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The lunch situation started because Happy complained.
This was, in retrospect, the first mistake. Happy complained about a lot of things, and the appropriate response to Happy complaining was to acknowledge it and move on. Tony had known this for twenty years. He had apparently forgotten it.
"The cafeteria," Happy said, on a Tuesday morning, with the particular tone he reserved for things that had personally affronted him. "It's a zoo. I had to wait twelve minutes just to find somewhere to stand. The floor is sticky. There were three different lunch options and none of them had protein."
"Okay," Tony said.
"I'm just saying," Happy said. "If Peter's eating that every day –"
"I'll send him with lunch," Tony said.
He said it the way he said a lot of things: without fully thinking it through, because the solution seemed obvious and the problem seemed simple and he had seventeen other things to think about and also he was already reaching for his phone.
The first lunch was leftover takeout from the night before. Thai food in a paper bag. Tony had FRIDAY remind him at 7 am, tucked it into Peter's backpack before Peter was fully awake, and considered the matter handled.
Peter texted him at noon. did you put pad thai in my backpack
tony: yes
peter: there's a whole container of it
tony: it was good pad thai
A pause. Then:
peter: it was cold
tony: there's a spork
Tony upgraded the next lunch. He found a container with a heating element built in - he'd designed it for field work, but the thermal retention was excellent - packed it with actual food from the Tower kitchen, and sent it with Happy.
Peter texted him at noon.
peter: why is my lunch hot
tony: the container has a heating element
peter: the container has a what
tony: you're welcome
peter: my lunch is hotter than the cafeteria food
tony: that's because the cafeteria food is made in bulk at six in the morning and left in a warming tray for four hours
peter: I know how cafeteria food works
tony: then you know why I sent you a heated container
A longer pause.
peter: thank you
Tony took that as a win.
The week after that, Tony made a deal with the Tower's kitchen. Not the full catering staff - just one of the line cooks who worked mornings, who was very good, and who was apparently delighted by the assignment in a way that Tony had not entirely anticipated. The lunches started arriving in a small insulated bag with a cold pack and two compartments. Sandwich, cut on the diagonal. A small container of soup. Something for dessert.
Happy reported, approvingly, that Peter appeared to eat all of it.
Tony upgraded the insulated bag.
The insulated bag became a small cooler. The small cooler acquired a latch and a Stark Industries logo. The line cook, apparently interpreting her brief as open-ended, began including handwritten notes about the day's menu, printed on card stock.
"It's getting a little much," Happy said.
"He's eating it," Tony said.
"He is," Happy said. "But."
"But what."
Happy looked at him. "It's a cooler, Tony. With a logo on it."
"It keeps the temperature consistent."
Happy did not say anything else. This was, in retrospect, the appropriate moment to have reconsidered.
The following Monday, Peter left the cooler at home.
Tony noticed because Happy came back with it. "It was on the kitchen counter," Happy said, neutrally. "He said he forgot it."
Tony looked at the cooler.
Looked at the handwritten menu card still tucked in the side pocket. Monday: turkey with pesto on sourdough, roasted red pepper soup, lemon tart.
"I'll bring it to him," Tony said.
"Tony –"
"He forgot it," Tony said. "He has to eat lunch."
Happy did not argue, because Happy had learned that certain conversations needed to be had with someone other than him, and this appeared to be one of them.
Tony did not bring it to the school himself. He was not unaware of what that would look like - Tony Stark pulling up to Midtown in a car to deliver a monogrammed cooler to his fifteen-year-old in the middle of the school day was a paparazzi event waiting to happen.
He sent Vision.
This was the second mistake.
Vision arrived at Midtown School of Science and Technology at 11:47 am, passed through the exterior wall of the building without difficulty, followed Peter's biosignature to room 214, and phased through the classroom door with the cooler in hand.
Peter's AP Chemistry class went very quiet.
"I apologize for the interruption," Vision said. "Peter. You forgot your lunch."
Peter stared at him.
Twenty-three other students stared at Vision.
Peter's teacher - Mr. Santos, according to his school file - appeared to have stopped mid-sentence with his marker still raised toward the whiteboard.
