“Are you sure it’s safe for you to be out in public? Pepper would never forgive me if something was to happen to you and you were recognized.”
Peter’s anxiety had been amped up something awful since he’d been dosed with that mysterious fear gas that the Avengers had finally traced back to that pit of a town in Jersey while on patrol a couple of months earlier. As such, it was pretty easy to tell what was triggering him now as he asked his question for the umpteenth time that day.
Tony slung his new arm around Peter’s shoulder and tugged him close even as they moseyed down the street. “Kid, I promise you, we’re fine. And even Pepper would be fine if we did end up getting caught out. We’re not doing anything nefarious.”
Peter seemed unconvinced.
“Aw, Petey, come on! I even had FRIDAY coordinate with the admissions office to get your campus tour scheduled for the day with the fewest students on the tour and on campus to reduce the risk of “tourist” interference,” because we could see how worried you are. Trust us. It’s okay.”
They walked past an artisan bakery; its patio packed while a server bustled to take multiple orders in the middle of the fray, triggering yet another thought, “But what about the locals?”
“Pfft. I’m practically a local myself. Come on, Pete,” Tony tried to reassure him. “We’re good. I’m in Cambridge as a guest lecturer at least twice a year and I’ve never had an issue.”
Peter leaned away just enough to give him a sceptical side-eye. “You don’t really expect me to believe you, do you?”
Happy snorted from his position a few feet behind him.
“Hey,” Tony called over his shoulder, “Kindly refrain from influencing the opinions of my mentee, please and thank you.”
Happy chuckled a little louder, “I don’t think I’m the one that influences him, Tony. Trust me on that.”
Tony stopped walking while still keeping ahold of Peter, then turned them both around to address his asset manager. “Excuse me? Are you implying that I’m a bad influence?”
As naturally as breathing, Peter’s jaw dropped in shock and horror as he caught on to what was being implied. He looked from one man to the other, “And are you both implying that I’m a bad kid?”
Tony and Happy exchanged looks of both shock and delight as they finally—FINALLY caught their first glimpse of their Peter since leaving the city early that morning.
They’d almost missed this.
When Spider-Man had staggered into the penthouse, weeping and hyperventilating, they’d initially had no clue that the vigilante had been exposed to a mind altering drug so potent that even Dr. Cho’s eventual antidote only barely pulled him back from the veritable edge.
The trip had almost been cancelled.
The swings between anxiety, depression, and terror had been so extreme in the beginning and sitting with him as he struggled, restrained in the med bay at his worst, had been hard for them all. While Cho and Banner had worked together to find a solution, none of them were certain it would ever be an option to leave the monitored confines of the tower again.
Thank goodness for understanding teachers as they tried to maintain some sense of normalcy. Homework became the great distractor.
And then the antidote breakthrough came, and shortly after, the medical staff realized that they were approaching the drug’s half-life. The two events coming one after the other, were a miracle, the light at the end of the tunnel... and Peter finally improved.
And didn’t a change of scenery sound like the best idea ever?
Yes, there were still moments where Peter felt obviously out of sorts, his worries a tad too unreasonable, but he’d worked hard to recover, and was safe—they were making sure of it.
“Come on, squirt,” Happy reached out and ruffled Peter’s hair. “I’m feeling like we’re about to get trapped in a Stooges bit and I personally would rather we find that pizza joint Tony is insisting is on this street. I’m starving.”
Tony finally let go of Peter to throw his hands up in frustration, “Seriously, Happy! A guy gets turned around one time and suddenly everyone thinks you can’t find your way out of a box. Ridiculous!”
Peter smiled at the dramatics. This felt right— like the world was resetting itself and—
“Oof.” The skateboarder knocked Peter’s arm, but corrected his own stance before he could fall and carried on down the sidewalk. “Sorry ‘bout that!” He called back over his shoulder and disappeared into the crowd—
—Leaving Peter to deal with the consequences of his carelessness.
“You’re okay, buddy. You’re okay,” Tony reassured him where they stood while Happy grumbled in the background about kids and no respect for others.
And Peter was going to work his way through. He could do this... he’d felt glimmers of absolute normal in the past weeks and days, but this? Taking a walk with his pseudo-dad and new uncle had felt about as close to perfect as he could imagine. He couldn’t—no. He wouldn’t allow this to be taken away because of some yahoo with a fear fetish and a chemistry degree—or a skateboarder that got too close.
Peter closed his eyes and drew in a deep, shaky breath.
“That’s it, bambino. That’s it.” Tony soothed. “You’re safe. You’re fine.”
Peter nodded, maybe a little manically, but that was okay. They understood.
He inhaled again, a little steadier.
