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"Is this a kidnapping? Is this what it is?" Peter shifted in his spot, adjusting his seatbelt into a more comfortable position. His bag, full of clothes for a weekend stay, laid disregarded on the floor in the back, while the boy took his chance to sit with Tony at the front.
"Huh— please! This is merely— an intervention. I wouldn't dare kidnap you or take you outside of New York without your aunt's permission— again. That would be kind of counter-productive, you know, considering I want to escape the noise, not cause it."
As the car pulled away from the curb, Peter turned his head to properly face Tony. The man was grinning, eyes crinkling with how wide his lips stretched, bright delight dancing in his expression, poorly hidden behind the familiar signature sunglasses.
Peter received the message half an hour prior to their detour, in which Tony only told him to pack an overnight bag and wait for him outside. He did so without further questioning: too excited at the prospect of spending the night at the Avengers compound, he gathered the first bunch of things that came to mind and sprinted down the stairway and stood outside, his bag flung behind his back and an eager smile plastered on his face.
And Tony came, in the shiniest and most conspicuous car he could afford to take for a prolonged drive, hand hanging off the window and looking the most showy that Peter had seen him outside of a celebrity gossip channel. 'Hop in! Let's go for a ride,' he had said, gesturing at the shotgun seat.
Peter promptly jumped in, not wasting a single second.
"So Aunt May won't go blowing up my phone if I don't show up before curfew?" Peter asked, waving around the phone in his hand. "Because I don't want to repeat the incident of '17."
"Nope, no trouble. I've got the custody for the weekend; with May's seal of approval and everything. Which means I get full control of your activities for the next twenty-four hours, by the way." Peter barked out a laugh, at which Tony pointed a finger in his general direction, eyes not leaving the road as the vehicle picked up speed. "And the first order I give is for you to text your aunt that you safely relocated to my car and we're on our way now."
"Nothing about this is safe," Peter sent a teasing remark, nodding towards the dashboard, but obeyed nonetheless. "I bet we're gonna get a ticket for speeding today. Again. Doesn't scream very 'child-friendly', Mr. Stark."
"Et tu, Brute? I'll have you know that I'm still Iron Man. Some would say that I'm the pinnacle of safety."
"Not when it comes to your driving.”
His mentor let out an offended gasp, demeanour full of the well-known theatrics, hands clasping against his chest in mock hurt. Peter's giggles were quickly shut down with a flick of fingers against his forehead.
"Hey—"
Tony reached towards the control panel, and a second later the familiar tune of Highway to Hell filled the cab, successfully silencing whatever protest Peter was going to voice. He glared at Tony, instead, turning to his phone with an indignant sigh that Peter hoped would be enough.
Me
how could you leave me to the wolves all alone
Tony's gonna bully me to death
do something pls
Aunt May
I'm sorry, honey. Tell Tony that if he won't stop teasing you, I will call Pepper.
Me
thx i love you
Aunt May
Love you too, sweetie. Have fun tonight.
Me
you too!!!
"Aunt May said that she'll publicly humiliate you if you won't stop bullying me," Peter said, finally hiding his phone away into his pocket. He reached towards the glove box instead, where a bunch of his favourite chocolate bars were already waiting for him. Score. "Thanks!"
"No, she did not," Tony shot back without missing a beat. "And you're welcome. Don't want you starving on me."
"She didn't," Peter hummed, ripping the wrapper off the snack, careful to not let anything crumble on his clothes or onto the floor. "But she promised to call Pepper if you pull something I don't like."
"Traitor. You're the bully here," Tony huffed, sparing Peter a glance. "Water's down under the seat somewhere. Don't forget to drink, too."
Peter grinned and sent the man a thumbs-up.
Between the poorly picked time of day and the loads of cars on the road, all trying to reach their respective destinations to gather up for the upcoming celebrations, the drive upstate took the two of them much longer than it would under usual conditions. Despite everything he said at the beginning of the trip, Peter was immensely grateful for Tony's bold driving and the speeds they managed to reach once they hit the highway. After standing in one spot, the car barely moving from its place, the sudden rush of wind into his face from the open window was a much-welcomed change.
