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Peter was sure that the universe hated him.
Every time the school announced a field trip, it was his downfall. On nights when he couldn’t sleep, his brain would flash images of the D.C trip that left him wishing that he’d dropped down the lift shaft instead of making it out. His dad didn’t find it nearly as funny when he’d joke about dropping down the shaft, but Uncle Rhodey always laughed, so he took it as a win.
Tony would, however, laugh whenever Peter would come home grumbling about going on a field trip.
So far, there had been no incidents—at least, none large enough to report back home about. There was the last field trip he took, where he fell into the Swann Memorial Fountain. MJ and Ned had pulled him out, but not before they laughed at him first; some friends they were. Peter was just glad Flash hadn’t been able to make it because he’d broken his ankle during gym class and needed surgery.
This time, he wasn’t as lucky. In fact, he was downright unlucky, because Mr Harrington had walked into their physics classroom and announced that—as an end-of-year treat—they were going to Stark Industries. Peter hoped that the floor beneath him would open up and he could plummet down towards the Earth’s core.
“Psst,” Ned hissed from beside him, getting his attention. “Are we excited for this or not?”
Peter paused for a moment, his mind running a million different possibilities. He wanted Ned to have a good time, but he didn’t necessarily want to spend a whole day touring his home. Tony tended to take him down to all the labs whenever he went, telling anyone and everyone that they could ask Peter for help. He enjoyed those days, he had a lot of fun, and it was nice to feel useful and needed—even if his work wasn’t outwardly obvious. He’d spent so much time on the lower floors of Stark Industries that the employees had taken to calling him Junior and Mini-Boss. It was fun, and he tended to preen when people told him he was just like his dad.
“You know what,” Peter said, glancing up to make sure that Mr Harrington was still talking. “You are so excited. I am staying home.”
“Seriously, man?” Ned looked surprised. While Peter’s field trips didn’t tend to go well, he had never once skipped one. Peter knew that Ned was feeling more than a little bewildered right now, but it just made more sense for him to stay home and work in his dad’s lab or help out in one of the R&D ones. “You’re gonna skip this one?”
“It doesn’t make sense for me to go, dude,” Peter elaborated, watching as Mr Harrington placed stacks of permission slips on the desks at the very front, his classmates taking one and then passing the stack back. “I’m there every day, it’s just going to be some of the stuff I get to see all the time. I’ll be a Debby Downer—you’ll have much more fun without me.”
“I always forget that you can just like, walk around there whenever you want,” Ned mumbled, grabbing one of the permission slips off the stack and standing up to walk the remainder back to Mr Harrington, Peter following closely behind.
“Mr Harrington,” Peter said quietly when they got to the front of the classroom, placing the permission slips on his desk. “I’m going to sit this one out, sir.”
“Mr Parker, are you sure?” Mr Harrington looked just as surprised, if not more, than Ned.
While Tony’s name was now officially on Peter’s birth certificate, and the process of updating his name on all his documents was in full swing, it was taking time. They were reprinting his Social Security card with his new name, and he was meant to receive it by Friday; once he did, he could finally update his passport and go to the school to inform them of the name change.
“Yes, sir,” Peter replied, nodding. “It’s okay, I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“This is Stark Industries, Mr Parker,” Mr Harrington said, his voice low. Peter was thankful that the man was aware of Flash’s bullying and tried to keep everything as private as possible between them. That didn’t mean Mr Harrington believed his internship story. “If this is a money issue-”
“No!” He quickly responded, shaking his head vigorously. “No, Mr Harrington, it has nothing to do with money. As I said, don’t worry about it. It’s going to be okay.”
“If you insist.” Mr Harrington didn’t look convinced, but this was the best that Peter could do.
⟢
Peter lucked out, as it was. Pepper was in Japan, handling things there for a couple of weeks, while Tony was out for the day at meetings. That meant that he was in charge of the entire tower. Big task, high expectations, high stakes job—but he’d rewritten DUM-E’s code once, how difficult could this be? Besides, he was getting hands-on experience in handling the company; his future company, to be exact. He was learning by doing and all that jazz.
Large task aside, Peter would say he was handling things relatively well. The day was going well; he’d been down at PR, sorting through the ideas for the release of their robotic leg-braces (they were finally going public), and had bounced to legal after that, making sure the lawsuit they were going to file against a company that had been blatantly copying their designs was correct. From there, he made his way into R&D lab C29—they’d asked him to come and fix their coding, because none of them could figure out what the issue was.
