Archive of Our Own

After the horrifying, gut-wrenching, life-changing (he was not over-exaggerating) realization that Tony had grown on Peter, things had somewhat changed. They had drifted closer to being friends rather than friendly acquaintances.

It started with Peter actually reaching out to Tony.

-

Peter leaned his head back and let out a sigh. This was far from the first time that he had been shot and it was, also, not his first time being shot twice. Thankfully, both of the bullets had entry and exit wounds. Unfortunately, Parker Luck strikes yet again.

He was able to stitch up one of the wounds, but, a stab wound from earlier had reopened and he could not reach the second shot wound.

He could go to sleep and maybe put a towel on it to help absorb the blood. But, he wasn’t sure if he was going to have enough time to both heal and clean up before May came home and found him.

The last time Peter had tried that technique, May was working a double shift. But, May was not working a double-shift, tonight.

There was another option. One that was, admittedly, better than the previous.

Peter groaned as he forced himself to stand, he carefully hobbled his way to where he had placed his phone on to charge.

Peter glared at the phone and made a deal with himself. Peter would call once. If Tony picked up, great. If Tony didn’t, then he would go with his previous plan and just make sure he got up early enough to clean up or at least hide the mess.

Surprisingly, Tony picked up on the third ring. Two seconds before Peter was going to hang up.

“Peter?”

Peter immediately felt guilty when he heard him. He must have just woken up.

Peter began to make his way back to the bathroom, there was no need to make another pool of blood. Especially not in his bedroom. "Hey, Stark. Are you busy?”

“That depends. Why are you asking?” The man sounded a little more awake, but no less exhausted.

Peter felt the second wound and decided it wasn’t that serious. “Actually, never mind. Sorry for waking you up. Goodnight, Tony.”

And with that, he hung up. Not waiting to hear what else Tony had to say.

.

Peter had been laying down for all of, what, five minutes before there was a knock at the door. He had just gotten done cleaning up the mess in the bathroom. Peter yelled into the pillow before getting up, grumbling about who the hell was knocking on his door.

For some reason, Tony was the last person Peter had expected to see at his door.

“Is something wrong?” Peter asked seeing the - was it anxious?- expression on Tony’s face.

“I don’t know, Parker. You’re the one that called me at three in the morning, and then hung up without explaining anything.”

Peter shrugged, “You sounded tired, and it wasn’t that important.”

Tony sighed and walked into the apartment, “I doubt that. You never call unless it’s serious.”

As much as Peter wanted to deny it, he knew it was true. Partly.

“Besides- LORDY.”

Peter flinched and whipped around to where Tony was staring at him, eyes wide and getting a little pale. “What?”

“I don’t suppose you have a head wound, do you?” Peter noted a slight waver in Tony’s voice.

Peter shook his head, “Thankfully, no. Why?”

Tony swallowed, and if Peter couldn’t hear his heart speed up, he would believe that Tony was completely calm. “You’re bleeding a lot, Kid. If it was a head wound it would be understandable- we gotta get you to a hospital.”

Peter tensed and stepped away from Tony with a glare, “No. No hospitals. No doctors.”

Tony took a deep breath, “Kid, you are bleeding. A lot.”

“I’m aware. But, thank you for pointing it out.” Peter noted with a pained smile.

“Kid-”

“Tony. I don’t want people finding out I’m -you know. Or worse, getting my DNA.” Peter cut him off. Guessing it was another attempt at getting him to go to the hospital. “No hospitals. No doctors.”

Tony grumbled but didn’t push.

-

In the end, Peter had given Tony a brief walkthrough on how to give him stitches. The wound was already working on closing up, and if Peter hadn’t gotten up to get the door, the wound would have scabbed over. In the end, the wound would have healed either way. At least with stitches, the wound wouldn’t scar too much.

While giving him stitches, Tony took advantage of the fact that Peter could not run away (he could, but he didn’t exactly feel up to running unless it was an absolute must) to give a long-winded rant about how it doesn’t matter if he was sleeping or eating or in the middle of a meeting, etc. If Peter ever needed help - call.

And, although Peter would never admit it, it was nice. He didn’t know or quite understand why Tony cared so much, but it was nice, nonetheless.
Then, there was the problem of getting Tony to understand that it was the same for him. And that Tony could reach out to him too.

-

Tony had gotten himself into a sticky, heh, situation.

Through word of mouth, Peter found out that there were files floating around. Someone -low enough that no one would expect them, but high enough that they had access- had stolen the files and either sold or given them away. Then, some other idiot bought/got them and was bragging about it. And had plans to sell it.

Part of Peter wanted to immediately bring this to Tony’s attention, but the bigger part of him stopped. There was no way that Tony didn’t know. Telling him about an issue Tony already knew about likely would not be received well and would be a waste of time for both parties.

And so, Peter used this time to try and find out more about it.

.

“Spidey.” Aaron Davis, Peter’s most favorite criminal, greeted.

“Hello, Aaron. Miles doing well?” From behind the mask, Peter grinned.

Davis seemed a little taken aback, and opened his mouth. Perhaps to ask what Peter wanted or how he knew about his nephew or maybe why he cared.

Peter, from on top of the car, swung his leg on top of the other to cross his legs. “I don’t suppose you know anything about some stolen files, do you?”

Davis hummed, “The files from Stark Industries?”

Peter nodded, “So, you do know. Do you know where I can find them?”

Davis inhaled through his teeth, “Not precisely. But, I could point you in the right direction.”

Peter stood on top of the car, looking down at Davis. “Then point.”

