Chapter 8
MILES
After basketball practice, he stood outside the gym with his friends trying not to stare at the group of girls from his school checking him out. Well, looking in his general direction. But whatever, it was better than listening to his friends teasing him.
Plus, he had time to kill, as he was waiting for Happy to pick him up.
Even though he had his license, his dads insisted the long-time family friend drive him to and from school.
Really, they were being a little over protective.
It was one little accident that may have completely totaled his first car and earned him several lectures from not only his parents – but his extended family as well: about texting and driving and death and sheer stupidity (that last one would be his Uncle Sam).
So here he was, getting teased by his friends for being a ‘reverse Miss Daisy.’
“We gotta do this every time? Really?” he snapped at the three.
“You just – you had your freedom with that fine ass Cadillac for three weeks and now you got your chaperone back,” Zack teased.
“Oh man, your daddies were so pissed! Will, remember when Mr. Stark’s vein nearly popped out of his head?” Freddie added.
“I thought Iron Man was going to blow a damn gasket!” Will – his supposed best friend – piped in as Happy approached the curb.
“Screw you guys,” Miles muttered as he brushed past his ‘friends’ to get in the back of the town car.
“Don’t let your Papa hear you say those words!” Zack shouted as Miles closed the car door; which prompted the sixteen year old to flick them off with both hands as Happy chuckled and drove away.
He sat back with his arms crossed over his body as they sat in traffic in silence until Miles finally looked up at the man who was giving him a look in the rearview mirror.
“Can I help you, Happy?”
“I didn’t say anything, Miles.”
“Well your eyes were definitely saying something,” he muttered, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face.
“What were my eyes saying there, little flower?” the old man asked with a teasing grin as Miles sighed heavily.
“Seriously? Hap? I’ve got two and a half inches on you.”
“Oh, poor little baby flower, tiny widdle–”
“–alright, man! Just drop it. Dang I can’t catch a break…” he mumbled as they pulled up to the Tower.
“I’m sure you’ll survive little man,” Happy added as Miles quickly exited the vehicle. He didn’t look back at the smug man, just adjusted the backpack on his shoulder as he made his way to the front doors.
“Hey J, where are the parentals?” he asked the AI as he rode up the elevator.
“Sirs are currently residing in the living room. I should warn you, young sir, they appear to be quarreling.” Miles rolled his eyes in response as he dreaded whatever it was he would be walking into. His Pop had texted him during school to tell him they needed to talk to him after.
Which, was always a great thing for a teen to hear from his parents, right?
The doors opened as he heard the sounds of…yup…his dads arguing.
“I just…I don’t understand how you could do this to me…” he heard his Pop groan as Miles slowed his movements down, wondering if it was possible to get past his Pop’s super hearing – which was admittedly a little weaker these days – to just sneak past them.
“I couldn’t take it anymore, okay?!” his Dad cried out as the teen suddenly felt worry begin to grow in place of the annoyance he felt.
He should’ve known better, because as he walked into the living room he saw what it was they were fighting about.
His Pop was sprawled on his back on the couch, a pillow over his face while his Dad sat pouting nearby – with newly dyed locks.
They were fighting because Dad dyed his hair.
“It’s my hair! I get to decide what to do with it,” the brunette whined as he tried and failed to take the pillow away from the blonde’s face.
“Fine,” his Pop muttered back as his Dad took notice of the teen entering the room. The genius offered a smile as his Pop continued, unaware they had an audience. “But just remember, my cock and my ass are mine in case later you –” the blonde faltered when he removed the pillow to glare at his husband and saw their teenage son standing in the entrance-way.
Really, truly, wishing he had the power to disappear.
The blonde smacked his husband with the pillow in annoyance before sitting up with an entire face and neck blushed pink.
“You couldn’t have told me our teenage son was home!?” his Pop hissed at the other man.
“Nah, that was way too much fun.”
“Only for you, Dad. You two wanted to talk to me about something?” he said without putting his backpack down, praying he could go to his room soon.
“Yeah son, why don’t you have a seat?” his Dad said encouragingly as his Pop swatted the man with the pillow one more time before turning to the teen.
“I’m sorry Miles, how was school today bud?” his Pop asked as he pointedly ignored his husband trying to play footsie in order to turn to his youngest.
“Fine, what did you guys want to tell me?” he asked, really hoping to cut this conversation short before his Dad started groping his Pop again.
“Your father,” the blonde said pointedly to get the brunette’s attention, “and I wanted to ask you your opinion on something.”
“Yes,” his Dad added, attention finally turning towards the teen. “Miles, your Pop and I want to move outside the city. You’ll still go to the same school, it’ll just be a little farther of a drive is all…”
“Where to?” the teen asked, trying to wrap his brain around living anywhere but the Tower.
“The Stark Mansion, it’s the same house your Dad grew up in, minus some remodeling we’ve been doing,” his Pop answered with a smile. That got the teen’s attention.
“Oh? Would I perhaps…get a say in the upgrading?” he asked as he chuckled along with his Dad while his Pop rolled his eyes fondly.
“We are not putting in a slide,” the blonde spoke up as Miles watched his Dad open and then immediately close his mouth in a huff. “But yes, Miles you absolutely get a say. It’s your home too.”
“What about...outside the mansion? Like...designing a studio for my spray paint art?”
“Oh that’d be fun! I’ll help you build that!” his Dad squeaked out in excitement. His Pops shot the man a glare before adding.
“And make sure it is well ventilated…”
“That goes without saying,” the genius said, shifting his gaze back and forth in a totally casual manner. It always got a laugh out of Miles.
“Well, in that case, sure count me in. When would we move?”
“Not for a few months, sweetheart. Should be enough time for your father’s Sharpie handiwork to wash out…” his Pop grumbled out as he saw his Dad throw his arms up exasperatedly.
“Miles, please tell your age-defying bastard of a father that I’m allowed to dye my hair!”
“I’m not getting in the middle–”
“–great example you’re setting for our son! Miles, you should know you don’t have to change your appearance just to succumb to peer pressure. You shouldn’t be ashamed of being yourself.”
“How does getting rid of some grey hairs translate to what you just said? Miles, tell him he’s being crazy.”
“I’m going to my room to do my homework,” Miles said as he grabbed his backpack to stand, stopped by his Pop’s strong hand.
“No, honey we’re sorry you’re welcome to do your homework in here.”
“Yeah, your Pop is sorry to put you in the middle of our fight.”
As the two started bickering again, Miles stood up and kissed both ridiculous parents on their temples and walked down the hall towards his room.
Rolling his eyes fondly at what they consider a ‘fight’, listening to the sounds of said quarrel continue as he started the architecture in his head of his new room.