Lucky Thirteen

Thor watched his father carefully as he took his turn in their bowling match. They had split into teams of three – Thor, Jane and Harley versus Bruce, Loki and Wanda. However, Thor thought his dad looked a little off in his game. He was usually a proficient bowler, but his score wasn't what it usually was on average. He also looked very worn down.

"Father, I think you should rest," he finally said when the game had ended and he couldn't hold his tongue any longer.

Bruce looked at him with a small, tired smile. "I'd like to, but Peter and Pietro are still in the worst of it and Jemma's fever was climbing last time I checked."

"But you can rest until they need you," Thor pointed out. After all, JARVIS always alerted him when there was an immediate distress call. "I'm sure we can handle ourselves the rest of the night," he said, looking at the others.

"Thor is right," Wanda agreed. "You've been doing so much. You should relax."

"And you do have a bad habit of ignoring your own needs," Loki added.

Bruce sighed. "Okay. Maybe it's not such a bad idea. I might just go rest in the living room for a while." He looked at them in concern. "But if you need anything, let me know." He then left them.

"You know," Jane said, after they had been sitting alone for a while, "it just being five of us right now is really weird."

"It's quieter for one thing," Wanda said.

"It's a little boring," Harley replied next. "No offense. I mean, I don't mind just hanging out with you guys, but I've gotten used to… having options?"

Loki snorted. "Surprisingly I agree."

Thor was contemplative. "Does anyone else wonder what it would be like if our fathers decided to break up?"

There was silence for a long moment.

"I try not to," Wanda finally said. "My dad was so lonely before he met your dad. He wouldn't admit it, but he was. And now he smiles like he hasn't smiled since our mother was alive."

"I don't even remember much of what he was like then," Harley added gravely. "But he does seem happier than he used to be. I mean, it's not like he wasn't happy with just us, but…"

"I think there are different kinds of happiness," Thor tried to explain. "You can be happy, but it's nicer when you have a partner to share that happiness with. Someone who is on your level and understands. Our father understands your father and vice versa."

"And let's not underestimate attraction," Loki pointed out. "Our fathers were attracted to one another which is why not even having thirteen kids between them could keep them apart."

"It's kind of gross," Harley said, making an exaggerated face.

"It's sweet," Wanda countered.

"It's life," Loki said blandly.

"But do you think it will last?" Jane asked.

There was silence again and it lasted longer this time. Nobody, not even Loki as Thor could tell, seemed to want to answer that question.

"I do," Thor replied, taking the initiative and meaning it. "I think too much has happened already for me to believe otherwise. They seemed meant to find each other when the time was right."

"How quaint," Loki said, but Thor thought it lacked its usual venom.

"So do you think we were meant to be a family?" Harley asked.

"Well, I believe in the fates so yes," Thor answered confidently.

"Then I think we should fight to keep it that way," Wanda said with sudden determination. "No matter what happens, we should look out for one another and let our dads know how much we want to be one."

"Like Harley did today," Jane pointed out and the boy looked slightly sheepish. "We're like ohana now."

"A little broken, but still good," Wanda finished knowingly. "I like that."

"Me too," Harley admitted. "We should go watch that."

Thor smiled as the three younger kids ran off to the theater room.

"I hope you haven't gotten their hopes up," Loki said to him when they were alone. "Anything can happen. Our father and Tony haven't even been together six months let alone a whole year. These things can fizzle out or become too complicated."

"Do you really believe that, Loki?" Thor asked him genuinely. "Or is it because you don't want to let yourself believe this can last?"

Loki sighed. "You're right. I want it to last. I do. It's one of very few sentiments I will allow myself to admit. But not everything lasts."

"You're right. They don't." Thor compromised. "But then maybe we should take Wanda's advice and do our best not to complicate things."

Loki didn't respond, but Thor hoped he was right that there was a spark of agreement in his eyes before he passed him to head to the theater room as well. Thor followed behind to join the others. The only conversation after that was solely based on the film.

Halfway through the movie it paused and JARVIS' voice filled the room.

