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Tony Stark was sulking.
Which was absurd, because Tony Stark didn’t sulk. He brooded, schemed, occasionally monologued like a Bond villain—but sulking was beneath him.
And yet, there he was: pacing his own living room in silk pajama pants and a robe, muttering darkly about betrayal while May Parker and Pepper Potts sat comfortably on the couch with a bottle of merlot.
“Fifteen years,” Tony barked, jabbing a finger at the magazine spread across the coffee table. “Fifteen consecutive years of TIME’s Person of the Year. Do you know what kind of empire that is? Do you understand the gravitas? The legacy?”
“Tony,” Pepper said mildly, swirling her glass, “you sound like an aging prom queen.”
“It’s not funny!” Tony snapped. “I was dethroned. Dethroned! By a fetus in Stark-Tech compression wear!”
May leaned forward and picked up the magazine. Peter Parker smiled back at her from the cover—shirtless, Calvin Klein waistband visible, confidence radiating off him. Bold red letters: Person of the Year.
“Well,” May said, lips twitching. “He looks good. Doesn’t he look good?”
Pepper glanced over. “He does. Very confident.”
“Confident?!” Tony exploded, throwing his hands in the air. “He looks like betrayal wrapped in denim! He was supposed to be my protégé, not my usurper!”
May sipped her wine, unimpressed. “Technically, you’re the one who got him into modeling in the first place.”
“That was branding synergy!” Tony shot back. “A Stark Industries collab! It was supposed to highlight the tech. Moisture-wicking, nanofiber, Wi-Fi-enabled jeans. Not—” he gestured vaguely at Peter’s abs—“that.”
“Half-naked sells,” Pepper said smoothly.
Tony gaped at her. “Why are you saying that like it’s a good thing?”
“Because it is,” May said. “He’s happy. Safe. Thriving. Not exploited. Which is exactly what you promised me you’d do while I was gone.”
Tony looked personally attacked. “You’re supposed to be furious! Pepper, you’re supposed to be shutting this down. May, you’re supposed to be storming Calvin Klein headquarters with a baseball bat. Where is the righteous indignation?”
May shrugged. “Sorry. I’m proud of him.”
Pepper clinked her glass against May’s. “Same.”
Tony collapsed into an armchair like a man in mourning. “Unbelievable. My so-called family conspiring against me. I’m Othello, and you’re all Iagos with better hair.”
“You’ve been rehearsing that line,” May said.
“Of course I have! Do you know what it feels like to be the former Person of the Year in your own home? To be replaced by a kid you literally shoved into Calvin Klein ads? Frankenstein would sympathize.”
“Tony, you are Frankenstein,” Pepper pointed out.
“Exactly!” Tony wailed. “And instead of torch-bearing mobs, you’re pairing the monster with a nice merlot!”
May raised her glass. “It’s a nice merlot.”
Pepper smirked. “Pairs well with betrayal.”
Tony sat bolt upright, scandalized. “That’s it. I’m cutting you both off. No more wine nights. You’re grounded.”
May and Pepper exchanged a look.
“You’ll cave,” Pepper said.
“I won’t.”
“You will,” they chorused.
On the coffee table, Peter’s smile gleamed up at them, confident and unapologetic. For once, Tony Stark was not the headline.
And he was not taking it well.
---
The front door clicked open.
“Hey, Mr. Stark? May? I’m back—”
Peter stopped short, backpack sliding off his shoulder. May and Pepper sat cozy on the couch with wine glasses, the latest TIME issue splayed proudly across the table. Tony was sprawled in the armchair, glaring at the ceiling like the universe had wronged him personally.
Peter blinked. “…What did I walk into?”
Tony shot upright, pointing at him like he’d just uncovered the culprit in a murder mystery. “*You!*”
Peter flinched. “Me?”
“Yes, you! Person of the Year. Poster boy of betrayal. Times Square underwear model. I took you in, mentored you, gave you nanotech, and this is how you repay me? By stealing my crown?”
Peter’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Wait. Is this about TIME magazine? Mr. Stark, I didn’t—”
“Don’t ‘Mr. Stark’ me, Judas Parker! I nurtured you, and you usurped me. Do you know what fifteen years of consecutive Person of the Year means? I was a dynasty! And now I’m yesterday’s news because of your perfectly lit cheekbones!”
Peter stared at him, horrified. “…Are you drunk?”
“No!” Tony said, indignant. “They are.” He gestured wildly at May and Pepper, who were struggling not to choke on their wine. “I am suffering betrayal sober while my so-called support system is tipsy on merlot!”
Peter turned helplessly to May. “Uh—May? Should I… apologize?”
May smiled, patting his arm. “No, honey. You look great. I’m proud of you.”
Pepper nodded, raising her glass. “You earned it.”
Tony gasped, clutching his chest. “Et tu, Potts?”
Peter groaned, face flaming. “Oh my God. Can the floor swallow me right now?”
Tony flung himself back into the chair. “Unbelievable. My own protégé. My own family. The monster lives, and Frankenstein is mocked in his own house.”
“Tony,” Pepper said, hiding her grin, “you’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m being historical,” Tony corrected.
May rolled her eyes, pulling Peter into a side hug. “Ignore him, sweetheart. He’ll get over it.”
“No, I won’t,” Tony muttered into his hands. “Not until Person of the Year comes crawling back to me.”
Peter glanced between the three of them, utterly lost. “…Is this what wine night is always like?”
“Yes,” May and Pepper said together.
Tony groaned.
On the table, the magazine cover smiled up at them, bright and bold. Person of the Year: Peter Parker.
And Tony Stark was never letting him live it down.
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