Peter was pretty sure that he heard Tony multiple times muttering under his breath about how the idea of pursuing his father's dream of flying cars didn't seem so bad, after all. Stuffed in their car for hours on end, Peter couldn't help but agree.
Still, he would be lying if he said that there wasn't any fun— because any additional time spent with Tony by his side counted as a win in his head. Their conversations bounced from one subject to another, unrestricted by any particular topic or theme. Peter revelled in the casual atmosphere hanging between the two of them.
In the end, they arrived at the Avengers Compound much more exhausted than they first expected, and so instead of crashing on the couch in the common room, boxes of popcorn and all other snacks littered across the coffee table, they parted ways and collapsed on the beds in their respective rooms, too drained to find the energy to engage in a movie or— god forbid— socialise with other possible occupants of the space.
Even the bright prospect of getting showered with Pepper's motherly affection, forehead kisses and all, wasn't appealing enough to force him to leave his room anytime before dinner.
Peter, bag thrown aside and with his phone already in hand, collapsed into his bed, right on top of the soft Iron Man-themed blanket— which were originally bought for him by Tony as a gag Christmas gift, but the man had severely underestimated the level of admiration that Peter still held for him, so they were in frequent use to this day.
Peter spent several hours tucked in his bed, the ridiculous blanket discarded for the sake of chilly breathe of air conditioning, dozing off and recharging the precious energy he would need for the celebrations later on in the evening, gathered in a company of the remaining Avengers and their closest associates.
He couldn't help but marvel at the idea of it. Just the thought of spending any amount of time surrounded by his personal idols and other inspiring people would've been nothing more than a fever dream for the Peter of the two years ago, fresh after the life-altering spider bite and new in the field. It felt like the childish, wishful conversations he and Ned used to have in their younger years.
But it was Peter's reality, now. Sprawled over the bed in his very own room in the Avengers Compound, plans of an evening filled with real-life superheroes already mapped out in his brain and presented to him on a silver platter by a man he grew up idolizing.
The day he met Tony was, without a doubt, the best day in his life so far.
—
"Pete! Just the man I was looking for. Come here, we're leaving soon."
Peter turned to look at his mentor— already dressed up in a fancy suit, not exactly to the nines but resembling the image of The Tony Stark much more than his earlier attire had— and strolled towards him, waving a greeting towards Colonel Rhodes, who stood peacefully at Tony's side, ready for the upcoming party.
"Hey, Mr. Tony— and Mr. Rhodey," he smiled. "Are you gonna go with us?"
"How many times… Just Rhodey is fine, kid. No need for the 'mister' part." the man shook his head, chuckling in fond exasperation. "And no, I still have something I need to do before I can join you out there."
Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, Tony pulled Peter into his side. He mindlessly leaned into the embrace, giddy and bright-eyed, the excitement flowing off him so obvious it almost feels tangible. The man patted his shoulder with a smile.
"Believe me, Rhodey, that's a lost cause." Tony brushed a hand against the crown of the boy's head, messing with the carefully gelled hair. He clicked his tongue. "Are you all ready to go, kid? This one's gonna be bigger than the family-only parties you've attended before. There are some people I want to introduce you to…"
"Logistically? Yeah, sure. Spiritually? No. But when have I ever been? Let's go." Peter shook Tony's arm off, rolling his shoulders and cracking his fingers. He tilted his head. "Kinda wish Aunt May was here, too. She's better than me at the People Thing."
"Well, she's taking any chance that she can get," Tony said, a teasing smirk coming up to his lips. He started steering Peter towards the exit with a hand against his back. "I stole you away and gave Happy a day off, so—"
"Oh, god. Please, don't remind me. Ew."
—
The one thing that people in military-orientated careers seemed to share was the mutual dislike— and oftentimes hate— towards loud festivities, particularly the ones that included fireworks. And thanks to that, the Avengers Compound had become a certain place of retreat, where the people with the appropriate clearance level took refuge during loud, nationwide celebrations like the Fourth of July.
And Peter was grateful for the opportunity to be here. He'd never been a huge fan of loud parties and grand gatherings, too shy and intimidated by the prospect of mingling with large groups of people. Nowadays, however, what was simple intimidation had grown into tangible discomfort that brought with it physical pain.
Sometimes noises of a city as loud as New York became impossible to tolerate. Peter would barely be able to handle the onslaught on his senses, the various sounds of different pitch and frequency mixing together into a grating cacophony.
