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Iron Man really did not like Tony Stark- the real one, that was. There was just something strange about seeing a version of yourself, someone who was way more fleshed-out and intricate than you could ever hope to be.
Iron Man shook that thought from his head. He didn’t hope for anything. Hoping was stupid. Why waste time dwelling on the what-ifs if you could be working to make those what-ifs a reality?
Whatever- Iron Man didn’t need to get caught up in a philosophical debate with himself right now, not when the idiot (also known as his source) was standing right in front of him.
“Is Pete in there?” Tony asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Not at the moment, why?” Iron Man questioned, almost defensively.
“I was gonna let him back in the lab today,” Tony sighed, popping a piece of gum in his mouth and chewing. Iron Man grimaced at the smell.
“Bubblegum? Really? What are you, ten?”
“Mentally, probably. You got a problem with that?” Tony shifted his weight onto his other foot, chewing loudly, as if to accentuate his point. “So. Who ‘m I speaking to?”
“Uh, yeah, no dice,” Iron Man snorted, “you don’t get to know who I am.”
“Mmm, I get it now.”
Iron Man raised an eyebrow.
“You’re the infamous Iron Man I’ve heard aaaaaaall about.”
He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Great, so you know. Who told you?”
“Pete. Who else would have?”
He sighed. “Look, this is insanely uncomfortable for me, so maybe you can, I don’t know, pretend I’m someone else?”
“Can’t you get someone else to come out?”
Iron Man shot him a look. “Don’t you think if I could, I would have already tried that?”
Tony shrugged. “I’m good at ignoring people.”
“Clearly. What time is it?”
“It’s time to get a watch.”
Iron Man glared.
“It’s currently seven-oh-three in the morning, Iron Man,” FRIDAY helpfully chirped from the ceiling.
Iron Man’s eyes comically widened. “Shit, is it-?”
“Wednesday,” Tony smirked. “Better hurry your ass outside, Happy’s gonna be pissed if you make him wait.”
Iron Man groaned. Of course it was a school day. Lovely. Perfect. He hurried off to the bedroom to grab their schoolbag.
Today was going to be awful.
.
.
.
Iron Man was beginning to regret his entire existence by the time third period rolled around.
That MJ chick hadn’t stopped staring at him all morning. It was downright creepy, how her eyes seemed to rake over him again and again, like she was onto something. She squinted suspiciously every so often, particularly whenever Iron Man got stuck on a math problem. For Christ’s sake, he could barely remember what had happened in college, let alone what high school math was like. That shit was pure torture.
The other kid [was his name Ted? Sedorick? He sure as hell didn’t know] kept rambling nonstop about web fluids and Spiderman and it made Iron Man want to tape his mouth to shut him up. He was a genius when it came to inventing things, but he could only tolerate a certain amount of rambling from a sweaty, nosy teenager before all he wanted to do was rip his own hair out.
Then… then there was that Flash kid.
Iron Man’s eyes narrowed threateningly at him when he passed by him in the hallway. Flash noticed- great, just what he needed today, a fucking confrontation- and chased after him.
“Yo Penis, heard you got suspended!” Flash taunted, placing a hand on Iron Man’s shoulder to forcibly spin him around.
“And I heard your parents don’t love you, and yet I’m able to keep my big mouth shut,” Iron Man snapped.
Iron Man almost took out the phone to snap a picture of Flash’s priceless expression. His mouth gaped open like a fish suffocating on land, his eyes bugging out of his head.
“Oh, you’re gonna regret that, Puny-”
“He’s gonna regret what?”
Iron Man and Flash both spun around at the sound of a new voice. MJ narrowed her eyes and took Iron Man by the hand. “Come on, Spanish starts soon.”
“Wait until my parents hear about this!” Flash yelled after them, though he made no attempt to follow. “You’re gonna be booted off the team!”
MJ snorted. “Go right ahead, Malfoy. Also, I think you should focus on getting back on the team rather than trying to boot the team captain off.”
