pick of precincts.”
“And you picked us?” Clint said.
“Well, yeah, of course. You guys have the highest clearing rate of all precincts in the city, and everyone knows that the 99 is like, the place to go if you want to do cyber.” Peter looked at everyone in confusion as they all groaned and rolled their eyes while Tony smiled smugly. “What?”
“Nothing,” Clint said. "Don't feed the troll." He steepled his fingers in front of him and studied Peter intently. “Apple or Android?”
“Er, Apple,” Peter answered, “but I jailbreak my phones, so I don’t know if that counts.” When Clint sat back against the seat, satisfied, Peter looked around the table. “Anyone else?”
“Nah, you passed,” Tony said. “Welcome to the team. I’m looking forward to teaching you everything I know, young padawan.”
“But then what are we going to do for the rest of the day?” Peter asked innocently.
As everyone laughed at Tony's offended gasp, he elbowed James and said, "Did you hear what your son said to me?"
"Ungrateful child," James agreed without looking up from his phone. "Son, don't speak to your father that way."
"You're not my real dad," Peter said, and as their food started to arrive Natasha texted, I like this kid.
Me 2, Tony wrote, and put his phone away before he got burger grease on it.
For the rest of the day Tony could feel Peter's eyes on him sometimes, could feel the weight of unasked questions pressing on moments when their conversation lulled, so he wasn't surprised when Peter took advantage of the relative quiet and solitude of the server room to say, "You are Tony Stark of Stark Industries, aren't you?" When Tony just sighed, Peter said hurriedly, "I'm sorry, I know you probably want, like, privacy, but you've always been one of my heroes so I'm kind of low key flipping out over here."
"Yeah, I'm that Tony Stark," Tony said finally, his reluctance won over by the way Peter was vibrating with fanboy excitement. "But I don't like talking about my family, so you get three questions," he warned, holding up three fingers for emphasis as Peter made a squeaky noise. "And that's it. Any future questions will have to be earned by doing my paperwork," he added out of inspiration, and Peter just nodded, already frowning as he tried to think of questions.
"Why did you walk away from Stark Industries?" he asked after a moment.
"Howard and I disagree on what the company should be doing," Tony said, leaning against a server rack. "I think we need to get away from weapons and into other types of technology, so when he refused to compromise, I left."
"Other types of technology like James' arm? Is that one of your designs?"
"Are those your last two questions?"
"No! No, definitely not. I mean, I know Stark Industries makes them, I just didn't know if you...because you and James..." Peter's ears were growing red as Tony just raised an eyebrow at him. "You know what, never mind. But does that mean that you are still designing for them?"
"Yes, I am, whenever I think of something. I own the patents, I just sell the rights to SI to develop. One more question."
"Oh. Um...." Peter took a deep breath like he was gathering courage and said, "Can I ask what happened with Obadiah Stane?"
Tony blew out a long breath. He should have known that this would come up. "After the very public trial, the book, and the straight to cable movie, I don't know what else there is to say," he said. "I'm guessing you want to hear my side?"
"Yeah, I mean, you never spoke to the press or anybody about it, but you were the one who figured out what was going on," Peter said. "I read your testimony at his trial, but like, what happened?"
What had happened was that one night, having come home early from college for Christmas, Tony had found Stane in his family's garage, tampering with his father's car. Detectives later had discovered that every vehicle in the garage had been sabotaged one way or another, including the Tesla Roadster Stane had bought Tony for his 16th birthday. Further investigation had shown that Stane had been embezzling money and dealing weapons under the table for years, and SI was to this day dealing with the legal and regulatory fallout. What had been glossed over in the trial because Tony had been a minor was that when Tony confronted him, Stane had punched him so hard in the stomach that he had pissed blood for days, and that while Tony had been struggling to breath and escape Stane had put a shop rag over his face and tried to suffocate him to death. The only reason why Tony had survived is because the robot he'd built at MIT, DUM-E, had sprayed Stane in the face with fire suppressant, distracting him long enough for Tony to escape and call the cops. The only person at the 99 who knew the whole story was James, who had accidentally triggered a panic attack when they tried a little breath-play in bed. "Yes, you can ask," Tony said finally. "But if one word of it shows up anywhere in the press..."
"Oh, I would never," Peter assured him earnestly. He looked at Tony expectantly for a long time, waiting, before he said, "Well, what happened with Stane?"
"Sorry, Pete," Tony said. "You're out of questions." He put an arm around Peter's shoulder to lead him back out to the bull pen and made sympathetic noises as the kid protested. "But it seems like now would be a great time to teach you the extremely valuable skill of how to do paperwork."