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Peter stood on the doorstep for at least ten minutes before he finally scrounged up the courage – and frostbite – to knock. The frostbite was the bigger motivator if he was being honest.
The door opened and the sounds of music and people moving about drifted out of the tall townhouse. Peter blinked widely at the black man who opened the door.
The well-built man stared at Peter with wide eyes. “Oh my god,” he whispered.
Peter raised his fingers and smiled awkwardly. “Hi.”
The man’s shoulders dropped as he sighed heavily. He mumbled something under his breath that sounded like, “Jesus Christ, Tony,” before gesturing for Peter to come in.
Peter’s eyes widened. Unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth, Peter rushed inside and closed the door behind him. He glanced around at the fine furnishing. There were deep green garlands dotted with red berries strung up the staircase and across the mantel of a fireplace in the parlor room to the right. Little holiday lights glowed around the room. A pretty, modern-looking menorah sat on the mantle, ready to be lit for the first night of Hanukkah.
“Wow,” Peter breathed.
There weren’t any people at the house other than the man who’d answered the door and a bunch of staff setting up for what looked to be a nice get-together.
The smell of fresh latkes filled the air. There was a large dining table just a bit further into the house and Peter could see a spread of blintzes, rugelach, and other delicious-looking treats. God, he was hungry.
“Hey,” the man who’d let Peter in signaled to a passing waiter, “go get Tony – now.”
The waiter nodded and disappeared further into the house.
Peter looked up at the man with wide eyes. “How’d you know I wanted to talk to Mr. Stark?”
The man raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s his house,” the man snarked and if Peter’s face weren’t already hot from coming in from the cold December weather, he’d have probably felt the blush on his cheeks.
The man turned and grabbed a picture frame off the wall before handing it to Peter. “This might have been a clue too,” the man deadpanned.
Peter stared down at the picture in his hands. It was of two teenagers standing in what looked like a university dorm room. They were smiling brightly at the camera. And Peter was the spitting image of one of the boys.
“Whoa.”
He brought the picture closer. They had the same dark curls and brown eyes. They even had similar smiles. It was startling. Peter had never seen good photos of Tony Stark when he was younger. Most of the ones online or in the press were blurry and often taken in clubs or bars.
“Wait,” Peter looked up at the man before him. “Is this you too?” His eyes widened. “You’re Colonel Rhodes! You’re Iron Patriot,” Peter finished with an awed whisper.
“Yeah, Rhodey, and you are?”
Peter blinked widely. “Oh! I’m Peter.”
He stuck out his hand and Col. Rhodes shook it.
The older man hissed in shock. “Jesus, kid. You’re freezing.” He frowned at Peter. “Where’s your jacket?”
Peter glanced down at himself. He was wearing his thickest sweater and a puffy winter vest. “Uhm, I’m wearing it?”
“That's not a jacket.”
“It's the only one I have,” Peter protested weakly.
“Right, well-”
“-We don’t want any cookies,” Tony Stark announced as he entered the conversation.
The billionaire was in a crisp navy blue suit and had a silver yamaka on his head.
Peter looked down at himself. “I am clearly not a girl scout.”
Rhodey gave Tony a flat look. “He’s clearly your son.”
Tony held up a hand, the other occupied with spiked eggnog. “Hey, whoa- hold up. Rewind. Clearly, nothing.”
“He looks exactly like you,” Rhodey protested as he gestured at Peter.
The teenager in question stared with wide eyes at the two adults.
“And people popped up when I was his age every couple months, looking just like me, and claiming to be Howard’s other kid.”
Rhodey’s expression flattened, clearly unimpressed. “And half of them probably were and got paid to go away.”
“I have proof,” Peter piped up.
Rhodey gestured. “He has proof.”
Tony narrowed his eyes at Rhodey. “Okay. You know what? Fine. You want him to be here when my dad gets here? That’s on you. I would like it to be formally noted that I was against subjecting the baby to the emotional trauma of meeting Howard Stark.”
“Noted,” Rhodey deadpanned. “Now own up to your actions and be a better man than your father.” He turned and gave Peter a kind smile, if a bit tight. “It was nice meeting you, Peter.”
“You too, Col. Rhodes.”
“Rhodey,” the man insisted.
Peter nodded and grinned shyly. “Rhodey.”
Rhodey gave Tony another sharp look before disappearing further into the house.
Tony and Peter turned to one another. Neither spoke for a long moment.