Once they were out of Flash’s sight, both Iron Man and MJ let out a unanimous sigh of relief.
“Well that was a shitshow,” Iron Man grumbled. His brow furrowed as he surveyed their surroundings. They were in an empty wing, clearly undergoing some kind of construction. “Why’re we here?”
MJ turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because you’re going to tell me what the hell is up with you today.”
Iron Man raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
MJ scoffed. “Dude, you swore, multiple times actually, and you mouthed off Flash-fucking-Thompson. You literally would rather eat your own shit before you would even dream about backtalking to him when you could just as easily walk away.”
Iron Man stared.
“I’m not obsessed with you,” she muttered, crossing her arms and slouching down.
“Right. And I’m Tony Stark.”
“Dude, just tell me what’s going on with you,” MJ snapped, “because I’m getting real tired of this back-and-forth crap. We literally never fight. Just tell me what’s up before I tell May that you’re acting weird.”
Iron Man frowned. The familiar pressure that came before a switch was starting to set in, making him dizzy and dissociated. He leaned against the wall, fingers digging into his arms, and pressed a hand to his face. He blinked, and he was back at the tower.
“Keagan?” he growled after he came back to his senses, “the hell just happened?”
”You were about to spill the beans,” Keagan answered almost immediately- something that shocked Iron Man, to say the least. He never responded that quickly. ”I made sure you didn’t.”
He sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. The bed creaked under his weight.
Silence filled the bedroom, the quiet rush of the wind outside of his windows the only sound that came to him. He sighed again.
“FRI, what time’s it?”
“It is currently six-forty-seven in the evening. Boss would like to inform you that dinner is on the table.”
“Right,” he muttered, rising to his feet. He wobbled a bit, but quickly regained his balance. The cold hardwood under his feet told him that it was chilly outside of the bedroom, so he grabbed a sweatshirt that had been discarded over the back of the desk chair.
“Hey Underoos,” Tony greeted as he walked into the kitchen, “how’s it hangin?”
“Okay,” Iron Man responded, mimicking Peter’s speech patterns, “what’s for dinner?”
Tony paused and squinted in his direction. Iron Man shifted his weight, then squared his shoulders in defiance. “I made sandwiches. That okay?” he said at last, walking over to hand Iron Man a plate with three peanut butter sandwiches piled on top.
“That’s cool with me,” Iron Man replied, trying his best to imitate Peter (which was difficult when you were in your mid-forties and trying to imitate a fifteen-year-old kid who spoke in fluent Gen Z and nothing else). He flopped onto the couch, propping his feet up onto the arm, and began tearing into his sandwich.
”God, did Keagan not eat today or something?” he practically moaned into his second sandwich, inhaling it as quickly as he could. Tony watched on with a slightly amused expression, then seemed to realize what Iron Man had said.
“Keagan was fronting?” he asked, an eyebrow raised, “isn’t he, you know, not supposed to do that?”
Iron Man swallowed and answered, “yeah, but something came up.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Mostly,” he said, “just someone at school being a jerk. Iron Man had it handled, but Keagan thought he wasn’t doing a good enough job, so…”
Tony looked slightly concerned, but he thankfully didn’t speak up with that big mouth of his. The two fell into sort of an awkward silence before Tony said, “So, Iron Man went back, then?”
“Yep,” he answered quickly, shoving half of his third sandwich into his mouth, “Keagan was being a real bitch about it, though, he won’t let him in.”
“Mm, I’m not talking to Peter, then?”
’Shit, how’d he figure it out so quickly?’
Tony laughed. “You’re not subtle, you know. Peter doesn’t swear very often. Who’s out?”
“Not telling you.”
“Oh?”
“Fine, it’s Alex.”
“Try again.”
Iron Man groaned.
“Look, I know you’re not one of the hosts or Alex. That kid of yours is too pure to have such a foul mouth, from what I’ve heard, so it can’t be him either.” Tony’s face twisted into a grimace. “Any reason you’re out, Iron Man?”