I'm sorry to interrupt, but I believe Dr. Banner to be in need of assistance.

Thor wasted no time in rushing to the living room, not caring if the others followed or not. He found his father sitting on the edge of the armchair in the middle of a coughing fit.

"Father?" He asked tentatively. Bruce waved a hand toward him to indicate he was fine, but Thor remained stubborn. "You are not fine. You're sick."

"I'm okay," Bruce said between coughs. "And JARVIS said Jemma and Pietro need checking on," he said. "I'm fine," he insisted and stood up.

No sooner had he stood, his eyes rolled back in his head and his knees buckled. Thor was there in an instant to keep him from falling to the floor and he helped him back onto the chair. He felt his skin and nearly recoiled.

"Is he okay?" Jane asked and he turned to see her and the others.

"He's burning up," Thor said. "He needs to go to bed and be taken care of," he said matter-of-factly. He then looked firmly at the others. "Jemma needs someone to check on her and so does Pietro. We can ask JARVIS for his help if we have to, but two of you need to go handle that while I take father to bed."

"I've got Jemma," Loki said with a nod.

"I'll help my brother," Wanda offered.

Thor nodded to her and then carefully picked up his father, grateful that he was strong and tall enough to do so with little effort. He carried him all the way to the master suite and slowly entered. The room was low lit and there was a television on. Tony, who had been asleep, woke with a sudden start when Thor neared the opposite side of the bed and started lowering his father down into it.

"What?" Tony asked with a scratchy throat. It was followed by a few coughs as he sat up and blinked. Then his eyes widened in obvious concern and he quickly shifted to get closer to Bruce. "Is he okay?"

"I think he's very sick," Thor said. "He was coughing badly and he tried to stand, but fainted. He's burning up. Is there a thermometer in here?"

Tony nodded and pointed. Thor quickly moved to the bed stand and grabbed it. He then came back around and placed it on his father's forehead.

"Bruce, babe, I told you I was well enough to help," Tony murmured, sounding a little out of it from whatever cold medicine he was on or maybe from being woken up. "I should have put my foot down. I could tell you were tired."

"And it's been a very trying day," Thor said, but the worried look that Tony gave him made him wonder if the situation at the younger kids' school wasn't the right thing to speak of for the time being. "Jemma has gotten sick now," he said. "And I noticed he seemed very tired all night. I told him to rest."

Tony grabbed the thermometer and looked at it. "Shit. He is burning up. I wish he were conscious. He needs something to reduce the fever." Tony looked around and then sat up. "Thor, can you bring me a damp washcloth?"

Thor nodded and then went into the master bathroom to do so. When he found one, he dampened it and squeezed out the excess water. He then quickly brought it back to Tony, who had an outstretched hand for it. He watched as Tony gently patted Bruce's forehead and face and neck before setting the cloth along his forehead.

"Do you need anything else?" Thor questioned softly.

"Not at the moment," Tony answered, voice pitched low and eyes unwavering from Bruce. "I'm okay enough to handle this for the most part, but if I need you I'll let you know. In the mean time," Tony did glance at him then, "you're in charge."

Thor swallowed hard at the responsibility, but nodded.

"Is daddy still sick?" Jemma asked him with a small whine when Thor came into her room.

JARVIS had alerted him that she had woken up coughing and that she was due for another dose of medicine to keep her fever maintained. Thankfully, she seemed to not have gotten the stomach bug part of the virus that some of them were fighting against, at least not yet.

"Yes, Jemma, he's still sick," Thor said gently as he helped her set up so she could take the medicine.

"Did I make him sick?" She asked sadly.

"I think everybody made him sick," he answered as he held the dosage cup to her mouth and helped her take it. "And he was so busy taking care of us that he made himself sicker than he needed to. He needed to rest, but didn't."

"Poor daddy," she said with a small whimper before lying back on her pillow and hugging her teddy bear tighter.

