Chapter Text
It was parents’ night at Midtown School of Science and Technology.
Tony knew this because Peter had told him this no fewer than fifteen times leading up to it. Tony was kind of exhausted.
“Yes, Peter, I know,” he said tiredly that morning, when Peter reminded him yet again on his way out the door. “It’s parents’ night. I need to come to school this afternoon and meet with your teachers. Happy will take me when he normally comes to pick you up. I will be there. It is on my calendar.”
Peter looked at him skeptically, but picked up his backpack and said, “Okay.”
With a sigh, Tony motioned for the elevator and said, “Have a good day at school.”
“Yeah,” Peter said, squinting at Tony. “Okay.”
As soon as the elevator doors shut, Tony slumped at the kitchen counter and rubbed at his forehead.
He didn’t understand what Peter’s problem was. Tony couldn’t wait for the damn parents' night thing to be over and done with.
-
That afternoon, Happy parked the car in the school’s lot and told Tony, “I’ll wait here. Call me if you need me.”
“I’m sure I’ll survive an evening of teachers,” Tony replied dryly. “It’s not like the kid is anything like me. He actually behaves at school.”
Happy snorted. “And thank God for that. I can’t handle two of you.”
Tony rolled his eyes as he shut the door. He turned around, and his eyes caught something off to the back of the building, where there was some workout equipment in the yard. It looked suspiciously like a certain fifteen-year-old's favorite Mets hoody.
But that specific Mets hoody was supposed to be inside, waiting for Tony in the auditorium.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, Tony made his way across the yard and up to the pull-up bars, where sure enough, Tony found his son sitting on top of the highest bar.
“So much for not showing off your powers in public,” Tony said as he stopped beside the equipment.
Peter scowled at him. “Half the student body can climb up here. I bet you could climb up here.”
“I’m Iron Man,” Tony pointed out. However, he left his hands in his pockets. He didn’t particularly want to attempt to pull himself up while in a sport jacket.
“That has nothing to do with anything,” Peter grumbled.
“Why are you out here?” Tony asked. “I thought I was meeting you inside. Some assembly thing and then meetings?” Peter had only reminded him a hundred times.
“I was waiting out here,” Peter said with a shrug.
“Why?”
Peter shrugged again. “Just was.”
“Okay,” Tony said slowly. “Well, should we go inside? Or are we playing hooky?”
“We should go inside,” Peter said with an absent nod.
“Alright,” Tony agreed. He took a step back and just watched as Peter did…nothing.
“Kid?” Tony asked. “Are you gonna get down or…?”
Peter seemed to war with himself for a moment, then sighed. “Yeah,” he said, just before standing up and doing a backflip off the bar.
“Yeah, hiding your powers,” Tony mumbled.
“No one was watching,” Peter said with a shrug.
Tony held an arm out, to put around Peter’s shoulder as they walked inside, but Peter ducked under it and made a beeline toward the school’s side entrance.
“You’re killing me, kid,” Tony sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. He adjusted his tinted glasses on his face, and followed Peter through the school.
Peter led him through a maze of hallways, up one flight of stairs, then another. By the time they reached a set of double doors near the top of the building, Tony was thoroughly turned around.
Through the doors, Tony found, was the darkened balcony overlooking the auditorium. Peter pushed the doors open with a thunk, and the sound of hundreds of parents and students talking echoed up from below.
Tony paused beside the railing and looked down. "Huh," he said. "I figured we'd be down there." With the lights off, Tony kind of got the picture they weren’t meant to be up there, but they weren’t alone up there, so perhaps not.
Two families sat several rows apart near the front, but otherwise it was empty.
Peter didn't even hesitate. He pulled his hood over his head, walked all the way to the back row, and dropped into the very last seat in the corner and slumped down into it, like he was trying to melt into the chair.
Tony frowned as he slipped the tinted glasses off his face. He folded them and tucked them into his shirt collar, then slipped down the aisle to sit next to his son.
