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1
It was turning into one long, long morning for Tony Stark, as he smiles and tilts his head to the left on cue one more time.
“Great. You look boyish and mischievous.” The set assistant gives him the thumbs up as the photographer reviews a few stills.
Tony resists the urge to roll his eyes, aware of the B and C cameras still trained on him.
One of the worst parts of the newest era of social media development is all the damn content that was required. A feature interview was no longer a leisurely lunch at a restaurant of his choosing where he charmed the reporter and followed it up later with a photoshoot. Now it was an entire production, a film crew and cameras rolling at all times to capture enough attention grabbing snippets for all platforms. It was exhausting, and Tony was missing that lunch as his stomach makes another quiet, but insistent, gurgle.
The industrial style warehouse on the river had fantastic lighting, but a lousy snacks table.
“I’m not sure boyish and mischievous is what we’re going to be running with here,” Christine Everheart, the journalist writing his feature, interrupts without even looking up, still tapping away nonstop on her phone. She’s currently working her way through the transcript to work out which questions and quotes she’ll bring up again to re-record as soundbites for the video that will accompany the print feature.
“The feature’s going to be focused around the next era for Tony Stark, and I’m sensing a more contemplative mood from my write up so far.” Christine’s looking up now, studying Tony. “Something’s different.”
Tony shifts, feeling exposed by her sudden examination, as the makeup artist swoops back in and begins fussing with his eyebrows.
“What’s different is you’re all having to work a lot harder to make me look good.” Tony says to the lady patting his forehead with blotting paper.
She laughs, giving his face one more critical assessment before stepping back.
“Try serious, if you can manage it.” Christine instructs, going back to her notes.
Tony follows the photographer’s directions again as he’s moved to lean against the brick wall, New York’s East river visible out the enormous windows to his right.
His phone buzzes from inside his blazer pocket.
Please be an emergency, please be an emergency, Tony begs as he fishes out his phone, flashing an apologetic grin towards the team.
“Hello.” He answers.
“Hi, this is Janice Williams, the nurse at Midtown School, can I speak to Mr. Tony Stark?”
Tony sighs, indicating to the team he needs a break. He steps away, towards the window, lowering his voice in concern. “How’s Peter? Is he sick?”
The woman on the phone seems calm, which helps Tony’s nerves immensely. “He’s not feeling well right now, it seems he is having a sensory overload. If you’re able to pick him up, I’m sure he’d rather be at home.”
Tony winces in sympathy. The kid’s sensory overload can be excruciating.
He mentally calculates the route to the school. He’s close. And clearly May is busy. He can take Peter home.
“Yeah, sure. I can be there in 20.” He says, and hangs up.
Tony takes a brief moment to look out across the water. It’s sheer dumb luck that that the first time (and hopefully only) time that the Spider-kid’s school calls him he’s actually in New York and able to answer the phone.
His status as the kid’s emergency contact was supposed to be more of a formality than anything, May deciding to add him after a rigorous vetting process and the formailisation of Peter’s internship with SI.
But actually getting called in, that’s, well, that’s–
“That’s it!” Someone whispers, startling Tony and reminding him he’s got both an audience and somewhere to be. Christine’s watching him with rapt attention, although too far to hear what he’s saying. “That’s the cover photo!” She frames him with her hands. “Maturity looks good on you, Tony.”
“Well I hope you got it,” Tony says, clapping his hands and shooting her his signature grin. “Sorry Christine and crew, it’s been a delight– “
“Tony– “ Christine says warningly.
“Gotta go.” He slips on his sunglasses and goes with the first excuse that comes to mind. ”Family emergency.”
2
Tony relishes the feeling of flying. The air is crisp and clear, just starting to streak around the edges of the horizon with an unfolding sunset. In the distance the grey bulk of New York sits within the shimmering inlets and bays.
A dark shadow approaches rapidly on his right.
“So are we going to show these guys something or what?” Rhodey asks across the comms.
“Please, Rhodey,” Tony flips over onto his back, ignoring the odd sense of vertigo to marvel at the wispy thin clouds above them.
“I’m serious, Tones.” War Machine appears above him. “Do you have any idea how much paperwork is involved with getting this much clear airspace stateside? I need more input before I can update the RCS, and you know I can’t replicate flight data like ours in simulation.”