"Don't worry. He'll be okay," he said and then slowly left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Thor then went back to his bedroom and tried to get a little more rest himself, but it wasn't easy. He was beginning to understand how his father had lost himself in the task of taking care of so many people at once. Not that Tony or the older ones needed him to dote on them, but he was fairly certain his father doted on them just the same when he could.

When Thor finally did get some rest it seemed that no sooner had he closed his eyes that he was opening them again to the alert that Peter had just gotten sick to his stomach and would need more medicine. Thor groaned slightly and looked at the time on his bedside clock. Apparently it was already nearly ten in the morning.

He rolled out of bed and made his way to get the stomach medicine. As he passed Loki's room he could hear him throwing up loudly inside. He sighed. He knew Loki wouldn't want his help, but that was one less person to help him.

"Where's dad?" Peter asked in confusion when Thor came into his room. Peter had slept all through the night and hadn't found out about their dad getting sick yet.

Thor ignored his question for the time being. "Did you gargle with hot water?" He asked instead. Their dad always made them gargle with hot water after being sick.

Peter shook his head and went back to do so. When he returned, Thor gave him some medicine to calm his stomach. Peter then climbed back into bed and Thor checked his temperature. It was still a little on the high side.

"Did dad give up on me?" Peter asked melodramatically.

Thor laughed. "Of course not. More like father's body finally gave up on him." Peter's eyes widened in panic and Thor realized his poor wording. "Ah, that is… I mean he got sick. But other than that he's fine. He just finally caught everybody's germs."

Peter gave an audible sigh of relief. "Oh. Well, tell him to get better."

"I will," Thor promised and then left him.

He then went and changed and got clean, feeling more of a need for it than usual after all of the sickness. When he was done, he made for the kitchen and found Jane, Wanda, Harley and, to his surprise, Clint sitting at the table talking.

"How's dad?" Jane asked immediately.

"He was still pretty out of it when I checked with Tony earlier," Thor answered. "His fever was pretty bad and turned into chills during the night, but he woke up long enough to take some medicine apparently." Thor then looked at Clint questioningly. "I'm glad to see you up and about."

"Thanks," Clint said, voice sounding a little rough. "Fever broke day before yesterday and I feel mostly okay now. Just the leftover gunk, but I can't sit in my room another day or I'm going to go crazy."

Thor smiled, understanding the feeling of being restless. "Just don't exert yourself too much," he cautioned him, hoping it was the right thing to say. "And you should probably still not eat too many heavy foods."

Clint groaned. "Okay, Mother Thor."

"Wouldn't it be Mo-Thor?" Harley asked with an impish snicker.

"That was awful," Wanda said about the joke.

Thor shrugged. "And I'm not offended by the accusation. Besides that, Tony put me in charge so I'm just trying to say what my father would. Have you eaten breakfast?"

"You can't cook," Jane pointed out. "Wouldn't we be better off waiting for Loki? He's a little better, no offense."

"I think Loki came down with the bug in the middle of the night," Thor said as he moved into the adjacent kitchen and toward the refrigerator and freezer. "We have toaster pastries," he called back to them. He then opened a cupboard. "And plenty of cereal left."

"Food is food," Harley called back.

Thor shrugged in agreement, pulled out the toaster pastries and put them in the toaster. He then grabbed all the boxes of cereal and brought them to the table along with the milk.

"Jeez, guys," Sam said joining them then, sounding a little congested. "Your arms and legs ain't broke. Go grab your own bowls and spoons at least." He whacked Harley playfully over the head as he sat down.

"Feeling better?" Thor asked.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I was up a little yesterday with your dad's permission, but I'm feeling way better today."

"But you sound ridiculous," Harley teased him.

"And you shouldn't have any milk," Jane warned.

"Wasn't planning on it," Sam said with a shake of his head before looking around. "Is this it? Where's Dr. Banner?"

"He got sick last night," Wanda answered before getting up and heading into the kitchen. "I think you put these toaster pastries on for too long, Thor," she called and Thor hurried back to find out.

Once the pastry crisis was averted and everyone had one, Clint and Sam agreeing to split one for now, Thor grabbed a bowl and spoon and sat back down at the table.

