Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Outside the smudged, rain-streaked windows, Charlie catches a glimpse of a small tabby cat. The cute little thing traipses gracefully between the thin tree trunks littering the small wood, bell around its neck reflecting the afternoon sunshine.

Charlie wishes he were that cat.

MJ is right in front of him, asking questions after question, only Charlie doesn't get to answer any of those questions, because he's been benched.

Benched. Is she kidding?

It's only for this meet, she had said, and she'd only said it because Mr. Harrington had insisted. Something about wanting to give their reserves a chance, after so many meets of watching from the sidelines.

Which. Okay. That's fair. But why did they have to bench him?

Charlie does just enough for the team where they'd notice his absence if he were somehow replaced, but not enough for him to be considered a threat. Charlie isn't the person who should be benched to give one of their replacements a chance. Why not bench someone who participates a lot more? Someone who takes most of the questions anyway?

Bench Peter, for Thor's sake.

It isn't that Charlie dislikes Peter, because he actually quite likes him. Peter is kind, but refuses to take anyone's bullshit, which makes him something of a perfect person. He's stuck up for Charlie in stupid arguments with Flash more times than Charlie can count, and for that, he'll be forever grateful.

But Peter is a genius, and this team would likely be lost without him, even despite housing some of the school's brightest minds. If Mr. Harrington wants to give their reserves a chance, let them replace Peter and see how well they'd fare.

"Nineteenth element on the periodic table," MJ says, sitting on the plastic red chair directly in between the two competing rows of students.

Cindy takes the question, winning their side an easy five points with her confident, "Potassium".

Betty squeezes her hand when she sits back down. Charlie suspects there might be something going on between the two of them, but he can't be sure.

He glances back towards the window as MJ reads the next question from her stack of cards, searching for the tabby cat he'd seen, but it's gone already.

Charlie sighs.

MJ clears her throat, drawing his attention back to the practise competition. "Patient Zero of a virus infects forty-seven people in three days. If the graphical analysis of the virus's infectivity is an exponential function, then after nine days, how many people will be infected?"

Eyes go wide around the room as minds race and calculator buttons are frantically pressed.

The mathematics questions are some of Charlie's least favourite. He never really knows how to organise his thoughts in his head; he needs at least three pages of figuring it out to understand what to plug into his calculator.

Almost a minute has passed and Charlie can see the panic and confusion in his friends' eyes, but — and, there it is. Charlie expected this.

"One hundred three thousand eight hundred twenty-three," says Peter from the end of his line.

MJ blinks. "Yes."

Peter's team is pulled ahead considerably. Flash grumbles, despite being on Peter's team, and Charlie sighs.

Peter is way too smart for them. Sometimes Charlie wonders what he's doing here, in a room full of people he could outsmart and outcompete in seconds.

"I don't know how he does that," Charlie hears Betty whisper to Sally, head in her hands.

As MJ is reading the next question, the corners of her lips quirked up into a small smile — but perhaps one of the largest smiles Charlie has seen her wear — someone's phone goes off, and Charlie freezes.

It's never good when someone's phone goes off in the middle of practise. Mr. Harrington hates phone calls.

Peter's eyes go wide. He pulls his phone from his pocket. "I am so sorry," he says. "I'm gonna take this outside. I'm so sorry. Keep going."

Charlie catches the way Mr. Harrington's eyes narrow, and he can feel the way their teacher wants to ask Peter to put it on speakerphone, but Peter is already making his way out of the classroom. Mr. Harrington likes Peter, anyway. It's probably impossible not to.

"I'm at school, Tony, we talked about this," Charlie, who sits near the door, hears Peter hiss into the phone.

His eyes go wide.

Over the past few months, ever since one of Peter's conversations with Ned was overheard, Flash has been spreading rumours about Peter's 'fake' internship at Stark Industries. Peter insisted that it was true the very first time, and now, whenever Flash bugs him about lying about knowing Tony Stark, Peter just ignores him. If Charlie is being honest, he thinks that it's impossible that Peter truly has an internship. As intelligent and, admittedly, mysterious, as Peter is, there is no way that he interns at the most prestigious and well-known tech company around. It's just very, very improbable.

But Peter's words to someone called Tony make Charlie wonder.

The team keeps going while Peter is outside. One of the more difficult mathematics questions takes a solid five minutes for someone to answer, and MJ sighs.

"This isn't good enough," she says flatly, pushing a curly clump of hair from her face . "We can't be taking five minutes to answer one question; it doesn't work like that. If this continues, we'll need to up practises to twice weekly."

Abe groans quietly and Cindy let's her head fall into her hands. Even perfect, practised Betty squeezes her eyes shut. Charlie doesn't say anything, stuck to the sidelines and close enough to the door to faintly hear Peter's murmurs into his phone, but he sure feels the spike of irritation at the threat of another evening taken from him.

Peter's footsteps echo just slightly in the wide, empty hallways as he makes his way back to the classroom. Charlie is the only one close enough to hear his final words into the phone, and goddamn. No one is ever going to believe him.

"Sure, Stark," Charlie strains to hear Peter say. "If Pepper bans me from Lab 310 again, I'm holding you responsible." He goes silent for a moment; his footsteps slow. 