“I'm beginning to suspect you’re ashamed of me and want to hide me,” Tony whispered as he leaned over into Peter’s space.
Peter scowled fiercely at him and snapped, “That’s rich coming from you.”
“I am very rich, yes,” Tony said with a nod. He looked around the balcony again, as his stomach twisted slightly.
If Peter hadn’t wanted him there, why did he spend the previous week reminding Tony about this event incessantly?
“You know,” Tony said quietly, “if you didn’t want me to come, you could have just said so.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “You have to come. It’s parents' night.”
“Alright,” Tony said. He really wasn’t sure what the problem was, and getting into it right there probably wouldn’t go well.
He and Peter tended to get loud while disagreeing…
The presentation was very boring. The principal welcomed them all, and basically just spelled out how the night would go. He and Peter were free to go to Peter’s classes in any order, and there were apparently some science and art projects on display in the gym.
“Any of those projects yours?” Tony asked, nudging Peter with his elbow, just as the principal was dismissing everyone to get to the classrooms.
“Does it matter?” Peter asked dryly.
Tony furrowed his brow. “Well, yeah. I don’t care about random kids' projects.”
The other two families up there got to their feet and made their way out through the side entrance, while Tony just looked over at Peter, who had somehow made himself sink further into his seat.
“Kid,” he tried. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Peter grumbled.
“Would you rather we just leave?” Tony asked. “And you can tell everyone tomorrow I’m a flake?”
“No,” Peter said forcefully.
“Okay,” Tony said slowly. “You wanted me to come to this, but now you’re acting like you didn’t. I don’t get it.”
“It’s not—” Peter started, before cutting himself off with a frustrated growl. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”
Tony pushed himself up to his feet and stepped back out of the way so Peter could get up and pass in front of him.
“My English class is next door,” Peter mumbled, shoving his hands into his hoody pocket as he brushed past Tony.
“Great. Very convenient,” Tony said as he followed his son out of the balcony.
Somehow, they were the first pair there. Perhaps it had to do with the location of the class, or perhaps it was just that no one in a science school cared about literature, but Tony plastered on a smile and shook Mrs. Armstrong’s hand when she welcomed them into the classroom.
“Mr… Stark,” she said slowly, as she walked over to her desk and took a seat. “Come right on over here.”
“Hello,” Tony said with a pleasant smile. He looked over at Peter, who crossed his arms tightly and was acting like he’d stay standing up against the wall. “Kid,” Tony said quietly, motioning with his head for Peter to follow.
“I’m good here,” Peter said shortly.
“Uh, no you are not,” Tony said lightly, as he reached out and grasped Peter’s sleeve. “Sit.”
Peter huffed and snatched his arm away, but trekked over to Mrs. Armstrong’s desk and sat down.
Mrs. Armstrong, at least, was completely unfazed by Peter, because she smiled politely and jumped right in.
“Peter is a good student,” she began, as she pulled a folder out of her desk. “He’s not the top of the class, but he’s not far behind. He doesn’t seem to enjoy literature assignments, but hasn’t been giving me trouble, other than the occasional sass.”
“I wonder where he gets that from,” Tony muttered dryly.
Peter glared at him, but didn’t otherwise respond.
“He doesn’t often speak up in class, but his papers can be quite insightful,” she said, as she flipped through the various essays Tony could see inside her folder.
Tony nodded. “Science is his thing,” he admitted, “but he did enjoy that one book last week. What was that one called, Pete?”
Peter stiffened, then sank down into his seat as he mumbled, “Flowers for Algernon.”
“Yeah,” Tony said with a snap of his fingers. “That’s the one. He read the whole thing in an evening and got so caught up in the essay assignment I had to remind him to eat.”
“Dad,” Peter protested, his voice a cross between outrage and…
Tony wasn’t sure. Surprise, maybe.
“What?” Tony said as he sat back. “You did.”
Did Peter honestly think Tony didn’t notice?
Mrs. Armstrong smiled fondly as she said, “He wrote a scathing book report on it.”