Davis shook his head, “What’s in it for me?”

Peter huffed and crossed his arms, “I won’t kill and eat you for lunch.”

“Spider-Man doesn’t kill. Nice try.” Davis waved a hand as if dismissing Peter’s ‘threat’.

“Maybe I’m just good at hiding it.”

“I doubt it.”

Peter narrowed his eyes at Davis, then sat back down on top of the car. Legs hanging off the sides, swinging ever so slightly. “Would be a shame if I accidentally broke this window.” The sentence was accentuated by his gentle tapping on the glass with his foot.

“Would be a shame that I had to dive deeper into the world of crime to get the money to repair it.” Davis matched him.

Peter tilted his head, “Alright. I’ll bite. What do you want?”

“Show up to Miles’ birthday party.”

Without missing a beat, “Spider-Man is not a party trick.”

Davis crossed his arms, “I guess you don’t want those files.”

Peter thought for a moment. “I can’t go to your nephew’s party. If word got out, that would paint a target on his back.”

Judging by Davis’ look, it seemed that he understood.

“But, I could take a picture with you. Maybe stick to a wall or hang by a web so that he knows it’s really me.”

Davis was true to his word, after the picture he told him where to go.

“Truthfully, I don’t know a lot. But, I remember hearing about a guy named Hugh Lloyd, and his sister Chloe Edwards.”

Peter nodded and with a ‘thank you’ he swung away.

.

It had taken longer than Peter had wanted to track down the two people that Davis had mentioned. Then, once he had found them he did some digging.

Chloe was married to Bradley Edwards. Both of them were Stark Industries employees, although Bradley had been an employee for much longer than she had. He had also been alive for a lot longer than she has.

Her brother, Hugh, had no stable job. Seemed incapable of holding a job. Most of his income came from re-selling various illegal items. He had only been caught once but had stated that he hadn’t known it was a stolen item. He provided who and where he had received it and, although was forced to give up the money he had gotten from selling the item, was allowed to walk free.

But, as Peter watched the three interact, he was willing to bet that Hugh had known the entire time that the item was stolen.

“When are you going to sell those blueprints?” Chloe asked, sounding a little more than irritated. “Stark knows that they were stolen and it’s only a matter of time before he finds them. And if he finds them in your hands, then he’ll-” She sounded nervous, antsy. She was looking around frantically; maybe she knew Peter was filming the entire thing.

“Relax, baby. People are hopping and falling all over each other to get these blueprints. Hugh is just making sure that he’s not going to get caught again, while also making sure that he gets enough money out of the deal. Right, Hugh?” The guy’s speech was slightly slurred and slow, perhaps under the influence of something.

“Yeah, Chloe. Matter of fact, I’m going to meet up with someone tonight.” Hugh proudly proclaimed, crossing his arms. “We’re going to meet at Central Park.”

This did nothing to soothe Chloe’s frantic and nervous behavior. “Central Park? That’s very…not inconspicuous.”

Bradley huffed and pulled Chloe close to him. “Hush, Chloe. I’m sure that Hugh knows what he’s doing.”

“Thank you, Brad.” Hugh addressed the man with a smile and grateful nod, then turned to his sister. “We’ll meet late in the evening. Elliot said that he would stop by after dinner with the wife.”

“Mr. Patterson? He’s going to buy these?” Chloe asked, seemingly a little more at ease. So, they knew the guy or at least knew of him.

Central Park. Late Evening. Elliot Patterson

These guys were either far too confident that no one would be able to hear them or were incredibly stupid. Probably both.

.

Some hours later, Peter was holding the blueprints, a file, and a flash drive, and was on his way to Stark Tower.

“Hey, Kid, what brings you here?”

Peter turned and instantly noted that Tony looked terrible. His hair was nothing less than a mess, there were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked a little pale.

“You look like shit, Tony.” Peter observed, then hearing how harsh that sounded, “No offense.”

Tony crossed his arms with a sigh, one hand coming up to run through his hair. So that was why his hair was a mess. “Gee, thanks.”

“Is everything alright?” Seconds after asking that question, Peter felt like he could punch himself in the face. Obviously, everything was not alright. Especially because he was holding the file that would, almost, make everything, kind of, alright.

“Just dealing with some theft and rodents in the company. Nothing big.”

What a way to say two of his employees stole descriptive and detailed weapon blueprints and then sold them. Or at least was trying to sell them.

“Yeah. I heard about that.”

Tony jerked his head, “What?”

Peter shrugged and raised the hand with the blueprints, “Chloe and Bradley Edwards stole these blueprints and gave them to their brother, Hugh Llyod, who was then going to sell them to Elliot Patterson.” Then, Peter raised the hand with the file, “And the proof is in this file.”

Tony gaped at him for a moment. “How did you-”

Peter shrugged and answered: “I know a guy.” Then as Peter walked closer, “Say, as a thank you, what do you say about lunch or coffee?” Already at the door, Peter turned to look at Tony, “Or are you too busy for little ol’ me?”

Tony laughed, more out of disbelief than humor, “I could never turn down a starving spider. Animal cruelty.”

“Remember Tony, it’s Spider-MAN. Still a person.” Peter forced out, trying his best to match the joking tone. Part of him was aware that he had dented the handle from where his hand had clenched.

Tony was quiet for a moment, and Peter wanted to turn around and demand to know when he had gotten so good at reading him. “Animal cruelty is less severe than child cruelty. Besides, I’m being supportive of your - what’s it called, furry-ness.”

“WHAT?!” The momentary identity crisis of wondering if he still counted as a human was forgotten. “I am NOT a furry.”