"Yeah. Yeah, that's fine with me," Peter says, voice softer than it was a moment before, and Charlie has a hard time reconciling the dorky, sometimes-cooler-than-he-seems-Peter with the sarcastic, joking-with-Tony-Stark-Peter he hears right now. "I'll call May when I leave and let you know, okay?"

His voice dips into murmurs Charlie can't quite make out, and then his footsteps resume, steadily growing in volume, before Peter pushes the door back open.

"Sorry about that, guys," Peter says, sheepishly scratching at the back of his neck.

He looks just dorky and apologetic enough to make Charlie believe that it really was just an innocent phone call, but looks are deceiving, and Peter is apparently much more than he lets on.

Charlie reminds himself to close his jaw; to breathe in through his slightly congested nose and out through his mouth.

Cindy raises her head to meet Peter's eyes, her own despondent and desperate. "Thank God. Get over here, Parker, this is serious. I don't think we'll win regionals at all with questions like this."

"You're our math guy, Peter," Abe says, scrubbing his hand over his face. "We just spent your entire phone call on one question. It's hopeless."

"Aw, it's not hopeless, guys!" Peter says, his trademark optimism raising even shell-shocked Charlie's spirits just a bit. He skips back over to his seat, dropping only his chair. He pats Ned's shoulder and gives Cindy a small smile. "We each have our thing, you know? If we all work together, we'll be fine. I know we will."

MJ sighs. "You'd better be right, Parker." She pulls her gaze from him and addresses the rest of the team. "Fifteen more minutes and we'll call it a day. I want at least twenty more questions answered."

"Okay," Sally says, resigned.

And when they resume, Charlie finds that Peter was, unsurprisingly, right. He's the math guy, sure, but they all have their skills. They'd be left for dead without Flash if they were faced with a torrent of geography questions, and Sally knows more about biology than she can confidently admit.

Charlie lets himself be sucked into the normalcy of it all for the last ten minutes of practise, but as soon as it ends and Peter waves a cheerful goodbye, already chatting non-stop with Ned on his way to the door, Charlie is reminded of the anomaly that is Peter Parker.

That night, Charlie kisses his mother goodnight and tucks his little sister into bed and sits on the sofa downstairs, phone in hand.

With shaky fingers and a racing mind, he creates a group chat and names it Peter Was Not Lying, adding every member of their decathlon team. (Minus Peter, of course.)

Peter Was Not Lying

Charlie deflates, eyes falling shut.

He knows what he heard. He doesn't know how to make their team believe him, if they ever will, or even why he needs so badly for them to know. But Peter Parker is more than Charlie thought him to be.

It's not like Peter has changed at all. If he's always been like this, with the rest of them completely in the dark, then the lot of them are complete idiots.

Whatever. Charlie tosses his phone onto the coffee table, grips his empty coffee mug by the rim, and trudges over to the kitchen.

This isn't his concern anymore. He'll just need to do his best to forget about it.

But if Charlie, for some reason, dreams of Peter Parker in a Spider-Man suit, then no one else needs to know.

Chapter Text

Cindy needs a sandwich.

It's half past two, she forgot her lunch at home, and Betty isn't here today. Cindy just wants an Italian bun slathered in pesto with tomatoes and bacon and mozzarella cheese.

Cindy's weekend job is a nightmare. Betty working with her is one of the few things that make it worth it, along with the money it slowly funnels into her bank account. She needs money for university, otherwise she'd quit immediately. Unfortunately, this was the only place that would take her.

"Can I take the next customer?" Cindy hollers, raising her hand up to be heard even slightly over the music and noise.

A tired-looking mother of three with smudged lipstick drops three tubes of lip gloss on the counter, her young daughters practically vibrating in excitement beside her. "Just these, please."

"Absolutely," Cindy says, softening. She rings the tired mother up and asks if she'd like a bag and compliments the girls on the shades of pink they chose. "Did you want a receipt?"

"Please, yeah."

"Sure."

Cindy hands over the receipt and Sephora bag with her award-winning customer service smile and wishes them a wonderful afternoon. She watches with a small smile as the girls clutch onto their mother's arm, thanking her profusely.

The rest of her shift passes by in a blur of noise, numbers, and Nicki Minaj (Cindy would like to know who is in constant control of the aux). Throughout it all, her pesto sandwich stays in the forefront of her mind, the glorious prize that will be hers once she survives this afternoon.

God, she can't wait.

When she clocks out, Cindy slings her bag over her shoulder, straightens her shirt, and heads directly to the nearest Delmar's. If this means that she has to walk through the busiest and loudest street on this side of town, then fine, that's just the price of her pleasure.

Something in Cindy relaxes completely once the young Delmar's employee hands over her glorious, paper-wrapped sandwich. Cindy somehow finds an empty bench, which she sees as a sign of good luck in a city with constantly occupied benches, and unwraps her sandwich.

As she takes her first bite, sitting on a bench on the side of the road, facing lines of traffic, something catches Cindy's eyes.

There — the second lane closest to her. In the gap between the two cars stopped directly in front of Cindy, waiting for the light to turn, is a sleek black car. It oozes money, which is normal. That isn't what catches Cindy's attention.

It's the person sitting in the passenger seat.

Last Cindy knew, Peter Parker lives with his aunt. His aunt doesn't have a car, much less a Porsche. 

Cindy squints, and upon further observation, Peter and the driver are chatting comfortably.

They know each other, then.

Hm.