“Good job, sweet boy.” Tony sounded a little closer. “Are you okay with my giving you hug?”
Nothing had ever sounded so good, so Peter’s nod was a little more desperate as he opened his eyes and lunged into Tony’s arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...” he couldn’t help himself. He was so tired of the lows, and then lower lows. He needed to be done with this. “Can we do something? Anything? Please?” Peter practically pleaded.
“Of course, we can, Pete. Anything you want—just say the word.”
Happy cleared his throat then.
“Okay, maybe not anything. Uncle Grumpy Pants over there may have some input of a security persuasion regarding certain suggestions...” Tony sighed. “Honestly, he’s a bit of a buzz kill, Pete.”
Peter couldn’t hold in the snort-laugh. “Nah, he’s just being responsible. Someone has to be, right?”
Then Happy was behind him, placing a warm, solid hand on his shoulder, too, even as he sought refuge with Tony. “Well then, maybe I do have some influence on the kid after all?”
Peter laughed again and pressed into Tony’s chest a little more before taking one last deep breath and stepping away. “Man, I’m such a mess.” He wiped his face clear of the tears he hadn’t even noticed falling until now. “I’m so sorry, guys. I can’t even—”
“Nope. You can stop whatever you think you have to be saying, bud. We get it. We know. Just—” Tony looked lost for a second, then asked, “Tell us what you need?”
“I—I, uh, I’m not sure?” And then it hit him. Maybe it was the fresh air, the change of scenery, or his newfound resolve, but for the first time in what felt like forever, Peter wanted to do something silly and there was only one person to ask. He turned to face Tony, “What did you do for fun when you were living on campus?”
If that hadn’t come out of left field—Tony blank-screened for a hot minute as his brain flashed to the drugs and the booze and the all of the nameless, faceless partners, but that was a different life, and Peter would never— “I, um, well—” How could he answer Peter truthfully and not have it change how he felt about him?
“Why don’t we talk about it over lunch, huh?” Happy, seeing the panic on his friend’s face, interrupted Tony’s weak attempt at a response. “Towns like this always have brochures and the like scattered all over the place—and if we can ever find it, I’m sure that Tony’s pizza place will have ‘em, too.”
Tony plastered on his ‘media’ grin, and followed the breadcrumb trail Happy had left for him. “Oh ye of little faith,” He pulled Peter back under his arm and they were on their way again, “Have I told you about the tomato sauce on this pizza, kid? Just wait till we get there... it’s magical, I tell ya’. Magical.”
/-/-/
The greatest benefit to trying to make plans over lunch with a seventeen year old boy with a super-metabolism was that seventy-five percent of the meal was spent with him shovelling his face with pizza and wings while everyone else just stared in awe.
“Are you sure you can breathe there, Pete?” Happy had to double check.
Peter nodded back happily as he swallowed. “Maybe the cure for that dumb gas was this pizza!” he said, then, “Tony, you were right! I think this is the best pizza I’ve ever had!”
“I’m tellin’ ya,’ kid. New York, Chicago, Boston—it doesn’t matter where you are, if a pizzeria has a good family recipe and good ingredients? You’re golden.”
“Agreed,” Happy chimed in. “I’ll give it to ya,’ Tony. This is definitely a top three contender.”
“Yes!” Tony fist pumped. “I’ve been redeemed.” He tossed his wadded up straw wrapper at Peter, then figure there was no point in delaying the inevitable, and grew serious. “Hey, Pete. I’ve gotta say, I’ve been sitting here pondering my ill-gotten youth and I’m afraid I can’t think of anything we’d be able to do now that I did then that wouldn’t get me arrested—or worse, you expelled from MIT before you’ve even started.” He cleared his throat. “But, uh, I’d love it if we could start some of our traditions—like maybe eating here whenever I’m in town for a lecture... or whatever?” He scratched at his beard nervously, waiting for Peter’s reply.
Happy, however, caught the little asterisk in his tone. “Hang on a sec? Or whatever?”
Tony’s cheeks pinked up, “Yeah. Like picking him up for holidays or,” Tony’s voice got quieter, “Or when I miss my favourite teenager-slash-young adult.”
“Awww, Tony! That’s so sweet!” Peter cooed.
And THERE was the grin the everyone had been missing for the last months. Tony could have wept with relief.
“Well,” Tony fussed with the dirty napkins on his plate, “It’s not like it’s that far.”
“It’s almost five hours!”
“That’s IF Happy’s driving. It’s only thirty minutes in the suit... if I’m dawdling.”
Happy snorted at the dis-invite. “Nice, Tony. I spend most of my adult life devoted to you, and this is how you repay me.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “What!? You’re busy being all doe-eyed with May!”
“Whoa!” Peter threw his hands up in protest, “Let’s keep Aunt May out of this!”
