It was FRIDAY’s gentle voice that woke Peter in the morning.
"Peter, Boss told me to wake you up, you will be late for school."
The teenager’s eyes snapped open and he grumbled as he tried to shake the fog from his mind. He sat up and glanced at his smartwatch on the nightstand: it was near 8 AM already. His first class would start at 8:30. Shit.
He jumped out of bed and was surprised by the morning skyline of New York outside of his window. No matter how many times he stayed overnight at the tower, the sight still came as a pleasant shock. He rushed to his bathroom to brush his teeth, ignoring as his phone buzzed with texts from Happy.
It was no surprise he’d overslept, really. After quickly doing his homework yesterday afternoon, he tinkered with the suit in the lab with Mr. Stark, and he could remember stubbornly throwing himself on the couch after the man had told him it was time for bed. You have school tomorrow, Underoos. Don’t make your aunt kick my butt, he said.
He must have fallen asleep there, he figured. He couldn’t recall how he ended up in the room he inhabited in Tony’s penthouse, the room he’d come to call his own. I must have sleepwalked, he thought, since dragging himself up the elevator seemed like the least weird thing he’d done in his sleep. Crawling on the ceiling and waking up face-down was definitely on top of the list.
He threw some clothes on in a rush and grabbed his backpack, thankful he’d already packed his books yesterday. His hair was a mess, he was aware, but he didn't even bother to fix it. He wondered if he had time to see his mentor before he left to endure another day in the depths of hell some may refer to as 'high school'.
"FRI, where’s Mr. Stark?"
"Boss is currently having breakfast with the Avengers in the common area," the AI said. Peter raised an eyebrow at that.
"Not in the penthouse?"
"The Avengers had a debrief early in the morning and Mr. Stark told me to inform you that, to quote him directly, he will be charitable once and sacrifice his morning to spend his breakfast with a bunch of morons." Peter chuckled at that. It was truly rare to see the genius spend his time with the Avengers on his own accord.
His phone buzzed in his hands. Right, school. Peter felt a little guilty since Happy had probably been waiting for him in the garage for a long time.
He still decided to say goodbye to Mr. Stark, though, and he convinced himself it had nothing to do with the fact that seeing the billionaire in the morning gave him an energy boost to survive the horrors of a regular school day. He ran for the elevator and asked FRIDAY to take him to the floor the Avengers shared.
Mr. Rogers was in the middle of a sizeable breakfast and almost choked on it as Peter bolted into the room.
"Morning, guys!" Mr. Wilson lightly flinched behind his laptop and Mr. Stark spun around where he stood, next to the kitchen counter. Nat was the only one unbothered by the loud teenager. She had one leg propped on the table and she was drinking pure black coffee out of a wine glass, something that surprised Peter the first time he witnessed it, but to be honest, he should’ve expected it. Nat waved her free hand at him while Mr. Rogers and Mr. Wilson muttered a good morning.
"Well, look who’s finally awake!" Mr. Stark chimed and ruffled Peter’s hair once the teen reached the counter in a rush. "Woah, slow down, Petey-Pie, you’re practically vibrating."
"I overslept but I wanted to say goodbye before I left for school," Peter said, feeling a little ashamed. Was he too clingy?
"I’m glad you did, Underoos, otherwise you would’ve missed out on this healthy stack of lunch I packed for you," Tony said and he tossed a brown paper bag over to Peter who caught it with ease.
Peter’s heart swelled with warmth as he smiled at the bag. Mr. Stark, the world’s most incredible person, a hero, had packed him lunch. Peter was too stunned to speak for a moment, then he felt another text from Happy buzz in his pocket.
"Uh, I- gotta go, Happy’s about to kill me," he said in a hurry, already running to get the elevator. "Thanks for the lunch, you're the best, dad!"
He pushed the button to the underground garage.
Happy was waiting for him in the driver’s seat of the usual dark unmarked Audi he took Peter to school in when the teen stayed overnight on weekdays. The older man looked severely annoyed.
"I’m so sorry, Happy, really," Peter said as he slid into the seat next to him. "I forgot to set my alarm last night and FRI only woke me up when Mr. Stark told her, so I really have to ask Mr. Stark to implement a protocol that wakes me in time, even though I’d never forgotten to set my alarm before, and I'm surprised it's is not even a protocol yet to-"
"Jesus, kid, slow down, you’re giving me a headache," Happy said. His tone was annoyed, but Peter could see the hint of a smile on his face. They rolled into the rush hour traffic and Peter thanked his lucky stars his chem test was only taking place in the second period. He was going to miss a lot of the first.