He’d just finished typing out the last line of new code when his phone rang, the name ‘IronDad’ flashing across the screen.
“Hey, Dad,” he chirped, waving at the interns and lab director as he walked out, the group waving back to him and mouthing several ‘thank you’s. “What’s up?”
“Hey, Pete,” Tony’s gentle voice came through the phone. His dad sounded like he was on the verge of a crisis. “How are things going there, buddy?”
“Pretty good,” Peter replied, rounding a corner and pulling up his hoodie sleeves. This one was one of his favourites—bright red with the Ferrari logo across the back, and gifted to him by Charles Leclerc when he and Tony had gone to Australia to watch the race. It was signed as well; Peter still couldn’t believe that he could take weekend trips across the globe, let alone get a signed hoodie from an F1 driver. “I was down in PR, they’re releasing the ad campaign for the leg braces later on today, then I went to legal and looked over the lawsuit; I just finished up in C29—some coding issue.”
“That’s good, kiddo,” Tony said, and Peter knew there was a smile on his dad’s face. “You think you can do me a favour and head down to the lobby, Roo?”
“Why?” Peter hummed, already on his way to the nearest lift. “What’s up?”
“Well, your class has arrived for their field trip,” his dad started slowly. Peter immediately tensed; he’d been hoping that he wouldn’t run into them at all today, but of course, it was just his luck that he was needed. “There’s an issue with the badge scanner—they need an override code. You know Pep’s in Japan and Happy’s driving me to this meeting, so there’s nobody else in the building who has one, aside from you.”
“Oh, that’s easy enough.” Peter was relieved, he thought, for a split second, that there was no tour guide and that he would have had to lead the tour. The absolute last thing he wanted to spend his time doing on any given day.”I’ve got it covered, don’t worry, Dad.”
“Thanks, bambino,” Tony replied, sounding more stable than when he’d called Peter. “You try and have as good a day as possible, yeah? I’ll be back at the tower for the Q&A session at the end of their field trip. I expect you to join me, just this once, bud.”
“Yeah, alright,” Peter huffed, his nose scrunched up in displeasure.
“Don’t make that face, I know you’re making that face,” Tony chastised from the other end of the line, but Peter could hear the smile in his dad’s voice. “I’ve gotta go now, kid. I’ll see you this afternoon. Bye.”
“Bye, Dad,” Peter said softly, pocketing his phone with a resolved smile, before the lift slowed to a complete stop and he stepped out, counting to three and mentally preparing himself.
He was just going in, inputting his access code and leaving. He was, however, walking in with the full mindset of acting like his dad. This was his house, not school or a field trip where he could be pushed over; he had full control here, and he was going to make his father proud.
“Good morning, Frankie,” Peter called out, sauntering up to the security guard. He noticed that the chatter among his classmates immediately slowed as he came into view. He supposed that, aside from the expensive clothes, they weren’t used to seeing him carry himself with this kind of confidence. “Rough morning, huh? I heard that you need an override code.”
“Morning, Junior!” Frankie called back, the relief evident on his face. “Yeah, I don’t understand what happened. Amelia couldn’t even scan her badge; it’s been a bit of a mess already.”
“Easy fix, no problem,” Peter said, stepping in front of the security guard and quickly typing in his code. The red ‘ERROR’ message immediately disappeared, replaced with the usual security log format. “That should do it. Amelia! Why don’t you give it a try?”
The tour guide nodded, scanning her badge and perking up when the light flashed green, and the turnstile unlocked, letting her through. Ned and MJ were next to follow suit; the rest of his classmates were too busy gawking to move, only beginning to file through the scanner when Mr Harrington nudged them, though their teacher looked just as confused at the sight of his student behind security.
“Thanks, Junior,” Amelia smiled, shooting Peter a grateful look. “I thought we were going to stand there all day. You must know that Dr Stark is at a meeting now, which means Mr Hogan is with him. I was sure that you were going to be at school.”
“I’m here for the day,” he replied, waving her thanks off and winking. “These are my classmates, take good care of them.”
“Oh! I see,” Amelia said, scrutinising the group in front of her. “Now I understand why you’re not in school.”
“Yeah.” Peter paused, his eyes scanning the group in front of him, landing on Flash. He looked like he was just about ready to pass out from how red he was; Peter took great satisfaction in the anger that was behind his eyes. He never wanted to instigate anything, but if karma decided to kick Flash in the ass, Peter couldn’t exactly say he didn’t have it coming. “So that you know, the Q&A starts at two this afternoon. Until then, do not ask Amelia or any lab techs, interns, or employees any questions unrelated to their work. You save any questions about me for the Q&A session. I’ll be there.”
