Chapter 1
Tony was a mixture of terribly thrilled and warily weary as he surveyed the building growing steadily closer.
“You sure you wanna do this, kid?” he asked for the umpteenth time, glancing down at Peter, who was decked out in his full Spider-Man gear and vibrating with excitement in the seat of the limo next to him.
“Are you kidding, Mr. Stark? It’s a superhero fan convention specifically for you guys! It’s like Comic Con on crack!” Peter chirped, and, though Tony couldn’t completely tell through the mask, he had to imagine the kid was beaming that ridiculously bright enthusiastic smile.
“You could always go as actual Spider-Man, instead of as Peter Parker pretending to be Spider-Man,” Tony pointed out amusedly, but Peter shook his head.
“Nah, I wanna be able to talk to Ned and M.J. if they’re around without giving away my secret identity. This gives me the best of all the worlds – I can hang out with them as an ordinary person wearing a Spider-Man costume, but I still get to walk around with you because everyone knows about our internship thing, and my secret stays intact the whole time! It’s gonna be so much fun, Mr. Stark!” Tony couldn’t help but life, a ridiculous sensation of fondness unfurling in his chest.
“Whatever makes you happy, kid. The other Avengers and I have to make a few appearances, give a couple of speeches, do some meet-and-greets and stuff, but there’s nothing I can’t slip out of if I need to,” he said, then felt the need to drive the point home. “So come find me any time no matter what I’m doing, ‘kay?”
“Okay, Dad,” Peter beamed, and Tony had to fight the urge to draw the kid into a too-tight hug. God, he loved his Peter.
“Boss, we’re here,” Happy called from the front, and Tony glanced out the tinted window, surprised. Sure enough, they were in front of the front entrance, a long line of press on either side of a hastily-unfurled red carpet leading up to the convention center. Tony had to imagine this wasn’t the usual way they welcomed Con guests – but the Avengers weren’t exactly usually attendees.
“Ready, kiddo?” Tony asked, and Peter shot forward.
“Heck yes!”
And Tony snickered as the boy catapulted out of the limo, easily ignoring the flashes of the cameras and waving frantically at two kids Tony recognized as Ned and that Michelle girl. He was halfway down the red carpet before Tony had even stepped out of the car, and Tony shook his head, grinning, before stepping out.
The camera flashes immediately doubled, ignoring Peter in favor of turning to him, shouting questions at him.
“Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark, was that Spider-Man that you just arrived with?” one reporter demanded, and Tony laughed airily.
“No, that’s one of my interns who I kept late today and offered a ride to the convention as consolation. I offered him an Iron Man costume, but he apparently has questionable taste in superheroes,” Tony said with a teasing roll of his eyes. He pressed forward, waving, smiling, signing as he did so.
“Mr. Stark, are you planning on introducing more of your clean energy tech at this convention?” another reporter questioned.
“No, I’m here strictly for the people of New York, today,” Tony answered easily. “No business, no ulterior motives, just a desire to shake hands with the people who have continually supported us and express our thanks to them.”
He was getting so close to the front door, thankfully, and he was so ready to be away from all the vipers, though he knew he’d be getting more questions inside.
“So it’s not just a giant ego boost, for you to take time where you could be helping others through your Stark Industries projects or actually working as Iron Man to come here and let people fawn over you?” some caustic reporter asked acerbically. Tony sought out the speaker, caught her eye, and cocked an eyebrow.
“I consider every person in this city – in this nation and beyond to be worth my time and attention, and this convention has offered me the opportunity to demonstrate my gratitude and dedication to them. If you consider that ego-stroking, then sure, my big fat ego makes me want to say hello and listen to the ideas of the people I care enough to risk my life for on a biweekly basis,” Tony responded with a shrug. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to speak to the people I’m actually here for.”
And with that, he strode through the doors of the convention center.
Now Tony would be the first to admit he knew next to nothing about Cons. Dear old Dad hadn’t exactly been a great purveyor of spending time at those ‘time wasters’ so the closest he’d ever come was to Stark Expos and the like over the years, which were more about showing off tech and encouraging investors than pure enjoyment of an interest.
