Mr. Hogan the Happy Meal
Peter’s pretty sure he jinxed himself, that or his Parker luck took his last question as a personal challenge.
It was literally his first day at his internship, and he was already late.
Originally, Peter had thought that swinging to SI would be the best course of action given the unreliability of New York public transport and traffic. But now he regretted it. It was like crime was drawn to him, because it seemed like every other second that was a robbery that needed stopping or a mugger who really just wanted to be an inconvenience to Peter, the teen was sure of it. And it wasn’t like Peter could ignore these crimes and continue swinging. Curse his moral compass!
Spiderman had ended up stopping two petty thefts, one robbery, three car accidents, and had even helped a cat cross the road during lunch rush. But now Peter Parker was going to be over ten minutes late.
Quickly dropping himself into an alleyway across the street from SI, Peter changed out of his suit and ran across the road, his Spidey Sense being the only thing between him and getting hit by a car or two. (And yes, Peter has already accepted the fact that he lacks any self-preservation instincts, much to the concern of everybody else who knew him and wasn’t Flash.)
Running into the glass door, Peter goes to push it open and is stopped, the door not budging. About to try pulling it this time instead (because of course he would push a pull door in front of multiple important business people), one particular man in a suit that was now impatiently tapping his foot behind Peter grunts. “Maybe you should try pulling this time?” The man bit out.
Peter turned around to meet the man’s gaze, his annoyance flaring and causing his left eye to twitch slightly. “Actually, I was planning to try and lift it up instead.” The teen remarked before opening the door the correct way and making his way inside, completely ignoring the shock written on the man’s face.
Peter shuffled towards the front desk and picked at the sleeves of his grey and white flannel whilst patiently waited for the receptionist to be done on the phone. A part of Peter knew that she was busy and he didn’t want to seem impolite (no matter how late he was).
Glancing around the room, the young teen was awed by its design. The walls were a pristine white, mixed with splashes of grey in the furniture, and blue marks in the floor and doorway. The one thing Peter noticed more than anything else, however, was that everyone around him was dressed in either a lab coat or a suit. Everyone looked for smart and sophisticated, and Peter hated it. He himself had presumed right in that he definitely looked out of place in his graphic t-shirt that had a science pun written over the top, a flannel, his least stained pair of jeans, and the cleanest pair of converse he owned that were (ironically) spiderman themed. In his defence, the shoes were amazing and the outfit as a whole was actually really nice. Besides, Mr. Stark had told Peter to dress casually, so, if anything, Peter blamed the older man for any judgment he would be given.
After she put the phone down, the lady sighed in exhaustion and looked up at him, quirking an eyebrow at the literal child standing in front of her.
“Hello Miss-“ Peter lent forward to see what it said on her badge before continuing, “Miss Spencer, I’m Peter Parker. I’m a little late, but I’m supposed to be here for an R&D internship?” His words ended up sounding mor like a question than an actual statement. But the lady, Miss. Spencer Peter corrected himself, still smiled at Peter’s politeness and nodded her head in recognition. “Ah, yes, I’ll call down the head of security so that you can get your badge.” She held up a finger and rang up the security department to ask for someone called ‘Happy Hogan’, letting them know that the new intern had finally arrived (Peter winced at the ‘finally’ part).
“You can ask Mr. Hogan any questions you may have when he arrives.” Miss. Spencer told Peter after she had put the phone down, before motioning towards a set of sofas situated beside the reception desk.
Thanking the nice lady and taking a seat, Peter let his anxious thoughts take over as he waited for Mr. Hogan to arrive. His mind raced about what his job would entail and what he would end up doing during his internship. Would he be stuck on coffee rounds? Or maybe he would even be given his own lab to work in? That last one was not very likely, but a nerd can dream.
Eventually, Peter was dragged out of his anxiety-inducing stream of thought by a cough. Shifting his gaze up, the teen was met with the figure of a grumpy man in a black and white suit looking back at him. “Is your name really Happy?” Peter accidently asked aloud, and the man huffed in what could have almost been a laugh when Peter gasped and snapped him mouth shut.
“No.” Mr. Hogan, replied in a gruff voice before turning around and walking towards the elevators across the room from them. “Follow me.” Peter did as told and made sure to keep his mouth shut for as long as possible.
Confusion grew within the teen as the pair walked past all of the elevators that everyone else was using and instead stopped in front of a separate set of doors closer to what appeared to be a small café like set up. Mr. Hogan scanned what looked to be his employee ID card of a box beside the doors, and they slid open to reveal a whole new elevator. This one looked almost completely different from the other which were boxed in pristine white with only bars to hold onto and a concerningly large set of buttons. The elevator that Peter was now standing in had one wall made of glass that opened up to an amazing view of New York from the side of Stark Tower, and another wall that made up a full body mirror. And there were no buttons for some reason.
Just as Peter was about to ask about the lack of numbered buttons, a slightly mechanical, slightly humanoid voice wrung out withing the elevator. “What floor would you like Happy Meal?” the voice spoke, and Mr. Hogan grimaced at the name he was called. “Floor 91 please Friday.” The man responded.
“Are you supposed to be ‘Happy Meal’, Mr. Hogan?” Peter found himself asking, his curiosity getting the better of him. “One of Tony’s favourite pass times is to give all the people he knows personally nicknames.” Peter was actually surprised that Mr. Hogan replied, and he noticed that, no matter how hard Mr. Hogan tried to hide it, the man seemed to be rather fond of his ‘boss’, a twinkle of familiarity lighting up in the corners of his eyes. “Oh, and just call me Happy, kid. Everyone does, and it feels weird to be called anything else now.”
Turning to properly face Peter, Happy handed the teen his own employee ID badge, that only had his full name, date of birth, and job level of it. That was the part that caught Peter’s attention the most.
“Tony Stark’s Personal Intern?” Peter read it aloud before raising his confused gaze to meet Happy’s own knowing one. Ignore the boy, Happy began a (probably important) rant about security expectations and what the coloured border of each employee ID card meant.
Peter barely registered that each colour was for a different department and the accessibility they would be given within different job levels. He did pay attention when Happy began to talk about his own colour, stating that the mixture of red and gold that formed along the border of his own ID card would give him unlimited access to the whole of Stark Tower. Who the h-e-double-hockey-sticks would trust a 17 year old with unlimited access to the most important company that specialised in technological advancement?! Apparently, Tony mother trucking Stark, that’s who.