"Thanks for waiting for me, Happy. I really appreciate it. You’re the best- holy fuck." Peter’s heart skipped several beats as a terrible, horrible, incredibly embarrassing realization entered his brain and made its way down his spine, settling in his stomach in the form of an aching twinge. He was in such a rush he hadn’t had time to process what happened on the Avengers' floor a few minutes earlier. He had just done the most embarrassing thing in the history of mankind. He’d just called Tony Stark ‘dad’.
"What’s wrong, kid?" Happy asked, but Peter’s mind was spinning in circles in a frenzy that blocked out his surroundings. He called Mr. Stark ‘dad’. He'd just managed to do the one thing he did his best not to do for the past few months. He slipped up. Mr. Stark must be weirded out. It’s going to be humiliating to see him again tomorrow.
"Kid? Hello?"
"Holy fucking shit."
"Kid, seriously, answer me. Are you having a heart attack or something?" Happy asked anxiously, waving a hand in front of Peter’s face. The motion brought the teen back to reality.
"N- no," he answered.
"Then watch your language, Tony would kill me if he found out I let you swear." But Peter didn't find that funny at all. He was still mortified. "What’s going on, kid?"
"I called Tony ‘dad’", Peter mumbled. He was too distraught to even filter his words. He referred to one of the most famous people on earth as 'dad', right in front of him.
Happy burst out in laughter. Peter felt his cheeks burn crimson as he smacked the man in the arm lightly. Damn, he should've closed his mouth once again.
"Not funny, Happy!" He whined. "This is the worst thing to ever happen!" Only adding fuel to the fire, Happy laughed harder, his eyes swimming with tears. Peter had never seen him laugh so much. At any other time, he'd be glad to see someone this delighted, but at the moment he wished Happy would shut up.
He crossed his arms grumpily and looked out the window. "Stop making fun of me."
After about a minute, Happy regained himself and wiped his eyes. Peter wished his cheeks would stop burning already.
"I wish I could've seen his face," Happy said. Peter smacked the back of his own head into the seat and sunk as low as he could.
–---
"Come on, man, it’s not that big of a deal," Ned said while they took their usual seats in the cafeteria. Once his best friend had gotten over the ‘dude, you called Iron Man your dad’ shock, he was way cooler with the whole ordeal than Peter was.
"Of course, it’s a big deal! I probably freaked him out!"
"He’s been mentoring you for what, over a year now? He basically is your dad at this point." Ned shrugged as he poured syrup over his meal.
"No, shut up, you should be freaking out, too-"
"What’s the deal, nerds?" MJ asked, sitting on the bench across the table. Peter immediately felt his alarms go off and he flew to cover Ned’s mouth with his hand, but he was too slow.
"Peter called Tony Stark ‘dad’."
"Ned," Peter said. Or screeched, more accurately.
"What?" His best friend asked. MJ grinned. This was the worst day of Peter’s life. Even worse than a building collapsing on him on prom night after fighting the father of his crush. He wished the walls of the school would just give out, too.
"I mean it was about time," MJ said, opening her book. Peter's eyes widened for a second, but he decided to ignore the remark. He just wanted the whole day to be over with so he could go home and hide under the covers.
He opened his backpack and pulled out the lunch bag Mr. Stark had packed for him, another painful reminder of the most embarrassing moment of his life. He only noticed now the few lines scribbled with black ink on the brown paper.
Lunch for Pete, prepped by the world’s most amazing genius. Seriously, eat up, kid, or I’ll have FRI monitor your calorie intake. Buon appetito, Bambino!
Peter rolled his eyes and smiled fondly. The nicknames Mr. Stark would call him were really ridiculous sometimes. He was left wondering if his spidey senses malfunctioned since MJ ripped the bag from his hands before he could even react.
The girl read the words in a few seconds, then raised a cheeky eyebrow.
"Still trying to convince anyone he’s not your dad?" She asked, tossing the bag to Ned, who grinned widely while reading the lines.
"Yeah, man, this doesn’t help your case at all."
Peter wished the ground would swallow him whole.
–--
He threw his backpack on the floor and fell on the couch with a dramatic sigh.