So when he walked in, he blinked confusedly, noting the people in various costumes milling about, dressed to the teeth – and honestly, he had to do a couple of double takes to make sure some of those kids didn’t actually have his armor, because their replicas were astonishingly accurate. Uncertain where exactly to go, he hesitated in the door until a harried-looking girl with frizzy red hair and glasses who looked to be in her mid-twenties and was wearing a bright green “STAFF” shirt and holding a clipboard hurried his way.
“Name?” she asked without looking at him, surveying her form.
“Tony Stark,” he answered, and she snorted.
“Yeah, we need your real name to check you in – oh holy shit.” She finally looked up, eyes going wide as saucers. “You’re…you’re actually…”
“Breathe, kid, I’m just a person,” Tony said with a smile, hoping to put her at ease. She looked rather on the verge of passing out, so he figured it was time to play the helpless idiot card. “In fact, I’m a very lost old man who has no idea how conventions like this work. Can you help me out a little?” She blinked at him, still looking shell-shocked.
“Tony Stark is asking for my help, oh my god, this is not a dream,” she muttered to herself. Tony waited a moment until she seemed to have composed herself.
“What’s your name, kid?” he asked in as gentle a voice as he could.
“K-k-Kate,” she stuttered, and Tony smiled at her.
“Great, Kate. Do you have any idea where I’m supposed to be? My A.I. has my itinerary and can help me once the events get started, but that doesn’t kick in for another hour or so when we start the panel,” Tony said. “Until then, I’m not sure where I’m supposed to go or who to register with and such.”
Truth be told, he was beyond certain he could just waltz in wherever he wanted and do his thing, but he didn’t particularly like the idea of leaving Kate looking like she was on the verge of a panic attack and he also didn’t really fancy being mobbed by fans without some sort of backup, preferably in the form of a tall, dark-haired, metal-armed, super soldier.
“Y-you don’t have to register with anyone, Mr. S-stark, I mean Iron Man, I mean – “
“Just Tony is fine, sweetheart, please try to breathe for me,” Tony said soothingly, reaching to place a reassuring touch to her shoulder, sympathy shooting through him. He had way too many experiences with what panic attacks could feel like, and, while his were usually of the battle-variety, he would never begrudge someone the right to lose it in a stressful or unexpected situation.
She nodded rapidly, too rapidly, and Tony waited, keeping eye contact with her and maintaining a calm expression. Slowly, she seemed to settle, until she let out a deep, even breath.
“Better?” he asked gently, and she nodded, her expression quickly becoming mortified.
“Mr. Stark, I’m so sorry – “ she started.
“Tony,” he corrected lightly, and gave her a soothing smile. “You have absolutely no reason to apologize. I get panic attacks, too.”
She did a double-take at that. “You – you do? You?” she asked incredulously, and Tony nodded wryly.
“The world’s a scary place, and our bodies do the best they can to handle it. Sometimes it’s just a bit too much, and there’s nothing wrong with that,” he said simply. She blinked at him, something like awe spreading over her face.
“Thank you, Mr. – Tony,” she corrected, offering him a small smile, and he beamed back at her.
“Anytime, kid,” Tony assured her. “Now, help me find wherever it is I’m supposed to be?” he suggested hopefully, and she jolted to attention.
“Of course! Umm, it looks like we have a dressing room set aside for you by the conference room for all the other VIPs,” she said, glancing down at a page on her clipboard.
“VIPs?” Tony questioned, and she smiled shyly at him.
“The other superheroes who RSVP’d,” she clarified.
“Let’s go there, then!” Tony enthused, and her smile widened.
“O-okay!”
Blessedly, Kate was smart enough to take him through a bunch of ‘back-alley’ type hallways, where very few people were present. Those that were would stop in awe for a second, squeaking something out about Iron Man, and Tony would smile congenially, wave, and sign whatever was thrust in his direction without breaking stride. Finally, they arrived at an innocuous looking double-door, and Kate stepped aside and gestured.
“This is it!” she said, her eyes lighting up, looking far more comfortable and in control than she had earlier. Tony smiled at her.
“Thanks, Miss Kate. Would you like to come inside?” he offered, and her eyes widened. She appeared to contemplate for a second, then shook her head.
