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They are… interesting to say the least. His spidersense never catches fire around his new “parents”, but he can never seem to swallow down the queasy feeling that rises up in his throat. They aren’t mean. They aren’t absent (Beck sometimes is between work and his “man cave”, a recliner tucked away in a small office room). They seem to care, but Peter can’t help but carry them with suspicion. Something about the way Beck holds Peter in his gaze with the same suspicion and the way Caroline viewed him with curiosity, made him unsettled. She worked hard to welcome Peter into the home while Beck was… different. He never seemed happy to have Peter around. Most unsettling of all was the way Caroline held no will of her own against Beck. Peter felt uncomfortable every time he witnessed Caroline comply with anything Beck asked of her. Just like this morning before school.
“You look tired, Pete.” Beck said, trying to slick back his hair. A few strands fell in his eyes, somehow giving him a clean cut shaggy appearance with the 5 ‘o clock shadow ghosting his jaw and above his lip. “Bags under your eyes.”
Peter was tired. Patrol was crazy last night due to the new guy in town. Ned calls him Mysterio – somehow the news had taken to the name. Keeping a city safe is a task that even Tony struggles to manage. So of course Peter looked tired.
“Didn’t Caroline get you some eye cream?” Beck asked.
“Yeah,” Peter responded, grabbing an apple from the kitchen table.
“Put some on.” It wasn’t a suggestion. “Don’t want the whole building thinking we’re letting you stay up late.” Beck had a weird thing for appearance.
As if waiting behind curtains for a cue, Caroline waltzed in with cream on the tips of her thumbs. “Here Pete,” She said with a beaming smile. Peter turned to her and looked up to the ceiling as she delicately swiped her thumbs under his eyes. Her fingers grazed behind his ears and suddenly he was feeling May’s hands rubbing sunscreen on his cheeks. He could hear the pool, their summer spot, where Ben was waiting in the blue water and Peter was eager to jump in. But then May’s hands dropped away, the splashes of the pool went mute. Peter blinked his eyes and there Caroline was. No May. No Ben. His mind often did this, little tricks to escape.
“There you go,” She said, still smiling, hazel eyes scrunched with some empty reassurance.
“You got the internship today?” Beck asked, flashing Peter a usual skeptic glance.
Peter constantly wonders how this man passed the requirements for the foster program.
“Like every Friday,” Peter said, trying to restrain any bite to his bark. He readied himself to leave for school, backpack slung over his shoulder.
Beck nodded. “Enjoy yourself.” He said, but the words were vacant.
“Bye sweetie,” Caroline said, sickeningly sweet.
Peter liked her, really. But her persona was made of sugar glass. A brittle, sweet exterior that he didn’t want to see crack.
With a wave of his hand bidding goodbye, he was gone.
*
“Tell Mr. Stark I’m job hunting,” Ned said as the two left Midtown High after their 8 hour shift learning students.
Peter laughed, gave Ned a little push.
“I’m sure all he’d offer is a secretary job,” He said.
“Or a janitor,” MJ spoke, emerging from the throng of weekend-hungry students. Both Peter and Ned gave a nod to that.
“I really do need a job though,” Ned said, “I wanna save up for that Europe trip.”
The three rounded a corner and there was the unmistakable sleek Audi parked by the curb like every Friday.
“Same here,” Peter said.
“You have a job,” Ned said, nodding his head to the vehicle they were approaching.
“It’s really more of a volunteer service.”
MJ snorted at that.
They arrived at the car and Peter could see Happy tilting his glasses with an overly dramatic pointed look. Peter returned the theatrics by pressing his palms together in a prayer begging for 2 more minutes. Happy rolled his eyes, but Peter saw the smile that the man tried to hide by turning to face the wheel.
“Well, I’ll see y’all on Monday,” Peter said.
“Y’all?” –
“Monday?’” –
MJ and Ned unharmoniously dueted.
“Why not tomorrow?” Ned asked, a pinch of hurt in his tone, or maybe disappointment given that his posture slumped.
“The FPs still haven’t given me the okay yet,” Peter said with a shrug. It was all he could offer.
Ned let out a groan, looking to the sky for help.
“You’re 16, Peter,” Ned said.
“Why are they so needy?” MJ finished for him.
Peter shrugged off her words. MJ shook her head and he cracked open the car door.
“Ciao!” He said quickly, adding just for kicks, “And technically I’m not 16 just yet.”
Ned looked oddly fretful for a moment, clearly in deep thought while looking Peter over. It was a face usually reserved for Spiderman mishaps.
“Bye Peter,” He said, snapping back to himself, “Text me!”
MJ waved a loose wrist at him, either saying goodbye or casting a hex as he shut the door.
“Everything okay kid?” Happy asked, eyes meeting Peter’s through the rearview mirror.
“Duh,” Peter snarked harmlessly, “It’s Friday.”
*
“Hey FRIDAY,” Peter chirped, stepping into the common room of the compound.
“Good Afternoon, Peter,” FRIDAY greeted back.
Sometimes it was surreal to Peter how routine it was to walk into the Avengers compound and go work with Tony Stark on the Spiderman suit. Plain unreal. But it’s been going on for almost half a year now and he’s getting somewhat used to it.
“Boss is already in the lab,” Friday said.
Peter was already there, doors sliding open without a touch like in sci-fi films. Tony was revealed swiping through holographic blueprints one after the other.
“Hey kid,” He said, tossing a glance and signature smile over his shoulder. Not the billionaire celebrity smile, but the warm behind-the-scenes signature smile. It never failed to make Peter feel at home. A strangely dangerous sensation. He has a home. With Caroline and Beck. He can’t afford to let himself think of home as the thing he has here, but sometimes the thought nestles into his brain.
