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Peter slid across the hardwood floor in the kitchen, and as he grabbed the handle on the fridge, he took a second to appreciate his fluffy Iron Man socks. Without them his sliding would never reach its maximum potential. He took another second to appreciate the deserted, empty and most of all quiet lake house.
He didn’t know what he’d done so good to deserve the alone time. He’d woken up and the Starks were nowhere to be found and Peter hadn’t thought to question it.
Instead he stared at the fully stocked fridge, before grabbing the milk, his favorite cereal, and the biggest bowl the Stark’s had in their cabinets.
Peter settled himself with his cereal at the kitchen table. He propped his phone up against the cereal box and prepared a YouTube video for his peaceful breakfast.
Before he could press play, the door to the kitchen flew open, with Morgan and Mr. Stark spilling inside. Both their hands with clear McDonald’s bags. Inside the bags were multiple Happy Meal boxes, and Peter felt his peace slipping away.
“Guess what, Petey?” asked Morgan. She put the bags she’d carried in down on the kitchen table. “McDonald’s has Avengers toys! So daddy and I went on a mission this morning.”
“To collect them all?”
“Nooo,” said Morgan, as if Peter’s guess had been absurd. “To find the Spider-Man one!”
“Really, Mr. Stark?” whined Peter, looking up at his mentor while he put his own bags down on the table and started unloading Happy Meals. “Oh my god, did you have to buy so many?”
“Uh, learn to count. We only got twelve,” he answered. As if this were normal behavior. As if twelve were a regular amount of meals for three people. “And yes, really, it isn’t every day your son’s an action figure.”
“It is actually, though,” Peter pointed out, and feeling his quiet and alone time slipping through his fingers. “You can buy a set at Target for 9.99$, which is probably less than what you spent on all this food.”
Morgan sucked in a breath, appalled. “But this is McDonald’s. Peter, you’re a McDonald’s toy. You’re sold in Happy Meals everywhere!”
Mr. Stark confiscated Peter’s cereal and moved it on the kitchen counter.
“Hey, that was my breakfast.”
“It’s lunchtime,” said Mr. Stark. He put four Happy Meal boxes in front of Peter, one by one. “Maybe don’t sleep so late. And don’t think I didn’t notice what time you got here last night. What were you doing out cruising after 2 AM?”
“Just hanging out with MJ,” said Peter, too fast for Mr. Stark to spam anymore questions He diverted his eyes to the Happy Meals in front of him, and quickly opened the first box. He pulled out the toy. “I got Steve!”
“Me too!” Morgan shouted.
Mr. Stark grumbled and opened one of his boxes. He threw another plastic wrapped Captain America toy across the kitchen. By the time they had their lunch, and checked all the boxes, they had twelve Captain America toys.
“Ridiculous,” said Mr. Stark. “And inaccurate. Look at his skin. It’s completely flawless and unwrinkley. You see this, Pete?” Mr. Stark held up the toy and pointed. “Real people have to moisturizer for this.” He paused, got a breath, and kept rambling. “He isn’t even Captain America anymore. We should be staring at Sam’s perfectly clear complexion right now.”
“They have Sam, too,” said Peter, looking on the back of one of the meal boxes. Sam’s toy was labelled as Captain America but had “current” listed under his name.
“McDonald’s is a scam.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Stark.”
Peter stood from the table and began throwing away all their fast food trash. Mr. Stark stood still, his face pointed downwards at his phone and his thumb moving across the screen.
“Alright, let’s go.”
“Where?” asked Peter, though he already had a feeling he knew. He dumped some of the dissembled boxes in the trash.
“The other McDonald’s.”
It should’ve been the part where Peter told him no, should’ve let Mr. Stark go on his ridiculous mission by himself, but felt he owed him. Mr. Stark had gone along with his own schemes too many times to count in the past.
“Just let me get dressed.”
Peter ditched his fluffy Iron Man socks and pajamas and got ready for what he was sure would be a very, very long day driving around with Mr. Stark in his car. Together, once Pepper got back home from the office, they left Morgan with her and continued the mission.
*
“I’m gonna need to buy however many Happy Meals it takes for me to get the Spider-Man toy.” Mr. Stark stated his request to the cashier confidently, unbothered by how ridiculous he sounded.
Peter shifted around on his feet. He hadn’t accounted for this part. The standing next to Tony Stark while he begged the restaurant for a toy.
The McDonald’s employee, Josh by his name tag, must’ve had stranger requests. He didn’t blink, either.
“The toys are randomized, Mr. Iron Man, sir.”
“I will give you one thousand dollars if you meet me in the parking lot with a Spider-Man toy.”
Josh walked away from the register without saying anything, and when he returned, he was shaking his head. “All the Spideys are sold out. We do have Captain America if you – “
“No.”
“So I don’t get a thousand dollars?”
Mr. Stark reached into his pocket, got his wallet out, and pulled out some bills to hand the cashier. They left the restaurant empty-handed, but Peter left feeling good, knowing that at least Mr. Stark had accomplished helping someone out.
*
The next McDonald’s they went to was 13 miles away and ran by an opportunist man who’d overheard Mr. Stark bribing the cashier.