"So who's taking care of the sick people in this house?" Sam asked after a few moments.

"That would be our honorary den mother, Thor," Clint answered with a smirk.

"Which is no easy task," Thor said with a sigh. "And before I forget, I'll tell you what I told Clint. No exerting yourself. How about we just have a marathon of something in the theater room?"

"Eh, beats sitting in my room watching television alone and texting people in the room next to me," Clint said in answer.

Thor, Natasha is hungry and requesting a bowl of soup. JARVIS stated. Also, Darcy will need to be checked on shortly.

"Thank you, JARVIS," Thor said and quickly finished his breakfast. If there was anything he knew it was never to keep Natasha waiting too long.

"JARVIS, I think we're going to need more soup," Thor said as he poured several bowls of chicken soup. There were two for Sam and Clint for dinner and five for Skye, Pietro, Darcy, and Jemma. Steve and Peter still couldn't keep anything down as was learned when they tried to eat some soup at lunch.

I shall add that to the grocery list.

"Thank you, and please tell Clint and Sam their soup is done."

"Look at you, Mr. Responsible."

Thor turned to see Tony smiling. "I'll take a bowl if there's any left," he said. "So, how's it been going?"

"It's been illuminating," Thor answered. "People are very different when they're sick."

Tony laughed, but it ended in a slight cough. "Yeah, they are. My kids especially. So Clint and Sam are up and about?"

"Yes, but I've had them taking it easy in the theater room. They just wanted to get out of their rooms," he explained, hoping he wasn't wrong.

"As long as they don't have a fever and are feeling up to it, doesn't seem like a problem," Tony said with a shrug. "But don't tell me none of the others aren't helping," he said, gesturing to the bowls of soup.

"Jane and Wanda have been helping, but Wanda got sick after lunch," Thor explained.

"Jeez, who's left then?" Tony asked.

"Well, Clint and Sam are better, and Darcy's fever broke today. Skye joined us briefly, but then went back to bed. Pietro's going to try some soup. Those of us not sick so far are me, Jane and Harley."

"Sounds like you've had a hell of a day then," Tony said coming over and helping him put the bowls of soup onto trays. "Order yourself a pizza or something because clearly you deserve it. Also, I'm tagging myself in."

Thor looked at him hopefully. "You're feeling up to it?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," he said with a flap of his hand. "The worst of it passed a few days ago. Your dad just wanted me to be cautious and I was still pretty achy most of yesterday. But I think I'm in commission enough to handle it. My technique might not be as effective as your dad's, but it's not fair to ask you to do everything."

"I can still help," Thor responded, but couldn't deny he was grateful for Tony's now being well enough to take over. "How's dad?"

"He's doing better. I've spent most of the day taking care of him anyway," Tony replied. "Got his fever down significantly, but he's spent most of the day in the bathroom." Thor grimaced. "Yeah. And he's probably a few minutes away from kicking me out of the bed if I don't stop fretting over him."

Thor laughed. "That's father."

"But like hell I'm going to stop," Tony said with his own laugh. "He deserves to be taken care of every now and then. I get the impression he's not had a lot of that in his life and I'm going to change that."

Thor smiled and recalled the night before. It was that absolute adoration that Tony seemed to have for his father that made him believe what he had told the others. "I hope you do," he said earnestly.

Tony smiled back and then clapped his hands. "Okay, let's get these sick people their food." He paused. "But, seriously, Thor. Thank you for taking all of this on. You stepped up when you were needed most and you figured out how to get the job done. Not everyone can do that. Although I'm sure today you probably decided never to have this many kids, huh?" Tony finished with a small chuckle and slight cough before grabbing one of the trays.

Thor smiled appreciatively at the compliment as he grabbed another tray. He had to admit that there was something satisfying about being trusted as a leader.

Tony returned to Jemma's room to bring her soup. The first time she had been asleep so he had decided to let her continue to do so and have JARVIS notify him when she was awake and ready to eat. This time she was sitting up in bed watching a movie.