“It was horrible,” Peter mumbled. “I stand by my opinion: an AP English class at a gifted school shouldn’t be required to read that. It’s basically torture.”
Tony sat back and gave the kid a contemplative look.
“You’ve never read it, clearly,” Peter grumbled in his directly.
“No,” Tony said quietly. “Perhaps I should.”
“His level of engagement with the course material is fantastic,” Mrs. Armstrong said, still smiling just as fondly as she pulled one of the essays out. “Here was that particular report.”
Tony’s hand recoiled automatically, but he tried to force himself to reach out and accept the essay.
Peter, however, snatched it out of his teacher’s hand with a hasty, “That’s okay, Dad. You don’t have to take it.” He looked at Mrs. Armstrong’s lifted eyebrow and added, “He doesn’t like to be handed things.”
“Nu uh, give it,” Tony said, motioning with one hand for Peter to fork it over.
Peter just clutched the paper closer to his body.
“Pete,” Tony said warningly.
“No,” Peter protested. He turned it around and showed Tony the top of the page. “Look, I got an A, see? You see the grade.”
“I want to see the content,” Tony said. “She seems to think you did good work.”
“It’s not necessary,” Peter said firmly, clutching the paper close again.
Tony stared him down for a long few seconds, watching as Peter’s shoulders slowly inched up higher and higher.
“Fine,” Tony finally said. That was another thing they could fight about at home. Where they could get loud.
Peter’s shoulders slumped instantly, and Tony frowned harder. He turned back to the teacher and found her frowning just as much at Peter, though she recovered quickly.
“Well, that was all I had to share about Peter. He’s a good student, and a pleasure to have in class."
“I can imagine,” Tony said. He stood to his feet then, and shook the teacher’s hand one more time before following the kid out into the hall.
“You know,” he said, as Peter started leading him down the hall and toward the stairs. “I can see all your homework on the portal, right? I can look at every assignment you turn in. I know they make you turn in every essay that way so it can check for AI or whatever.”
“Well, don’t,” Peter said tersely. “That book sucked. You don’t want to read it.”
“No, but I do want to read your paper on it.”
Peter clenched his jaw, but didn’t otherwise comment. Instead, he said, “Pre-calc is the next closest class.”
“I don’t get why you’re even in pre-calc,” Tony said easily, as he followed Peter down the stairs.
“It’s not like it’s up to me,” Peter grumbled.
“Who is it up to?” Tony asked.
Peter merely shrugged.
That time, they had to wait their turn to chat with the teach. Peter leaned back against the wall outside the classroom, his hood up again, his arms crossed. Tony stood in front of him, facing him, just frowning.
Another student showed up a couple minutes into their waiting and looked between Peter and Tony with something akin to awe on his face. He leaned in toward Peter and whispered, “Dude, is your dad Tony Stark?”
Peter tensed and scowled fiercely at the floor. Instead of answer, or even acknowledge the kid, he pulled his hood further over his face.
“I’m not really here, I’m invisible,” Tony told the kid when he looked up for Tony to answer the question.
The kid muttered an awkward "Sorry," and drifted back toward his mom, a respectable distance away, so he and Pete could wait in silence.
After another ten minutes or so, a set of parents came out with a girl about Peter’s age. The girl’s face lit up when she saw Peter, but immediately dimmed when Peter folded in on himself even further. She looked up at Tony and furrowed her brow.
Tony raised an eyebrow at her.
“What’s next, Shelly?” the woman asked, drawing the girl’s attention away.
“Art,” she said, with a deep frown. She looked back at Peter and said, “Hey, loser.”
Tony stiffened, but Peter sheepishly looked her way.
“Be sure to show your dad your art project.” She looked up at Tony and said, “He won third place in the school.”
“You did what?” Tony said, a little baffled. He hadn’t known there was A. an art competition in the first place. B. Peter entered it, or C. Peter did art at all.
But Peter protested, “MJ.”
MJ, or Shelly, or whatever her name was, shrugged.
“What kind of art is it?” Tony asked.