With one last nod to Frankie, Peter turned on his heel and walked away. He was going to go about business as usual and make his rounds around the labs. That’s what he did on his days down on the lower floors, and he was going to continue to do just that. He only had to make it through four hours before he was going to be bombarded with questions by his classmates.
⟢
Peter was in the middle of testing the sound parameters of the hearing aid Stark Industries was planning on releasing relatively soon, when he heard the door to the lab click open and Amelia’s voice quietly describing the lab to his classmates. Just great, just when he thought that he could have some peace and quiet for the next four hours. The universe really did enjoy screwing with him. Ned and MJ had been texting him little updates about the tour throughout the day, but there was no mention of going to the medical equipment lab from them. He groaned, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes. Marcus, one of the interns, raised an eyebrow at him.
“What’s with that?” He asked, looking between Peter and the hearing aid. “That thing giving you trouble? Is this the day we finally get to see the great Peter Stark struggle?”
“Oh, I’m struggling alright,” Peter grumbled, looking up at Marcus and Dr Abernathy when he was met with stunned silence. “Not with this. See that tour group over there? Those are my classmates.” He jerked a thumb in the group’s direction, and both men turned to stare.
“I would have thought you would take this moment to demonstrate your skill, Mr Stark,” Dr Abernathy said, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes when he saw Flash reach out to touch something. Thankfully, MJ appeared right next to him and swatted his hand away with her notebook.
“Yeah, well,” Peter replied, looking at the graphs that were on the holoscreen in front of him—one of the main reasons why everyone wanted to work with him was his access to the holoscreens; the average lab tech was stuck with a computer, granted, a top-of-the-line Stark computer, but still nothing compared to the massive holoscreen. “That jerk who just tried to touch the first pair of leg braces we produced for testing? He doesn’t believe me when I say I work here.”
“Asshole,” Marcus huffed, ducking when Dr Abernathy reached out to swat him on the back of the head. “Yikes! Okay, language. I get it. But I mean, you don’t technically work here. You’re kind of our boss and bounce around…”
Peter snorted and shook his head, fiddling around with the digital model of the hearing aid he made, adding a larger receiver to the model. Marcus had a point; he didn’t technically work at Stark Industries or have an internship; it was just easier than saying he was Spider-Man or Tony Stark’s son.
“Here, this should do it,” he said, swiping the model to the side and watching it pop up on Dr Abernathy’s computer. “If you add these to the next prototype, we should be able to increase the MPO and categorise our hearing aids as ultra power.”
“Hey, thanks, Junior,” Marcus grinned, walking forward to study the model. “This is incredible. You’ve been a big help. Could you come down every day?”
Peter laughed, shaking his head—some of Marcus’s favourite jokes involved having Peter down in the labs full-time.
“I could, but then who would fight for your right to have chocolate instead of coffee?” Peter turned to look at the coffee stand, which now had both tea and hot chocolate on it, too. Tony had seen it and called Marcus a ‘heathen’ for drinking cocoa instead of coffee; Peter, naturally, jumped to Marcus’s defence while also letting it slip that Tony enjoyed a nice cup of cocoa at the end of a long day.
“Ugh, you’re right,” Marcus mumbled, still smiling as he zoomed in on the model. “Dr Abernathy and I will get on this right away. Thanks again.”
“No problem, really,” Peter replied, watching as Dr Abernathy began placing the needed parts on the table in front of him. One of his favourite parts of this lab was how enthusiastic everyone was about producing medical equipment—he’d seen firsthand how much the leg braces had helped Rhodey—they were going to help a lot of people.
“Mr Stark!” Peter’s head snapped up at the sound of his name—down in the labs, everyone called his dad ‘Dr Stark’, which meant that anyone using ‘Mr Stark’ was referring to Peter. He looked across the lab to find Angela waving at him; his classmates were crowded around her, openly staring now. Peter grimaced slightly before he nodded at Marcus and Dr Abernathy once, jogging to cross the lab quickly.
“You called?” He joked, coming to a stop right next to her, staring up at the image on the wall. She had one of the largest screens in the lab; she ran all the simulations for their research, testing every possibility and working out the maximum wear and tear on each of their products. “What am I needed for?”