“Alright,” Tony finally sighed. “Let’s handle… this.”
Peter looked down at himself. “You just gestured to all of me.”
“All of you happens to be a situation, kid.”
Peter curled in on himself. “Peter.”
“Right. Come on, kid. You look half frozen and the only human popsicle allowed in my house is Captain America and that’s really only on special occasions.”
He clapped a hand to Peter’s shoulder before quickly pulling it away with a face. “You’re wet.”
“It’s snowing,” Peter replied as if that answered everything, which he felt it did.
Mr. Stark sighed. He led the way upstairs and Peter quickly followed.
He stopped and opened the door to a bathroom. “In here, let me grab you some clothes.”
“Oh, you don’t need to-”
“-You’re dripping on my floors.”
Peter looked down and winced at the sight of his wet shoes on what was probably a very expensive hallway runner.
“Oh. Sorry.”
Tony gave him a look that Peter couldn’t decipher. “Don’t be sorry, just wait in here.”
The man turned and disappeared further down the hall. Peter entered the bathroom with a sigh. He’d known this would be awkward at best.
Peter spared a moment to panic about Howard Stark. He’d read the articles about the man’s incredible temper. Tony had left home for college at sixteen and been very open about the fact that he did it to get away from his father. The only reason the two interacted anymore was because Iron Man worked with the Avengers, who were funded by Stark Industries.
“Here,” Tony said when he returned.
Peter awkwardly handed over the picture frame he was still holding and took the clothes from the older man’s hands. He fumbled and barely managed to catch the articles of clothing. Tony watched him, eyebrows raised and a little smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth.
Peter smiled weakly. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”
The man made a face. “Tony.” He snapped his fingers. “You said you had proof?”
“Oh! Right.”
Peter dropped the clothes onto the bathroom counter and pulled off his backpack. He dug around for the right journal. It was a cheap school one from the dollar store. There were loose papers, pictures, and other things stuck between the pages. Peter handed it over.
Tony wrinkled his nose but took the well-used journal.
“Right. Okay.” He lifted the journal. “Thanks. You change. Wait- give me your shoes.”
Peter stared at him. “... Why?”
Tony raised a dark eyebrow. “So you won’t just run out the door again before I get you a proper winter jacket. It’s cold out there, kid. What’s your mom thinking, letting you out there like this?”
Peter shuffled his feet. “Uhm… well…”
“She doesn’t know you’re here does she?”
Peter looked up at him and didn’t say anything.
Tony sighed and nodded. “It’s probably for the best. She kept you away from me for a reason. I’m a- I’m a mess.”
“You’re Iron Man.”
“Sure, but I’m also a mess. I’d have just fucked you up if your mom had gotten me involved. You’re better off, trust me.”
Peter crossed his arms over his chest. “I can go,” he offered quietly.
“That’d probably be best. Your mom’s going to be worried, right?”
“Right,” Peter whispered.
“Shoes, now.”
Peter toed off his wet Vans. He handed over the scuffed-up sneakers.
“Good. Change your clothes. I’ve got a winter jacket on the way for you. Some winter boots too would be smart. These things are…” They looked at the Vans in his hands which were both very old and a little small for Peter. “Anyway.”
Tony raised the notebook. “I’ll take a look at this. See if it’s… regardless, we’ll need to do a DNA test. Once the stuff gets here, you can take the car back home, and then I’ll contact you for the DNA test.”
Peter nodded. A lump was forming in his throat. God. This was such a bad idea.
“Hey, don’t look so glum, kid.” Tony patted the side of Peter’s shoulder. “Regardless of what happens, I’ll pay for your college tuition or something. Okay? Are you almost in college?”
“Almost,” Peter whispered.
“Great. Get changed.”
He closed the bathroom door as he left.
Peter’s face twisted as tears gathered in his eyes. He shouldn’t have come here. He shouldn’t have come here at all. He still wasn’t sure why he’d even done it. Sure, Tony Stark was his birth father but he wasn’t his dad. Tony Stark didn’t want to be Peter’s dad – this conversation proved that.
Glumly, Peter shucked off his wet winter gear. He grabbed a fancy hand towel and only felt a little guilty as he used it to wipe down his damp feet and shoulders. The snow had melted straight through his clothes in the first few minutes of entering the house and it felt incredible to get rid of damp, dirty clothing.