“Photography,” MJ said. “He’s really talented.”
“Can you please stop talking to him?” Peter demanded.
Tony shot him a baffled look, while MJ just grinned.
“Then you tell him this stuff yourself,” she said, before spinning on her heel and following after her parents.
“I hate her,” Peter grumbled.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Tony said dryly. “Shall we go talk to the algebra teacher?”
“Pre-Calc.”
“Same thing,” Tony said as he walked through the classroom door. The math teacher was sitting at his desk and looked up instantly. “Why’s my kid in pre-calc anyway? He is way too advanced for this class.”
“Oh my God, are you for real?” Peter groaned. “I take it back, we can leave, and I’ll tell everyone you’re a flake.”
“Too late for that, ship’s sailed,” Tony said with a grin. He walked over and sat down across from the teacher.
“Hello,” the math teacher said, standing slightly to offer Tony a hand over the desk. “I’m Phil Marin.”
“Tony Stark,” Tony replied, as he shook the teacher’s hand.
Phil blinked in recognition, then glanced over at Peter. “And you’re Peter’s….” he asked.
“Father, yep,” Tony said. “Nice to meet ya. Why is my kid in pre-calc? You know he helped me discover a new element over the summer? No joke, made actual tangible contributions. Kid should at least be in regular calc. Maybe post-calc.”
“Why are you like this?” Peter complained as he dropped down into the chair next to Tony.
“Peter is on the advanced track for math and science here at Midtown, which includes taking Pre-Calculus in his sophomore year. We do not have a further advanced class for him to take. If we moved him forward into 11th or 12th grade math, that would leave him with empty class slots in those grades.”
“Fine, do that then,” Tony said with a wave of his hand. “He can take more extracurriculars then. Art and stuff.”
“It doesn’t quite work that way, Mr. Stark,” Phil said slowly. “The extracurriculars are all offered during the same periods, and not during the core instruction periods.”
“He can take college courses nearby then. Dual enrollment. That’s a thing.”
“Dad,” Peter said firmly. “I already told you I’m not going to college.”
“Whoa,” Tony said, spinning to face Peter. “You said you weren’t moving to Boston to go to MIT this year. We never agreed you wouldn’t do college at all.”
“This is not what we’re here to talk about,” Peter whispered harshly. “Can you please just shut up?”
Tony pointed a finger at Peter and paused. He wagged the finger a few times, then turned back to the teacher. “Fine. Please tell me how much of a delight my son is in class. Surely he’s a delight somewhere.”
Peter rolled his eyes dramatically, while the teacher sputtered for a moment.
“Yes, well,” he finally said, once he recovered. “He is quite intelligent, as you are aware. I’ve been giving him more complex work than the other students, to keep him occupied during class.”
“Good, good.”
“Even with that, he’s top of the class and breezes right through the work. I haven’t been able to challenge him sufficiently.”
“I have solutions to that, but Pete will start whining again,” Tony said.
“Then stop,” Peter said. “I want to be in high school.”
“Alright,” Tony said placatingly.
The rest of the conversation was incredibly dull. The math teacher was clearly flustered by how tense he and Peter were. When they finally escaped out into the hall, Peter once again intercepting the homework the teacher tried handing Tony, Tony pulled the kid down a side hall and away from the other families milling around.
“What the hell is going on, kid?” Tony demanded. “Why are you acting so weird tonight?”
He and Peter most certainly got into arguments, but it was rare these days he was this… hostile.
“I’m not acting weird,” Peter protested. “You’re just pissing me off.”
Tony threw both arms out as he exclaimed, “How? By talking to your teachers? Isn’t the whole point of this to talk about your education with your educators?”
“No,” Peter shot back, “the whole point is for you to smile and nod and take the grade reports they give you. Then we leave as fast as possible.”
“Uh, nope, don’t think so,” Tony said flippantly. “I don’t get it, you wanted me to come. You told me about this stupid thing a hundred times.”
“Now it’s stupid?” Peter asked, tone clipped.