Tony put his hands up, a shit-eating grin on his face, “I’m not judging you! I don’t care either way.”

“Stark-”

“I mean, I made you a furry suit-”

“The Spider-Man suit is not a furry suit.”

“-although mine was cooler and had a lot more safety features.”

“Safety is for sex.” Peter deadpanned, more out of reflex than anything.

“That is true, but also untrue. Safety is what teenage vigilantes who don’t know how to call for help until they are bleeding out in their living room.”

“I resent that. I’ll have you know I was bleeding out in my bedroom when I called you.” Peter rebuked.

By this point, Peter had slowed enough to let Tony walk in front of him and lead the way.

.

Peter swallowed the bite from his sandwich, eyes glued on the files that Tony was looking through. “Not to brag or anything, but, I’m really good at snooping and spying.”

“I could tell.” Tony hummed as he flipped through everything, eyeing the flash drive taped to the side of the folder.

Peter finished the last bite of the sandwich and stood, “You know, Tony,” Peter motioned between the two of them, “This goes both ways.”

Tony looked up at him and tilted his head.

Peter glanced away, staring at the elevator. “You can call me, too. Doesn’t matter what day, what time, or what for. I will always answer.” The ‘for you’ was unspoken.

There were very few people Peter extended this offer to. Aunt May and Ned. And now Tony.
It was almost embarrassing how fond Peter was of this man.

Peter turned to face Tony, “Okay?”

Tony looked down at the file, “Why?”

Peter raised a brow, “You ask a lot of stupid questions.” Peter looked back towards the elevator, “You’re my friend, Tony. I don’t really care if I’m your friend or just some random guy you think you owe.”

Then Peter stepped into the elevator. That was enough feelings for the day.

Once Peter had returned home, he glanced down at his phone. He remembered feeling it vibrate earlier but hadn’t been able to check it.

‘You’re not some random guy, but, I do owe you.’

Peter snorted and typed out a reply.

‘Nonsense.’

-

As more time passed, Peter began to realize something. Tony was not good at having friends. The man always looked so baffled or shocked when Peter was doing the bare minimum. It was almost devastating.

Peter looked down at the list in his notebook. It was a few things that Peter had noticed or known about Tony.

Steve Rogers (the topic) makes him uncomfortable.
Prefers donuts to cookies.
Likes his coffee more bitter than sweet. Not black but not very light.
Does not like people handing him things (Perhaps a manifestation of anxiety?)
Terrible at taking care of himself.
Does not like water.

And there were a few more. Some things he knew the reasons for -Rogers-, others didn’t need to have a reason - donuts > cookies -, and most Peter could either only guess or had no idea.

Peter had no idea why Tony was so bad at taking care of himself. But, he wasn’t exactly in a place where he could admonish someone else about bad habits.

Peter knew that someone trying to hand him something made him anxious. There were subtle cues, most of which Peter could only pick up on thanks to his mutation. Changes in breathing, heart rate, and hell, if he was really paying attention he would notice if Tony started sweating.

He could guess why Tony didn’t like water, but he’d rather not have that image in his head. waterboarding was not fun, and it was even less fun when he imagined Tony going through it

Knowing these things, although maybe not knowing the explanation, Peter tried his best to be as less stressful or anxiety-inducing as possible. And on good days, nice.

If he worked closing, and there were donuts, he’d give some away and would save a few for Tony. (And Ned and Aunt May if they were interested.) He’d also stop by to drop off a coffee.

-

Tony smiled when he saw him. And Peter would forever deny the warm feeling that washed over him at seeing Tony.

“I brought donuts and coffee,” Peter announced as he stalked towards the entrance to the building. Looking back at Tony, more jokingly than anything, “For us to share. You understand sharing, right?”

Tony scoffed in faux offense, “I know how to share. I just don’t like sharing everything.”

Peter shrugged and set the goods on the counter, “Fair enough. I’ll let you get the first pick. Also, this is your coffee.”

Once the two were seated on Tony’s, likely ridiculously expensive but also ridiculously comfortable, couch. “Can I ask you a question?”

Peter hummed and sipped his coffee, looking away from his phone to Tony.

Tony looked as though he was going to ask a question but then aborted before the sound could even escape. Instead asking a different question, “How do you manage to swing here with coffee in your hands?”

Peter watched Tony for a moment but decided that if it was important enough he would bring it back up when he was ready. “Simple. I’m Spider-Man.”

Peter went back to his phone, setting a reminder to update his list.

-

Peter grabbed a pen from the mug on his desk and scribbled out another thing.

Is not used to friendship.

That was the best way that Peter could describe it. He could put compassion or kindness, but this was more than that. Or at least Peter felt like it was more than that. It was repetitive.

Peter’s love language was acts of service. He wasn’t good with words, he wasn’t good with physical affection.

But, he could make a mean batch of cookies. He would 100% go out in a storm if one of his people needed something.

Peter had always believed in ‘actions speak louder than words’. Someone could say something all day long and then do something entirely contradictory. Someone could tell you that they love and care about you and then turn around and sell you out.

Ever since his mutation, his acts of service became more centered around food. Of course, he would still go to the store for his aunt, and would still check in on Ned if he was going to be home alone. But, he found himself bringing them food a lot more often than he had.

By now, his Aunt May just smiled and would kiss him on the cheek or hug him. Which Peter always allowed, he didn’t find himself minding touch so much if it was one of his people. Ned would smile and, depending on the day, would high-five or hug him.