(The first time Peter spent a big Holiday from the capital H at the Avengers Compound had been very spontaneous and fell on Christmas in his first year of knowing Tony. Peter dialled his number late into the night, desperate from the pain and exhaustion, seeking out a helping hand against sensory overload.
"Parker? Why are you calling so late?"
"Mr. Stark? Are you busy right now?" Peter asked, still hesitant and and unsure of saying the wrong thing and oh so yearning for Stark's approval that it made asking for favours a dozen times harder. "I'm sorry, I probably woke you up—"
"A responsible adult would've said 'yes' and told you to go to sleep, because it's way past midnight and you're a growing teenager," the man said, and Peter could hear the background noises coming from the phone, a whirring sound that reminded him of Tony's workshop. "But you and I both know that I'm not exactly qualified as adult supervision, so I'll be honest: No, I'm not busy. Why?"
"That's a lot of words… And you don't usually agree with Pepper about the responsibility thing, so I'll take a guess and say I didn't wake you up," Peter hummed. Something heavy fell on the floor above him, followed by a startled curse, and Peter winced.
"And I will assume there is a reason for your call so late into the night, because otherwise I'll tell May to ground you." His mentor's voice was now laced with concern, almost tangible even through distance. "Your suit logs say that you finished patrol way before your usual time. Are you hurt, bud?"
"Sort of? I mean," the people on the floor above burst into laughter, and this time Peter had to bite down on his own litany of curses. "Everybody's getting ready for Christmas right now, and it's already so loud, Mr. Stark—"
"…'Dialed up to Eleven,' huh?"
"— and it's gonna get even louder when Christmas is actually here, so I was wondering if I could, uh… maybe I could spend the week at the Compound?"
Ever since, the Parkers started spending every major holiday at the Avengers Compound, feeling just as welcomed as they would with family members.
Perhaps it was because they had become just that: a family.)
Peter managed to deal with the crowded halls of Avengers Compound for exactly three hours before his people-battery ran out of charge, leaving him exhausted and in dire need of fresh air. Peter, after informing FRIDAY of his detour, decided to leave the building and take a walk across the Compound grounds.
The first time Peter came here— to reject an offer for a spot on the Avengers team, which turned out to be real and not, in fact, a test of moral codes— the place still had a lingering smell of construction and gasoline, faint but noticeable to his senses nonetheless. Now, however, the only scents he noticed in the air were those of a forest and a freshly mowed lawn. It smelled nice— a pleasant contrast to the stench a city would gain in the season of festivities.
Peter smiled.
He strolled around for a while, before sitting down under one of the lone trees closer to the river, enough behind the main building to be out of sight of any ceiling-high windows on first floor. Peter settled against the tree trunk with a soft sigh.
He spent a lot of time there, watching the river and listening to the music echoing from the main party. It was nice.
The sun had set long ago, leaving the premises illuminated only by the lights coming from withing the buildings, and so Peter sat in almost complete darkness. The flow of evening wind messed with his hair, and Peter found himself wishing that he hadn't gelled it in the morning. He shook his head and pushed back the wild curls falling into his eyes.
Peter noticed the shuffling of grass and slow footsteps a second before a foreign hand came to the top of his head, ruffling up his hair.
"Hey, kid." Tony stepped into his line of sight, two cups held by the fingers of his free hand. "Mind if I join you?"
Peter hummed an affirmative, smiling as his mentor sat down on the grass by his side with a long groan.
"God, I'm getting old."
"You're already an old man." Peter chuckled and reached out to steal one of the cups from the man's hand, gaining himself a flick against his arm. "What's in there?"
"Lemonade. No alcohol for you, buddy."
"Aw."
Peter shifted in his spot to crawl closer to the man, leaning against his side. Tony raised a hand to wrap around Peter, pulling him into a more comfortable position, fingers returning back into the boy's hair. Peter leaned into the touch, soaking in the casual affection his mentor provided. He took a sip of his drink, appreciating the cold sensation it gave.
"What's got you out there all alone, buddy?" Tony's voice was gentle, quiet, laced with fatigue in a way Peter could relate to. In the two short years that Peter got to spend time hanging out with Tony, he learnt that the man, despite all his flair and love for attention, got tired of people very easily, often seeking out peace and quiet in the company of his bots.