The clothes Tony had given him were soft and probably cost more than Peter’s tuition at Midtown before he’d left. Left was probably the least problematic way to say he’d dropped out, ran from his foster home, and was living on the street. In hindsight, maybe he should have waited until spring. But the foster parents had been awful and Peter hadn’t been willing to stay a minute longer.
He would give the taxi Tony called the address to his old apartment in Queens before May got sick. Or maybe he’d go to the hospital. He’d been there earlier today, but May had wanted him to spend time with his foster family on Hanukkah. Not that they were Jewish. The looks they’d sent Peter when he’d claimed to be Jewish had been nothing less than disgusted. It wasn’t the first time someone had reacted poorly to Peter being Jewish, but certainly wasn’t the best response.
With a sigh, Peter shrugged on the woolen cardigan over the cashmere sweater. The pants were some sort of rich person lounge pants that were so soft they felt like clouds. A thick pair of socks were pulled on last.
When Peter stepped out of the bathroom with his bundle of wet clothing, Rhodey was waiting for him in the hallway.
The teenager blinked widely. “Oh, hi?”
Rhodey shot him a warm smile. “Hey, let me take those.”
He reached out for the wet clothes and Peter awkwardly handed them over.
“You don’t have to-”
“-I’m going to toss them in the wash, okay?” He headed to a door in the hallway that opened up to a washer-dryer. The clothes were dumped inside and after a minute, the washer began going.
Peter felt a knot of dread in his stomach. His throat tightened. Washing and drying took usually up to three hours. What was he going to do for three hours? Tony had made it seem like he wanted Peter out of his hair as fast as possible.
Rhodey clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder and gave him an enthusiastic grin. “Let’s go get you a hot chocolate and some food.”
Peter shuffled his feet. “I don’t think Mr. Stark wants me to go downstairs. I’m a… situation.”
Rhodey’s face hardened. “I don’t care what Tony wants. I want to make sure you get some food and warm up a bit. You’re still shivering.”
Peter crossed his arms over his chest. “I get cold easily.”
“All the more reason for you to warm up. Come on.”
Rhodey led him back downstairs and to the dining table piled high with food. The staff were still moving around the main floor of the house, setting things up. The kitchen sounded alive with movement as the cooks made last-minute preparations before guests arrived.
Rhodey handed him a plate. He picked one up for himself and began to pick away at the collection of food and treats that were set up.
Peter stood there with his plate in his shaking hands.
He must have stood still for too long, because the next thing he knew, Rhodey was piling things onto his plate. Peter blinked widely. He ducked his head to hide his smile. Fingers still shaking, he picked up a square of cheese and put it on his plate.
“How old are you?” Rhodey asked genially.
“Sixteen.”
Rhodey hummed and nodded. “What’s your favorite subject?”
“Science.”
Rhodey smiled. “Yeah? Bit of an engineer yourself?”
Peter shrugged weakly. “It’s interesting… and kinda easy. It just makes sense, ya know?”
“No, well – science and math, sure. Engineering specifically? That was always Tony’s thing. You should ask him about his latest project. You heard about that Spidey-Guy?”
Peter’s head shot up and his eyes widened.
Rhodey’s grin widened. “Yeah, him. Tony’s looking to recreate his web and whatever mechanism he uses to shoot them.”
Peter swallowed thickly. “Oh? What- why-?”
Rhodey shrugged. “He’s Tony’s latest obsession. Also, I think he’s just a fan.”
Peter blinked widely. “Iron Man is a fan of-” me? “-Spider-Man?”
The older man nodded. “Yeah, Tony’s always been a fan of an underdog bleeding heart and I’m not sure there’s a better example of that in New York right now than Spider-Man. He’s doing some great work out there.”
Peter’s eyes filled with tears. He blinked quickly and looked away, shoving a rugelach in his mouth so he wouldn’t do something stupid like reveal he was Spider-Man.
Tony entered the room and Peter felt his entire body tense as his eyes widened. He had another cookie halfway shoved into his mouth as a feeling of guilt filled him. He shouldn’t have come here. He shouldn’t have come here at all.
Tony’s lips flattened at the sight of Rhodey and Peter eating his food. It suddenly tasted like ash on his tongue. Peter had been so hungry, but now all he wanted to do was disappear back into the freezing cold streets of Manhattan and never come back.
“Pass me a shortbread and I won’t tell Jarvis you’re eating before the guests arrive.”
Rhodey laughed and handed the billionaire two sugared shortbread cookies.