“Agreed!” Happy exclaimed.
Tony sighed. “Agreed. Regardless, let’s get back to the issue at hand. I’m afraid my sixteen year old self is not going to be much help with planning the next day or two, bud. I’m sorry.” He glanced toward the restaurant entrance, “Happy was right, though. If you wanted to go grab some brochures from the entrance, I can see them there. Maybe we can track down a museum or something?”
Peter just sat there, though, suddenly deep in thought.
“Pete?” Mr. Stark asked hesitantly. Things were going so well.
“Oh, sorry,” he offered, “I just was thinking how sad it is that you missed out on so much when you were my age.” Not that anyone had ever said that out loud to Tony, ever, “I couldn’t imagine not having Ned and MJ with me, and you didn’t get that, is all.”
And Tony’s heart warmed. “Oh, kid. Don’t sweat it. I got my Rhodey eventually, and he definitely helped me to finish strong.”
Peter was not mollified. “I know. It just sucks.”
“Yeah, it does,” Tony had to agree, “but I can never regret a path that ended up with all us of here, now can I?”
“I guess.”
The mood was souring, and they’d had such a great meal. “Hey, why don’t you head over to the brochures and see what you can find? We’ll do your tour tomorrow morning and then hit the ground running after lunch—what do you say?”
Peter still seemed hesitant, but nodded and excused himself from the table, pulling his phone out as he weaved through the tables.
Tony shook his head in disappointment. “I fucked that up royally, didn’t I?”
“Nah, the kid has a good heart, you know that, and you’re like a big ol’ puppy dog. Let’s just head back to the hotel and relax. Then we’ll all be fresh and ready for tomorrow”
Tony pulled his wallet out, tossed cash for the meal and tip onto the table, and stood up. “Yup.” he stared over at Peter, distracted by whatever he was reading. “Tomorrow is going to be great, we’ll make sure of it.”
/-/-/
“... and with those parting words, we, the faculty and staff, are excited for you to be a part of the MIT experience. GO ENGINEERS!”
Peter, Tony, and Happy clapped politely as the final presentation ended then rushed for the door before another professor or administrator could come up to shake Tony’s or Peter’s hand in welcome.
“So,” Tony was the one to break the silence once they cleared the masses. “What do you think? Are you excited? Are you changing your mind? Have you decided to move to commune and take up pottery?”
Peter just grinned and shook his head. “It’s awesome, Tony. I’m excited- not changing my mind- and I was feeling like maybe gardening would be more my speed.”
Maybe Peter was a little subdued this morning, but he still giggled as Tony shoved him playfully, “Alright, smart ass.” Tony said. “Be that way. Now! I know we just had “lunch,” Tony air quoted, “but are you still hungry? We can stop somewhere before we—move on to whatever you’ve decided we’re doing today?”
Peter had stayed quiet after dinner, then focused on something on his phone for an hour or so before finally deciding to call it an early night. Tony had noticed Peter staring at him at a couple of points in the evening, but it made sense for the brief conversation they’d had, he guessed. Or maybe Tony was just being paranoid and Peter was honestly making plans?
“I’m not starving, but we’ll need to stop at Walmart anyhow, so maybe I’ll just check out the deli, too.” Peter announced.
Happy took over there, “Can I ask why?” he asked.
And then the smile Tony was afraid had disappeared came back, “We need snacks!”
Both of the men had, at one time or another, decided that Peter’s only purpose in life was to confuse the hell out of them, and here he was, doing it again.
“Snacks?”
Peter nodded. “Yup. Aunt May gave me some play money, so I’ve got cash in my wallet. I’ll run real quick and then we’re going back to the hotel for a bit, ‘kay?”
No one argued. “Okay,” Happy shrugged. “You’re the boss.”
Tony opened his mouth to playfully disagree, but Happy caught him before he could. “No. I said Peter’s the boss.”
And Tony had to agree, so they all shut up, and walked to their car.
They were going on a snack run.
/-/-/
Happy was fuming by the time they made it back to the car. “I told you to wait in the car! Peter was worried about Pepper, but now I’M worried! What am I going to tell her? I have one job, but I can’t leave you alone for a damned minute! She’s gonna murder me!”
“Shhh. Stop yelling.” Tony whispered back as he lowered himself into his seat while keeping pressure on the fresh wound set at his hairline. “How was I supposed to know that Walmart would try to kill me?”
“Don’t you mean, how were you, a grown ass man, supposed to know that you don’t ride bikes inside of stores like a moron? And then crash into end caps?” Happy leaned in to do up Tony’s seatbelt since his hands were busy. “How have you made it this far? I don’t understand.”