"Hey there, beautiful girl. Ready for some soup?" He asked her as he came over to her bed. "Hey, whatcha watching?"

"Big Hero 6," she answered, voice sounding scratchy. He winced, knowing the feeling and knowing she probably felt miserable.

"Oh yeah? You want some company?" He asked her then with a smile.

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course," he said, not sure why she seemed so surprised.

She scooted over and he carefully settled down in the bed beside her and set the tray on her lap.

"I just thought I would get you sick like I made daddy sick," she said softly after a moment.

"You didn't make your daddy sick," Tony tried to reassure her. "He was taking care of me and the others. That made him sick." She didn't say anything and he tried to read her emotions. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. "You're sad he got sick before he could take care of you aren't you?"

Jemma dropped the spoon that she was mostly just swirling around her bowl of soup. She nodded and sniveled. "He always takes care of me when I'm sick."

Tony gently stroked the back of her head. "I know. And it's not fair that you had to share him with so many other people before he was able to get to you, is that it?" She nodded again. "I'm sorry, Jemma. I know I'm not your daddy, but I want to take care of you if you'll let me."

Sir, Wanda is quite in need of some assistance, JARVIS intoned not even a minute later.

Tony saw the way Jemma's shoulders deflated. "Please alert Thor. If he can't handle it or needs help then I can, but let him know I'm taking care of Jemma right now."

Yes, sir.

Jemma turned her head and looked at him in confusion. "Daddy would have gone."

"Well, your daddy and I have different styles," he explained. Bruce would also probably scold him for being around Jemma for a prolonged period of time while she was feverish, but he'd already broken that rule by being around Bruce all day. "Your dad's style is probably better than mine," he started with a laugh, "but I told you I would take care of you and right now I think you need some company."

Jemma smiled softly and then went back to eating her soup and watching the movie. When she was done Tony moved the bowl to the bed stand and the tray to the floor. Jemma then curled up against him without his prompting her and he stayed with her until nearly the end of the movie when she passed out again.

Tony carefully moved her to lie down and tucked her in. He checked her temperature and then turned out her light. Gathering up the bowl and tray, he gave one last smile at the sleeping girl before leaving her to make a final round to check on the others, starting with Wanda. The entire time he couldn't help but realize just how attached to Bruce's kids he'd become. He was already starting to forget what it was like before the house had become this full.

That thought was still in his mind when he made it back to his bedroom. He had to pause in the door way at the sight of Bruce lying in his bed. It wasn't just his bedroom or his bed anymore; it was theirs and just like the seven new kids running around the place he was starting to forget what it was like before this change had happened.

Tony slowly made his way over to the bed and climbed in. "You shouldn't be in here, Tony," Bruce mumbled.

"I've been with you all day," Tony countered as he scooted closer. "And I've been taking care of sick kids so we'll just have to risk my technique." Tony hovered slightly to feel Bruce's skin with one hand. His temperature seemed to be coming down much faster now.

"What's that?" Bruce asked in a hoarse whisper, vocals no doubt trashed from his getting sick multiple times.

"My technique is a little more hands on and take chances," Tony answered, smoothing a bit of his hair and then laying down. "And right now my technique involves taking care of you. So do you need anything?"

He could sense the slight hesitation in Bruce and was just about to prod him again when the physicist carefully rolled over and curled up against him, Bruce's head tucking against his chest just beneath his chin. Tony immediately moved his arms to cradle him a little closer.

"How are the kids doing?" Bruce murmured and Tony smiled at his concern amidst his own lousy sickness.

"Sam and Clint are up and about. Looks like Skye and Natasha are next. Darcy's fever broke today. Loki got sick last night. Wanda got sick this afternoon. Pietro, Steve and Peter are still working on keeping down their soup. Thor, Jane, and Harley are hanging on like champs." Tony paused for a moment. "And Jemma seems to only have the fever and sore throat part so far. But, Bruce, I think something else might be bothering her."

He felt Bruce twitch a little in response. "Yeah? Is she okay?"