Cindy knows that Peter is friendly, but since when is he friendly with rich men? Is he — oh no. No, he wouldn't. Peter is too besotted with MJ to somehow be in a relationship with an older man.

No way. Cindy banishes the thought from her mind.

The car slowly rolls away, leaving with traffic, and Cindy reminds herself to continue chewing.

She forgets about it entirely until the next week. Next weekend shift, Cindy decides on ice cream for her post-work treat. She walks to the Dairy Queen five minutes away and pushes the door open with leaden arms, eyes gravitating towards the menu boards.

She knows what she wants already, but it can't hurt to check to see if they have any new flavours. Cindy makes sure to try every new seasonal flavour they have. As she approaches the counter to ask for a Skor Blizzard, small, and a vanilla dipped cone for her brother — who agreed to meet her here in five minutes — Cindy trips over her feet.

Peter is here. Which. Obviously, that isn't something strange and unheard of, but Peter being here with a forty-something man in a suit and tie is a little off from what Cindy might have expected. He's practically hanging off of the older guy's arm, for God's sake, and the Dairy Queen isn't that large, so Cindy can hear him.

"Thank you so much, Happy," Peter says, practically jumping up and down. "This is, like, the best thing ever. Why didn't you get something too? You should have gotten a Blizzard. Oh! Should we get one for Tony too? I know it'll probably melt a bit by the time we get back, but he won't mind, will he?"

Cindy is resolved not to make eye contact with Peter. She faces the counter, posture rigid, with her back to him. He won't be able to tell that it's her, will he? He'd better not. 

Maybe Charlie was right. Cindy had been so skeptical, when he'd said something about Peter actually knowing Tony Stark, but some of that skepticism is beginning to fade away. Charlie may have been right. Which Cindy doesn't actually want to think about, because Peter is the smart, funny, dorky kid he's always been and Cindy isn't about to reinvent him in her mind, so.

"I'll have a small Skor Blizzard and a vanilla dipped cone, please," Cindy says to the boy behind the counter, lips pressed together.

"That'll be $7.50," the boy says, his customer service voice clearly not on, but Cindy can't be bothered to mind.

She gets it.

She waits at the counter, watching as her Blizzard is made and cone is dipped. She reminds herself again not to turn around, where Peter and his Older Guy wait by a small table for their own order, but the effort is futile.

"Cindy!" Peter calls from behind her, cheerful. "Hey!"

Cindy plasters her customer service smile back on, steels herself, and spins around.

"Oh! Hey, Peter. How's it going?"

"I'm good," he says. "I ordered the same thing, by the way. Skor Blizzard. It's my favourite."

Cindy smiles. "Yeah. Mine too."

As Cindy stares at Peter and his perpetual grin, she finds it hard to believe him capable of hiding something so big. Maybe Charlie wasn't right, after all. Maybe this guy is an uncle. Maybe he's seeing Peter's Aunt May. Maybe this Tony is a friend.

"Have you been practising?" Peter asks.

Cindy blinks. "For what?"

Peter rolls his eyes, lips still pulled up in a small smile. "Decathlon. Apparently, since regionals are a month away, we should all be practising religiously."

"Ah, yes," Cindy says, willing her shaky voice to return to normal. "If we don't, it's a violation of Decathlon rules and regulations and MJ'll boot us."

Peter grins.

"I haven't," Cindy confesses. "I've been busy. Work, you know? My shift ended half an hour ago and I won't have the energy to practise for Decathlon until a full six hours of nothing have passed."

Peter hums. "Right. Where do you work, again?"

Cindy rolls her eyes, momentarily forgetting that she's actually quite terrified of Peter and his potential connections, at the moment. He's just so easy to talk to. For Thor's sake, Peter.

"Sephora. The job is a bitch and I hate it."

Peter frowns sympathetically. "That sucks. Sorry, Cindy. Hey, aren't you a robotics wizard?"

Cindy shrugs, looking away. "I mean. At school, maybe. But it's hard to get a robotics job when you're still in high school. You know how it is."

"Right," Peter says, nodding maybe a little too quickly. "Yes. Of course. I hope you find something you enjoy, Cindy."

Cindy blinks. He's just so nice. What the hell?

"Yeah. Thanks, Peter."

He gives her a smile. "Anyway, I'll see you at school." He sidesteps her to grab his Blizzard from the counter behind her. Peter raises his other hand in a wave. "See you!"

"Bye, Peter," Cindy sighs.

His Older Guy gives Cindy a tight-lipped, narrow-eyed look, following closely behind. The two climb into the same expensive-looking vehicle, and Cindy watches, mystified, as they drive away.

She thought she knew Peter. She really, truly, honestly did. She's known him since they were both eleven in middle school, but maybe not.

The poor Dairy Queen employee calls out for the third time. "Um, miss? Your order is ready."

Cindy startles and turns to grab them with an apology. The hard chocolate shell on the dipped cone has already begun to accumulate bubbles of condensation.

When she steps outside, get brother is waiting, leaning against the wall.

Brandon looks up from his phone, accepting the dipped cone. "Why'd you take so long?"

"Sorry," Cindy says. "It . . . weird day."

"Tell me about it." Brandon rolls his eyes. "Do you wanna know what my shithead soon-to-be ex-boyfriend said to me earlier? No, not even — he texted it."

Cindy sighs. "What did he say this time?"

