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“You have no proof,” limping, suit
This really wasn’t Peter’s fault. This, this was Mr. Stark’s fault. Peter was sure of that, would stand by that sentiment until the day he died. Or until Mr. Stark looked at him reproachfully. Honestly, at this point, it was a fifty-fifty shot of which of those would happen first.
Another whine slipped past his gritted teeth as he struggled against the Iron Man suit he was trapped in. Just try it on, he’d thought to himself. It’ll be fine, nobody has to know about it. You’ll be in and out of it before he knows. As if the infamous Parker Luck wouldn’t strike again.
It had started out as a normal internship day in the lab. Peter actually had an official internship now, as a solid alibi for why the teen could be seen coming and going from SI buildings and the Avenger’s Compound on the regular. He’d come in to patch up his suit and re-calibrate his web shooters; nothing complicated, just some regular maintenance.
He’d just finished setting the 3D printer up to produce some replacement parts when Tony had been called out of the lab for a meeting; nothing serious, it seemed. Mr. Stark’s face had been more annoyed than stressed, and he assured Peter that he’d be back soon enough.
“Just keep working, kid,” he’d said, wiping his hands off with a rag before grabbing his phone and heading out. “And don’t touch my stuff!” He called out over his shoulder, before leaving his mentee to his own spidery devices.
Well. Pete had never been good at following directions or at keeping his hands off of lab projects that weren’t his. He really should have learned his lesson after the last field trip.
So here he was, stuck in a tin can, no tiddies or barbecue sauce in sight. He let out a half-amused, half-hysterical snort. I almost think that would be easier to explain.
“Friday,” he called out. “Do you think you could let me out of here?”
“My apologies, Peter,” the AI responded, cheerfully. “Boss has set the parameters on the ‘anti-spider-theft’ protocol very clearly. I cannot disengage the locks without the proper security codes.”
Peter sent a mournful look toward the ceiling. Not that he could see it, or the god he was silently praying to. “I don’t suppose you could tell me what those security codes are.”
“I’m afraid not, Peter.” Friday confirmed. Great. Wonderful. Lovely. He was well and truly stuck. Well, Peter could theoretically bust his way out of the suit, but that really was a waste of Tony’s tech and resources. As uncomfortable and embarrassed as he was, Peter couldn’t justify damaging his mentor’s things like that. After all, it was his own fault for trying the suit on without permission.
“Wait. Anti-spider-theft? You mean he expected this to happen?!” His voice had hit a screeching tone that only indignant teenagers were capable of producing.
“Boss has many protocols set in place, the majority of which have never been activated. However, given his knowledge of your personality, it’s safe to assume that he ‘saw this coming from a mile away,’” came Friday’s lilting answer. Peter frowned. That definitely sounded like an exact quote from the genius himself.
Just then, an alarm began blaring, making Peter jerk violently in the suit. It wasn’t as loud in the lab as it would be elsewhere in the building, but it was still shocking to his enhanced senses.
“Ouch! What’s going on, Friday?” He focused his senses to the outside of the set of rooms that the lab occupied. Nothing had triggered his spidey-senses yet, and it was kind of weirding him out. Friday’s lack of reply heightened the discomfort.
After a moment or two, he heard a clicking noise. “Locks disengaged,” Friday said, her voice coming across as completely robotic. The contrast from her earlier teasing tone made the phrase even more discomfiting.
Peter was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice when the suit slid from around him before gently, but abruptly, dumping him face-first onto the lab’s floor. He managed to catch himself with his arms, but the left pant leg got caught on the boot of the suit, twisting his ankle to a painful degree. He bit back another groan of pain before pushing himself upright, and then leaning on a nearby worktable.
The swish of the door opening interrupted his attempts to limp out of the lab. Tony strode in, phone in hand. “I’m telling you, I don’t know who set it off! Yes, I’m sure there’s no actual emergency, I’d know about it if there were-” He cut himself off when he saw Peter’s pained expression. “Don’t call me, I’ll call you,” he said before mashing the end call button. His eyes flicked curiously between Peter and the suit that was still open and hovering in the air.
“Spiderling,” he said, almost cautiously, the corners of his mouth sliding up into a smirk. “Did you try on the suit?”
Peter crossed his arms, letting his eyes shine with cold, hard rebellion as he met his mentor’s gaze. “You can’t prove anything.”