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The first time Tony Stark called him something other than Peter, it didn't even register.
"Nice catch, Kid."
Peter was halfway through peeling off his suit after patrol and too busy trying not to drip rainwater all over the workshop floor to think about it.
"Thanks, Mr. Stark."
He waved him off without looking up from the holographic display hovering above his workbench.
"Whatever. Go shower before you start growing mold."
Peter grinned and headed upstairs.
It wasn't weird.
People called him kid all the time.
Happy called him kid.
May called him kid.
Half the Avengers called him kid.
There was nothing strange about it.
The second time was a little stranger.
"Move, Webhead."
Peter nearly dropped the tray of tools he was carrying.
"Sorry."
Mr. Stark sidestepped him.
"Relax, Webhead. Nobody died."
Peter laughed.
Mr. Stark kept walking.
Again, not weird.
Spider-Man themed nickname.
Made sense.
The third nickname should have been his warning sign.
"Morning, Orphan Annie."
Peter choked on his orange juice.
Across the kitchen island, Mr. Stark looked completely unbothered as he stole bacon directly from the plate Peter had been making for himself.
"What?"
Peter stared.
Mr. Stark stared back.
"What?"
"You called me—"
"I called you late for breakfast."
He stole another piece of bacon.
Peter frowned.
Mr. Stark returned to reading something on his tablet.
The conversation ended there.
Looking back, Peter really should have asked follow-up questions.
Instead, he just assumed Tony Stark was weird.
Which was true.
Unfortunately, it wasn't the whole truth.
The nicknames multiplied.
Rapidly.
Spider-Brat.
Bug Boy.
Wall-Crawler.
String Bean.
Parker Posey.
Pete's Dragon.
Human Liability.
Menace.
Freeloader.
Intern.
Disaster Child.
He seemed to invent new ones daily.
Peter started keeping a list in his phone.
By the end of the month, there were fifty-three entries.
By the end of the second month, there were ninety-one.
At first, Peter assumed it was a joke.
Then he assumed it was a billionaire thing.
Then he started worrying.
"Hey, Mr. Stark?"
He looked up from a tablet.
"What's up Penelope"
Peter froze.
"It's Peter"
"That's what I said."
"No, you said Penelope."
Mr. Stark waved a hand dismissively.
"Starts with a P. Close enough."
Peter laughed.
Mr. Stark laughed.
Neither of them realized they were laughing for completely different reasons.
—
The problem got progressively worse.
"Good morning, Peter Parker."
Happy blinked.
Peter blinked.
Mr. Stark blinked.
The room went silent.
Then Peter spoke looking at Mr. Stark
"Yes, Peter is my name!”
Happy looked between them.
"Tony—"
"No, no. Good for him. Excellent memory."
Peter smiled weakly.
"Yeah."
Happy stared.
Mr. Stark walked away.
Happy stared harder.
—
By month three, Peter had become genuinely concerned.
Not offended.
Concerned.
Tony Stark ran multiple companies.
He managed global crises.
He built advanced technology that bordered on magic.
The man was busy.
Really busy.
What if he just couldn't remember things anymore?
What if he was overworked?
What if Peter wasn't important enough to remember?
The thought hurt more than it should have.
So Peter started trying to help.
Subtly.
"Hi, Mr. Stark. Peter Parker here."
Mr. Stark glanced up.
"Hey, Pterodactyl."
Peter deflated.
—
"Your coffee, Mr. Stark."
"Thanks, Peanut Butter."
"It's Peter."
"That's what I said."
"No..."
—
Peter started signing everything.
PETER PARKER
In giant letters.
Mr. Stark never reacted.
—
Then came the legal documents.
The internship renewal form.
PETER BENJAMIN PARKER.
The emergency contact paperwork.
PETER BENJAMIN PARKER.
A school authorization form.
PETER BENJAMIN PARKER.
Mr. Stark signed every single one without comment.
Peter considered screaming.
—
The breaking point arrived six months later.
Mr. Stark was reviewing mission reports when Peter appeared in the workshop.
"Mr. Stark?"
"Hm?"
"Can I ask you something?"
He didn't look up.
"Shoot, Pickle."
Peter winced.
"Do you..."
Mr. Stark finally glanced over.
Peter looked weirdly nervous.
The kid was twisting his hands together.
Mr. Stark immediately became alert.
"Everything okay?"
He narrowed his eyes.
That was definitely a lie.
"Peter."
The kid visibly brightened.
Mr. Stark blinked.
"...What?"
"You remembered."
Mr. Stark stared.
Peter stared.
Mr. Stark stared harder.
“Remembered what?”
"What are you talking about?"
"My name."
"...Peter?"
"Yeah."
Mr. Stark looked genuinely confused.
"Your name has always been Peter."
Peter laughed.
It sounded suspiciously emotional.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yeah."
Peter nodded.
"Good."
Mr. Stark slowly put down his tablet.
Years of engineering experience had taught him when something had gone catastrophically wrong.
This felt like one of those moments.
"Peter."
The kid looked hopeful again.
Mr. Stark felt a growing sense of dread.
"Why wouldn't I know your name?"
Peter hesitated.
Then—
"Because you never use it."
Silence.
"Oh."
Mr. Stark stared.
Peter stared.
The realization hit him like a freight train.
"Oh no."
—
Five minutes later the entire tower was laughing.
Rhodey had to sit down.
Pepper was crying.
Bruce had walked into a wall.
Happy looked like this explained every weird interaction he'd witnessed for the last six months.
"You thought I FORGOT YOUR NAME?"
Peter pointed accusingly.
"You called me Penelope!"
"It started with P!"
"THAT DOESN'T HELP!"
Mr. Stark buried his face in his hands.
"Oh my God."
"I thought you only remembered the first letter!"
"I know your middle name!"
Peter stopped.
"What?"
Mr. Stark pointed ever so dramatically.
"Peter Benjamin Parker. Born August tenth. Queens, New York. Aunt May's emergency contact number is permanently burned into my brain."
Peter's mouth fell open.
"Oh."
He groaned.
"Kid."
Peter looked embarrassed.
Mr. Stark looked even more embarrassed.
Because the really awful part?
The absolutely humiliating part?
The reason he'd started the nicknames in the first place?
Rhodey figured it out immediately.
The traitor.
"You were trying to get him to stop calling you Mr. Stark."
Mr. Stark pointed at Rhodey.
"Don't."
"You were."
"You wanted him to call you Tony."
The room exploded.
Peter's eyes widened.
"I hate all of you."
Pepper wiped tears from her eyes.
"Oh, this is priceless."
Peter looked between them.
Then back to Tony.
Slowly.
Carefully.
"...You wanted me to call you Tony?"
Tony sighed.
"Maybe."
The answer was so quiet that Peter almost missed it.
Something warm settled in his chest.
"Oh."
Tony pointed at him.
"Don't make it weird."
Peter grinned.
"Okay, Tony."
Tony immediately regretted everything.
The grin only got bigger.
"Thanks, Tony."
"Stop."
"Sure thing, Tony."
"Kid."
"Yes, Tony?"
Tony groaned.
The room laughed.
And for the first time in six months, Peter didn't hear a nickname.
Just affection.