"Hello to you too," May said from the kitchen. "What’s wrong? Teenage drama? Girls? Boys?"
Peter grunted and rolled over to bury his face in the cushions. "I don’t wanna talk about it," he said, voice muffled. He could hear May chuckle.
"Sure you don’t, that’s why you made such a dramatic entrance."
Peter forced himself to sit up. He wanted to tell May: his aunt has always understood him and never made fun of any of his antics. Not like he’d ever done anything as incredibly stupid as he had this morning.
May abandoned the stove and took a seat next to Peter. She gently put a hand on his shoulder and Peter relished in the touch. The smell of already-burnt cookies lingered in the air.
"Spit it out," May said. "I know you want to tell me." Peter sighed, a sound that carried the weight of the world. May smiled. There was no going back.
"I did something really weird this morning," he started. May gave him an encouraging nod to continue. "I- ah fuck," Peter cut himself off, embarrassment creeping up on him once again.
"Hey, watch your mouth," May warned without a trace of anger in her voice.
"Okay, I- Okay. I called Mr. Stark ‘dad’," Peter finally managed to say. He prepared himself for May’s laughter, but it never came.
"And?" His aunt said instead, as Peter had just told her the most mundane thing in the universe.
"What do you mean and? Didn’t you hear me?" He asked. This was worse than being laughed at, Peter thought. It seemed like May didn’t understand.
"I heard you, that’s why I’m asking. I thought it would be a lot weirder than that."
Peter looked up to see May smiling, which left him more confused than ever. He’d just told her something that made him want to sink into the ground and she was looking at him like it was no big deal.
May must have understood his confusion since she put her reassuring hand back on Peter’s shoulder. "Peter, I know you see Tony as a father figure. There’s nothing weird about that."
Peter felt like he was smacked in the face. Does he see Mr. Stark as a father figure? Well, yes, he’d done so for much longer than he liked to admit. But hearing it said out loud was something entirely different than thinking about it and shaking it off two seconds later. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. Mr. Stark was kind to him, sure, and he was always there for Peter, but that didn’t mean he would see him as his kid. If anything, the man was probably keeping him around out of guilt.
"Peter, are you with me?" May asked, running her hand up and down his shoulder.
"Yeah," Peter said, shimmering a little to get his head back on track. ‘You really don’t find it weird?’
"Of course not, honey. I’m glad you have someone to look up to. And before you start thinking all stupid, Tony likes you a lot." Peter wondered sometimes if May could read his mind.
"Thanks, May," he said, still not fully convinced. "I’m gonna do my homework then go on patrol."
"Take care, Peter. I love you."
"I love you too."
Peter shut the door behind him and collapsed on his chair. He decided the sooner he’d finish his remaining school work, the sooner he could begin swinging around the city. Patrol will definitely clear his head, it always did.
He wrapped up everything in under thirty minutes. As he was putting his suit on, he realized he hadn’t checked his phone the whole day, dreading to see messages from Mr. Stark. Or the lack thereof.
"Karen, do I have any texts?" He asked his AI once he slipped under the mask.
"You have thirteen unread messages from Mr. Stark and two from Ned Leeds." Peter froze. Thirteen was a lot. He reached for his phone and unlocked it, quickly reading the two messages about a Star Wars theory from Ned before anxiously clicking on the name of his mentor.
9:47 AM
Mr. Stark: never having breakfast with these morons again. Barton put salt in my coffee.
Mr. Stark: how did the chem test go? i’m sure you aced it.
10:28 AM
Mr. Stark: i have a new idea for the suit. just saying so i won’t forget to tell you about it tomorrow afternoon.
11:15 AM
Mr. Stark: what’s with the radio silence? i know you spend an unhealthy amount of time on your phone.
Mr. Stark: you finally started paying attention in school?
Mr. Stark: i’m glad. i know you’re a genius, but a bit of refreshing never hurts.
12:36 PM
Mr. Stark: how’d you like the lunch?
13:07 PM
Mr. Stark: you’re starting to worry me, kiddo. you never ignored me for this long
Mr. Stark: you know i have a heart condition, don’t play around with an old man
13:18 PM
Mr. Stark: Pete? is everything ok?