They knew. They understood. This was Peter’s way of showing affection. They were used to it in the best way.

But, apparently, Tony didn’t. A few times, Peter was tempted to look down and confirm that he was holding a coffee and not a diamond ring.

Tony always looked so taken aback, as if Peter was doing something so out of the ordinary. Even though Peter knew that he was far from the only person whose love language was acts of service.
And the more tailored his gifts or actions became the more surprised and, sometimes, confused Tony got.

-

The two had not planned to meet, at all. It was by pure coincidence. It really was a small world, after all.

Peter was at the store just trying to grab a few things. And Tony was at the store just trying to get a few things.

“Peter?”

Alarmed, Peter had whipped around. Inwardly cursing his good-for-nothing spider-sense.

“You know, I’m starting to get worried. If my saying your name is enough to spook you, I’m not sure I want you to continue your after-school activities.” Tony joked as he stepped closer to Peter.

Peter sighed, looking at Tony’s horrible disguise, and allowed him to get closer. “Would you believe me if I said you were just really good at sneaking?”

“Flattering, but no.”

Peter shrugged, “Worth a shot. What brings you here? Couldn’t you have this stuff, like, shipped or delivered?”

Tony made a so-so motion, “I could, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, this way there was more of a chance to run into my favorite spider.”

“I’m sure Black Widow is weeping at her, I would say replacement, but honestly, I am the upgrade.”

Tony guffawed and Peter continued, “I’m kidding, by the way. Mostly.”

Black Widow was cool, but she also kind of joined Rogers. And Peter didn’t like Rogers, so, he couldn’t exactly like her. But, he wouldn’t dislike her, either. It was something that made sense in his mind.

A few minutes later, Tony was following Peter around, claiming that he was “watching a spider in his natural habitat” and that this was a more exciting way of avoiding a meeting.

Peter had grabbed the last bag when he realized what he had been hearing almost half the time he had been in the store.

The two exited the store and were greeted with almost pouring rain. Peter huffed and moved his groceries to one arm, using the other to fish through his bag and grab his umbrella. He had known that it was going to rain soon, but part of him had hoped that he would make it home before the rain started.

Once Peter had opened his umbrella, he looked at Tony. He seemed almost frozen. As if he was processing some really bad news. Which, Peter supposed, he was.

Peter glanced at the umbrella in his hand and set it back in the bag, leaving the bag open and the umbrella visible. “Here.”

“What are you doing?” Tony asked as if there wasn’t an umbrella directly in his face.

“I’m offering you my umbrella.”

There was that look, again. The look of disbelief and confusion. “Why?”

Peter hated that look. “Take the umbrella or I’ll throw it at you.”

Tony frowned, unfazed by his threat. “What about you?”

“My apartment is like, right around the corner. I’ll be fine.”

“I can’t let a kid walk home in the rain because he gave me his umbrella. It’d make me look bad.”

Peter pursed his lips, “I thought you said you always look good? But, fine. Will you just grab my umbrella while I sort through what I’m carrying?”

Tony seemed hesitant but agreed. Grabbing the umbrella from his bag.

Peter smiled, “You said you can’t allow a kid to walk home, but how about a spider?” And with that, he was off.

Walking into the rain, leaving Tony with his umbrella.

.

Moments later, Peter let Tony catch up to him.

“Oh, hello, fancy seeing you again. It’s been so long, why I hardly recognize you!” Peter rambled in a horrible accent.

Tony rolled his eyes and positioned the umbrella so that it was covering both of them. Peter pushed his hand slightly, making sure that it was covering Tony more than him.

“I’m already wet, there’s not much that can be done now.”

“You wouldn’t be if you had just walked with your umbrella.”

Peter gasped and looked up at Tony, “And let you walk in the rain? Mr. Stark, that is elder abuse.”

“Shut up.”

“I would never let an old man walk in the rain alone.” Peter continued,

“I’m starting to think I made the wrong decision,” Tony complained as his lips twitched upwards.

“Aw, you regret coming after me like we’re in some kind of movie, Mr. Stark?”

Tony, for the first time since he had caught up with Peter, looked down at him. “You always say the most out-of-pocket things. Also, quit calling me that.”

Peter pitched his voice down and changed his tone to something more serious. “Of course, Dr. Stark. How inappropriate of me. I hope you will forgive me.”

Tony groaned as he threw his head back, “That’s even worse. I like ‘Tony’ can we go back to that?”

“Of course, Anthony.” Peter taunted with a smile.

“You’re a shithead.”

“I’m aware.”

-

It wasn’t until later that night, that Peter began to notice something about himself.

Regardless of whether he was in the suit or out of the suit, Peter would still make jokes and banter with Tony.

Peter did not banter with villains or heroes. Spider-Man did that. Peter was sarcastic, sure, but he wasn’t witty.

Spider-Man was the only one confident enough to make those remarks, to put himself out there. Peter just disappeared into the background. Peter Parker was like the child of two background characters, in some side character’s story.

Peter wasn’t really sure how he felt about the line between Peter and Spider-Man becoming so blurred when around Tony. Blurred enough that Peter found himself wondering if there was a line separating the two.

Peter huffed and twisted in his bed. This was yet another problem that Peter didn’t know how to go about fixing.

First, his spider-sense won’t work with Tony around. Second, Tony has become one of his people in record time. And now, third, an identity crisis.

He had too many problems and responsibilities. He really did not have time or energy to spare on Tony Stark.
…Peter could always make time, maybe move some stuff around? His shifts?
-

“Hello, Tony.” Peter greeted once the window slid open.