"Thank you," Peter said, in a voice that had achieved a particular quality of control that Tony would later recognize as the same voice he himself used when trying not to react to something in a public setting. He took the cooler. "That's - thank you."
"Of course," Vision said. "Tony said to tell you the soup is still hot."
Vision phased back out through the wall.
There was a very long silence in room 214.
Peter put the cooler under his desk. Picked up his pencil. "Sorry," he said to Mr. Santos. "We can keep going."
Mr. Santos lowered his marker. "Was that the Vision?"
"Yes," Peter said.
"He just - he came through the wall."
"He does that," Peter said. "It's fine. He has good spatial awareness so he doesn't come out inside anything."
Mr. Santos appeared to be processing this. Then, with the particular composure of someone who taught at a school where the occasional extraordinary thing happened, he turned back to the whiteboard.
Peter texted Tony at noon.
peter: you sent vision to my school
tony: you forgot your lunch
peter: I LEFT IT AT HOME ON PURPOSE
A pause.
tony: why
peter: tony
peter: the cooler has a logo on it
tony: I KNOW IT HAS A LOGO ON IT
tony: it also has a heating element
I know, Peter sent. it also has a handwritten menu card. And then, before Tony could respond: please stop sending me lunch
Tony did not stop sending lunch. He did, however, retire the cooler. There was a middle ground, he felt, between abandoning the project and whatever line he had apparently crossed. He found a smaller insulated bag, no logo, no heating element. He told the kitchen to scale back.
Happy did not comment on this. Happy had learned to pick his battles.
***
The second incident happened on a Thursday.
Peter was in the middle of a geometry proof when the fire alarm went off.
Not an unusual occurrence. Midtown had a procedurally rigorous approach to fire drills; Mr. Jameson had already explained the exit route on the first day of school, and Peter had memorized it the same way he memorized everything, which was immediately and completely. He filed out with everyone else, crossed the evacuation field behind the gym, and stood in the cool air while a teacher with a clipboard did a headcount.
Everything was fine.
Peter could tell, from the faint smell of burnt toast drifting from the direction of the second-floor faculty lounge, exactly what had happened. Someone's lunch had gotten away from them. The building was not on fire. The alarm would be cleared in approximately eight minutes.
He was thinking about this when the sound arrived.
It was a very specific sound. A mechanical-rhythmic thrum that Peter's enhanced hearing catalogued before the rest of him caught up: rotors, wingspan, altitude approximately four hundred feet and descending.
He looked up.
Sam Wilson came in over the gymnasium roof at a low approach angle, wings fully deployed, with the specific controlled deceleration of someone who had located his target and was slowing to land. He dropped the last thirty feet with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times, touched down on the edge of the evacuation field, and looked around until he found Peter.
The entire junior class looked at Sam. Then at Peter. Then back at Sam.
"Parker," Sam said, crossing toward him. He had his comm in his ear and his hands up in the particular not-a-threat posture of someone who was very aware of how he looked landing in a schoolyard. "You good?"
"I'm fine," Peter said. He was using the voice again.
"The alarm –"
"It's a fire drill."
"FRIDAY flagged it as an active –"
"Someone burned their lunch," Peter said. "In the faculty lounge."
Sam glanced toward the building, nostrils briefly flaring. Then back at Peter. "Yeah," he said. "Okay. That does smell like –"
"Burnt toast," Peter said. "It's a drill. Everything's fine."
"I can see that," Sam said. He straightened up. "I can also see that a hundred and something kids are currently filming me on their phones."
"Yeah," Peter said.
"Your dad is going to hear about this," Sam said.
"He sent you," Peter pointed out.
"He did," Sam said. "He is still going to hear about this. From me. At volume."
The alarm inside the building stopped.
A teacher with a clipboard put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. "Midtown, start moving back in."
Peter picked up his backpack.
"You need a ride?" Sam asked.
"I'm in the middle of school," Peter said.
"Right," Sam said. "Yeah. That was a dumb question." He looked around at the sea of phone cameras with the expression of a man who had made peace with his choices. "Tell your dad I want overtime."
"You're an Avenger," Peter said. "You don't get overtime."
"I should," Sam said. "After this I should."
He launched off the field. The rotor sound receded.