Iron Man groaned and dropped his Peter façade. “Fine, whatever, you got me. Yes, it’s Iron Man.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t know,” Iron Man growled, “Peter’s just not feelin’ it today.”
Tony hummed, swiping the crumbs up from his with his finger and licking them off, “Alex mentioned something a couple days ago about him wanting to see the inner world thingy.”
“Right, forgot about that. Little brat.”
Tony looked slightly amused. He reached for Iron Man’s empty plate, swiping it from him and bringing it into the kitchen.
“What’s so funny?” Iron Man snipped.
“You and Alex aren’t that different, you know.”
Iron Man’s brow furrowed. He leapt off of the couch and sauntered into the kitchen. “I’m not surprised. Our roles are pretty similar.”
“And what’s that?”
“What’s what?”
“Your role,” Tony said, turning the sink on and rolling up the sleeves on his stained MIT sweatshirt.
“Primary protector, according to the shrink,” he responded, leaning his hip against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.
Tony finished scrubbing the first dish and set it down unceremoniously in the drainboard. “Going off the name, I’m assuming you protect people? Peter?”
“Yes, Peter, but also the others, too.”
“What you protect them from?”
“Physical danger. Bullies. Altercations that the spider kid can’t use his powers in.”
Tony looked contemplative as he scrubbed the second plate. “You’re right, that’s pretty similar to Al.”
The two stood in an awkward silence for another minute. “Look, can you not grill me while I’m front stuck? This whole situation’s kinda awkward for me.”
“How you think I feel?” Tony snorted, snatching the dishcloth from the counter to dry the plates off. “It’s not every day that you meet someone who is essentially you in the body of a kid.”
“Okay, back it up, I am not ‘essentially you.’ I’m my own person. We aren’t even remotely similar.”
“Oh yeah?” Tony challenged. He reached up to put the plates away and wiped his hands dry. “How so?”
“Do I really have to explain this to you? Look, I’m a tech genius and billionaire, but that’s it. I don’t fuck around with the Avengers, I don’t have a relationship with Peter or Spidey, at least not a close one like you do, hell, I don’t even look like you- well, I do, but I never take the suit off.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “That sounds uncomfortable.”
Iron Man shrugged. “Not after a while. Anyway, look, can you stop pretending like we’re the same person? Because we’re not.”
“Sure, whatever floats your boat,” Tony shrugged, turning to chuck the dishcloth onto the now-empty drainboard.
“I’m serious here.”
“I never implied that you weren’t.”
“Yes you did. This is weird for me, and I’m sure it’s weird for you too. You’re basically me with added spices.”
Upon noticing Tony’s bewildered expression, Iron Man explained, “I have to listen to Peter’s nonsense chatter all hours of the day. I’ve picked up on a few things.”
Tony raised an eyebrow, but accepted the answer nonetheless.
“Alright, so we’re not the same person. What do you plan to do about that?”
“What?”
Tony hoisted himself up to sit on the counter. “Well, you’re stuck with me, sorry to say, and we can’t act like we’re ex-lovers every time you decide to take over.”
Iron Man sighed. He had a point, he supposed, it wouldn’t be beneficial to just avoid him every time he fronted.
“Okay, fine. Whatever. How we workin’ this out, then?”
Tony pondered for a moment. “It’ll probably take awhile to get to know each other to the point where it isn’t weird, but maybe we can start with an introduction.” He slid off the counter, sauntering forward until he and Iron Man were face to face. He stuck out his hand.
“Tony. Nice to meet you.”
Iron Man stared at the outstretched hand for a moment before reaching out. He shook it firmly, meeting Tony directly in the eye.
“Iron Man. Nice to meet you too.”
Tony’s lip curled up slightly as he dropped his hand.
Iron Man knew that was far from the end of the journey, but he was, dare he say, excited to see where it would end up.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so strange after all.