13:22 PM
Mr. Stark: FRI says you’re in school. she didn’t send me any alerts so i guess you’re just living the busy teenage life
14:01 PM
Mr. Stark: maybe i liked it better when you were on your phone all day
Mr. Stark: text me back when you get these
Peter cursed under his breath. Not only did he make the man feel weird, he’d also make him worry. He typed a quick reply.
15:52 PM
Underoos: Sorry, Mr. Stark, I had a busy day at school, I forgot to check my phone. The lunch was great, thank you. I’m about to go on patrol. Yes, I’m done with my homework. See you tomorrow
He opened his window and slipped outside. The cold air felt refreshing around him as he swung to the next building.
"Karen, check the police radio for me, see if there’s anything going on."
"Right away."
A message popped up on the screen of the mask.
15:56 PM
Mr. Stark: when did you start using capital letters?
Peter ignored the tab until it went away. He was not about to think of the morning’s incident tonight.
"There’s a break-in happening four blocks from here," his AI said.
"Thanks, Karen, lead the way."
–--
Fridays were always uneventful at Midtown. Classes felt like they were dragging on for decades, and without any AcaDec practice in the afternoon, Peter just wished he could skip the day altogether. By lunchtime, he felt as if he could kick a wall. The three chem classes he had in a row truly sent his brain to the field of complete boredom.
"Of course, you got an A+, you’re working with Tony Stark every day," Ned said bitterly, digging his fork into his lunch.
"Keep your voice down," Peter hushed, but luckily other than a completely unbothered MJ, no one seemed to be in hearing range. "And we only work on my web fluids that require chemistry. Besides, you got an A. I don’t see how that’s a problem."
The results of the chem test came back today. Peter nailed every question, as usual.
"I made three mistakes. Three! You know how many that is?"
"Three, I assume," MJ said with a smirk. Ned just shot her an angry look, then turned to Peter.
"Are you going to the tower tonight?" He asked and Peter’s stomach twisted. He had managed to mostly ignore his inevitable awkward encounter with Mr. Stark so far today. He nodded.
"You’ve been avoiding Mr. Stark, haven’t you?" MJ asked. Peter opened his mouth, then closed it like a fish. There was no point in lying, his best friends knew him too well.
"We haven’t really talked if that’s what you’re asking."
"You mean he hasn’t really contacted you or you haven’t really answered?" MJ shot back. Ned was turning his head between the two of them, intrigued by the banter.
"I hate you both."
For the rest of the afternoon, Peter could feel a sense of dread hanging over him. This was supposed to be the best part of his week. He’d bounce with excitement every Friday, eager to finally see Mr. Stark for a whole weekend again. They fell into that routine pretty fast: Peter spent each weekend at the tower, and he even stayed the night there on weekdays when he and Mr. Stark got invested in a new project.
The event Peter now feared the most was the dinner with the rest of the Avengers. It was another regular program each Friday, which Mr. Rogers intended on practicing as something of a team-building occasion. Once Peter began to stay for the weekends, Tony didn’t hesitate to bring him along, happy to introduce the teen to the team, after making them promise they'd keep Peter's identity a secret. He even had them sign some documents, which, even though Peter found a little excessive, made the boy feel safer to be himself around the others. He found to be fitting in with the Avengers rather quickly, his hero-worship fading to the background, though never fully gone.
He looked at the clock behind Mr. Harrington’s head. Only seventeen minutes until Happy would pick him up to escort him to his doom. Okay, maybe Ned was right when he called him overdramatic. But what could he do? After all, he called Tony Stark, Iron Man, the man, the legend, the hero 'dad'. Tony Stark, who was kind enough to give him a suit and put up with Peter, but most likely wasn’t thinking of him as his own.
Peter tried to reassure himself: it was just like when little kids slipped up and called their first-grade teacher ‘mom’ or ‘dad’. Except Peter wasn’t a first-grader, and he was pretty sure first-graders didn’t spend their afternoons building super-advanced tech with their teachers. He truly had no idea how this afternoon would play out.
The bell forced him back to reality. His heart was beating fast as he sent a text to Happy, letting him know that his class ended as scheduled and he’d be outside in a few minutes. Ned clapped him on the back sympathetically, making Peter jump.
"It’s gonna be okay, Peter," he said.
Happy picked him up two streets down from the school, just like he always did.
"Hey," the man greeted him. "How was school?"
"Boring," Peter shrugged. Happy must have noticed his anxiousness since he didn’t press any further. Peter stared out the window as they made their way to the busy New York streets, his mind far away.