Peter went back inside.
He was in the hallway when Ned appeared at his elbow. "Okay," Ned said, "so that just happened."
"Burnt toast," Peter said.
"I know it was burnt toast," Ned said. "Falcon just landed in our evacuation field because of burnt toast."
"Tony monitors the school's fire system," Peter said.
Ned absorbed this. "Does he monitor all school fire systems or just ours."
Peter didn't answer.
"Parker," Ned said. "Does he monitor –"
"We have class," Peter said.
***
May got the call on a Friday.
She was between patients, standing in the break room with her coffee, when her phone rang. The number was unfamiliar - 212 area code, a school exchange she didn't recognize offhand. She answered out of habit.
"Ms. Parker? This is Principal Morita. From Midtown School of Science and Technology."
May set down her coffee. "Of course. Is everything okay? Is Peter –"
"Peter is fine," Principal Morita said, with the tone of a man who had been a principal for fifteen years and knew how to lead with reassurance. "He's completely fine. This is more of a - logistical call."
"Logistical," May repeated.
"Yes." A pause. "Ms. Parker, are you aware of the situation with the school lunches?"
May closed her eyes briefly. "Yes," she said. "I'm aware of the lunches."
"The cooler with the logo was a bit - it generated some conversation among the students."
"I understand," May said.
"That's resolved, I understand. And I appreciate the, ah, course correction there." Another pause. The kind of pause that was preparing to deliver the real point. "However. We've now had two separate incidents involving Avengers on school property."
May picked up her coffee again. "The Vision," she said.
"He came through a wall," Principal Morita said. "During a chemistry class."
"I heard about that."
"And last Thursday's fire alarm evacuation."
"Sam Wilson," May said.
"Mr. Wilson landed in the evacuation field," Principal Morita said, "in full gear, in front of approximately a hundred and twenty students and several faculty members, at least seventy percent of whom were filming on their phones. The footage is on three separate social media platforms."
May said nothing.
"I want to be clear," Principal Morita said. "We are very grateful for Mr. Stark's concern for Peter's wellbeing. Peter is a wonderful student. We are happy to have him here. These are not complaints about Peter. These are - concerns about the approach."
"I understand completely," May said.
"Our security protocols don't really account for individuals who can phase through walls," Principal Morita said. "Or who approach from the air."
"No," May agreed. "I imagine they don't."
"Is there a - a channel," Principal Morita said carefully, "through which I might communicate these concerns to Mr. Stark directly? Or would it be more effective if you –"
"I'll handle it," May said.
"I appreciate that," Principal Morita said. He sounded relieved in the way people sounded relieved when someone else was taking on a task they had been dreading. "I just - the disruption to the learning environmen t–"
"I understand," May said. "It won't happen again."
"Thank you, Ms. Parker."
"Thank you for calling," May said.
She hung up.
Picked up her coffee.
Opened her texts and found Tony's number.
may: You sent Vision through the wall of a chemistry classroom, she typed.
A pause.
tony: peter forgot his lunch
may: You sent Falcon to a fire drill.
tony: FRIDAY flagged it as active
may: It was burnt toast, Mr. Stark.
tony: I didn't know it was burnt toast
may: Principal Morita called me, May typed. He would like Avengers to stop attending school events.
A long pause.
tony: what counts as an event
may: Mr. Stark.
tony: that seems like a broad category
may: Mr. Stark.
may: The wall. Vision came through the wall.
tony: he has good spatial awareness
may: That is not the point.
Another pause. Then:
tony: tell morita I'll donate to the library fund
May stared at her phone.
may: That is absolutely not the point. Stop sending Avengers to the school. Stop sending lunch. Let Peter eat the cafeteria food like a normal person.
tony: the cafeteria food has no protein
may: Mr. Stark, May typed. I am asking you very nicely.
A pause that was slightly longer than the others.
tony: fine
And then, about thirty seconds later:
tony: the soup was good though. The lemon tart especially. you should ask him about the lemon tart
May put her phone back in her pocket.
She stood in the break room for a moment.
Then, very quietly, she laughed.
***
The third incident happened a week later.