Two weeks later, Stark Industries announces a paid internship program in the robotics department specifically for high school students. Peter doesn't meet her eyes for three days, and Cindy knows.

Charlie was right. 

Peter Was Not Lying

Cindy
charlie, you were fucking right

Sally
oh no
what is it this time

Charlie
I FUCKING KNEW IT
WHAT HAPPENE C

Cindy
two weeks ago i ran into him and this weird older man who just stood and followed peter around
and i was talking about how i hate my sephora job and he told me i should get a robotics job since im so good at ot
and i said nothing like that exists for high school kids and he was like oh yeah haha that sucks well i hope you find something!
and now stark Industries opens a paid internship position in robotics specifically for high school kids

Charlie
COINCIDENCE? I THINK NOT.

Cindy
i didn't wanna believe it but i literally don't know how else to explain it

Ned
that's crazy but it's probably a coincidence
stark industries opens up new programs and stuff all the time

Cindy
ned
do you KNOW about this all
because i don't believe you, i know how close you and peter are

Flash
never thought id say this but I agree with the loser
why are we still talking about this when it's obvious that parker has the influence of a goldfish
he's not affiliated with stark industries

Charlie
but do you know that, or are you just saying it because you refuse to let peter be cooler than you

Ned
too late!! 😊
peter is so much cooler than you, flash

Michelle
agreed

Flash
YOU DONT GET A SAY MICHELLE
ARENT YOU DATING

Michelle
no
i'm just not an idiot

Cindy
guys please
is this enough proof

Abe
i mean are you sure it isn't a coincidence?
is that completely off the table?
bc it really is a huuuuge thing to accuse him of

Charlie
for thor's sake
cindy find me tomorrow at lunch

Cindy
yeah okay

Cindy and Charlie talk a bit more after that, pondering the possibilities. Peter struggles to meet their eyes, and Cindy wonders whether it's because Peter knows that they know that something is suspicious, or because he's just uncomfortable with the not-so-subtle watching Cindy and Charlie are doing.

Nothing else happens for weeks, and they're about to give it up, until the Peter Was Not Lying group chat pings with a message for the first time in ages.

When Cindy gets the notification at three a.m., she's about to wave it off as a mistake, but then she sees Betty's name, and she takes a look anyway.

Peter Was Not Lying

Betty
What the hell.
Peter Parker is in the corner store convenience with Tony Stark.

Chapter Text

Betty's flu messes with her sleep schedule. She wakes up on Tuesday morning, and is somehow — miraculously! — able to inhale shakily from her left nostril. (The right is still clogged, but you can't have everything, Betty supposes). Maybe morning is a bit of a stretch. She wakes up just past midnight, having fallen asleep after her midday breakfast despite her mother's insistence that she wait until seven in the evening at least. 

Maybe Betty should have listened to her mother. She's awake at one in the morning and she doesn't know what to do.

The thing about living in central New York is that there isn't nearly enough space for all the bodies inhabiting it. Their population density is truly abysmal, and Betty sometimes forget what it feels like to be in the absence of people and noise. She went to Alberta, once. They intentionally avoided the big cities — they have enough of that here — and the amount of space they traversed without running into a single soul was crazy.

Anyway. Betty is tired of her tiny room and needs to get out, but there's nowhere to go. If she leaves her room, she'll find herself in the slightly larger family room, running into a piece of furniture with every few steps. If she finds her way downstairs, she'll spit out onto the still-busy main street. If she catches the one thirty-four train and gets off four stops West, she'll find herself in a decently sized clearing, but she can't be bothered to go that far at one in the morning.

Or. Alternative. If she finds her way downstairs, spits out onto the still-busy street, and ducks into the corner convenience store, she'll find decently priced snacks. It won't solve her restlessness, but it might ease the pit of hunger in her stomach.

Done. Betty pulls her sweaty body out of her sweaty sheets and peels the sweaty shirt from her sweaty skin. She puts deodorant on and finds a clean-ish shirt. She brushes the stickiness from her teeth and mouth and gulps down two glasses of water. 

Then she peeks through the gap between the door and doorframe into her parents' room. They're sleeping soundly, as Betty would expect. She grabs a sticky note from her perfectly organised desk and scribbles out a note for her parents, just in case she, for some reason, isn't back by the time they get up.

The air is cooler than she expected for an early summer night, but Betty actually likes it. She's been trapped inside with her own body heat and sweat and snot for longer than she'd have liked. Somehow, when you're sick, that becomes all that there is. Betty knows that she only had the flu; it wasn't a chronic or terminal illness that would change (or end) her entire life. But her congestion and fever became her personality for a solid week, and this breath of fresh air makes her feel so much better.

Betty stands outside, near the building's brick wall to avoid being hit by the gaggles of drunk party people stumbling by, and breathes through her nose and feels more alive than she has in an entire week.

She eventually ducks inside, the bell above the door signalling her arrival.

This corner store is, without a doubt, Betty's absolute favourite. It's almost New York culture at this point to hike up prices for tourists and let the odd New Yorker suffer as well, but Betty has been coming to this corner store since she moved into the upstairs apartment when she was five. They come here often enough to know what the prices should be already, so Betty doesn't even pay attention to the meaningless numbers beneath the snacks she chooses.

Betty walks leisurely down the snack aisle, barely pausing to consider her options as she snatches her usual bag of Doritos from the shelf. Fake? Yes. Insanely delicious? Also yes. Betty has no regrets.