“Toys come with meals,” he told them. Probably, Peter guessed, knowing that Tony Stark was loaded and liked getting his way. That he would no doubt order however many it took to find the much-coveted Spider-Man toy. “And are random.”
Mr. Stark didn’t skip a beat. “Fine. We’ll take twenty.”
“Nuggets or hamburgers?” asked Kristen the cashier.
“Oh, that doesn’t matter – “
“Nuggets,” Peter told her.
“You can’t possibly be still hungry.”
“Actually, let’s do fifteen with nuggets and five with hamburgers,” said Peter, ignoring Mr. Stark. “Oh, and chocolate milk to drink.”
After all twenty of their meals were ready, Mr. Stark tipped the McDonald’s staff generously, with the exception of the manager taking advantage of the situation and shouting at his employees behind the counter.
They searched through the boxes out in the parking lot, and Tony grumbled when not one of the boxes contained the Spider-Man toy.
“At least we got one of Sam this time,” said Peter, as he munched on his second box of chicken nuggets. “And three Iron Man.”
“Sixteen of Steve,” grumbled Mr. Stark.
He rolled down the window and tossed a Steve outside, and Peter twisted around in his seat just in time to see it hit the windshield of the police cruiser behind them.
The ticket, Mr. Stark would later say, was completely worth it.
*
By the time they visit their third McDonald’s of the day, Peter could barely move. He was questioning everything about his life.
Eating twenty Happy Meals had a way of changing his life views, mainly, on whether or not McDonald’s was even food. At the moment, it didn’t feel that way.
“Mr. Stark,” said Peter. He chose his words very carefully, remembering the last time he’d said something similar. “I feel… not great. No more Happy Meals. Please.”
But Mr. Stark was already parked near the front door, and he already had the key out of the ignition.
“You don’t have to eat them all, genius.”
“Someone’s got too,” said Peter. “Can’t throw away food when lots of people can’t afford to even eat.”
“Good point, kid,” said Mr. Stark. “How about this…”
They order fifty Happy Meals, Mr. Stark tips the staff, the whole staff that time, and they drive off to their second destination, a women and children’s shelter only ten minutes away.
They spent the next hour eating with kids and families. Peter watched how Mr. Stark made each of them feel special, how he talked with the parents, and thought about how this entire day had been about getting a Spider-Man McDonald’s toy, but he’d managed to spread so much goodness along the way.
Out of all fifty meals, there weren’t any Spider-Man toys, or at least that’s what they had thought until it was time to leave and they were nearly to the doors. A boy ran past them, clutching his brand-new Spider-Man toy in his hand.
“Hey Alex,” said Mr. Stark. “What’cha got there?”
Alex grinned. “Spider-Man. He’s my favorite Avenger!”
Peter glowed, and he thought Mr. Stark would ditch their quest at hearing this news, but he was wrong.
“How about we make a trade,” said Mr. Stark. “I’ll give you a Captain America one and you give me Spider-Man.”
Alex titled his head. “The old one, or the new one? I only want the real Captain America – not the old man version.”
“Who do you take me for?” asked Mr. Stark. “Of course I meant the real one.”
Mr. Stark elbowed Peter and whispered at him to go and fetch the Sam toy from the car. Peter jogged out to the car, retrieved the toy, and by the time he got back, Mr. Stark and Alex were deep in conversation.
Peter handed off the Sam toy to Alex, and in turn, Alex held out Spider-Man for Mr. Stark to take.
“Know what, kid? You can keep both.”
“Really?” Alex’s face lit up. “Thanks Mr. Stark!”
Once again Mr. Stark and Peter were back in the car, only except now it smelled like stale French Fries.
Mr. Stark sighed. “Back to the drawing board.”
*
The sun went down, and they were still driving around, searching for McDonald’s locations. They didn’t talk to each other, and instead, Peter texted MJ about his current situation, about how it seemed unescapable and he would be driving around eating McDonald’s for the rest of his life.
“MJ wants to know if you’ve ever heard of eBay.”
“What?” asked Mr. Stark, with one hand on the wheel. “Of course I have.”
“She wants to know why you don’t just order one off eBay.” Peter’s phone went off again. “She’s questioning how you’re considered a genius.”
Mr. Stark pulled the car off to the side of the road, got his phone out, and promptly ordered the limited-edition Spider-Man toy for 129.99$.
“Whoa, I’m worth a lot,” said Peter.
“You’re worth a hell of a lot more than that, kid.”
Peter smiled, then let his eyes drift back to all the McDonald’s toys they had in the backseat. “What are we gonna do with all these?”
“I’m gonna send the Iron Man ones to Rhodey,” Mr. Stark put his phone on the dash and began pulling back out into traffic.
“What’s he going to do with McDonald toys?”
“If he’s a good friend he’ll display them in the Oval office,” said Mr. Stark. “What else is having your best friend as President good for?”
Peter laughed at that and tried to envision the next Presidential address with plastic Iron Man action figures in the background.
As they drove back to the lake house, Peter had no regrets about how his Saturday turned out. Mr. Stark completed his mission. He didn’t stop until he got his way, but when Mr. Stark got his way, he did it in such a way everyone in the crossfire benefited as well, with the exception of Peter’s belly.
“Let me keep one,” said Peter. “One of the Iron Mans.”
“You got it, Pete.”