Tony looked a little frazzled, “You scared the shit out of me. You need to learn how to use the door.”

Peter shrugged, “It’s easier this way. Also, you look tired.”

“I am tired,” Tony murmured as he returned to his couch.

“I guess it’s a good thing I brought you coffee.” Peter smiled as he walked over to Tony, setting the coffee down on the small table next to the couch.

Tony swiped the coffee and began downing it, “My hero.”

“Mr. Parker.”

Peter jolted and looked around, before turning back towards Tony with a glare. He had said he wouldn’t tell anyone.

“Oh, that’s just FRIDAY.” Tony waved a hand as he downed his coffee.

“That’s not helpful, at all. But, thanks. I’ll pretend that it’s okay that a day of the fucking week knows my identity.” Peter pinched the bridge of his nose.

“FRIDAY is not a day of the week.” Tony corrected unhelpfully.

“Friday is the day of the week between Thursday and Saturday.” FRIDAY supplied, an almost teasing tone in her voice.

“You sound like an AI. Are you an AI?” Peter inquired as he took this in.

“Not exactly-” Tony interrupted, looking like he was going to give some roundabout explanation about why FRIDAY didn’t count.

“That means yes. Awesome. Nice to meet you, FRIDAY. Was there something you wanted to tell me?” Peter bulldozed, turning his attention back to FRIDAY.

“Boss has not had any water today and has consumed an unhealthy amount of coffee.”

Tony coughed and set down the now empty coffee cup. “She tells lies. I drank water earlier.”

“Yesterday morning was the last time that you consumed.”

“That you know of. Also, we will be talking about you selling me out later.”

Peter shook his head to clear his thoughts, “Tony, it’s not healthy to only drink coffee.”

Tony looked at him with an incredulous look. “You are in no position to talk about healthy, Mr. Swings around and fights people with broken legs and stab wounds.”

“Yeah, but I make sure to drink water while I do that.” Peter drawled as he walked to the kitchen.

“Okay, well- actually, no. I don’t need to explain myself to you. I’m the grownup, I can do what I want.”

“I’m not sure I like your attitude. One more crack like that and you’re going in the corner.” Peter warned as he set the bottle of water down. “Now drink your water.”

“I hate this. Let’s not do this.”

Peter nodded in acceptance of Tony’s protests. “I agree. From now on, drink your water. Have you eaten today?”

“Boss had a slice of bread earlier, Mr. Parker.”

“You know that’s not what I meant, Parker.”

Peter waved a hand and wandered into the kitchen, “Can I borrow your kitchen for a moment? Also, how do you feel about-” A glance in the fridge, “Eggs?”

“What are you doing?” Tony asked as he walked over to the kitchen.

Peter noted that the look had returned. “I’m about to make you eggs.”

“Why?!” Tony demanded.

“If you keep yelling at me I will include the shell.” Peter admonished as he held Tony’s gaze. “Besides, you’ll have to be more specific. Why what.”

“Why are you doing this?” There was a harsh edge to his voice.

“Because I give a shit about you. And if you ask me why again, I’ll only serve you the shell with either burnt toast or not toasted enough toast. I haven’t decided yet.”

There was only silence to answer him. Which was fine, Peter supposed. As Peter poured the eggs into the pan, he glanced back at Tony.

“Would you like cheese in your omelet?” Peter asked making his way toward the fridge. “I’m going to add cheese because I refuse to serve you a borning omelet.”

Tony stared at the omelet for a moment.

“It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re wondering. It also has no eggshell in it. I know, I’m too kind.”

Peter glanced at the time and felt both relieved and disappointed. Part of him wanted to run away and come back when Tony was done having a crisis, and the other part wanted to stay until everything worked out.

“I have to go back to cover a shift. I’ll see you later, Tony.”

An hour into his shift, he felt his phone vibrate.
‘I don’t understand you.’

Peter raised a brow. If anyone was allowed to say that it should be him about Tony.

‘I’m a complex and layered being. Like an onion.’

‘I yell at you and you make me an omelet.’

‘What else was I going to do?’

‘Leave’

‘Leaving wouldn’t fix ur hangriness.’

Peter would have waited to see what else Tony had to say if the door hadn’t opened.

Five customers later, all of which came in one right after another. Peter was alone once again.

‘I wasn’t hangry’

‘If that’s what you gotta tell yourself’

Peter would work on it. Especially since he had the feeling that Tony not eating was not unusual.

.

Peter’s plan was simple. Drop in every now and then, and make sure Tony got some water and real food.

But, there were a few issues. Peter’s schedule sometimes did not allow him to swing by when Tony was around. Although, FRIDAY was always kind enough to let him in. His solution was to make the food and then store it in the fridge for Tony to eat later. His hypothesis was that if the meal was already made, it was more likely that Tony would eat.

The next issue, and the one that Peter still did not have a solution to, was Tony’s lab binges. Peter knew, from his own experience, that it was hard to turn away from a project, especially if you were making good progress.

If his metabolism allowed he, too, would skip meals. And if he was a billionaire that didn’t need to go to school and then work he, too, would hide away and only resurface once his project was complete.

One of his first thoughts to solve this issue was just delivering the food. But, he immediately realized that wouldn’t work. He doubted Tony would appreciate him busting up in his lab like he owned the place.

Another thing that Peter noticed was that Tony’s bouts of radio silence perfectly aligned with his lab binges. So, texting Tony that there was food during one of his lab binges would not work.

When prompted FRIDAY revealed that other than candy or various other snack items, he did not eat during lab binges. It was incredibly frustrating. Tony would never be healthy (well, as healthy as that man could be) if he regularly went days without eating real food.