She lazily walks through the rest of the aisles until she makes her way to the drinks aisle, and she doesn't even register it at first.

". . . has less caffeine. It's honestly kinda weird that you don't know that, Mr. Stark."

"I do know that! But also, look at this can." Tony Stark holds a can of Monster to Peter Parker's face. "Look at how colourful it is. I kind of don't even care about the caffeine."

Peter stares flatly at his face. Betty stares, confused, at the both of them. She isn't yet convinced that this isn't somehow a flu hallucination.

"You care about the caffeine."

Stark shrugs. "Yeah, sure, but look, Pete. They're close enough for me to think of them as the same. Wouldn't you rather be caffeinated and get to enjoy it? This is Island Punch!"

Peter rolls his eyes, plucking the Monster from Tony Fucking Stark's hands and putting it back on the shelf. "The Red Bull tastes fine. And anyway, which one is Pepper more likely to notice?"

Betty blinks. They're still there. She's so confused.

Peter turns around with two cans of Red Bull, mumbling something about the Iron Man suit that Betty doesn't understand at all, when his eyes go wide.

He stares directly at Betty. Betty stares back.

"Hi Betty," he says awkwardly.

Betty is about to confusedly respond when Peter's eyes go wide.

"I've got it," he says breathlessly a moment later. Betty blinks. "Mr. Stark. Ions. We can't use neutral charges."

Tony Stark is still for a moment, staring into the open drinks fridge. He abruptly slams it closed, spinning around to meet Peter's eyes. "Holy shit," he mutters. "If we use the third charge instead of the second —"

"Then we might actually be able to form a stable bond and isolate the —"

"You're a fucking genius, Parker!"

Betty isn't sure she isn't still dreaming or something. She discreetly pinches her thigh. The sensation is very real.

Oh no.

Betty isn't dreaming, and Tony Stark really did call Peter Parker a genius.

"Anyway," Betty says awkwardly. Peter and Stark startle from their rushed, almost incomprehensible conversation, glancing over at her. "Can I just grab an iced tea? I don't want to interrupt, I just —"

"Sorry, Betty." Peter and Tony Stark shift to the right, moving away from the drinks fridge as they crowd the corner instead. "Hey, what are you doing here, anyway? It's, like, one o'clock. Is your flu keeping you up?"

Tony Stark mutters something Betty can't hear, and Peter lightly slaps his arm in reprimand. Betty doesn't understand what is happening. Maybe the pinch was part of the dream? She probably is still dreaming, because she doesn't see how this makes sense otherwise.

"I live in the apartment complex upstairs." Betty slides the drinks fridge open and her fingers find her favourite iced tea. 

Her mother taught her never to take the one at the front. Betty thinks it's probably because of the expiry date. 

"Yesterday was my last bad flu day, and I stupidly went to bed at two in the afternoon, so I'm awake at an ungodly time of morning and I'm starving."

"Is it morning?" is what Peter says in shocked reply.

"I think one o'clock still classifies as night." Tony Stark shrugs.

"Depends on how you look at it," Betty says. "I just woke up. Morning for me. You probably haven't even thought about sleep yet. Night for you."

"Ah," Tony Stark says. "That's smart, kid. How do you two know each other?"

Betty, drink in hand, turns to look at Tony Stark in all of his greasy T-shirt, sweatpants, tired eyes glory. 

"We go to school together," Peter says, giving her an awkward smile.

Ah. So Betty isn't the only one here who finds this entire situation a little weird.

"Anyway," Stark says, arms full of Red Bull. Peter won the energy drink fight, Betty supposes. "Nice to meet you, Betty, but we'd better be going."

"Yeah. Me too. It was . . . nice to meet you?"

Peter hangs back a bit as Tony Stark makes his way down the cleaning aisle to the front door.

"Sorry about that, Betty," he says quietly, and he really does look sorry.

"I don't know what for." Betty shrugs, giving him a small smile.

She can breathe through her nose, but it's so phenomenally loud. It makes this situation all the more awkward. Thank Thor she's holding things in her hands; she wouldn't have known what to do with them otherwise. 

"He can be a bit much," Peter says with a small grimace. "And I'm sure you didn't expect to be talking with Tony Stark when you walked into a convenience store at one in the morning."

"What are you doing awake, anyway?" Betty asks, and it seems both she and Peter are surprised that that's the question she's asking.

"Project. Thing. It's taking a while, and my sleep schedule is messed up, anyway. Figured we'd caffeinate and get it done, since we aren't sleeping anyway."

Betty nods slowly. "Right. And would you answer if I asked how the hell you know Tony Stark?"

"Internship." Peter's lips are pressed firmly together, and Betty wonders how he's gotten to this point when he's so phenomenally bad at lying.

"Sure," Betty says, entirely unconvinced, but she lets it go. "I'll see you later, Peter. A billionaire is waiting for you outside, and this bag of Doritos is waiting for me."

Peter laughs. "Bye, Betty. Feel better!"

And so Betty, as she approaches the door to her apartment complex, turns around to watch Tony Stark sling his arm around Peter's shoulder, the two of them talking so quickly Betty doesn't think anyone but the two of them would be able to understand. 

It's just so weird. Well. It's not that weird, Betty supposes as she slowly climbs the stairs. (She wishes with everything in her body for the elevators to miraculously fix themselves and become available for public use). 