Tony paused, trying to figure out what even to say. It felt like he was surrounded by landmines. Like he was playing minesweeper, but his next move had to be a complete a total guess.
“No,” he said carefully. “I don’t think it’s stupid, but you’re acting like it is. But you invited me.”
Peter scoffed. “I didn’t have a choice inviting you. I was told if you didn’t come, you had to send in an email yourself explaining why.”
Tony tried his best to ignore the stab that went through his chest at that. So Peter hadn’t wanted to bring him along, and show all his teachers his dad.
Except.
Tony furrowed his brow. “Then why did you remind me about this every single day for the past two weeks?”
“Because,” Peter said, then stopped. He clenched his jaw tight.
Tony just leaned a little closer and gave him a pointed look.
Peter looked away. “You forget. You get caught up in work and forget.”
“Forget what?” Tony asked, genuinely confused. “What have I forgotten?” He hadn’t missed a single thing Peter told him about.
Not that Peter often had things.
Because, well… he didn’t.
Peter clenched his jaw. “I’m done. I’m leaving.”
Tony sighed loudly. “No, we still have at least four more teachers to meet, right? You’ve got, let’s see…” Tony started counting off Peter’s classes on his fingers. “Chemistry, Spanish, Art, Robotics, and Geography. Five more teachers.”
“No. I’m done. I’m leaving,” Peter said, as he crossed his arms and brushed past Tony.
“Fine. Go straight to the car. Happy is out there.”
“I can walk home.”
“Peter Benjamin Parker,” Tony snapped. “You can either go with me to your next class, or you can go sit with Happy. Those are the two options here.”
Peter spun around and glared at him for a tense moment, before he scowled deeper and spat, “Sure thing, Tony.”
Tony flinched.
He flexed his hand and forced himself to count to ten inside his head before he said very quietly, “Go. I’m telling Happy to expect you.”
Before Peter even stormed off, Tony pulled out his phone and shot off a quick text to Happy.
Peter scowled at him for another second, then spun on his heels and stomped off down the hallway.
Tony leaned up against the wall and rubbed roughly at his face.
He honestly didn’t understand how they got there.
-
Peter’s schedule was listed on the parents portal, so Tony pulled it up and used it to find the rest of Peter’s classes.
Without Peter with him, he, unfortunately, had to explain who he was every single time, while letting them know Peter hadn’t been feeling well and went to the car to take a nap.
His Spanish teacher looked at Tony skeptically, while she pulled Peter’s profile up on her computer. “What did you say your name was, again?” she’d asked, while squinting at Peter’s file.
“It’ll say Anthony Stark on there,” he said patiently. “I go by Tony. I’m his dad.”
“Hmm,” she said, before softening. “I didn’t realize Peter had been adopted. That’s great.”
“I didn’t adopt him,” Tony said tightly. “I got custody of him.”
“I see,” was all she’d said before shifting into Peter’s performance in her class.
Fine, really. Not spectacular, but not bad, either. He was a solid A- student in Spanish.
At least one class was presenting somewhat of a challenge to him, even if it still wasn’t a big one.
Tony’s last stop was Peter’s chemistry class. He had to wait in a long line for his turn, and unfortunately had to shake a lot of hands as people started recognizing him.
But, again, without Peter there, no one really knew why he was there.
He got asked so many times if he had a kid attending Midtown, Tony had started retorting, “No, I’m just here for funzies.”
Finally, though, Tony was able to walk into the classroom to meet Mr. Harrington. “I’m here for Peter Parker,” he said, before the teacher could get a word in edgewise.
He was so ready to be done with the night.
Mr. Harrington paused, squinting slightly at Tony. Finally, he asked, “Are you his biological father?”
“Yep,” Tony said as he dropped down in the chair across from Harrington. “Let me guess, he didn’t say a word.”
“No,” Mr. Harrington said with a regretful shake of his head. “Peter’s always kept everything pretty close to the vest. I think he really only talks to Ned about anything personal, and even then I’m not sure he talks much.”
Tony frowned.