“I can’t seem to get this simulation to work,” she said, gesturing at the screen and pressing play on her StarkPad. Peter’s brows scrunched up in confusion as he watched the avatar’s legs lock, and it got flung down some stairs like a pinwheel, landing feet first at the bottom of the steps, before crumpling into a heap.
“Yeah, okay, that’s not right,” he murmured, pulling up a holoscreen of the numbers Angela had inputted, his eyes scanning them. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up; he was all too aware of his classmate’s eyes on him. He was trying not to make a big deal out of it; the more he pretended to be confident, the more he could pretend that this was normal. He paused, zooming in on one of the numbers input into the simulation, before he laughed. “Angela, I think you’ll find you’re missing a decimal point here.”
She rushed over, chewing on her lower lip slightly to stare at the number.
“Oh my God,” she groaned, looking down at her StarkPad and immediately adding a decimal point, lips pursed to hold back the laugh threatening to escape her. “Well, that’s not embarrassing at all.”
“Point is,” Peter said, still grinning as he turned to look at his classmates and Mr Harrington, who could only blink back at him, except for Ned, who was shooting him the most enthusiastic thumbs-up he’d ever seen in his life. “You’ll find that we are no longer witnessing the death of Wile E. Coyote. This should be a more accurate representation of how the leg braces work.”
“Ugh, sometimes I forget that you’re fifteen and still watch Looney Tunes,” Angela huffed, but her tone was light, and it had Peter laughing again. She pressed play on her StarkPad and reran the simulation. This time, the avatar walked down the stairs without issue.
“Hey, Looney Tunes marathons are a perfectly respectable way to spend Saturday mornings,” Peter retorted, holding up his hands in surrender. “You know that my dad watches them with me, right?”
“Like father, like son,” Angela said, shaking her head. “Thanks for this. I have no idea how I missed that. See, kids, this is why we always have Mr Stark check our work down here in the labs; he spots things that we meagre interns miss.”
“Ha ha,” Peter replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “King of the lab, right?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Angela grinned, looking at the Midtown students. “I heard you lot go to school with him. You should relish in the fact that you get to bask in His Majesty’s greatness.”
“Alright, too far,” he grumbled, holding out his hands and waving them in a cut motion. “That’s enough, before I take all your toys away from you, and then you have to do the math on paper.”
“No thanks, I’ll keep my toys,” she said quickly, holding her StarkPad close to her chest.
Peter chanced a glance at his classmates, an odd tingly feeling blooming in his chest when he saw that they were all still stunned beyond words. There was something about being in his domain that made him relaxed and much more casual and open with people. There was also something to be said about the knowledge that Flash couldn’t get to him here; Stark Industries’ zero-tolerance policy meant that—if Flash were stupid enough to try something—he could kick him out of the building.
“Yeah, thought so,” Peter huffed, pulling back his sleeve to check the time. He had to make sure that he wasn’t cutting it too close; his dad wanted to meet in his office before the Q&A session so that they could head down together. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the time. “One thirty?! Wow, time really does fly when you’re having a good time.”
“Is that a Rolex, Parker?” Flash was the first from the class to say something to him directly that day, even though he’d been texting his friends; they hadn’t crossed paths long enough to exchange words.
“Yeah, it is,” Peter said, barely sparing Flash a glance before he turned to the rest of the lab and clapped his hands twice. “Everyone out! Put all your projects on hold, grab your passes and go down to the cafeteria!”
“Aw, but Mr Stark,” one of the interns called back, a pout on his face.
“Up-pup! I don’t want to hear it, Jack!” Peter raised an eyebrow, watching as everyone collectively sighed, shutting down their computers and turning off the little lights over their work. Peter turned back to the group; Angela was smirking over her StarkPad as she shut off her simulator, raising her eyebrows and Peter before walking past him and out the door.
“What did you do that for?” Betty was staring at him, and Peter couldn’t help the little exasperated sigh that escaped him.
“These are all scientists who are incredibly dedicated to their work,” he explained quietly, running a hand through his hair. “If someone doesn’t come down here and kick them out of the lab every once in a while, they’re not going to eat, sleep or take breaks. That’s when we end up with mistakes.”
“And you can just do that?” MJ was looking all too pleased with herself as she stood with her arms crossed at the front of the group. Peter shot her a look; he couldn’t believe that she was betraying him like this. It was almost like she wanted him to make a scene.
“Yes, he has the authority to do so,” Amelia jumped in to save him, sending him an apologetic look, but he was too busy glaring at MJ to notice. “With that being said, it’s also our lunch time. Let’s head down to the cafeteria, as well. Will you join us, Mini-Boss?”