“Ugh.” Tony gives an exaggerated eye roll and flips back over onto his stomach, floating up into formation next to Rhodey. “Can’t a man just go for a spin with his best bud without government oversight?”
“Not unless you want to start an international incident.”
“It has been quiet on the international incident front lately.”
“Don’t you dare, Tones. It's Friday, and I want a sleep-in tomorrow, not another congressional hearing.”
“If you’re going to be dramatic about it.” Tony stays beside Rhodey and a few degrees below as they bank slowly.
He’s playing wingman today so Rhodey can make his measurements without Tony’s slipstream interfering.
The mission oversight officer calls in their commands, and he and Rhodey run through a few drills, coordinated turns and tag team maneuvers that Rhodes would normally run with jets. They both keep a little in the tank, an unspoken agreement not to those in charge have a full scope of understanding exactly what War Machine can do.
They run drills for thirty long minutes as the afternoon starts to change into early evening, as Tony slips in Topgun references at every available opportunity. As boring as running through routine, unimaginative military formation flying is, this is something Tony had never been able to do with Rhodey in their friendship before, share the sky.
Somedays Tony thought it might be the only good thing to come out of the complicated mess of an endeavour Ironman and the Avengers had become.
As though hearing his thoughts, the flight coordinator interrupts, telling them they have enough information and they can head back to base.
“Ah, negatory on that, Control.” Tony says. “Kids aren’t ready to come in yet.”
He can practically hear Rhodes sigh.
“Control, we’ve got free airspace for at least another forty five.” Rhodes says out loud as Tony speeds ahead.
“That is– ”
“Sorry, can’t hear you!” Tony says, and cuts the military’s access to their comms.
He rolls to the right and deploys his flaps, breaking hard. War Machine skims past his extended fingertips. “Tag!” Tony yells, “you’re it!”
“No radars, no rules!” Tony says quickly before jetting off, cackling over Rhodey’s spluttering.
One of the simple pleasures in Tony’s life is catching Colonel James Rhodes off guard. It’s not often he achieves it, but when he does…sweet satisfaction.
The land blurs below him green and grey as Tony drops altitude, giving Rhodey a moment to shake off his by-the-book’s mindset and decide to participate in the chase. War Machine is heavier, but Rhodey is more experienced and well suited for the sky, whether piloting a jet or a suit.
“You’re a child.” Rhodey says with irritation. There’s a hard thump on Tony’s back, knocking him off course and sending him tumbling through the air. “You’re also it.”
Tony swears and sets off on Rhodey’s wake.
A musical ping and flashing notification in the lower left of Tony’s HUD. A text message.
“FRIDAY.” Tony says in warning, “unless the sky is catching fire somewhere, you better not be interrupting my Tony-Rhodey time...”
“It’s a text from Michelle Jones.” FRIDAY responds.
“Jones?” Tony pulls up, signalling a time out to Rhodey. Peter’s quiet friend would have been the last person he expected to text him. “Bring it up.”
Stark. Peter’s having an anxiety attack. School Gym. Haul ass.
He appreciates her direct nature.
“FRIDAY, how long will it take to get up to the school?” Tony asks, gut twisting. At least he’s already in the air.
“I calculate 7 minutes direct, 12 for a more covert approach.” FRIDAY says, lighting the alternating flight paths to Midtown.
Rhodes pulls up alongside, hovering with Tony. “Problem?”
“I’m going to have to take a rain check on the tag, something’s come up with the kid.” Tony says. To FRIDAY, he says “Let Miss Jones know I’m 12 minutes away.” Every second in a panic attack can be excruciating, but despite his jokes, Iron man igniting panic by causing a supersonic boom on a low approach to the city is going to cause issues for more than just Peter and Tony.
“You know,” Rhodey says, following on his tail, “I could come with you. I’m great with kids.”
Tony considers. Rhodey might be useful. He knows all about Tony’s own PTSD issues, and God knows the first time Peter ever had a panic attack Tony just repeated what Rhodey says to him until the kid settled down. But, he’s not sure if the kid will want an audience.
“Sorry, it’s at his school,” Tony says.”They get weird about me leaving armour in the carpark.”