He knew for a fact that was true. Peter hadn’t told Ned about his powers yet, despite Tony’s urging.
And, apparently, Peter didn’t tell Tony about himself, either. Since Tony had no clue he was into photography, or tearing apart books in essay form.
“I did know he was living with someone he’s calling Dad, based on his conversations with Ned,” Mr. Harrington added. “But I’ll admit, I had assumed he’d finally found a good foster home. I know he’d been moved around a lot in the past year.”
“No more moving around,” Tony said. “I got custody of him back in June.”
“I’m glad he’s somewhere stable,” Mr. Harrington said with a small smile. “He’s a good kid. He’s smart, driven, and incredibly compassionate.”
Tony nodded. “Yeah.”
“He can be quite standoffish and defensive, too, and he doesn’t think very highly of himself.”
Tony shifted in his seat.
This was the first teacher to say something even remotely negative about Peter…
Though Tony also couldn’t dispute what Harrington said… Peter most certainly did not have very high self-esteem.
Which, perhaps, wasn’t fully accurate. Peter didn’t think lowly of himself. He didn’t hate on himself, but he most certainly did not think he was anything special, either.
“I don’t get why,” Tony said honestly. “He acts offended whenever I pay him a compliment.”
“He doesn’t take those well,” Mr. Harrington agreed. “Whenever I praise him, he’ll tell me why I’m wrong, or why what he did was completely average and not worthy of compliment.”
Tony huffed. “Well, at least it’s not just me he hates.”
Mr. Harrington frowned. “He definitely doesn’t hate you. He speaks very highly of his dad to Ned.”
“Yeah, I didn’t mean it like that,” Tony said, waving a dismissive hand. “He’s very hostile toward me whenever I try to be nice. He stormed out on this whole thing tonight because I kept bragging on him. Apparently that’s a crime.”
With a solemn nod, Harrington said, “He doesn’t like attention, that’s for sure. Speaking of, we have our first competition for decathlon coming up next month. Has he told you about it?”
“Nope. First I’m hearing of this.”
Mr. Harrington pulled a flyer out and slid it across the desk. “It’ll be in Brooklyn right after the break. If we win, we’ll move on to district, then region, then nationals. Peter’s been working hard this year. I think he’s going to be our heavy hitter. He hasn’t got a question wrong yet in practice.”
Tony read over the details as he pulled out his phone. A Saturday in early January. He could definitely make that work. “I see him scouring those workbooks all the time,” Tony said as he blocked off the day in his calendar. “He takes this thing very seriously. I tried to convince him to go to college this year since he’s way beyond high school, academically, but he argued that he wanted to do decathlon with his friends.”
Harrington was quiet for a moment before finally saying, “Well, I’m glad he’s here. He’s a good kid. Did you see his projects in the gym yet? He’s one of the few students who got both a science and art project in there. They only took the top fifty for each.”
“Not yet,” Tony said as he slipped his phone back in his pocket. “That’s my next stop.” He had planned on taking quick photos of both, so he could get out to Peter and Happy as quickly as possible.
“It’s certainly worth it. I know he was very proud of the robot he built, and it won first place in the fair back in October.”
Tony paused. He had no clue there had even been a science fair…
Had he known? Was this one of the things he’d forgotten?
Harrington stood and offered Tony a hand. “Thanks for stopping by, Mr. Stark.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said easily, as he stood and took the hand. “Thanks for being my kid’s favorite teacher.”
Mr. Harrington’s face lit right up. “He said that?”
“No,” Tony said with a laugh. “But you’re the only teacher I can’t insult without him getting defensive of you.”
Harrington looked conflicted for a beat before finally laughing. “It was nice to meet you.”
“You too, teach. See ya at this competition,” Tony said, holding the flyer up.
As Tony shuffled out the door and toward the gym, all he could wonder about was if he’d actually forgotten about Peter’s science fair…
Or if Peter had even invited him in the first place.
Tony wasn’t sure which answer he was more afraid of.
Would Peter even tell him if he asked…?