Peter snorted, his cheeks slightly pink at the nickname. Tony loved it; he loved calling Peter his ‘mini-me’, and Pepper thought it was the most adorable thing ever. Peter liked it as well, he just wasn’t expecting to be called ‘Mini-Boss’ in front of his classmates—the same classmates who didn’t even believe he’d been in the Stark Industries building before, let alone work there.
“Not today, Amelia,” he said, shaking his head apologetically. “I’ve already had my lunch.”
That part was true, at least, but Peter could always go for food thanks to his metabolism. If he really wanted to, he could head down with the group and get a second lunch. He’d considered it for a moment, especially since he was presented with the possibility of sitting with Ned and MJ, but he decided against it. He didn’t want to deal with his classmates crowding around him and bombarding him with questions before he had Tony with him to answer them.
“Pity,” Amelia replied, shrugging slightly. “We’ll see you at the Q&A session then. Come on, class, let’s go.”
⟢
Peter laughed from his spot under Tony’s arm, grinning down at his phone. After his classmates left for lunch, he went up to his dad’s office to wait for his dad—he also raided the snack cupboard Tony kept specifically for Peter. By the time his dad arrived, it was time to head down to the conference room PR had reserved for the Q&A session with Midtown.
“What’s so funny, bambino?” Tony questioned, trying to get a peek at Peter’s phone.
“MJ is complaining that Ned won’t sit still,” Peter replied, showing his dad his phone. The man raised an incredulous eyebrow at his son. “Ned’s all excited that they’re getting to ask the Tony Stark questions. MJ thinks it’s ridiculous since they’ve been in the penthouse multiple times.”
That was true. Whenever they wanted to study together, Peter’s place was always the place of choice; Ned and MJ were careful not to intrude on Peter’s time with May when she had her days off. As much as he loved living at the tower with Tony and Pepper, he missed May a lot. He knew that it was the best arrangement, though; he hated being home alone when she was at work, and getting May’s undivided attention when he did see her was great. He was glad that his friends understood—they never tried to make any plans on ‘May Days’.
“Michelle is a smart one,” Tony said, gently carding a hand through Peter’s hair in a desperate attempt to smooth it down. “I like your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Peter mumbled, cheeks red. “And Ned is just an Iron Man fanboy, Dad. He can’t help himself.”
“Yeah, tell that to him the next time he eats my last chip,” Tony huffed, squinting down at Peter through his sunglasses.
“Oh my God, it was once!” Peter was grinning, thinking back to the time his dad literally had Ned trembling when he accused him of eating his last potato chip. “And it was Texan barbecue flavour. You don’t even like that.”
“A point was made, and I have accepted it,” his dad retorted, smiling back at him. Peter’s phone went off again, and he grimaced, squirming slightly when the lift doors opened, and his dad tried to usher him out. “What’s with the reluctance here, kiddo? Cold feet?”
“More like cold everything,” Peter grumbled, his nose wrinkling as they made their way to the conference room. “There’s chatter amongst my classmates; they’re all talking about the lab techs calling me ‘Mr Stark’ and how much sway I have here.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” His dad looked confused, guiding him around a corner—their final stretch to the conference room.
“I mean, they didn’t even believe me when I told them I had an internship here,” Peter said, pocketing his phone, a frustrated huff leaving him. “MJ says that Flash is saying I paid people to pretend to know me. That’s pretty pathetic.”
“Flash only knows about paying people to know you because he probably does just that,” Tony quipped, not even trying to look apologetic in the slightest, hand on one of the doors, ready to push it open. “Let’s set the record straight, shall we?”
“Fine,” Peter sighed, knowing that he had no choice in the matter either way; when his dad wanted something, his dad got it. “Let’s get this party started.”
With a firm nod, Tony pushed the door open, walking in with Peter still tucked into his side. He could feel the stares of his classmates, and his neck burned from the heat of it, but he kept his head up and walked straight to the two stools that had been set up on the stage. He sat down right after Tony and accepted the microphone Amelia handed him, propping his feet up on the bar across his stool. He glanced at his dad, who bore his signature PR smile—oddly, the familiarity of it was comforting—and nodded once.
“Good afternoon, Midtown,” Tony’s voice filled the room; it was times like these when Peter was reminded how different his dad sounded when it was just their family around. There was a robotic lilt to his voice that Peter didn’t hear often, and he was glad that was the case. “I’m sure you know who I am, and I’m even more sure you know who Peter is, so let’s skip the introductions and get straight to the questions, shall we?”