Tony sighed. "I think so for the most part. But she was really distraught that you couldn't take care of her. And she seemed a little surprised that I wanted to stay and watch a movie with her when I took her some soup. I thought maybe she's just not used to my technique, but I don't know."

Bruce hummed against him. "If we survive this epidemic remind me to talk to her," he murmured and it wasn't long after that he was passed out just like the daughter they'd been discussing.

"Good night, Bruce," Tony whispered fondly and closed his own eyes.

His last thought before sleep took him was he hoped he could remember to remind Bruce since it was important to make sure Jemma was alright.

Pietro had been glad not to be sick anymore until his homeroom teacher handed him a folder full of make-up work first thing in the morning on his first day back. He knew it would be the same fate for all of them having missed various amounts of school over the past week and a half, but it was like a nightmare for him. He could barely keep up as it was. Now he had to play catch up in order to keep up.

Worst of all was the math. Word problems. He hated word problems. They combined math and words and were confusing and kept getting harder. So, of course, he would have to and get sick during the beginning of the word problems unit and have to do a whole bunch of them to catch up. If he didn't have to make up the work he'd be happy he had been sick, but he did so he grumbled all the day long.

During math class the teacher aid worked with him all through the period and he made it through at least one of the sheets, but that didn't mean he was any closer to being done or truly grasping how to figure things out on his own. He made it through a few more of the different assignments he needed to catch up on during all of his classes, but he still had a lot left to do when he got home. Which is exactly why he threw his backpack on the floor of his room and ignored it completely.

Dinner that night was equally miserable because after dinner came homework check and Pietro knew he was going to be in serious trouble. His dad would pay extra attention to him since he was the only kid to go back to school that day besides Natasha, but she probably didn't need any help. Wanda would probably go back the next day or day after and Harley had only just gotten sick the day before. Clint, Skye and Darcy had already gone back the two days prior.

So it was no surprise when it came down to him and his shrug of a response wasn't met well.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" His dad looked at him sharply.

"I… I didn't do any of it yet." He shrugged again.

Tony pinched his forehead and closed his eyes. "You have four days worth of homework and you haven't done any of it?"

The question hung in the air and those still at the table looked at him in disbelief and expressions that said 'you're toast' before making an exit.

"Just the stuff I did with the teachers in school," Pietro explained. His dad's eyes opened again. "You're disappointed in me," Pietro said before his dad had to. He looked down at his empty plate in shame.

"Well, I'm a little disappointed, yeah," Tony said.

"Tony." Bruce said his dad's name like he was warning him of something and Pietro looked up at Dr. Banner in confusion.

"He knows better than this, Bruce. I don't know how I'm supposed to handle this," Tony argued. "If he doesn’t do the work he'll fall behind again. I don't care that he needs help with this stuff, but he has to at least try."

"Can't you tell he's overwhelmed?" Bruce retorted. "You and I don't have this problem so it's hard to consider his point of view. But, Tony, missing four days of school work already is falling behind. He's expected to hurry up and learn four days worth of lessons in order to catch back up."

Pietro looked back and forth between them. "Please don't fight because of me," he finally said because he really didn't want to be the kid that broke them up on top of being stupid. "I just…" He hung his head again.

Tony sighed. "You are overwhelmed, aren't you?" Pietro nodded weakly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't consider your feelings, but not doing your homework isn't okay. You had plenty of time before dinner to come talk to me if you needed help."

Pietro looked up again. "I know. I just can't do it. There's too much and there are word problems too."

"Ouch," his dad said and winced. "Still not an excuse, buddy. You have to do your homework or you'll get in trouble. Just how it is."

"Pietro," Bruce interrupted, "how about you bring us your work to look at and we'll see if we can't figure out the best way of tackling it. Sometimes if you break it down, it's not as intimidating."

Pietro was skeptical, but he quickly went to get his backpack. When he returned, the table was cleared and his dad had moved down to a seat next to Bruce and pointed at him to sit in the chair across from him. Pietro did and pulled out his folder.