–--
"Wilson, if you don’t get out of my face, this is the last Torta Della Nonna I’m making for this team." Peter’s senses picked up the conversation as soon as he was in the elevator. He tried to steady his shaking hands.
"I was just trying to take a look inside the oven, Pinocchio," Sam replied. Peter could hear Mr. Stark's snort.
"That’s wildly stereotypical. I’m only half Italian."
The elevator dinged softly as it came to a stop on the Avengers’ floor. Peter took a deep breath.
"Is that my favorite spider-child?" Mr. Stark asked when Peter stepped into the room. That was oddly normal considering what happened yesterday, the teen thought.
"Hi, guys," he said, trying his best to sound as jittery as possible. He walked over to the couch and took a seat next to Dr. Banner.
"Hey, Peter," the man greeted him with a smile. "Glad to see you. Tony said you had a chemistry test yesterday. How did it go?"
Peter was always starstruck when Dr. Bruce Banner, seven PhDs, struck up a conversation with him. "Uh, it went well, thank you, Dr. Banner. I got an A+."
"Of course, you did," his mentor cut in as he made his way to join them. "And what’s going on, you ignore my texts and don’t even greet me personally? You’re destroying my ego, kid."
"It is rare that someone leaves Tony Stark on read," Mr. Rhodes said, grinning from a sofa with a drink in his hand.
"And Brucie, don’t go asking the kid about his day at school, you’re leaving me without a job," Mr. Stark added.
Bruce just smiled and shook his head. "Good job on the test, Peter."
"Yeah, good job, though I never had a doubt you’d ace it," Mr. Stark said.
Peter tried to find some words to reply with, but the fact that Mr. Stark acted so normal after his slip yesterday totally confused him. He thought he’d made it weird. Maybe the billionaire was just putting on a show while everyone else was around. That had to be it.
The oven dinged before the silence could begin to feel awkward.
Mr. Stark moved to get the pastry out from under the heat while the rest of the team took their seats around the dining table. Vision unsurprisingly appeared from a wall with Wanda following shortly from the hallway. She greeted Peter happily. Nat and Clint, the only adults Peter addressed by their first name since they threatened to cut him open if he did otherwise, were still not present.
"Where’s Na-"
As on cue, the pair stumbled out of the elevator. They looked disheveled: Natasha had red stains on her face and hands and Clint was limping lightly. Peter could feel he wasn’t the only one looking at them with a questioning look.
"We, um, we should probably wash our hands before dinner," Clint said. Nat quickly nodded along and the pair hurried towards their respective rooms.
"I thought you were supposed to collect some intel today," Mr. Rhodes broke the stunned silence.
"The intel has been collected, but HYDRA’s a bitch," Nat shouted back from the hallway.
"Hey, watch how you talk in front of the kid!" Mr. Stark called after her. Peter rolled his eyes.
"Mr. Stark, I’m fifteen! I’ve heard curse words before."
A light-hearted chuckle broke out around the table. Peter couldn’t even feel annoyed by it, the dread he felt all afternoon was starting to vanish and he enjoyed being with the team again. He realized someone else was missing, though.
"Is Mr. Thor not coming?"
"Jesus, kid, quit with the ‘Mr,’ the guy doesn’t really understand earthly formalities," his mentor said. He took his usual seat next to Peter and ruffled the teen’s hair, earning a displeased sigh. He felt the others go quiet and he saw bright smiles when he looked around.
"Thor’s on a mission off-planet. Somewhere in the universe. We should probably get to eat before it all goes cold, I worked really hard on this dinner."
"You ordered it," Dr. Banner said.
"I made dessert, so shut up, Brucie."
Nat and Clint got back to the room and the team finally began to eat, light chatter flowing in the air between them. Peter let himself enjoy the comfort of the people he began to think of as his family. He picked up a conversation with Wanda who had just started watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine after Peter recommended the show to her, and he was always happy to discuss it with her and hear her opinions.
"Kid, that’s your third plate in five minutes,’" Mr. Stark said after a while. Peter’s face flushed.
"Sorry, Mr. Stark, I can just put it back-"
"What, no, that’s not what I meant, Petey," the man shook his head quickly. "I’m glad to see you eating. You need it with your metabolism."
This time Peter was flustered for an entirely different reason. Even the little fact that the billionaire cared about him enough to be happy he was eating well, something that might seem meaningless for anyone else, filled him with warmth.