“Not quite ready for that, I don’t think,” she admitted softly, and Tony smiled and clapped her on the shoulder.
“No shame in that, kiddo. Keep sane and keep safe and let me know if you ever need anything. I’ll get FRIDAY to put you on the list of people to patch through if you call,” Tony said, offering her a business card, which she took reverently.
“But how will you know which number is mine?” Kate asked confusedly, and Tony winked.
“I’m Tony Stark, sweetheart,” he responded, then gave her a congenial wave and pushed open the door to enter the room.
“Heyyyy, it’s Iron Dad! Finally decided to show your face?” Clint called from across the room, lounging on a couch.
“Had a couple of kiddos to take care of, Katniss, and their time is more valuable than mine,” Tony retorted with a grin. The room was pretty much as expected for a convention center, garish green walls, worn-out couches and chairs, and a pull-out dining room table with stains that spoke of what Tony hoped were chili nights on the surface. Clint was hogging a couch, and Natasha was conversing with Bruce in a corner. Steve and his beautiful, wonderful, perfect Bucky appeared to be deep in conversation, seated in two of the chairs, and Tony debated interrupting for the sole reason that he really really wanted to kiss his boyfriend, but decided to leave them to it, making his way instead to the coffee machine that was blessedly taking up a small corner of space by the sink.
He made a face as he approached, noting that the machine was a Keurig. Blech. Overrated and not near strong enough, but he’d take what he could get. He started the coffee as Loki approached him.
“Surprised you’re here, Reindeer Games,” Tony commented as the machine sputtered behind him. Loki shrugged.
“Well, Fury wanted Asgard to have a presence, and Thor is noted for getting a bit…overexcited. Considering a large, very breakable crowd was in question, we decided I was the better representative in this case,” Loki reasoned, and Tony nodded his understanding.
“Yeah, that makes sense. Much as I love Point Break, he doesn’t always seem to have the best grasp of what mortal bodies can take,” Tony agreed, and Loki smirked.
“So you think I do have intimate knowledge of what mortal bodies can…take?” Loki said, voice low and sultry as he edged in on him, and Tony rolled his eyes. It was an off week if Loki didn’t hit on at least one of them. He was pretty sure Loki saw it as a way to test their mettle in his own weird, otherworldly way. Or maybe it was just because he liked watching their reactions; Tony would be the first to admit watching Loki hit on Steve was one of the highlights of his existence.
“Hey, pretty sure the only person who gets to test the limits of that mortal’s body is me,” Bucky quipped from behind Loki, and Tony beamed at him.
“Oh, thank goodness my darling, my savior is here to rescue me from the clutches of the fearsome Norse god of mischief,” Tony swooned dramatically, and Bucky stepped to his side easily, embracing him with exasperated amusement in his eyes.
“Poor little damsel, can’t stay out of trouble for a moment,” Bucky comforted sardonically, and Tony grinned at him, pushing up for a brief kiss.
“It appears I’m foiled again,” Loki sighed with exaggerated disappointment. “Guess I’d better find myself a new target.”
“Actually, it’s time for us to head to the panel,” Steve called from across the room, only the slightest hint of panic in his voice. Tony hid a snicker, imagining that Steve was probably worried the next target would’ve been him. Loki shrugged easily.
“Lead the way, dearest Captain,” Loki said lasciviously, and Steve stared at him, wide-eyed, before opting to retreat through the double doors, Clint, Bruce, and Natasha following in suit.
“One day, you’re going to break our Captain,” Tony commented amusedly, and Loki smirked at him.
“Ah, and what a glorious day that will be,” he declared before following the others, and Tony rolled his eyes.
“Ready, babe?” he asked Bucky, and Bucky nodded easily.
“Let’s do this, darling.”
The panel was exactly as entertaining as Tony had expected. Their fans asked all kinds of questions – questions that reporters didn’t care about, and so never really got answered.
“Does the Hulk talk to you when you’re in your human form?” one kid asked eagerly, and Bruce flushed.
“Only when he has something really serious to say,” he responded.