“S-Sorry,” Peter stammered around his rugelach.
“Don’t apologize,” Tony said with a wave of his hand at the same time that Rhodey stated, “Tony couldn’t care less.”
“Besides,” Rhodey added, “it would be inhumane of us to not feed you. When’s your mom getting here?”
“I called a car,” Tony replied flippantly as he picked up a blueberry and popped it in his mouth.
Rhodey raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t call his mom?” he clarified, judgment in his tone.
“I didn’t want to deal with the yelling and accusations and the, ‘oh so now you want to be involved?’ which- okay- not fair. I didn’t know. I didn’t have a choice.”
“I’m so sorry,” Peter apologized as he nearly slammed his plate onto the table. “I’ll go. I shouldn’t have come.”
“What? No.” Tony waved his hand and stepped in front of Peter when the teenager moved to leave. “That’s not what I said. Eat your food.”
Peter didn’t move. Tony narrowed his eyes.
“Eat.”
Peter slowly curled in on himself as he stepped back beside Rhodey. He picked up the plate and held it to his chest. When the adults continued to stare he put a piece of cheese in his mouth.
Tony nodded once. “Good. Rhodey’s right. Call your mom.”
Peter winced.
“Pete,” Rhodey said gently. “Is there a reason you don’t want us to call your mom?”
“She won’t pick up,” he quietly informed them.
“At work?” Tony guessed.
“Dead,” Peter responded.
Neither Rhodey nor Tony responded for a long moment.
Rhodey placed a gentle hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Peter, I’m so sorry. When did- was it recent?”
Peter shook his head. “I was four. I’ve lived with my aunt and uncle until… There was an accident. And now… my Aunt May has breast cancer.” Peter shuffled his feet. “I don’t know why I came. I just… it’s Hanukkah,” he whispered.
He’d never celebrated a Hanukkah on his own before. Even the first year after Ben died and May almost couldn’t find the menorah after they’d moved for the second time in six months. But they’d done it. They’d still celebrated. They hadn’t forgotten.
“Who are you staying with?” Tony asked, voice soft.
Peter looked up, eyes wide. He didn’t respond.
Tony sighed and his shoulders fell. He shared a look with his best friend that Peter didn’t understand.
“Anthony Edward Stark,” a British voice snapped.
Rhodey, Tony, and Peter jumped to attention.
Tony whirled around and plastered a wide smile on his face. “Jarvis! Hey. Hi. How are you? How are things? How was the store? Did you get the- the things? The stuff and things?”
Jarvis was a tall man, so old that Peter was a little surprised the man was even standing unassisted. Despite his age, he had sharp blue eyes and a head of white, perfectly styled hair. He scowled fiercely at the three of them who felt like little boys.
“The food is not to be touched until-” Jarvis cut off as his sharp eyes fell on Peter. They widened minutely and the man’s spine straightened. “Anthony,” Jarvis said with such a wealth of disappointment that Peter desperately wanted to apologize and then leave.
“Jarvis – Peter – Peter – Jarvis. Hey, now that we all know each other, Jarvis, you wouldn’t mind setting up the guest room for Pete, would you?”
Peter’s head whipped around to Tony. “What? No! That’s okay. I don’t want to intrude.”
Tony opened his mouth, hesitated, and then said, “It’s Hanukkah. I know the Passover tradition is that the door is always open to anyone big-eyed and fluffy-haired-”
“-I don’t think that’s the tradition-” Peter interjected, but was ignored.
“-but I think it’d be good. Don’t you want to meet Captain America? Everyone loves Cap,” he finished a bit acerbically.
Peter stared at his birth father for a long moment. His mouth twisted. He was tired and hungry. The house was so warm and so inviting. Perhaps he could stay one night? He’d go see May in the morning and then he’d be off. Queens needed him and Tony had made it abundantly clear that Peter didn’t need to stick around.
“Just for the night?” Peter checked.
Tony shrugged. “Sure.” There was something a little funny to the man’s voice when he said that. But he’d agreed and that was the part Peter decided to focus on.
He nodded. “Can I talk to Dr. Banner about his latest paper? I have notes.”
Tony’s eyebrows shot up. Rhodey laughed loudly.
“Can I compare notes?” his birth father asked with genuine curiosity.
Peter smiled and nodded quickly.
Tony clapped a hand on Peter’s back. “Alright, let’s get you set up in the guest room before everyone arrives. You can drop your bag there, take a nap if you want. Jarvis?”