It's just that Peter has the drive and passion and energy someone like Tony Stark might appreciate. It makes sense for the two to hold some sort of mentor-mentee relationship — because that's what it seemed like to Betty. It makes sense that Peter somehow managed to pull one of the world's greatest billionaire philanthropist playboys into his orbit, because that's just the kind of person Peter is. It makes sense.

She doesn't know why she didn't see it earlier. Even Charlie saw it. Or, well, he heard it. Cindy now sees it. Her opinion does, admittedly, matter quite a lot.

Betty slumps down onto the lumpy sofa with her Doritos and iced tea. She opens both under the thick, heavy blanket they keep laid out for winters to keep quiet enough that she doesn't wake her parents, and then she opens her phone.

Peter Was Not Lying

Betty
What the hell.
Peter Parker is in the corner store convenience with Tony Stark.

Cindy
I KNEW IT

Charlie
I CALLED IT

Betty smiles, tucking her feet into the blanket. It's weird, the way that their conspiracies about their classmate have somehow brought some of them closer together. She chews as quietly as possible on a chip as Cindy types.

Cindy
did you talk to them?!?!?

Betty
For a bit, yeah 
They were debating over red bull and monster

Charlie
are they super close

Betty 
It looked like it
Peter was super comfortable with him and Tony Stark actually talked to me??
Like he called me by my name
Just because Peter says that we're friends from school

Abe
please for the love of everything good and magic go to sleep
it's two in the morning and we have a chemistry test tomorrow

Charlie
just turn notifs off
this is important
have you heard anything that was said

Abe
sorry, I'm already sleeping

Cindy
fair enough 
anyway tell me more betty

Betty
Well Peter's a certified genius
We knew this already because Peter but he's a GENIUS genius
Like he and Tony Stark were there taking a break from a project they're working on, from what I can tell, and Peter came to some important revelation literally right after he said hi to me
And then he and Tony Stark literally finished each other's sentences about ions and stuff and apparently that was their eureka moment
Tony Stark called him a genius

Charlie
okay so what are our theories folks

Sally
our theories are that it'S WAY TOO LATE FOR THIS
can we have this conversation in the morning PLEASE

Cindy
it's like no one has heard of do not disturb omg
fine
we'll talk about it in the morning

Charlie
noooo

Betty
Fine. Bed time.
We'll talk about it tomorrow

But Betty is decidedly not going to bed. She just woke up.

Instead, she dusts her Doritos fingers off, chucks the bag in the bin, and grabs her laptop from her desk, pushing a clump of greasy hair from her face. In two seconds, she's opened her notes app and started a list, doing what she does best: organising.

She's going to figure this out.

They have options, she decides, fingertips flying across her keyboard. Peter could be Stark's illegitimate kid, for one. He could somehow have acquired a job working with him. He could have won a secret lottery program thing to win a chance to work with him, which then somehow blossomed into something of a more permanent position.

Peter could be a superhero. He could be a distant relative. He could be almost anything.

Of course, the possibilities don't come without flaws and issues. Peter is horrible at keeping secrets, which is issue number one. It's an issue no matter which possibility Betty sets on, which makes things complicated, but Rome wasn't built in a day and neither was a solid, working theory, so it's fine. Betty isn't going to rush this.

If Peter were Tony Stark's illegitimate son, why would he address him by first and last name on the phone? Unless that's part of the ruse, keeping the whole thing a secret. They all know that Peter is an orphan, his aunt his only family. It wouldn't do him well to address someone on the phone by dad. But then again -- why not call him something different? Something that doesn't tie him to Tony Stark at all? It just seems like sloppy work.

Next: If Peter were a superhero, he'd probably be . . . cooler. And anyway, it'd be impossible to manage a superhero job, working with Tony Stark on weird tech projects, school, homework, and Decathlon, all at the same time.

Betty crosses that option off the list, but lightly — just in case she finds a reason to go back to it.

She wills herself to stay focused. She really does. She thinks about it and jots down half-assed theories and pretends it all makes sense. It doesn't really make any sense at all. An hour later, she has two thousand words of theories typed up on her laptop, and none of them seem very viable. 

She then closes her notes app with a sigh and opens Instagram.

Betty is a very focused, determined individual. Never let it be said that there are problems she can't solve. But she's also recovering from a physically taxing flu and an insanely confusing convenience store run-in, so forgive her for pulling up useless slime videos and 'get ready with me's. 

She's on her phone doing nothing for four hours, and then she decides that she's going to school. What if she sees Peter? What if he says something?

What if he doesn't?

Whatever. Betty manages a decent breakfast, packs her bag, says goodbye to her parents, and then she's off.

She, Charlie, and Cindy are going to figure this out.

Chapter Text

Abe believes it now. He believes that his friend Peter somehow knows Tony Stark. He doesn't care. He just wishes the group chat would shut the fuck up. It goes off during all times of day, and it's so annoying.

Or. That's what he thinks, at least, until he sees proof.

Midtown is a very career-focused school. It trains its students to seek the best opportunities and to figure out what they want early on. It's easy enough, considering it's a STEM school, which narrows the options down a bit. As such, Midtown hosts two career days a year. Each student is encouraged to find a workplace close to what they intend to do in the future, and shadow a current employee. Most students use personal connections; parents, cousins, family friends. Others send emails out to people they don't know with hopes to shadow a dream position. 