The good news was that after two or so weeks, Tony had gotten somewhat used to having Peter drop off food or swing by and make food. The look still appeared, but progress was progress.

In those weeks, Tony had begun dropping by where Peter worked. Mainly whenever Peter was working alone.

Peter elected not to ask why Tony knew his work schedule and was instead going to just be grateful for the company.

-

Since Tony had begun dropping by more frequently, Peter started working the closing shift a lot more often. It was dark and, for the most part, quiet. It was a gradual shift from Peter occasionally taking the closing shift to being the one who primarily took the closing shift.
His co-workers were over the moon about this development.

Peter was in the process of boxing up the leftover goods. Most of these would be given away since they made their goods fresh every day. And the manager hated wasting food.

“What are your plans after this?”

Peter looked up at Tony and shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe start repairing my suit. Why?”

Tony shifted slightly, barely noticeable. “Wanna come to the tower?”

Peter blinked. This was the first time Tony had actually, verbally invited him to the tower. Before Tony could backtrack, Peter nodded. “Sure. I hope you have a sewing kit.”

Tony paused and pursed his lips. “You know, I was so close to forgetting that you fight crime in spandex.”

“I only need it to hide my identity.” Peter slid a blueberry muffin to Tony.

.

Peter gaped when he walked into Tony’s lab. Suddenly, Peter understood why Tony didn’t leave his lab very much. If Peter had a lab like this he’d want to stay in here forever.
“Pretty cool?”

“Understatement of the century.”

Tony was nice enough to give a small tour of his lab. Mainly him gesturing and pointing to various parts of the lab. After five minutes of solid gawking, Peter pulled himself somewhat back together.

Unable to stop himself, “This lab is way cooler than the labs at Oscorp.”

Tony choked, “First of all, all of the labs in this building are cooler than the labs at…that place.”

Peter snorted at Tony’s blatant disgust.

“Second of all, that name is forbidden here.” Tony sniffed.

“What did Oscorp ever do to you?”

“What did I just say? Also, I’ll have you know, Norman Osborn is a slimy man.”

Peter resisted the urge to make a goblin joke. Instead, settling for, “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, Tony.”

Tony turned, “Norman’s dead?”

Peter huffed a laugh, “He’s been dead.”

Tony put a hand to his mouth. “A lot of things are making sense. I was wondering why so many people were talking about what a ‘good man’ he was.”

“If you ask me he was more like a goblin.” He couldn’t hold back.

The joke went right over Tony’s head. “Yeah. Just trust me on this, he was-”

“You do know that I knew Norman, right?”

Tony blinked and pursed his lips. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Peter shook his head. “Told me I was the ‘son he never had’ even though Harry was right there. Metaphorically, not literally.”

“Wait a minute. If you two were that close then why did you call him a goblin?”

“He was the Green Goblin.”

Tony was quiet for a moment. “You’re lying. There’s no way-”

Peter shook his head. “Sadly, no. Norman Osborn really was the Green Goblin. He also tried to kill me.”

“My hate is now extremely justified,” Tony announced.

“Uh-huh.”

“Anyway, come look at my labs. I’ll prove that they are way cooler. There might be a few people here, for some reason people will come in really early.”

.

Tony wasn’t wrong. Most of the people there had just come in and were getting their workstations set up. Some of them had stayed overnight, those people Tony sent home.

He was somewhat right about the labs being cooler than Oscorps. Then again, any lab that wasn’t Oscrop’s and didn’t experiment on people was a better lab than Oscorp’s in his book.

After the tour of some of the other labs, the ones that likely didn’t hold classified and very important projects in them, the two returned to Tony’s lab.

“So, what did you think?”

“You’re right. I never doubted you for a second.” Peter looked around before pointing at a couch. “Is that safe to sit on or should I just stand?”

Tony rolled his eyes, “Yes, Peter. The couch that was designed for sitting is safe to sit on. I don’t keep hazards in my lab.” Then as if remembering something, “Except for that one.”

Peter tilted his head and jolted when he saw a metal claw offering…something to him. “Oh, hello. Who’s this?”

“That’s DUM-E, and I would not drink that.”

“Why not?” Peter queried as he grabbed the cup and looked into it. “What’s in it?”

“Knowing him probably motor oil.”

Peter sniffed the concoction and then looked at DUM-E. Eh, he’s survived worse. While Tony was busy reprimanding the robot Peter took a sip of the concoction.

Peter coughed, drawing the attention of both DUM-E and Tony.

“Please don’t tell me you actually drank it.”

Peter smiled, “You’ll perfect the recipe in no time, DUM-E.”

This seemed to both satisfy and encourage the bot, as it proceeded to roll away and begin work on another…smoothie.

“You didn’t actually drink it, right?” Tony asked as his gaze shifted between the cup and Peter.

Peter shrugged, “Not really.”

“That’s not a ‘no’.”

“It’s also not a ‘yes’. It’s a grey area. I like operating in that area.”

“No, it’s a nonanswer. And I really don’t like those. FRIDAY, did he drink the smoothie?”

“I do not know, Boss. I was busy minding my business, as you instructed.”

Peter disguised a chuckle as a cough.

“Are you laughing, Kid? You think this is funny?”

Peter ignored Tony’s glare, “Have you ever tried to blow on ice cream?”

There was quiet for a few moments, which made him shift his gaze from the Iron Suits to Tony.

Tony opened his mouth with a click, “Where is this coming from?!”

