Learning the Language of Iron
Peter Parker had always been a quick learner. Physics? Easy. Swinging through the city? A breeze. But there was one thing that confused him, and it wasn’t equations or bad guys—it was Tony Stark.
Since Tony had taken him under his wing, Peter had gotten used to the overwhelming tech in Stark Tower, the constant stream of gadgets, and even the fast pace of Tony’s conversations. But the one thing that never stopped baffling Peter was Tony’s sarcasm.
It always caught Peter off guard. Sometimes Tony said something, and Peter had no idea if he was supposed to take it seriously or not. It made interactions tricky, and Peter hated not being able to read the situation right.
One evening, Peter was in the lab tinkering with some web fluid when Tony sauntered in, sipping his coffee.
"Hey Underoos, you planning on turning the whole city into a sticky trap with that? Because that’s a genius idea. No way that could go wrong."
Peter's heart sped up. Was he being serious? Did Tony actually think his new formula was dangerous?
Peter paused, trying to make sense of the words. He studied Tony’s face. His mentor looked relaxed, his eyes had a certain glint—something playful. Not the serious, laser-focused stare Tony had when something was genuinely concerning.
"Uh, no... I tested it five times already, Mr. Stark," Peter stammered. "I don't think it'll—"
Tony cut him off with a chuckle, putting his cup down. "Relax, kid. Sarcasm. That was sarcasm." He waved his hand, then motioned for Peter to pass him the prototype he was working on.
Peter blinked. Sarcasm. Again. It was one of the things Tony did often, but Peter had never understood the how of it. He knew what sarcasm was, but Tony’s delivery always felt like a riddle to decode.
“Okay…” Peter frowned, trying to work it out. “How do you know when someone’s being sarcastic? Like, how do you know?”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”
Peter shifted uncomfortably, eyes down. “I mean, sometimes? But with you, I can’t always tell.”
Tony leaned back against the counter, his expression softening in a way Peter had rarely seen. “It’s in the delivery, kid. Tone of voice, body language. For me? If it sounds like I’m exaggerating or being a little too clever for my own good, I’m probably being sarcastic.”
Peter nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “So, it’s... less about what you say, and more about how you say it?”
“Exactly. That and if it sounds like something ridiculous or out of character, I’m probably joking,” Tony added, smirking. “Like that time I said I wanted to cover the suit in glitter.”
Peter’s eyes widened, “Wait, that wasn’t real?!”
Tony laughed, full and deep. “No, kid. That would be terrible! Could you imagine glitter getting into the suit’s joints? I’d never get it out.” He tapped Peter on the arm. “You’ll get the hang of it. Don’t stress.”
Peter gave a small, shy smile. It wasn’t easy for him to pick up on social cues sometimes, but Tony was making it clearer. He was patient in his own way, which meant a lot.
“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbled, feeling a little more at ease.
Tony ruffled his hair, something he only ever did when they were alone, in those rare moments when the Iron Man facade dropped and Tony acted like… well, like a dad.
“Anytime, kid. Now, how about you show me what you’ve got before the entire lab becomes a sticky spider web?”
Peter grinned. “It’s not that bad… probably.”
As they worked together, Peter felt more confident. Maybe he wouldn’t always understand every joke Tony made, but with time, he’d learn to read the signs. After all, Tony had taken the time to teach him—sarcasm, and everything else.
And that meant the world to Peter.