“I’ve been thinking all day, Mr. Stark,” Peter began, tossing his backpack onto a chair to pull out chicken scratch blueprints of his own.
“All day? Sure you’ve got enough brain power left to work?” Tony raised an eyebrow, amused with his own words.
Peter gave him a stare down, better known as the stink-eye that he mastered under May’s training before continued on with a soft laugh as Tony cracked another smile.
“Anyways, I was thinking about this new guy. You’ve seen him on the news, a sorcerer of sorts?” Peter said rolling his hands in the air for emphasis.
“I know the sorts,” Tony replied, thinking more of Stephen Strange than the fish-bowl head that was recently floating around New York.
“I was thinking we could talk to Dr. Strange about getting,” - Peter quieted his voice for the next part – “magic webs.” He shrunk behind a tool box knowing his proposal was a long shot. But as Pepper Potts, Happy and one Colonel Rhodes knew, Tony could be an easy egg to crack. You just need the right technique.
“Sounds terrible. And it took you all day to think of that?”
Not so easy today.
“Hey, you were the one the other day that was all, ‘Peter you gotta be careful. Safety first. Here’s some taser webs’.” Peter put on a gruff Tony Stark impression that was nothing like the real deal.
“Magic webs,” Tony muttered to himself with a minute headshake.
“C’mon Mr. Stark, when have I ever had a bad idea?” Peter offered up his best angelic smile.
The cold glare in response reminded him that Tony could make a scrap book of his several bad ideas.
“My birthday is soon,” Peter tried again, and it was true, his birthday was a week or so away.
“Your point?” Tony shot back.
Peter sighed – heavier than normal to expose his defeat.
They worked for 3 hours after Peter’s fantastic idea was vetoed. The usual occurred, occasional banter and the satisfaction of building things. They would’ve worked longer if Peter’s stomach hadn’t been louder than Friday’s work playlist. Designing suits and remodeling machines is hard work, especially when your enhanced abilities practically give you two stomachs.
Tony offered to make dinner. He wasn’t good at it, but he liked the excuse to use his mother’s recipe box. Earlier on in the “internship”, Tony would just order in food and then one day Peter was talking about May’s cooking and how he missed how disgusting it was, and Tony proposed making something even worse to cheers to May’s memory. From there, Peter’s realized he loves bad cooking. He sits at the expansive kitchen island and listens to Tony curse at boiling water and unlabeled spices. The kitchen warms up and Peter gets that home feeling he shouldn’t get. Maybe he likes bad cooking because it’s reminiscent of May and Ben. Or maybe he just likes bad cooking because it’s Tony.
Peter blabbered about school as Tony placed a plate of spaghetti in front of him.
“Ned needs a job,” Peter said.
Tony snorted. “Aren’t you two 14?”
They had moved into the common room, sitting on the couch with dishes on the coffee table. Pepper was gone for a business trip and when the cat’s away, the mice play (or the mice have dinner on the couch instead of at the table).
“I’m going to be 16.”
“Dooley noted, Birthday Pusher. Make a wish on your candles for Ned to get employed.”
Peter shook his head. “I’m wishing for something else.” His reply came with a linger of mystery but he shattered the illusion by mouthing ‘magic webs’ to Tony.
“Not gonna happen, kid.”
“You better watch out Mr. Stark, Sweet Sixteens are always the movie plots where the wishes come true.”
Tony rolled his eyes, just for theatrics like Happy does. “Thanks for the warning, kiddo.”
“You’re welcome,” Peter said through a mouthful of spaghetti.
After finishing dinner, Peter invited Tony to Midtown’s science fair on the upcoming Wednesday. He and Ned had been working on a project that Tony wasn’t even allowed to get a sneak peak of. Then, they watched an episode of Brooklyn 99. Peter still wasn’t sure how he had managed to get Tony to watch it – but the billionaire was now invested in it.
The evening grew dark faster than Peter wanted it to.
“Better get you home,” Tony said, eyeing the watch on his wrist.
This was Peter’s least favorite part of any week.
“Happy’s off the clock, so you’re stuck with me,” He added, rising to his feet with a lazy elegance.
“I don’t know if I can take anymore of you,” Peter said. “I’m gonna tell Happy I miss him.”
He whipped out his phone to fire-off one of his infamous emoji-ridden text messages (specifically for Happy only) to commit to the bit that Tony was only half paying attention to. But when Peter looked at his screen, it was lit up by text messages from Beck.
[Where are you?]
[You’re out way too late, even for the internship]
-Missed call -
[Pick up the phone Peter]
[Come home ASAP]
Peter’s face dropped, twisted by confusion and worry.
“What? Happy block your number?” Tony asked.
He was joking but when Peter looked at him, the kid could see genuine concern furrowing Tony’s brow.
“Yeah,” Peter said, a beat too late and under tempo.
Tony looked him up and down, the habitual ‘Where are you hurt?’ look from many occurrences of Spiderman-ing gone wrong.
“I’m good, Mr. Stark,” Peter defended, putting more pep into his step, “I just didn’t realize how late it was.”
Tony nodded with a skeptical eye but began to lead Peter out of the compound like normal. He was too uncertain to push anything. He couldn’t completely connect his sudden wariness to Peter’s expression-dip but Tony had a Spidersense of his own for Peter’s sake.
Peter meanwhile trailed behind Tony, typing out a quick text. No emojis or blabbing. Just:
[On my way. I’m sorry.]