Peter slid into the back, clutching his bags and the heavy duty first aid kit he’d just retrieved from the trunk. “They were really nice about it, at least—and I don’t think anyone got photos?” Peter chewed on his lip guiltily. “And if you’re worried, we were going to stay in at the hotel for the afternoon anyhow. Maybe you’ll be feeling better later and we can do the rest of my plan?”
“Ah, the elusive plan,” Tony said wryly. “At this point, if it can involve extra strength over the counter pain medication and an afternoon of lounging, I’ll do about anything.”
Peter smiled, “It does.”
“Perfect. Then we’re set. To the hotel then, Happy, Daddy needs a new set of stitches.”
/-/-/
Once Happy had gotten everything sanitized and Tony frozen up, the stitches were done fairly quickly. Tony had even managed to take a couple of Tylenol to help with the mild headache. Peter, however, was still fumbling with his laptop and some cables at the back of the hotel room television when the two came into the room proper.
“Oooh, did you set up a secret camera so we can listen in on what May and Pepper really think of us?” Tony joked as he eased himself onto his bed.
“Don’t be weird, Tony,” Happy scolded him.
“Yeah, Tony, don’t be weird,” Peter mumbled in agreement as he finally emerged from behind the electronics, then grew shy as he fussed with a couple of laptop keys and then finally, it all became clear.
But not?
“Ferris Bueller’s Day Off? The big secret was a movie?” Tony had to ask.
Peter flushed as he explained. “No, well, yes... I mean—I was thinking about how sad it was that you didn’t get to do the whole teenager experience after dinner last night and it got me wondering about what exactly you missed...”
“Okay?”
“And then I thought, you were sixteen in 1986, right?”
Tony was getting nervous, “Right?”
“Right!” He was getting excited as explained his thought process. “And then I tried to google, but that ended up with me trapped in Pinterest purgatory for some reason, so I shifted and found that the year you turned sixteen, “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” was one of the top ten highest grossing movies, and the only ‘high school’ movie that felt appropriate—” Peter hesitated. “So, I thought we could watch it and see what it was like to be my age back then, and see if we could plan something for tonight or tomorrow before we leave to be funny, you know?... if you wanted...”
Tony was speechless.
“... Unless you think it’s dumb.”
Tony just stared. This kid—they’d been so worried about him, and here he was—
Happy, of course, recognized that look. Even after years with (and without) the kid, Tony still had those moments when he couldn’t believe his luck—couldnt’ begin to process it in a way that made sense to him.
Sometimes Happy really hated Howard Stark.
And so Happy spoke up, “Let’s give him a minute, ‘kay?” He walked over to the bags of junk food and—a rotisserie chicken? Happy just shook his head and started unpacking. “We’ll get these snacks organized. Getting the bags cheddar popcorn was a great idea, by the way. I’m telling you, Peter. There’s a special place in hell for people who microwave popcorn in hotels and staff rooms, kid. That’s a life lesson for you right there. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Once done, Happy glanced over to Tony, still pale, but that could have been the shock of surprise, but still, “I’m pretty sure Tony doesn’t have a concussion, but give me a sec to get something pulled together before we start. I haven’t seen this movie in ages and would hate to have to pause it to change sheets or something.”
They both shuddered.
“I’m not concussed,” Tony suddenly spoke up, “Just had to take a quick brain break, but I’m back. And, believe it or not, I’ve never seen this movie at all.”
Peter’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Awesome. This’ll be fun then, right?”
“Right,” Tony declared, “Now hand over my milk duds, bud. I am totally not sharing.”
/-/-/
The ride home the next afternoon was pretty uneventful. Granted, Happy did make a point of getting them home in four hours twelve minutes, thank you very much.
By morning, Tony’s headache had dissipated and the bruising wasn’t too bad—and he’d managed to not puke the night before.
And, after a couple of calls from their PR guys to clarify the events of the day previous, Pepper wasn’t nearly as upset as Peter worried she’d be about Tony getting caught on camera... at least not with him.
“Honestly, Peter. This is nothing compared to the early 2000s.” She explained as her voice came through the car’s audio system. “I’ll take this gladly and call it a win.”
Peter breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe the last dregs of that toxin were finally out of his system?
“But, sweetheart? Tony? Happy? While I have you all on the phone...”
“Yes?” They all seemed to reply in unison.
“Would you happen to know why I’ve been getting all these restaurant reservation confirmations for a—hang on. I wrote it down somewhere—” The papers shuffled on her desk. “Oh. Here it is, for an Abe Froman?”
There was no way to pretend that all three of the men hadn't busted out laughing as they drove along the highway.
“Boys? What did you do?” Pepper’s confusion made it all the better, “And who the heck is Abe Froman?”