Specifically: it happened on a Tuesday at 1:14 pm, when Michelle Jones looked out the second-floor window during AP US History, saw a woman in black tactical gear standing on the roof of the east wing with her arms crossed, and posted it on three platforms simultaneously with the caption new development in the ongoing Midtown-Avengers situation.
Peter found out the way everyone else did. Ned showed him the photo during the passing period.
Peter looked at it for a long time.
"That's Natasha Romanoff," Ned said.
"Yeah," Peter said.
"She's just - standing there."
"Yeah."
"Not - doing anything."
"That's how she checks on people," Peter said. He handed the phone back. "She was probably there for twenty minutes and then left."
Ned stared at him. "That's terrifying."
"You get used to it," Peter said.
He waited until lunch and texted Tony.
peter: natasha was on the roof
tony: I know
peter: why
tony: you had a calc test
Peter read this twice.
peter: you sent natasha to watch me take a calc test
tony: I didn't send her to watch you take the test, I sent her to make sure you were okay
peter: she was on the ROOF
tony: she was being unobtrusive
Peter put his phone face-down on the table.
Ned, across from him, was still looking at the photo. "Four thousand retweets," Ned said.
"Ned."
"I'm just saying."
May found out via a link sent to her by three separate coworkers who had followed the story from the Sam Wilson incident and were, based on the accompanying messages, delighted. She was in between patients again. She looked at the photo – Natasha Romanoff on a rooftop, arms crossed, regarding the parking lot with the particular stillness of someone who could stay exactly that still for a very long time - and she thought about Tony's fine from a week ago.
She opened her texts.
may: Mr. Stark.
A pause.
tony: ms. parker
may: She was on the roof.
tony: she was being careful
may: Mr. Stark. The last one came through a wall.
tony: that was different
may: How is this different
tony: vision was delivering lunch. natasha was just - in the area
may: In the area. On the roof.
tony: she has a very particular skill set, she doesn't really do lobbies
May stared at her phone.
may: Mr. Stark, we had a conversation.
tony: we did
may: I asked you to stop.
tony: and I significantly reduced the incidents
may: From two to three.
A long pause.
tony: the calc test went well
tony: 97. I just thought you should know.
May sat with this for a moment.
may: That's not the point.
And then, because it was true:
may: but that's very good.
tony: I know.
tony: he didn't tell me either. FRIDAY reported.
may: Of course she did.
Another pause. Then:
tony: I'll talk to Natasha about the roof thing. In my defense, she was not visible from the street.
may: She was visible from the second floor.
tony: I'll talk to her about the second floor.
May put her phone back in her pocket.
She stood in the break room for a moment.
She thought about Peter, fifteen years old, eating lunch in a school cafeteria while Natasha Romanoff stood on the roof above him like a very well-trained gargoyle.
She thought about the calc test.
Ninety-seven.
She thought about the fact that Tony Stark had apparently needed to find this out from an AI because his son hadn't told him, and that Tony had then deployed a covert operative to a high school roof as his version of emotional processing.
May was quiet for a moment.
Then she called Peter.
He picked up on the second ring. "I know," he said.
"I know you know," May said.
"I didn't know she was going to be there."
"I know that too."
A pause. "The calc test was - it went okay."
"I heard," May said.
Silence. She could hear him working out that Tony had told her, which meant Tony had known, which meant FRIDAY had reported it. She could hear the exact moment he landed on this conclusion.
"He's so - " Peter stopped. Appeared to decide not to finish.
"Yeah," May said. "He is."
Another pause. Shorter this time.
"Did you actually mind?" Peter asked. Careful. Like he'd been wanting to ask and had decided to risk it. "Like. Not the - not the roof thing. Just in general. Did you mind."
May thought about the cooler with the logo. The heated container. The handwritten menu cards. The lemon tart she had, in fact, asked about, because it sounded good and because Peter had described it with a specificity that suggested he'd eaten it in approximately thirty seconds.
"No," she said. "I didn't mind."
Peter was quiet.
"Don't tell him I said that," May said.
"I won't," Peter said, in a tone that suggested he absolutely would not, and also that he was maybe smiling.
"Go eat your lunch," May said. "The cafeteria kind."
"It has no protein," Peter said.
May hung up.