Abe isn't as clear on his future. He's flip-flopping between career options, and none of them draw him in quite as much as he'd hoped. Half of his friends reached out to people they don't know.

Abe chooses to shadow his dad instead.

His dad actually has a pretty great job. It's really impressive, even though Abe knows for a fact that he doesn't want it for himself. He works within the law department at Stark Industries, and Abe thinks it's more than good enough for career day. Stark Industries, for Midtown High students, is the height of success. Tony Stark has changed everything for STEM students, even if Stark Industries employs people for non-STEM positions. As soon as you work there, you're already an idol; it doesn't matter whether you work in the law department or in R&D.

Anyway. Abe's friends are all very impressed with his career day position. 

And the Decathlon group? As soon as they heard about it, they went wild:

Cindy: "Oh my God, Abe, Peter's one hundred percent gonna be there. Keep an eye out."

Charlie: "You thought I was making shit up at the beginning, but now you're gonna see proof."

Betty: "I know the building is so big, and you probably aren't even gonna see him" — finally, Abe thought, someone who sees reason; of course Abe isn't going to see Peter, even if he is there — "but if you do, report back? Please?"

By the end of the Peter talk, Abe wanted to kill him, even though he knows nothing about it. He's causing so much drama, and Abe is done.

Anyway. Regardless of all the Peter nonsense, Abe followed his dad to work expecting nothing. A meeting or two. Some paperwork. Coffee in the break room; stuffy lawyers in stuffy suits.

He received nothing of the sort!

The first half of the day was normal. His dad ran him through everything; all of his normal work activities. Even showed him a few documents he probably shouldn't have seen, but Abe doesn't understand any of the law lingo anyway, so it did no harm. And then they went for coffee.

It was not in the break room.

His dad took him down large halls with glass windows, filled with important people — a shortcut, he said, to the twenty-second floor cafeteria. Abe shrugged and went along with it; what did he know about how things worked in the Stark Industries law department?

"Some pretty important people walk these halls," his dad had whispered. 

"Like who?" Abe had asked curiously.

"Pepper Potts, once in a while," his dad said with a smile. "She's the CEO, but likes this department. She used to work here, you know."

And then, like fate, Pepper Potts had walked by.

His dad punched his arm. "Look," he hissed. "Pepper Potts. And — oh, yeah. Peter."

Abe caught a glance of a science pun t-shirt and immediately groaned. "For Thor's sake. Why is he everywhere?"

"Oh, he floats between departments. Or at least I think he does. I don't know. No one really knows what Peter does."

"Peter," Abe had said through clenched teeth, "does a very good job at driving me insane."

Abe's dad had blinked. "How do you know Peter?"

"We go to school together," Abe said, jaw tight, "and all we really know about him is that his parents died when he was young, his Aunt May takes care of him, he's a super genius, he's super nice, he sticks up for little kids, and — oh, yeah. He somehow knows Tony Stark, and it's all my Decathlon friends have been talking about for months."

His dad had stared at him for a few seconds; Abe's eyes were still on Peter, who stood near the door to a large conference room, speaking in hushed tones with the CEO of the company. "I didn't know you two went to school together."

Abe huffed out a sigh. "How would you know? I wasn't aware you knew a Peter my age."

"I don't really know him," his dad had admitted, tugging on his tie. "We see him sometimes. Hear about him from people in different departments. We have bets running too, you know."

Abe rolled his eyes. "I'm sure I've heard them all. He's Stark's secret, illegitimate kid, or he's a super genius Stark found on the streets, or he's a superhero. It's — ridiculous."

"Well, what do you think?"

"I don't care," Abe had said, very seriously. "I'm just sick of hearing about it all the time."

When he had looked up from his scowl, directed kindly towards the floor, Abe had immediately locked eyes with Peter, and he cursed under his breath.

"Language, Abraham," his dad had scolded lightly.

Peter muttered something to Pepper Potts, who gave him a small nod, and traversed the hall to Abe's side. Abe watched, a string of obscene and hateful language running through his mind. Clenching his teeth, he tried with all his might not to let the hatred show on his face — or the guilt that accompanied it; it wasn't Peter's fault his friends decided to be annoying about him. But still. Abe was very annoyed.

"Hey, Abe," Peter had said awkwardly. "Here for career day?"

"Yeah," Abe said tensely. "You?"

Peter hummed in response. "Yeah. Listen, I wanted to — uh." He cleared his throat, tugging at the hem of his shirt. "I know you guys have been. Um. You know, talking about me. And how I know Tony Stark."

Abe blinked violently, almost flinching back with shock. "You know?"

"I mean, yeah. You guys aren't always that quiet about it."

It had taken a moment for Abe to find his voice. When he did, the words he managed to push out were strangulated. "Sorry. We didn't realise you knew."

Peter shrugged. "It's fine. I mean, it's weird. And it'd be nice if I weren't always the topic of discussion, but. I get it." Peter had taken a deep breath, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before he peeled them open again. "Listen. I'm gonna talk to the others in Decathlon about it tomorrow, but . . . just to clear the confusion. I'm not a secret child or anything. Tony and Pepper were friends of my parents before they died, and they've always been here for me. Now that my aunt is working more, I spend more time here with them. It's not something any of us like to advertise, because it would draw everyone unwanted attention and everyone would gossip, so." 