"I could ask you the same question, Mr. Tony Stark," Peter shot back with a grin. "How did you know I was here, anyway?"
"FRIDAY and Karen joined forces, keeping track of you the day they were onlined," he explained, leaning back to lean into Peter's old spot against the tree. The boy followed with, head dropping onto the man's lap. "The only reason they haven't raised any alarms yet is because you acted like a responsible young adult and told FRIDAY where you were going."
"Wow. Good for me." Peter huffed. "Well, uh, the commotion got to me. Wanted to get away, and, well, nobody seemed like they wanted to go outside, so…"
"So now here you are."
"So here I am, yes." Peter wiggled in his spot, trying to get into a more comfortable position. Tony stretched his legs out, and Peter settled in with a hum. "Thanks. So, what about you?"
"Well, despite the quite prolonged history of partying and playing around that I've got, party crowds were never really my thing." Tony took a sip of his own drink, and Peter noted that the man's cup was also filled with lemonade. "And since I quit drinking for, ah, health reasons," which was a blatant lie of which they both were aware, and something fuzzy bloomed in Peter's chest at the reminder that he was one of the reasons Tony was staying sober— "the party's getting boring. Even Rhodey's tipsy back there."
"And you just left him, all alone? How could you!"
Tony snickered. "Just like that."
Peter giggled, looking away towards the sky, where the stars shimmered against the vast black canvas of night, unconcealed by the city lights. Tony promptly followed his gaze, something intense and heavy falling onto his features.
(And Peter wouldn't know that, at that moment, two entirely opposite thoughts battled for dominance in his mind, completely opposite to each other. One spoke of fear, the boundless fear that followed Tony on his footsteps, turning into numerous sleepless nights of tinkering in the workshop, battling over guilt. The other spoke of love and adoration, shone brightly like the light at the end of the tunnel, the saving grace of Tony's life; it reminded Tony of Peter, of his bright, childish awe every time he looked at Tony like— like he hung those same moon and stars up there, on that sky.
Tony brushed both of the thoughts away, letting himself soak in the here and now: hiding away from a drunken party, with Peter plastered over his lap, trusting and real.)
Peter had never gotten the chance to observe the night skyline back at his home, so ever since he got the room at the Avengers Compound, he enjoyed spending time at night just sitting on the roof of the team's living quarters, alone or with company, and watch the stars.
It was beautiful.
"I wonder," Peter said, marvelling, so soft and shamelessly curious, "how many other alien civilizations there are, besides the Chitauri? Can you imagine?! All the possibilities!"
Peter couldn't know this— and Tony sincerely hoped that he would never find out— but Tony had to swallow down the panic slowly rising in his chest and wave away the grueling images floating behind his eyes. Countless ships, scattered across the vast darkness, embraced by the myriad of starlights. Too overwhelming for a nuclear bomb to get rid of them. Watching, waiting, to return with revenge.
"Well, don't let Mr. Pirate out there hear about it, but I've read about some of them in SHIELD's files." All of them, searched through any and all mention of extraterrestrial beings that he could find. Tony brushed his hand through Peter's fingers, scratching at the boy's scalp. "Did you know there are cats with tentacles coming out of their mouths?"
"Wha— really? Ew, gross."
Tony chuckled. "Not really. They don't look any different from your usual house cat unless you make them angry. Or try to feed them."
"That's— that's pretty creepy, then. How do I know that cat I got from a tree isn't an— uh…"
"Flerken," Tony informed him. "And you don't unless they're mad. So don't make cats mad."
"Duly noted."
Tony chuckled at the dry response, and Peter gave him a triumphant smile. The boy snuggled up into him, the cup of lemonade long forgotten at their side, and continued staring at the sky. Tony watched as Peter relaxed, the tension slowly leaving his posture, and continued combing his fingers through Peter's curls to help him drift off into sleep, eyelids slowly dropping closed. He would have to carry the boy back to his room later, but that was a problem for future Tony. The Tony now wanted nothing but to live in the moment, pushing aside the worry and anxiety that the future caused him.
He deserved that— for at least a single night.
"Sweet dreams, Pete."