“I have no idea,” Peter admitted before leaning back on the couch. “This is an almost perfect napping surface.”

“And what would make it perfect?”

“Some webs-”

“NO.”

“-In a dark and isolated place.”

“I could turn off the lights?”

“Some roast beef, some chicken, a pizza.”

“Now you’re just fucking with me.”

Peter gasped. “No, sir. We do not swear in front of the children.” Peter gestured to where DUM-E was trying to create another smoothie.

“I assure you, he has witnessed far worse.” Tony plopped down on the couch next to him.

Peter crossed his legs, “I gotta admit, this is a nice place. Real snazzy. I love the-” He eyed some wrappers littering the ground, “-decor.”

Tony, having seen where Peter’s gaze had drifted, huffed and nudged his shoulder.

Peter laughed, “You gotta fridge down here?”

“I think so, why?”

“A microwave?”

“Possibly. Why?”

“If I make food and give it to you before you enter a lab binge, could you be persuaded to eat at least one somewhat real meal a day?” Peter wasn’t about to make no big demands.

Tony shrugged. “I make no promises.”

-

The next time Peter walked into the tower, FRIDAY directed him to the lab. Where he then stocked Tony’s fridge.

Smoothies, yogurt, blueberries, and some meal replacer shakes. Most of them would last for a little bit. And all of them were things Peter knew Tony ate.

This marked the cycle of a routine. Every other week, Peter would make sure that the fridge was stocked and that food and water were easily accessible. It seemed to be working. FRIDAY confirmed that Tony was eating the food and drinking the shakes, mainly when he walked to go get more coffee.

Which was both good and bad. Bad that Tony was consuming excessive amounts of caffeine. Good because at least he was still consuming stuff other than coffee.

After about a month, Tony finally asked. “This has gotta be making a dent in the piggy bank.”

Peter shrugged. Yeah, he did have to sell some photos to a different place, sorry Jameson. But, it was fine. At least the other place actually paid him decently. “I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do.” Tony declared, “Here.”

Peter looked at the card in his hands. “What is this?”

“A card.”

“I can see that. Why are you giving it to me?”

“So that you can pay for the stuff and anything else you may need.”

Peter blinked, “I don’t want your money, Tony.”

Tony paused for a minute, “Just take it.”

Peter crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, “No.”

The two continued the back and forth for far too long. Long enough that both were desperate for a compromise.

“Look, I’ll allow you to pay for and ship the stuff. And I will make sure it gets put away. But, I am not taking your card. Deal?”

Tony considered it for a moment but nodded. “And I will buy you and your aunt dinner twice a week.”

“If by that you mean: Come and have dinner with us, then sure! Let me run it by my aunt.”

“I will pay for your groceries.”

Peter shook his head, “No.”

“Rent?” Tony tried, a hopeful lilt to his voice.

“Definitely no.”

“New car?” He suggested as if that was less than paying rent or for groceries.

“Absolutely not.”

“Well, what can I do?”

On reflex, “You can do anything you set your mind to, Tony.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “No, what can I do to pay you back?”

Peter leaned his head back and took a deep breath. “You don’t have to pay me back. I want to do this. I am not doing this for favors or money.”

“I don’t do anything for you. I have given you nothing, and what I have you rejected. I don’t get it.”

Peter grimaced. This was worse than he had initially thought. “Tony, listen to me carefully. I do not expect you to do anything for me. You do not owe me, at all. And you do give me stuff. You give me your time and your presence. Hell, you invited me into your lab.”

“Those mean nothing! Most people only spend time with me because they get my money!” Tony spluttered, throwing his arms up.

Peter sniffed, “I’m willing to bet all of my money that their DNA wasn’t a mix between human and spider.”

“Wha- we’re revisiting that later.” Tony pointed, then remembered the topic at hand. “There’s gotta be something that I can do.”

Peter hummed and looked down, a hand coming to his chin as if he was in deep thought. He looked up at Tony. “Anything?”

Tony perked up, “Yes.”

“Okay.”

.

“You know, I was expecting Disney or Universal Studios. Not…this.”

Peter hummed and looked around. Only partly hearing what he was saying.

“We live in New York. You could go here literally any time you wanted. It’s not even expensive.” Tony continued, “And you didn’t even let me rent this place.”

Peter tugged on Tony’s sleeve, not tearing his eyes away from the exhibit. “I don’t think you can rent this place.”

Tony leaned closer to hiss, “I’m a billionaire, I could buy this place.”

“Don’t do that. It’d be a waste of money.” Peter shook his head and continued walking.

“I just don’t believe it. You know, the beaches in Florida are amazing this time of year. Would you rather go there? Or maybe the Grand Canyon? We can still do that, I can make it happen!”

Peter looked up at Tony with a glare, “You said that I could have anything. And all I want is to visit MoMA with you. Maybe grab lunch. That’s it.”

“No, you don’t want to go with ME. You want to go with some random guy.”

Peter shook his head, “I don’t- what does that mean?”

“You didn’t want to go with Tony Stark, you wanted to go with me in disguise as some random guy.”

“Is this your way of telling me you have a personality disorder?”

Tony frowned and glared.

Peter grabbed Tony’s arm to lead him, “I wanted to go with my friend, Tony. Not some guy wearing an expensive suit and giving a performance for the paparazzi that would have Robert Downey Jr. weeping.”

“What?”

“Tony. I don’t want fame. And I want money, sure, but not your money. Understand?”

Tony thought about it and eventually shrugged, “I don’t understand you.”

Peter shrugged, “That’s as good as I’m going to get…for now.”

