3
3
Tuesday passed by and Wednesday rolled around. Peter had become more excited about his science project than he had realized. At three ‘o clock, right before the school day was about to end and the fair was about to begin, Peter and Ned found themselves in the gym standing like true entrepreneurs – tall and proud – next to their Music Memory Machine (the official title).
The science fairs at Midtown were always packed, after all it is a STEM-based school. Ned’s parents strolled around. Peter met MJ’s mom, a woman ten times more empathetic than her daughter, Flash’s parents even came by praising everyone’s projects. But Beck and Caroline hadn’t shown up and halfway into the fair, Peter started getting nervous. He couldn’t tell if he was sad or relieved. Caroline would’ve liked the whole thing. She’d probably look at all the projects as if she’d never seen technology before, the way May would. May always walked science fairs in awe. Peter never could tell if she did it to make kids feel proud of their work or if she really found something spectacular about it. He tried to break himself away from the thought by people watching, but it just made him realize how much he wished someone was there for him.
“There’s still time, Peter,” Ned assured him.
Peter shrugged and instead focused on MJ’s booth across the isle, a robot that could draw what she drew – a perfect copy, that’s why she called it Copy Machine.
“She’s a lot better at naming than us,” Ned sighed, following Peter’s gaze. Then after gaining Peter’s attention, he looked him in the eyes and added, “Seriously Peter, they’ll be here. Just send them a text or something.”
“I don’t want to bother them,” Peter said nonchalantly.
What he really meant was that he didn’t want to provoke Beck. But to appease Ned’s worrisome expression, Peter fished his phone out of his backpack to shoot off a text. When the screen came to life, Peter saw 4 notifications blaring at him. 4 unread texts. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping they’d go away. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t stomach any words from Beck right now. After sending a silent prayer to Thor, he peaked at the messages. Instead of letting out a stressed sigh, Peter laughed at what he saw.
[Your science fair is at 4, right?]
[Shit, is it at 3?]
[I’m coming ASAP]
[Hope I don’t intimidate the other kids (You probably do that yourself, huh?)]
[Are the front doors locked? To the school? Is there a special entrance I have to go through?]
Peter texted a speedy reply, an uncontrollable smile grabbing at the corners of his mouth.
[Aren’t you an award winning genius?]
A minute later Tony Stark appeared in the flesh saying, “You don’t have to be so snarky over text, kid.”
“Oh, you must’ve figured out how to use the door,” Peter said, trying to act cool since Ned looked like he was going to spontaneously combust of surprise and joy.
Tony tucked his phone in his pocket and took of his sunglasses off in a classic move.
“I can’t believe Tony Stark is here,” Ned muttered, unsubtly to himself.
Peter nudged him with his elbow before saying to Tony, “Glad you could make it.” With a warm smile.
“Where’s Beck and Caroline?” Tony asked, looking around as if they’d appear out thin air next to a kid’s cooking robot or hologram.
Ned opened his mouth to respond, knowing Tony would rage with him about Beck and Caroline’s no-show. But Peter could talk faster.
“Running late,” He said.
Ned deflated, frustrated at his best friend.
Tony looked between them, unsure if this was a situation stemming from the treacherous depths of high school drama or something more before moving on.
“So,” He said clapping his hands together, “What’s this mystery machine all about?” gesturing to the Peter and Ned’s project with the sunglasses still in his hands.
“So there’s this Disney film called Meet the Robinson’s, right?” Peter began.
“I know of Meet the Robertson’s.” Tony replied.
Peter ignored him and continued on, “Ned here,” – Peter patted Ned’s arm – “and myself were watching it last month when we got our idea.”
They’d been practicing their pitch for an hour now. Every time someone wandered up to their booth, they kicked into gear like street performers trying to get some change thrown into their hat. They had it all mastered.
Ned took over the next part, “So in the movie, Lewis makes a machine that essentially televises memories, but that’s nearly impossible.”
Peter was impressed by Ned’s composure because Tony Stark’s presence was starting to attract a crowd.
“So instead of trying to make a machine that elicits visual memories, we decided to do something more along the lines of auditory memory.”
The sales pitch went on, the gist being that through computer programming and beginners quantum physics, the machine can play a song from a subjects memory using a chiming xylophone translation.
“Aright let’s see it then,” Tony said once the description was over, “as long as it won’t kill me.”
“We need you to sign a waver first,” Peter joked, earning a few chuckles from easily amused parents in the group that had gathered around the booth.
Peter handed Tony a band that he then placed on his head to secure electrodes to his temple. Some buttons were pressed by Ned and ten seconds later, ringing notes filled the silence that had been waiting. A few people gasped, some looked unimpressed, and some were in awe the way May would be.