"Let's see what we've got here," Bruce said opening the folder. Both he and Tony began pulling out the worksheets and assignments. "Huh. Well, first thing I see is English isn't so bad. Most of it is reading the excerpts of Where the Red Fern Grows and then doing the worksheets after. And you don't even need to turn it all in until Friday. So you don't need to focus on that right away and if you want we can read the material together over the next few nights. How's that sound?"

Pietro blinked several times. "I can read it with you?"

Bruce looked at him. "Do you read together as a class or ever follow along with the teacher?"

"Yes," Pietro answered.

"Then I don't see why not. What do you think, Tony?"

"That's what learning's about," Tony agreed. "Now I'm looking at this social studies homework and I know you could have knocked this out of the park already, slugger. You're good with social studies. It's basically the same stuff every year."

Bruce laughed. "That's pretty much true."

"Look, I'll prove it to you," Tony then said. "What's the name of the document that declared all people held as slaves in the Confederate territory be freed?" He looked at Pietro with a raised eyebrow.

Pietro thought about it for a moment. "It's something Proclamation, right?"

"Proclamation is in it, yes," Bruce answered.

"Um… Oh, right. Emancipation Proclamation?"

"You got it," Tony said with a smile and handed the worksheet over to him. "Grab a pencil and get working on that while we go through what else you have here."

Pietro made his way through the worksheet and only got tripped up on one name, but he was close so his dad let him look through his social studies book to correct the answer.

"Okay, you've got another social studies worksheet here since you already got the other two done it looks like," his dad then said once he was done. "But I think you can handle that a little later so let's move on. Vocab is due at the end of the week so we can work on that tomorrow or you can work on it in class, whichever," he said. "That leaves science and math."

Pietro made a face.

"It looks like the science just involves reading about scientists and then answering the questions on the back," Bruce said, studying one of the worksheets. "Doesn't seem too difficult. And it looks like you just need to read the chapter by Friday for a quiz. Why don't we work on math then?"

Pietro sighed. "Fine."

"Okay, let's look at this first one together…" Bruce started. "At the beginning of the week, John's bookshop had 1200 books. He sold 75 on Monday, 50 on Tuesday, 64 on Wednesday, 78 on Thursday and 135 on Friday. What percentage of books were not sold?" Pietro scowled. "I know. This one has lots of numbers, but it's actually much easier than it wants you to think. It's just trying to play tricks with your brain, but I bet you know how to solve it if you really think about it. What is the overall thing the problem is asking you to figure out?"

Pietro looked at the problem like it was the worst thing in existence because at the moment it was, but read it carefully. "Percentage of books not sold," he answered.

"Right. So let's think about this," Bruce said slowly. "Are you a visual learner? Let's try this." He pulled a few of the different worksheets together. "Let's forget about the numbers in the word problem for a second and focus on mechanics. Let's pretend I'm selling these pieces of paper."

Pietro's eyes widened. "How much?"

Bruce laughed. "Any pretend price you want. For you, how about a quarter. And for your dad… A million dollars," he said with a smirk.

"I don't even get the boyfriend discount?" Tony asked with a pout. Pietro laughed.

"Okay, so I have how many papers here to sell altogether? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Seven altogether. Pietro, how many do you want to buy?"

"Just one," Pietro answered with a grimace.

"Not surprising," Bruce replied with a chuckle and handed him the paper. "You?" He then asked Tony.

"Well, at a million a pop, I think my limit is two," Tony answered with a chuckle of his own before taking two of the worksheets.

"Okay. So now how many worksheets do I have left?" Bruce asked.

"That's easy. Four," Pietro answered with a shrug.

"You're right. It is easy. But what method did you use to reach that easy answer? Besides just counting them."

"Dad and I took three altogether and seven minus three is four."

"Bingo. You're on the right track. You added your paper with your dad's two to get three. So let's look back at the problem. If John had 1200 altogether and we want to know how many he has left after he sells some, what do we have to do first?"

"Oh, add all the books that were sold," Pietro said as it dawned on him. "So all the numbers added together?"