Peter’s anxiety had completely vanished and he was pretty sure everyone had long forgotten about yesterday’s incident. That is until Clint stood up during dessert and said he had an announcement that the hairs on Peter’s arms stood up and he felt a tingling sensation coming down his spine. His spidey senses were going off, the way they usually did where there wasn’t imminent danger around, only a situation that would cause him discomfort.
The chatter slowly died down as all eyes wandered to Clint. He had a mischievous look in his eyes and Peter knew whatever the man had planned, it was going to drive him up the walls.
"I’d like to say a toast,’ Clint said. ‘To the one and only Tony Stark."
If he stood in a room full of strangers they might have cheered at that declaration, but the team knew the bowman too well to take anything he said seriously. Especially this, whatever this was.
"Come on, guys, you gotta hype me up a little." Wanda clapped unsurely, making Clint roll his eyes. "Anyway, since I thought we should all appreciate the fact that Stark puts a roof above our heads and feeds us, I got him a present."
"You did what?" Mr. Stark asked in total confusion.
"Yep, that’s right, Anthony."
"Don’t call me that."
Clint grinned and walked around the table, hiding something behind his back, and came to a stop next to Mr. Stark. He shoved a box into the stunned man’s hands. "Open it."
Peter felt his insides twist and turn: Mr. Stark really shouldn’t open that box for the sake of his sanity.
"I swear, Barton, if it’s another smoke bomb-"
"Don’t open it, Mr. Stark," Peter cut in with anxiety ringing from his voice. Tony looked up.
"Is it a smoke bomb, Pete?"
"Come on, the kid might have heightened senses but I don’t think he can predict what’s inside a gift box,+ Clint said.
Peter wanted to rip the box from Mr. Stark’s hands. He didn’t sense anything dangerous about it, but he had a guess of the insides of the carton that he dreaded more than a smoke bomb. Clint had heard of yesterday, of course. Whatever was in that box was about to make Peter sink to the ground.
"It- it’s not anything dangerous, I just don’t think you should open it."
"Come on, guys, now I’m intrigued," Mr. Wilson said, and the rest of the team nodded in agreement.
"Open it, Tones," said Mr. Rhodes.
Peter looked around the room in search of a hole he could dig himself in. He had a really bad feeling about this. It didn’t help that the rest of the team was chanting ‘open it’ around him.
Mr. Stark sent a hesitant glance his way, but Peter swallowed down the protest. Either Mr. Stark opens it now, or he would be harassed with thousands of questions until he does. Peter nodded.
Mr. Stark lifted the lid and put the box on the plain. He looked inside nervously as all breaths were held around the table. Then slowly and unsurely Mr. Stark reached inside and pulled out a piece of fabric.
It was a black T-shirt. Mr. Stark unfolded it and held it in front of him as he quickly read the words on the front. His face was unreadable for a moment before he broke into a genuine smile.
"Oh my God, what does it say?" Mr. Rogers asked in a tone more impatient than Peter had ever heard before. His heart was beating so fast he was surprised FRIDAY hadn’t sent an alert to Mr. Stark. Whatever was on that shirt, he didn’t want his mentor to show it.
But Mr. Stark turned the fabric around and the team sat in stunned silence while they took in the words. On the front of the T-shirt, in great white letters, were the following words:
‘Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist.’ Except the word ‘playboy’ from Mr. Stark’s famous catchphrase was crossed out, and a bright red arrow pointed at another word below the line. ‘Dad.’
Peter banged his head into the table with a thump that shook the team out of their shocked silence.
"Oh my God, I can’t believe this is happening," he muttered to himself. He thought the embarrassment he felt yesterday morning was the worst feeling ever, but now he was sure this moment had topped that.
Nat was the first to speak. "Seriously, Barton? Comic sans? That’s the ugliest fucking shirt I’ve ever seen."
At least three shouts of ‘watch your language’ could be heard.
"This cannot be happening to me," Peter mumbled again with his head on the cold surface. He was not about to lift it anytime soon.
"I do have some thoughts about the design myself, but thank you, Barton, very thoughtful of you," Mr. Stark said. His voice was softer than it ever had been when he spoke to Clint. "I just wished you asked the kid first."
Peter was still too shocked to move. Tony’s words seemed to surprise Clint, too, since he awkwardly stuttered some incoherent nonsense before he managed to get out some actual words.