Peter didn’t recognize the song. He didn’t think he would, but he also didn’t think his curiosity would be so possessive. He wanted to know what Tony’s mystery melody was. Some applause filled the space as Tony took off the headset, giving some crisp claps of his own, making Peter smile stupidly.
It wasn’t much of a surprise, but Peter and Ned placed first in the fair, earning a modest trophy and an award to be featured in a section of a WIRED article on science fair accomplishments. Tony was excited to get his picture with his victorious kids when the opportunity was offered. He figured the image might land in the Daily Bugle or the Mirror with some gaudy caption if Pepper couldn’t stop it first, but he didn’t care. Peter was glowing with joy and honestly Ned was too. Best science fair in Midtown history.
When it ended, inventions were packed up. People flooded out, leaving little behind. Ned was pulled away by his parents, barely fitting in a goodbye and MJ had sauntered off with her Copy Machine and her mom. Caroline and Beck never showed up and as Peter walked with Tony out of the high school, he could sense the man was fuming.
“They must’ve gotten held up,” Peter offered as a comfort more to Tony than himself.
“Did you hear from them?” Tony asked with a tight jaw.
“No,” Peter answered.
Tony didn’t say anything for a moment before asking, “Do you need a ride home?”
“If it’s not a big deal, I wouldn’t mind,” Peter said.
“If you said no, I’d still be giving you a ride home, kid,” Tony said, swinging the car fob around his finger.
Peter smiled. It was 5:30. There’d be traffic. Tony would get home late, but Peter was selfishly thankful that Tony wouldn’t care arriving at the compound after sunset. The usual small talk occupied the car ride over the radio background noise. During the drive, Peter couldn’t help but ask the burning question “So what was the song?”
He was sitting up in his seat, ready to slump back into disappointment if Tony didn’t spill. It was a pressuring tactic and Tony knew it too.
“Nothing of interest to you, wiz-kid,” He said.
Peter fell against the back of the seat, his pressuring tactic earning him a smack in the head by the headrest.
“I’d be a real wiz-kid if you let me have magic webs,” Peter huffed, a challenging smile crossing his face.
“Tough luck, kid. Anymore complaining and you’ll be walking home,” Tony warned but Peter knew there was no way in the entire galaxy Tony would ever let that happen.
“Sure thing, mom,” Peter replied.
“Treat your mom with some respect,” Tony said.
20 minutes later Peter was leaning against the car window as his apartment was approaching. He closed his eyes for a moment and absorbed the warmth in the car, rock music playing softly through the speakers.
“Okay kiddo,” – Peter could hear the car sliding up to the curb – “I’ll see you Friday.” The car came to a stop.
“As always,” Peter said, eyes now open as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride Mr. Stark!”
Peter was usually quick to hop out of the car, never wanting to take up too much of Tony’s time. But when he pushed the car door open and looked up at his building, he hesitated in his seat. His spidersense caught fire, as it does now when he comes home, the alerting buzz settling into his brain. The hesitation made Peter seem only a few degrees off his axis but Tony noticed.
“You okay?” He said, pulling Peter away from his worry for a split second.
“Yeah,” Peter said, but he sounded like someone taking a breath of air after being stuck underwater. His voice surprised himself.
“You sure?” Tony checked.
Peter pushed himself out of the car. “Yeah,” He said more confidently. “Sorry Mr. Stark, have a good night.” He flustered trying to act normal. His quick reflexes had him shutting the door but Tony’s voice hit him before he could.
“Peter.” The full first name was usually of rare occasion.
Peter reversed his action, opening the door wide. “Yes?”
Tony cleared his throat. “You did good today, kid.” The words came out a little uncertain but both Peter and Tony knew he meant it 100%.
“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter said with a smile, something warm blooming in his chest.
He felt extra alone walking up the stairs to his apartment as Tony peeled away from the curb.
The warmth of the apartment wasn’t like the warmth in Tony’s car. It didn’t hug him and make him feel safe, it made him sweat. It tricked his nerves. Caroline greeted him from the kitchen where she was fetching a homemade lasagna from the oven. Once everyone was settled at the table, Peter broke the good news to the two foster parents about the win.
Caroline was too horrified to congratulate him. “Peter, I’m so sorry sweetie! I completely forgot. I got swept up with work!” She sputtered as she handed Peter his 1-time single serving of lasagna. “Beck why didn’t you remind me?”
“Forgot too, sorry Pete,” Beck said casually, but something in his eyes said he hadn’t.
Peter bit his tongue and tried to focus on how happy he’d felt an hour or two earlier.