"Yep," Tony said. "See, it's easier than it wants you to think isn't it?"

Pietro nodded and began adding up the numbers on his calculator. "He sold 402 books. So that means he didn't sell 798."

"You got it. So that's the first step," Bruce said encouragingly. "Have you learned about how certain words in a word problem mean what the problem involves?"

"Like 'more than' means adding?" Pietro asked.

"Yes." Bruce nodded. "Do you see any words in that problem that you recognize that tips you off to what you need to do?"

Pietro studied the problem carefully. Finally he shook his head.

"That's okay," his dad encouraged. "Maybe it's a word you missed during lessons. Actually, looking at the sheet I think so."

"Oh," Pietro suddenly remembered, "the teacher aid said percent means… I don't remember."

"You can always look at your math book to find the answer," Bruce supplied.

Pietro quickly pulled out his math book and flipped to the unit the worksheet was from. He scratched his head and sighed as he flipped through the pages.

"Hey, look," Tony stopped him from turning one of the pages. He pointed to the word 'percents' bolded and Pietro brought a palm to his face dramatically. "It's okay. What's it say?"

Pietro studied the rule and accompanying example. "I have to divide by 100 with an x over the top."

"Set it up just like you see there only use the numbers you already came up with," Bruce said patiently.

Pietro moved his pencil to write, but paused. "Would it be 798 or 402?"

"Read the problem again and I think you can figure it out," Bruce encouraged.

"Oh, percentage of books not sold. So… 798 over 1200?" Bruce nodded so he wrote it down and then added the x over 100. Pietro studied the equation with one eye closed. "I know I learned this," he said with a huff.

"That's what the book is there for, kiddo," Tony told him.

He sighed and looked down again at the sample problem in the book. "Oh, right. I did learn that."

"See, you know this stuff, but it's just a matter of refreshing your memory sometimes," Bruce stated as Pietro worked out the problem. "Did you know sometimes I make mistakes in math?"

"I thought dad said you were a genius like him?" Pietro looked at Bruce in disbelief.

Bruce looked at Tony. "Do you just go around calling me a genius?"

"Every chance I get," Tony said with a wide smile before looking at Pietro. "But for the record, genius dad gets the math wrong too sometimes. So you've got this. Looks like you've figured out that 1200x equals 798. You're almost there."

"I have to solve for x?" Pietro asked distastefully.

"Yeah, you have to solve for pesky x," his dad answered.

Pietro looked down at the equation he'd already written and tentatively drew a division line beneath both 1200x and 798 and put 1200 underneath both. He looked up at his dad and Bruce questioningly. Bruce nodded.

Pietro finished it and asked, ".665?"

For some reason his dad winced and Bruce nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that's misleading. Does your book give any additional steps?"

Pietro rolled his head in exasperation before looking down at his book. "To get back to a percentage, multiply answer by 100." He did so with his calculator. "66.5?"

"There you go," Bruce answered with a smile. "66.5% of the books John had were not sold. The next problem is very similar. Why don't you try it on your own?"

Pietro didn't want to, but he started working on the problem just the same.

"You are incredible," Tony said to Bruce.

"Incredible?" Bruce asked. "Pietro, remember that certain words in word problems mean things," he then said and helpfully pointed to a spot in the word problem.

Pietro scrunched his face. "Oh, yeah." He erased part of the equation he'd been setting up and corrected it.

"That," Tony said. "You're still getting over your flu and still sharp as can be and insanely patient."

"Pietro's a good student," Bruce said so easily that Pietro looked up quickly. Bruce was smiling. "I've been a professor so I'm used to this. And I did a lot of tutoring on the side in college for extra income."

"Power to you," Tony said with a laugh.

Bruce chuckled. "Exactly. But Pietro's a good student. So he doesn't get it right away." He shrugged. "That's perfectly fine. It doesn't mean he never will."

Pietro smiled at the vote of confidence and returned to the word problem. He still didn't like math, but maybe he could keep trying if that's what made a good student.