"You mean you haven’t- you haven’t talked about it?"
"Nope," Mr. Stark said, popping the "p".
Head still on the dining table, Peter heard the others shift uncomfortably in their seats.
"Jesus Christ, Clint," he caught Mr. Rogers whisper.
"This is awkward," Mr. Wilson added.
Mr. Rhodes gained composure first and he stood up, his chair creaking loudly, and began to usher the others out of the room. Peter had never felt so grateful. "Okay, great dinner everyone, thank you for the food and dessert, Tones. Let’s go, guys, let’s give Peter and Tony some space."
"Give them space for what?" Vision asked.
"Just get out, Vis," Wanda said sharply.
Peter heard the footsteps as everyone left the room. It felt like decades before they reached a fair distance. He lifted his head a little only to bang it against the table again.
"Kid, stop, don’t do that," Mr. Stark said, and Peter heard him sit down. He found the man's heartbeat after a few seconds of focusing. It was a little faster than usual.
"Pete, can you look at me?" His mentor asked. Peter just wanted to disappear. He could tell he was redder than his own Spidey-suit.
"Petey, Petey-Pie, please," Mr. Stark asked again. Peter wondered how the billionaire's voice could stay so light in a situation like this. "Underoos, Spider-Child, The Boy of Bugs, Pete-"
"Okay fine, fine, just stop that," Peter begged. He raised his head a little. The stupid nicknames didn’t help the redness of his cheeks.
"I can’t see your eyes," Mr. Stark said.
"This isn’t Make-A-Wish," Peter replied before he could stop himself. His hand shot up to his mouth. Great, he was being sarcastic in the most awkward situation of his life.
But Mr. Stark just chuckled and asked again. "Please, Peter, let me see your eyes. Please."
Peter finally gave in. He lifted his head just enough so his eyes could meet Mr. Stark’s. He found a comforting look in them.
"Can you tell me what’s wrong, Peter?"
Peter couldn’t believe his ears. Mr. Stark did not just ask him that question.
"What do you mean what’s wrong? I called you ‘dad’ yesterday and Clint made a T-shirt about it, and you’re asking me what’s wrong?"
The billionaire’s face was so soft Peter felt like he could explode. He wanted to bang his head against the table again. He couldn’t comprehend that Mr. Stark was really not getting it.
"So is it the ‘dad’ part or the T-shirt part?"
"Mr. Stark, what the fuck?"
"Hey, watch the language kid, May would kill me if she thought I taught you to swear."
Peter just grunted. His head was spinning. Mr. Stark reached out to put a hand on his shoulder but stopped mid-air.
"Can I?" He asked. Peter nodded. The comforting touch of his mentor was always nice, and even in his anxious state, this time was no exception. They sat in silence for a few seconds.
"So," Mr. Stark said after taking a deep breath. "You’re embarrassed about calling me ‘dad’ yesterday."
"Glad you figured that one out."
"Can I ask you why? Did I not react appropriately?"
Peter was dumbstruck. "What? N-no, that’s not the case at all, Mr. Stark, why would you even think that?"
"I just thought I put you in an awkward situation," the man shrugged. Peter shook his head so rapidly his brown curls danced around his face.
"No, Mr. Stark, if anything, I put you in a really awkward situation," he said. Somehow his chest felt heavy as he knew it was time to apologize for something he didn't want to feel bad for. "I’m sorry. I promise I won’t do it again. You really should just forget the whole thing."
"Because you don’t want to call me ‘dad’ or because you don’t want me to feel embarrassed?"
"Huh?"
"I said because -"
"No, I heard you, just, what?" Peter asked. He was suddenly aware of how wide his eyes were. He had a hard time processing this conversation.
"Answer the question, Underoos."
"I don’t want to embarrass you," he replied and he unintentionally cast his eyes toward the floor. There was no point in denying it, the situation had gotten far out of hand anyway. He felt trapped: Mr. Stark basically just made him admit he wanted to call his mentor ‘dad’. Peter wished for some catastrophe to strike, for the world to end. Then they wouldn't be having this talk.
"But you don’t have a problem with calling me ‘dad’."
It was beginning to feel humiliating to talk to Mr. Stark about this and Peter felt tears begin to prick at his eyes. His voice was shaking a bit when he spoke.