“You’re going to his school now?”
“What can I say, it’s a full time gig being the kid’s favourite Avenger!” Tony shoots Rhodey a salute then speeds off towards the city in the distance and Peter.
3
Tony’s laying on his back, all the way underneath the engine block of his latest fixer-upper, music blaring. He’s trying to trick his brain into solving a problem by getting his brain, and hands, to work on a different problem.
It’s a tried and tested solution for when he’s blocked on a project and there’s no one around to bounce ideas with. There's a reason the lab currently lays in complete disarray, spare parts and wires across every worktop. Tony's stuck. Blocked. Completely out of ideas.
“Where’s a damn lab assistant when you need one.” Tony grumbles, suddenly missing his intern.
Something pokes at his leg, probably DUMEE, summoned by the term ‘lab assistant’.
“No, I don’t want you.” Tony says irritably, “Go away.”
“Oh.” Pepper’s voice comes from about him.“ I guess I’ll just throw your sashimi in the rubbish on my way out.”
Tony jumps, noticing his music has dropped many degrees quieter and a pair of loubaintian’s tapping impatiently on the floor by his thigh.
Tony rolls himself out from under the car and blinks up at his fiancee. “Don’t you know better than to harass a man when he’s on a deadline?”
“Hmm. Yes. About the deadline.” Pepper looks unimpressed as she steps back, then points at the disassembled components laying across the workbench. “It’s so strange, but I was under the misapprehension that the propulsions team was on a deadline for that particular project, and yet for some reason our only working prototype of the new drilling system is completely disassembled on your bench.”
“They weren’t going to get it done.” Tony grunts, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “Idiots, the lot of them. You should fire them.”
“Our last CEO hired them.” Pepper reminds him.
“Well, they’ve gotten dumber since they were hired.”
“And here I thought it just might have been that you’ve gotten wiser in your old age?” Pepper pulls over the wheelie chair from Peter’s workstation and perches on it, balancing her lunch on her lap as she expertly wields her chopsticks.
“Who are you calling old, Miss Potts?” Tony leers and reaches for her, gratified when she glares, scuttling the chair backwards..
“Don’t you dare, I have the board meeting later.”
He gets up and goes to the sink, lathering the thick mechanics soap up to his elbows, looking back at the disassembled components across his bench. Work on the prototype is falling further and further behind, the R&D team stuck on the drive system weeks now with no feasible solutions yet.
Pepper interrupts his musing. “Does your new old man wisdom extend to opinions on our upcoming quarterlies?”
“Oh quarterlies, you know how they turn me on.” Tony snarks as he wipes down his hands and goes to sit on the bench. “Alright, hit me.”
He pokes at his lunch as Pepper gives him a rundown on what she’s intending to present to the board this evening. The business bores him, but he tries to focus as Pepper runs through the numbers.
FRIDAY interrupts. “Boss, I have an incoming call from Midtown High.”
“Put it through.” Tony says, shooting Pepper an apologetic glance. “Hello?”
“Hi, this is Judith Brownwall calling from Midtown School of Science and Technology. I’m looking for Tony Stark? This is in regards to– ” her pause is brief, but enough time for Tony to start to worry, “Peter Parker.”
“Is he okay?” Tony asks.
“Yes, he’s fine. There was a minor altercation but Peter is unharmed, however, we’d like to send him home for the day, if you can come to pick him up.”
Tony jumps off the table, accidentally standing on the mechanics creeper. It shoots out from underneath him. He stumbles.
“Hello?” Judith asks.
“Yes, yes, sorry. I will be there in 20.” Tony signals for FRIDAY to hang up, and rushes over to the locker where he keeps his change of clothes.
“A fight, Pep?” Tony yanks a clean shirt over his head. “Spider-man can’t get into fights at school. How do I deal with this?”
“Didn’t you literally meet this kid for the purpose of getting him into a fight?”
Tony scoops up his wallet and keys and starts shoving his shoes on. He prefers not to be reminded of his past mistakes, especially where the entirety of the Avengers and Accords debacle is concerned.
“Tony. Relax, he’s still a kid, kids fight.” Pepper shrugs. “I’m sure he feels terrible, take him out for ice cream.”