“What are you mumbling under your breath?” Tony slung an arm over his shoulder.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Peter grumbled, forcing himself to relax under the weight. It wasn’t…awful.

“...Are we sure we don’t want to go to an island? I own one, you know.”

“Hm, let’s see. Billionaire flies barely legal fr-”

“Now I’m reconsidering our friendship.”

“I once wasn’t careful enough and snapped a guy’s humerus in half.” Peter looked away from Tony. The guy hurt kids so Peter wasn’t too sorry.

“...Interesting.”

Peter listened but didn’t hear anything that would indicate that Tony was now on edge. His heartbeat was still the same soothing rhythm, and his breathing was normal. Well, normal for him.

.

The two had decided to grab takeout and eat at the tower. Mainly to avoid any more attention. There had been a few glances at them, from people who had recognized the voice of Tony Stark.

“I vote next time we go to Disney,” Tony announced as he grabbed the garlic knots.

“Disney is too expensive.”

Tony made a face, “Billionaire. Multi-Billionaire. I think I can afford a day or so at Disney.”

Peter shrugged and grabbed another slice. “If you want to go to Disney with me, then we can go.”

“Great!”

“Just remember that I have school. And work.”

Tony made a face of disgust. Then lit up as if he figured something out. “Work for me.”

Peter stared at Tony for a moment, as if trying to decide if he was joking or not. “Tony, I don’t meet any of the qualifications.”

“What? What qualifications?”

“At the very least a diploma.” Peter continued listing the reasons.

Not that Tony heard him. Too focused on the qualifications part. “I’ll hire whoever I damn well want to hire. This is my company. If I say they’re qualified then they are qualified.”

“Tony, listen to me. It would look very suspicious.”

“Didn’t you already have an internship here? Let’s do that again.”

“Interning and working are different things. Mainly because a lot of internships are unpaid.” Peter leaned back on the couch, wiping his hands on a napkin. “And I’ve already said I don’t want your money. So, I will not be quitting my jobs.”

“Fine.” Tony huffed, but let it drop. “Jobs?!”

Peter rolled over and buried his face in a couch cushion. He’d just let Tony rant and ramble, soon enough he would run out of steam.

“Peter Spider-Man Parker.”

“My middle name is Benjamin.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker. How many jobs do you have?”

“I only really have, like, one. I sell photos primarily to The Daily Bugle. Sometimes other places if I need the money.”

“That’s- really clever actually.”

“Exactly. No one would expect Spider-Man’s photographer to be Spider-Man. And they also wouldn’t expect Spider-Man to sell the photos to a place that regularly publishes stories about how evil and despicable Spider-Man is.”

“Why does he hate you so much?”

“He doesn’t trust anyone that wears a mask. Well, actually the only person he trusts is his barber.”

Tony shook his head, “Misplaced trust.”

Peter couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “That’s awful!”

“The truth so often hurts.” Tony cackled.

-

Time was flying. Soon enough the two had known each other and had been friends for almost half a year.

When Peter worked the closing shift, Tony would drop by and spend the shift with him.
When Peter wasn’t working the closing shift, on his break he’d read and respond to the spam texts that Tony had sent during his break.

When the two got too busy, or Tony was in another state, then they would call.

Peter had gotten comfortable, and Tony had assured him that he was almost always welcome, in Tony’s lab. Even comfortable enough to drop in mid-lab binge to deliver sandwiches or other easy-to-eat food.

Peter looked down at his notebook.

Likes cheeseburgers
(Comfortably) Speaks Italian
Loves his bots
Touch-Starved (will not initiate touch)

The last one was a newer issue. One that Peter had slowly pieced together. Sure, it was no secret that Tony had slept around. But, it was like eating chicken when you wanted steak. Yeah, it was fine or even good. But, it wasn’t what you really wanted.

Plus, Peter wasn’t sure Tony did that anymore. It seemed like he didn’t. It was rumored that his playboy days had ended after Afghanistan.

Tony seemed…lonely. He was pretty much isolated. Colonel Rhodes was busy, Potts was busy, and his other friends had fucked off to who knows where and were also wanted.

And so, Peter tried for some kind of contact on a daily basis. Similar to what he did for Ned. Whether it was a funny picture or a link to some ridiculous article, or if it was him swinging by with cookies or a recipe that he wanted to try.

Peter did his best to be there. He even allowed Tony into his space. He even let Tony pat him on the back, sling an arm around his shoulders, etc.

Most of which were after Peter had broken the invisible barrier that was there. At least in Tony’s mind.

Whether Peter broke it by, lightly, pinching Tony or clapping a hand on Tony’s shoulder. (Peter did some research, and all of those were acceptable and friendly touches. Maybe except for the pinching but Tony had laughed, so Peter guessed it was fine.) It didn’t seem to really matter.

Tony would then be able to initiate contact on his own.

In the beginning, Tony’s attempts were stiff and tense. Almost as if he was ready to recoil or pull back. But, as time went on, -Peter always carefully monitored his reaction and response, making sure it was always inviting and not rejecting- Tony became more comfortable.

It had only been two months since Peter had noticed, but he liked to think that they were making good progress.

Idly, Peter wondered if Tony was putting this much thought into their friendship. Peter flipped the notebook closed and stuffed it in the same place he stored the files about his mutation he had stolen.

‘Green oranges exist.’

Peter pursed his lips and looked at the alarm clock. 3:09 am.

Yeah, he had time. Tony picked up on the second ring.

“What led to this discovery?”

“Okay, so-”

Peter could always take a nap during lunch.