“Do you prefer to speak mostly Russian or English, now?” another asked, and Tony tensed, but Bucky seemed unconcerned.
“It depends. Russian tends to come to the forefront when I or people I care about are in danger, but the rest of the time English feels like the only language I’ve ever spoken,” he answered easily.
“You guys say you have movie nights – what all do you watch?”
Tony decided to field that one. “Well, we’re still trying to catch Cap and Buckster up on modern television, and Loki and Thor aren’t exactly familiar with any Midgardian form of entertainment, so it varies week-to-week. We stick mostly to the popular classics and try to give them as broad a range as possible. Last week we showed them Ratatouille. Which we later decided was a mistake, because Thor kept checking Bucky’s hair for rats when he made our breakfast the next morning.”
There was laughter from the audience at that.
“So the Winter Soldier cooks?” someone asked, and Tony beamed.
“The Winter Soldier is excellent at pretty much everything,” Tony preened firmly, shooting Bucky a sappy look, which his lover returned.
“Please tone it down, lovebirds, there are children present,” Natasha commented.
“Never,” Bucky and Tony said together, then beamed at one another.
The panel continued for a while longer, enthusiastic questions abounding, and Tony loved hearing from their curious constituents.
“Boss, there’s something you may want to see,” FRIDAY said in his ear eventually. Tony frowned.
“A little busy here, Fri, what’s up?” he said lowly, making sure his voice was away from the microphone. Bucky frowned at him from beside him.
“It’s Peter. He’s entered some sort of contest, and he’s made it to the final round,” FRIDAY responded, and Tony couldn’t hold back a grin.
Speaking into the microphone, he said, “I’m terribly sorry, everyone, but I have to duck out for a minute. Please, continue to bombard the rest of the team with questions. Especially about their sleepwear, I think you’d be very interested to know what some of them wear to bed.”
Loki let out an indignant squawk as Tony retreated, snickering to himself.
“Alright, baby girl, where’s my kiddo?” Tony asked, smiling and waving as he dodged around different exhibits.
“Ballroom 3A,” FRIDAY responded quickly, and Tony nodded, following the signs until he located the doorway. He pushed inside – and was absolutely not prepared for what he saw.
A parade of Spider-Men in various states of array were waltzing across a stage, a crowd hooting and hollering before them. Each had a garishly-large number pinned to their chests.
“This is it, folks! The final round of our Spider-Man costume contest!” A voice boomed dramatically over a microphone, and the crowd cheered. Tony hung back, observing, searching, looking for – ah, there, yup, that was Peter. Right in the goddamn thick of it, waving cheerfully at the crowd from his position on the stage with a giant “15” pinned to Tony’s painstakingly-designed suit. Had the boy never heard of cheating? Winning a Spider-Man costume contest when you were Spider-Man was beyond ridiculous. But Tony couldn’t help but smile. Peter looked like he was having a blast, and his friends were cheering for him on the front row of the crowd.
“And the winner is…” the crowd fell into a hush, ready for the moment of truth. The announcer seemed to take great pleasure from the control he had over this moment, allowing the pause to drag on. “…Spider-Man number 23!”
…What? Ohmygod, what? His own suit didn’t even win the Spider-Man costume contest? Tony wasn’t sure who was more shocked – Peter or him. The boy’s shoulder’s slumped on stage, and Tony had a moment of pity as Peter tugged off his mask. But it was that look of disbelieving, insulted bafflement on his kid’s face that had Tony go from surprised to snickering. That ‘Are you fucking kidding me’ look that Tony knew all-too-well.
The fake Spider-Man stepped forward, bowing dramatically, waving exuberantly. “Oh, you’re too kind, too kind, thank you for acknowledging my supreme understanding of he who is Spider-Man,” the false Spider-Man declared, wiping away a fake tear, and the announcer smiled indulgently.
“Can we have your secret identity, please, for the sake of bestowing your prizes?” he requested with just as much dramatic flair as he handed the fake a bouquet.
The fake Spider-Man accepted the bouquet with tenderness, holding it to his heart like it was the only thing that mattered in the universe. “If it is for the benefit of this conference, then I shall reveal myself,” he said melodramatically. “….I am Wade Wilson.”