Jarvis smiled surprisingly gently at the three of them. “Right away, sir.” He gestured to Peter. “Come along, Master Peter.”
Peter glanced over at Tony who smiled and winked. “Go on, kiddo. Your Uncle Rhodey and I need to have a conversation. Jarvis raised me, he’ll take care of you too.”
Peter nodded before quickly shuffling over to the older man. He still had his plate in hand, filled with food.
“Oh! I should-”
-He looked around for somewhere to put the plate.
Jarvis inclined his head. “You may take it with you, Master Peter.”
“Okay. Cool. Sure.”
Peter darted after Jarvis who was surprisingly quick.
“Perhaps we can find you some shoes?” the man inquired in his thick British accent.
“Oh,” Peter looked down at his borrowed socks, “they’re wet.”
“Slippers, then?” Jarvis suggested without any hesitation. “We have some available for guests.”
He stopped at a hall closet and pulled out a pair of brown moccasin-style slippers that were in a clear plastic bag as if new.
Peter blinked. Rich people were wild. They just had ready-to-use, brand-new slippers in their closets? What else did they have? Was this a Narnia situation, he wondered, feeling his humor returning to him now that he was warm, fed, and welcome.
Jarvis opened the bag and Peter shoved his still cold toes into the shoes. He looked up and smiled toothlessly at Jarvis.
The older man was grinning warmly at Peter. “You look just like him, you know?”
“Col. Rhodes showed me a picture,” Peter replied as he shuffled his feet. “I don’t think Mr. Stark actually wants me here.”
Jarvis sighed. “Your father has a difficult relationship with his family. I’m afraid your arrival here happens to coincide with Mr. Stark’s – Howard Stark’s – appearance in a few hours. He’s under… a lot of stress.”
“I should go.”
“No, Master Peter, I believe you’re right where you should be.”
Peter blinked widely. He swallowed down the ball of anxiety in his throat.
“But I- I just showed up here? And I’m… I’m a problem. I cause problems. I’m already causing them. I don’t want Mr. Stark to get in trouble with- with the other Mr. Stark.”
“Your father is Iron Man, the trouble he gets into himself far outweighs anything a teenager could produce for him.”
“I’m Spider-Man,” Peter blurted.
Silence settled between them. Peter should have shoved another rugelach in his mouth. Stupid word vomit.
Jarvis blinked slowly. “You’ll need a yamaka when we light the candles.”
The man turned away and headed further down the hallway.
“I don’t think he heard me,” Peter whispered to himself.
“I heard you just fine, young sir,” Jarvis replied. “I think we have a red and blue yamaka you can wear.”
Peter hurried after Jarvis. “Is there a spider on it?” he asked excitedly.
His anxiety was still there, but also a little spark of hope that maybe this Hanukkah wouldn’t be as sad and lonely as he’d thought.
\/
Peter sat on the couch, legs folded up under him as he finished off his third plate of food. Jarvis kept bringing him more things while Peter listened to Bruce Banner and Tony Stark debate the multiverse theory. Peter honestly thought he’d died and gone to heaven.
Meeting Bruce Banner had been cool. It’d been even cooler when the three discussed Bruce’s most recent paper. Bruce – Dr. Bruce Banner – liked Peter’s notes. He’d written them down and even asked for Peter’s email. Dr. Banner asked for his email!
“But is an alternate timeline an alternate reality?” Tony wondered aloud. “What qualifies as another universe? Would it be a set criterion or opinion based?” He sounded unenthusiastic at the idea of the latter.
“We should ask Stephen,” Bruce suggested.
Tony groaned and rolled his eyes.
Peter smiled and ate a slice of cheese on a cracker. There was soft rock music from the 70s playing lightly in the background. The room had slowly filled up with people over the last two hours. Peter had shook hands with Captain America, traded sarcastic quips with Hawkeye, and been eyed for threats by Black Widow. It was the coolest day of his life.
The atmosphere in the room shifted. Peter glanced up and his eyes widened when he spotted Howard Stark glaring at Peter and Tony. Tony immediately noticed the way Peter tensed. He turned and caught sight of Howard, all but throwing his outer jacket at one of the waiters.
Tony stretched his arm out across the back of Peter’s chair and lounged back like a king awaiting his jester. Howard Stark did not make a good jester as he stormed across the room toward them.