"Look, if you just want to laugh at me, then do it-"
Mr. Stark had never interrupted him faster. "What? No, kid, no, Jesus Chirst, I promise that’s not my intention."
Peter couldn’t really believe him, not when all the others found it funny. Mr. Stark probably did, too. He put his head back on the table, careful not to make a sound this time, and let the tears fall.
"Shit- I mean shoot, kiddo, please listen to me. I’m not making fun of you. I’m so sorry if it came out that way, I’m really sorry, just- Peter, just please look at me."
The man hooked one hand under Peter’s chin and lifted it gently. Peter couldn't protest. He’d never heard Mr. Stark apologize like that before. Panic was evident on his mentor’s face.
"I’m just- Pete, I asked because you didn’t embarrass me yesterday. I-" Mr. Stark closed his eyes. "I felt proud when you called me ‘dad’, actually."
Peter’s jaw dropped. The billionaire looked at him again and reached out to wipe a tear from Peter’s face.
"What do you mean?"
"Look, Pete, I-," the man started, clearly struggling with his words. "I never wanted kids. Didn’t really have a swell example of parenting I could follow. My dad was a bit of an ass. Don’t tell May I said that word," Tony said. Tony? That was new. Peter had never referred to the man by his first name, not even in his head.
"Anyway, you screwed up that little childless lifetime plan of mine when you started sending voice messages to Happy about helping old ladies cross the street."
"You actually listened to those?" Peter had thought Mr. Stark only made Happy sit through the messages from the time they were not in direct contact yet.
"Yeah, and let me tell you, you started to grow on me right then," Tony admitted.
He looked away, out to the dark skyline with a million lights. The city hummed tiredly around them.
"I didn’t want to let you close to me because I thought I’d turn out like my dad." Tony whispered. Peter saw a painful expression flash across his face. "That’s why I took the suit from you when I shouldn’t have. That’s why I withdrew at the beginning."
Tony looked back at him again. "And then I invited you to spend a weekend at the tower I almost sold, after you saved a bunch of my expensive stuff and you began to break my walls down, brick by brick."
Peter chuckled. Fighting his crush’s father on prom night was not the most pleasant thing to do, but the next weekend that followed lived in his head as a fond memory.
"I made FRI download a bunch of parenting books after you left."
"You what?"
"Only the best ones, I promise! The ones with modern ideas that don’t revolve around feeling superior to your kid like the ones my father would’ve read back in the day if he’d ever decided to pick up a parenting book."
Even though Peter was swimming in excitement from Tony’s admissions, he still felt an ache when the man mentioned his father. He wanted to give Tony a hug and undo each crappy thing Howard Stark had done.
"He sounds like a real jerk."
"I’m doing the best I can to not end up like him."
"You’re doing pretty amazing."
Tony smiled with teary eyes and pulled Peter in. Peter wrapped his arms around his father figure quickly, grasping Tony as tight as he could without hurting him. He buried his face in the billionaire’s neck and let a few tears fall.
"Thank you for being you, kid," Tony whispered. The next words were so quiet Peter wouldn’t have caught them without his enhanced hearing. "I love you, Bambino."
"I love you too, Mr. Stark."
Tony pulled back a little and grinned. "So I’m not ‘dad’ anymore? I’ve gone back to being Mr. Stark?"
Peter was baffled once again. He never really had a plan for this scenario.
"I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I like calling you ‘dad’, but I haven’t really called anyone that in a long time."
Tony nodded in understanding. "It’s okay, Peter. You can call me whatever feels comfortable at the moment. Except for ‘sir’. You’re grounded if you call me that."
"Alright, dad," Peter said. Tony’s wide smile matched his. The billionaire reached for the shirt that sat long-discarded on the table.
"It really is the ugliest design," Peter commented.
"I know," Tony said. "I’m never taking it off."
"I’m sure you’ll have to wash it sometimes if you want me to keep coming to the lab."
Tony laughed. "So do you plan on getting back on Barton?"
"Not even a question," Peter smiled. He hadn't felt this happy in a long, long time.
"We have a whole weekend to plan," Tony said before taking Peter into his arms again.
Peter suddenly realized one more thing. "Did you carry me to bed two nights ago?"
"You're really heavy because of the spider-stuff, I deserve some praise for that."
Peter buried his face into Tony's chest. "You really are the best, dad."
"I know, Bambino. I know."