Tony stops what he’s doing to stare at her incredulously. “We don’t reward fighting, Pepper.”
“Okay,” Pepper pokes her chopsticks into the bowl, trying to hide her smile, “ground him then.”
“Not helpful!” Tony huffs. He takes a calming breath, reminding himself not to jump to conclusions and get himself into another bad situation by not listening to Peter. Although, he definitely needs to catch up with May again about the possible scenarios he might be dealing with for this emergency contact thing. A plan in mind, he heads to the elevator.
“What should we do about this?” Pepper points at the prototype.
“Give it back to R&D,” Tony glances back, “I’ve got a kid to ground.”
4
Try as he might, Tony’s never found a great solution to stuff getting too hot. Climate change, coffee the way Happy makes it, the Ironman suit being totally immersed in flames. He ponders on the problem as he kicks through the burning facility, as his extremities warm to what he’d consider a very toasty rating.
Tony curses as another section of the ceiling collapses. The fire here spread more rapidly than FRIDAY’s models had predicted, making the cause of this fire even more suspicious. Thank god for companies with well rehearsed fire evacuation plans, at least today’s impromptu bit of hero work hasn’t involved any loss of life so far.
There’s an intake of air somewhere to his left, almost more of a subconscious pause than the negative pressure moment, then an enormous boom. The explosion knocks him back. His repulsor system activate a second too slowly, overloading from the external heat.
“Guess there’s no point trying to salvage the labs.” Tony says sarcastically, clambering to his feet.
“Ironman? Do you read me?” The incident commander’s voice comes in through Tony’s ear clearly enough, despite the roar of fire around him.
“Ironman here. Go ahead.”
“We saw an explosion from out here, what’s going on?”
“Ah, yes I saw the big kaboom too. I think those labs are done for.”
“Affirmative.” The incident commander, Tony hadn’t caught his name, goes on. “We’re seeing structural instability in the building, so we’re pushing the fire fighters back to the perimeter out here. Confirm.”
“Confirm so far.” Tony repeats, following the billowing black smoke that crawls along the roof to where it’s escaping.
“We understand that you’ve got some tech with you that might be able to assess the scale of the damage.”
Iron man steps out of the window, drifting slightly due to the buffeting thermals of the fire and his still sluggish flight systems, seeing fire engines reversing hurriedly down the street with tiny firefights jogging hastily alongside.
He gives himself a moment of fresh air, pushing back and away, letting the suit vent as much heat as possible while he circles the building. He doesn’t have to be a structural engineer (although he could be) to recognise the torsion occurring through the upper third of the building, although the enormous groan that emerges over the sound of the fire and sirens is another huge clue.
FRIDAY compiles a 3D model and confirms. He spots the stress point at the same moment she points it out. On the northern side, a beam has failed and collapsed, drawing the upper northern facade down. Brace that and he might be able to secure the building.
He spies a construction site and a stack of enormous steel beams a block down.
“Looks like my missing mechano piece.” He says to FRIDAY, and quickly relays his plan to the incident commander as he flies over, before hoisting up the beam.
“Crikey.” Tony almost doesn’t leave the ground as the armour takes the load, already overstrained from the sustained heat. He stutters upwards like a drunken fly.
“Boss, you have an incoming call from Midtown High.” FRIDAY announces.
“I– WHAT?” Tony asks incredulously, as he carefully balances the enormous steel beam as he moves upwards. “I’m kinda busy, FRI!”
“Phone records indicate they’ve tried to call May twice already.”
“Fine.” Tony grits his teeth and swings the beam onto his shoulder. He can multitask. Handle Peter’s school, don’t let the building collapse.
The phone call picks up as FRIDAY engages her voice filter system, designed to make Tony sound calm, cool and collected to the caller, a surprisingly useful feature when he doesn’t want to tell a Mister Meyers to f- off about a disciplinary meeting for Peter while he attempts to reverse jenga a building that’s literally on fire.
He supposes he should be glad the teachers are so on top of discipline, and at least, he thinks somewhat bitterly as he flies back into the flames, they seem to be treating him like any other overstressed parent at the school.