Abe blinked. "Oh. Yeah, I get it. I, uh. The constant talking about whether you're somehow a superhero or Stark's son annoys me almost as much as it annoys you. But I get that it's weird. I'll tell them to quit it, and you can — explain. If you want."

"Yeah." Peter nodded, tension bleeding from his shoulders. "That would be good. Thanks. Anyway. I, uh. I'm sorry for just dumping all of that on you. I just wanted to . . . clarify things. Y'know."

"No problem, man. I get it. I'll, uh. See you tomorrow?"

Peter smiled. "Yeah. See you, Abe. And thanks!"

So Abe had watched as Peter walked away, right back to Pepper Potts' side, without saying a word.

"Huh," his dad had said, shaking his head just slightly, which Abe knew meant a little bit of confusion and a lot a bit of awe. "It's pretty cool that you know him. Are you two close at all?"

"No, dad," Abe had muttered, tugging at his dad's sleeve so that he'd keep walking. Abe was promised coffee, and he wasn't about to get through the rest of this day without it. "We're friends, but we aren't super close. We're in the same classes and clubs."

"He seems nice."

"Yes," Abe grumbled. "He's nice. Very nice, and very smart. Can we please stop talking about him? It — look, it even makes him uncomfortable. Let's not."

His dad ruffled his hair with a sigh. "Yeah, you're probably right. You always were smarter than I am. When it comes to people, anyway." His dad winked. "Now, there's this one booth in the cafeteria with the best darned coffee you've ever drank. I don't know what it is about it, but it's just so good. Come on, this way."

And so Abe had endured the rest of the day, sitting by his dad's side and, yes, admittedly, he enjoyed himself. The coffee was fantastic, just as his dad promised, and the work wasn't nearly as boring as Abe had anticipated. He left the Stark Industries building feeling good about himself and a little less hopeless about his future, after having spoken a bit with some of his dad's younger coworkers; some of them had no idea what they wanted to do with their lives at his age, either.

He'd pushed Peter to the back of his mind. Especially since the conversation they had was far from what it seemed.

Listen. Abe doesn't know Peter as well as he might want. Peter's a great person, and he's a great friend; anyone can see it. Abe is just awkward as hell, and he doesn't know how to start a proper friendship with someone who has always just been an acquaintance when they're this close to graduating and never seeing each other again. 

But anyway. Abe doesn't know Peter very well, but he's been in his immediate environment seven hours a day for three years. Abe can tell when Peter is lying, because Peter lies poorly all the time. It's obvious. He has tells he probably doesn't even know about, and they — along with the slightly guilty look in his eyes — give him away almost immediately.

Peter knows Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. This is a fact. This is something Abe can't question anymore, not even a little bit.

Peter also knows them through potentially suspicious means, if his blatant lies mean anything. He went out of his way to hide the truth, and Abe guesses that it means that their relationship is something Peter doesn't want questioned or investigated.

When he gets home, Abe thanks his dad for a great day, hip-bumps his mother as he passes her in the hall, and shuts himself into his room.

Dropping his bag onto his gaming chair, Abe pulls his phone from his jean pockets, shimmies out of his jeans, pulls a pair of sweatpants on, and launches himself onto his bed. 

Peter Was Not Lying

Abe
fine
i believe you guys

Cindy
i love how we're slowly recruiting every member of the team
what happened abe?
did you see him?

Abe
yeah
in the law department with pepper potts

Betty
HOLY SHIT
I can't believe he really knows her
I want to question him so bad but I don't want him to know we suspect him

Abe
yeah, about that

Charlie
you're kidding me
abe
tell me you didn't tell peter

Abe
i didn't tell peter
he confronted me

Cindy
what???

Abe
you guys aren't subtle at all
you know that right
he came up to me and told me that he knows we've all been talking about him
and then he tried to clarify how he knows tony stark and pepper potts

Betty
What did he say?

Abe
he'll tell you guys tomorrow
he said he would
but
BUT
i think he was lying

Sally
oh my god
i can't believe i believe you guys

Cindy
how do you know he was lying?

Abe
he has tells
his posture and stuff gave him away

Ned
idk guys, i think we should trust that he was telling the truth
whatever he said is all that he's willing to share
and we should respect his privacy

Charlie
i get that
but also, this is crazy as hell
we'll respect what he says, obviously
but if he's lying

Michelle
even IF you think he's lying, you shouldn't push
don't invade his privacy

Flash
yeah, can we stop with all this parker stuff
it's getting annoying

Sally
i agree
can we just leave him alone

Cindy
i get that we're probably going too far
so maybe we'll relax a bit
but you guys believe us, right?

Sally
hard not to, when you've all collected proof

Ned
sure, i believe that peter somehow knows stark
still think we should just trust him when he tell us how tho

Abe
okay, sure

Betty
But if we find a way to somehow meet Pepper Potts, I'm taking that chance
Sorry guys

Charlie
lol

The group chat goes quiet after that, and Abe drops his phone onto his bed, staring up at the popcorn ceiling.

Admittedly, actually seeing Peter with Pepper Potts has changed his outlook on the situation a bit. Just a little. Before, Abe had believed, but the foundation for his belief was built on annoyance with the constant chattering and gossip. Now, Abe has seen it with his own eyes.

Huh. Peter Parker knows the Stark family.

It isn't as weird a revelation as he initially thought it'd be.