“Mr Stark!” Flash’s hand immediately shot up, and Peter closed his eyes in preparation. Something really stupid was about to come out of Flash’s mouth; he just knew it. “How much does it cost to have you pretend to know me?”
Peter wasn’t sure if he wanted a hole to open up in the ground to swallow him or Flash, in all honesty—the second-hand embarrassment almost beat his own embarrassment that he was feeling. Out of a million different idiotic things Flash could have said, he chose that.
“Excuse me?” Tony was glaring, and Peter could only hope that his dad wouldn’t go nuclear. It was a useless hope because Tony defended his family as if his life depended on it. “You think Peter is paying me to know him? That’s just a ridiculous implication, kid.”
Peter looked up and saw Mr Harrington looking extremely uncomfortable; it was clear that the man had tried to filter the students' questions, but it was unfortunate that Flash opened his mouth. Ned, on the other hand, was grinning like an idiot, MJ sitting next to him with the faintest of smirks on her face. At least they were enjoying this. The Q&A had barely begun, and Peter was already praying that it would be over.
“First of all, you wouldn’t even be able to afford the price I’m asking for,” Tony said, standing up and walking forward, his presence becoming slightly threatening. “Secondly, Peter doesn’t need to pay me to know him. I suggest you stop thinking that you’re better than him, because the only way I would say you’re better than my kid is if somebody asked me who was better at being a jerk. In which case, you are, Eugene.”
Flash looked, deservedly, humiliated, while the rest of Peter’s classmates were on the edges of their seats, hanging on to every word that was coming out of Tony’s mouth. Peter hoped that would be the end of it, but of course it wasn’t, because his dad had a flair for the dramatic and a protective streak in him.
“Peter is wonderful, kind, caring and a genius,” his dad was pacing now, deliberately slow, really driving the point home. “You will never live up to that, because Pete sets a whole new standard. He’s kind because that’s just who he is. There’s no ulterior motive behind it—he expects nothing in return. He’s kind because seeing other people happy—helping other people—that makes him happy, and that makes him a whole other type of wonderful. A type I can’t even put into words.”
Peter bit his lip to keep the tears from welling up in his eyes. He knew his dad thought highly of him; it wasn’t like Tony was shy with his praise, but hearing him praise him in front of his entire class was something else. This was in front of a group of people who chose to believe a bully's word for the sake of ‘keeping peace’. Peter didn’t know just how tired he was of it until this very moment.
“And I am so incredibly lucky that this wonderful kid is mine.” There was a break in Tony’s voice that told Peter that his dad was getting emotional about it, too. “That’s my son over there, and I couldn’t be prouder. So don’t you dare spew crap about him, because I will come for you.”
Peter stood up and walked over to his dad, wrapping his arms around his middle. He didn’t even care that his classmates were staring at him; he just wanted to be held.
“Thanks dad,” he murmured, but his voice still carried thanks to the microphone Tony was holding.
Tony didn’t respond, opting to just press a kiss into Peter’s hair. He didn’t mind, though; as the saying went, ‘Actions speak louder than words’.
“Any further questions?” Tony asked the room, clearing his throat and watching as one hand went up. Peter realised it was Betty, which meant that whatever was going to be asked was a toss-up—it could be outrageous, or something entirely normal.
“Yeah, for Peter,” she said, looking directly at him, as if it needed any clarification. “I was just wondering what your name is exactly. The teachers at school all call you ‘Parker’. I’m just curious.”
“It’s Peter Benjamin Parker Stark,” he answered easily, shrugging as he sat back down, his dad doing the same next to him. “You know, Parker was my mum’s married name. It’s not too difficult to understand.”
Betty just nodded in return, the confusion in her face clearing up. It seemed to have cleared things up for the rest of his classmates and his teacher as well, because they were no longer looking like deer in headlights. The only one who was still sulking was Flash, who had sunk so low in his seat that Peter could barely see the top of his head.
“If that’s all,” Tony hummed, addressing the room once again. “I believe there are questions about Stark Industries tech that you would like to ask?”
Immediately, hands were popping up in the air, and Peter sighed in relief. His class had been pretty cool about the whole thing; it was clear that most of them didn’t care all that much about Peter’s personal life. He looked back at his dad, who was answering whatever question Abe had asked, and he felt a sense of calm settle in his stomach. This was good, this was his new normal, and, surprisingly, it wasn’t as scary as he thought it would be.
He couldn’t be more grateful for that.