5
Silence. Sweet silence. That’s what Tony wakes up to when he finally pries his eyes open at 10am on a Thursday morning. The sleep in was prearranged, something he’d been looking forward to savouring in what was going to be his first day off in more days than he could count. The day outside is sunny, he can see half of New York from his bed if he asks FRIDAY to open the curtains, but he'd rather mooch about in the dark in the penthouse for a few more moments, while he woke up. In fact, he could do that all day, if he so desired.
The whole day was his.
First on the agenda, sleep in. Achieved.
Second on the agenda, waffles. And then the rest of the day will be given over to laying on the couch in his sweats watching as much TV as he can stand.
Self care, he believes the kids call it nowadays.
Now that he’s made space for not-doing, he’s surprised at how much he enjoys unwinding. Before, activity has been vital to keep the panic at bay, giving in to the urge to do, do, do, keep his fingers and mind moving continuously so he doesn’t allow space for his worries to creep in around the edges of his brain until they blanket the space entirely. Now, he unwound. Relaxed. Actually slept and drank water and occasionally stayed still and did nothing.
Tony wonders what his younger self would have thought of a Tony who just wanted to sit by himself and watch Quantum Leap reruns until he takes an impromptu nap.
Okay, maybe his 16 year old self would have appreciated those lifestyle choices.
Two hours later, he’s stretched out on the couch approaching his pinnacle TV induced haze when FRIDAY interrupts.
“Boss, May’s just cancelled an appointment in Karen’s calendar today at Midtown High.”
“Um.” Tony blinks blurrily, not really sure what that has to do with him. “Okay.”
“May has also just texted you to ask if Peter can stay late this evening at his internship as she’s working a double.”
“Yeah,” Tony waves a hand, “that’s fine, I’ll be done decompressing by then.”
“If I could note, Boss, the meeting today was with Mr Morita.”
“The Principal?” Tony raises his head curiously. “I’ve never met Peter’s principal before.” The Principal, Jim Morita, is someone Tony only knows from his summaries at the start of the occasional school newsletter Tony scrolls through.
“Your schedule is free for 2:30 this afternoon.” FRIDAY adds.
“Ugh!” Tony pulls the cushion out from under his head, pressing it over his face as FRIDAY’s implication comes through. “No! Self-care day! No adult responsibilities! No spider-people meetings allowed! Let May reorganise it!”
“Alright.” FRIDAY says mildly, and restarts his movie.
Tony watches distractedly, wondering what Principal Morita wants to talk to May about. Then he starts wondering what May would do on a self care day, if she even gets one between working a double then heading into Peter’s school for a meeting with his Principal...
Tony sits up. “Okay FRIDAY, text May and confirm the meeting time with Morita.”
“I already did.”
Tony hates that his AI has become so smug, as he gets up off the couch in preparation to make himself seem like a capable adult again. He’s not nervous precisely, but it seems important to be able to put on a good front to the head of Peter’s school.
After all, he wants them to keep calling him.
+1
Tony’s not actually sure if he’s supposed to be on the school emailing list, he’s technically an emergency contact at this point, not a listed guardian, but May had flicked him a few of the school newsletters with funny notes, and the ongoing PTA conflict seemed like an absolute saga, so he could be forgiven for calling up admin and sweet talking his way onto the mailing list.
What he sees in the latest newsletter makes him rub his hands together in glee.
After all the times that school had called and harassed him, it’s time for his revenge.
He calls May first, and she sceptically, but good naturedly agrees to his proposal.
Then he calls the school.
“Hi, this is Tony Stark, I’m calling to register for this term's parent teacher conferences.”
“I–” the admin staff, Paul, isn’t one he recognises. He must be new. “I’m sorry, which child are you calling to register for?”
“Peter. Peter Parker.”
“Oh.” Paul falters again. “I see here you’re listed as his emergency contact. We usually don’t have the emergency contacts attending...” he trails off.
“Well, I’ll be attending.” Tony announces firmly.
“Okay, Mister Stark,” Paul stammers. “I’m just not sure how to coordinate his session bookings… I’ll have to talk to Mr Morita. I’m not sure what we’ll do if an Avenger just shows up in the hallways here.”
Tony grins. Paul has a lot to learn.
“Get used to it, Paul.” Tony says cheerfully. “I’m very invested.”