“Anthony.”
“Howard.”
“What is this?”
“A Hanukkah party, what does it look like?”
Howard glared, clearly unamused.
“Oh! You mean who is this? Sorry, I got confused, what with you referring to a human being as a what and not a who. Your mistake. I’m sure you’re very sorry. This is Peter. Say ‘hi,’ Peter.”
“Hi, Peter.” He wiggled his fingers.
Tony's lips twitched. “He likes science, hot chocolate, and anime.”
“Specifically Hunter x Hunter and Naruto ,” Bruce added.
Peter nodded as he shoved a grape in his mouth.
Howard’s cheeks were turning red with rage. “I can’t believe you’d keep something like this from me. Do you have any idea how this will reflect on the company? A bastard son? And you’ve accepted it?”
Tony smiled tightly. His hand tightened on Peter’s shoulder, the only thing keeping the teenager from fleeing the tense situation. “Well, you know me, whatever I can do to make my life better and yours infinitely more difficult.”
Howard glared. “And what would your mother think?”
Tony stood and straightened his suit. “Mom’s gone. And she’d be appalled at the way you’re making a scene. If you want to continue this discussion, we can do it in my office.”
Howard turned and stormed away without another word. Tony turned back to Peter and Bruce.
“Watch him,” he ordered lightly with a vague hand gesture.
Peter and Bruce nodded, both replying, “I will,” at the same time. They turned to look at each other.
“Should I go?” Peter asked after Tony had left.
Bruce shook his head and stole a grape off Peter’s plate. “Tony would just go after you. Might as well stay to light the candles, eat more food, meet a few more Avengers. I think Scott will be here soon. He has a degree in electrical engineering.”
“Black Widow is glaring at me,” Peter whispered.
Bruce glanced across the room and smiled in amusement. “That’s just her normal stare.”
“She’s scary.”
“Very scary,” Bruce agreed. “Want to meet Dr. Strange? He’s a neuroscientist.”
Peter immediately perked up. “Okay!”
\/
“Hiya, kiddo,” Tony greeted. He pressed a hand to Peter’s shoulder and leaned in. “How you doin’?”
“Good. Jarvis keeps giving me food and hot chocolate. I think I’ve had three.”
Tony smirked. “He’ll spoil you rotten if you let him. All tough on the outside and soft on the inside.”
Peter’s eyes were wide and guileless as he responded, “I’m not complaining.”
“I never did either.”
“Is Mr. Stark really mad?”
Tony huffed and shrugged. “He always is. It’s nothing for you to worry about.” He nodded towards the main parlor room. “We’re gonna light the candles now. Come on.”
“I can wait here. I don’t- I don’t want to intrude.”
“You’re not intruding, Pete.”
“You don’t even know me. You haven’t done a DNA test yet. You-”
“-I remember your mom,” Tony cut in. “I know… She was a brilliant scientist and we got along really well. I don’t know if you are mine. It’d be a hell of a coincidence if you aren’t ‘cause you don’t look anything like Mary or her husband.”
Peter didn’t say anything against that. The man wasn’t wrong.
“Your mom was really sweet. She cared a lot, even about a cynical old bastard like me. It’s the least I can do to make sure her son isn’t alone on Hanukkah. Whatever happens tomorrow? We’ll figure it out. But I’m not sending you back to the streets.”
Peter’s cheeks burned. “I’m not- I wasn’t-”
“-Uh huh,” Tony nodded. “Try again when you’re not in a room with super spies.”
Peter and Tony turned to where Natasha Romanov and Clint Barton were watching Peter with an intense focus. Peter curled in on himself. He felt naked under their piercing stares. They could see through him without trying. Without even having seen him in his threadbare clothes and lack of a proper winter jacket. They knew just by looking at him that he’d run from his foster home.
“You’re Iron Man,” Peter protested weakly. “You have more important things to do.”
“I’m Iron Man,” Tony argued. “I get to decide what’s important and you, kid, you’re very important. So, let’s go light those candles, eat some more food, listen to Adam Sandler’s ‘Hanukkah Song,’ and be merry or whatever. You want bagel and lox for breakfast?”
“With capers?”
“And red onions.”
“Okay… I guess- I guess that doesn’t sound too bad.”
Tony’s lips twitched. He squeezed Peter’s shoulder and began to lead him toward the menorah. “Now, what was the multiverse theory you and Bruce ended up with after speaking to Strange?”
THE END