Chapter Text
20 days, 6 hours, 15 minutes, and 14 seconds previous.
“I’m telling you, it could work.”
“And I’m telling you it wouldn’t.”
Peter clenched his jaw and stared at Mr Stark from where he hung upside down off a web over his bench in Mr Stark’s lab. Mr Stark, himself, stared back at him from across the room, arms crossed.
Peter continued, his gaze never faltering from his mentor, “But you haven’t considered the stabilising agents of it. If we just re-adjust the ratio of the-“ Mr Stark, who had went back to fiddling with a piece of shoulder armour on his desk, interrupted Peter,
“Who’s the genius, billionaire, philanthropist here?” Mr Stark said and didn’t wait for an answer, “Drop it kid, with our formula, there isn’t enough calcium chloride in New York for episode 82 of your bad ideas,” he said, and although he had a good-humoured tone it still hurt, nonetheless, to be turned down so harshly.
“Consider 82 dropped,” Peter mumbled before dropping to a standing position on the floor and dissolving the web hanging from the ceiling. Mr Stark didn’t appear to have heard a thing. Peter bit back a sigh before he swept his papers on “episode 82” into the bin and pulled out his middle-school chemistry notes and a few pieces of fresh paper.
Peter thought back to the sixth-grader, Justin Knox, that he was tutoring, and tried to come up with equations that would suit him. Knox wasn’t too behind, Peter considered, but he was still behind enough that it made any teacher’s job harder than it should be, and that's where he came in.
As Peter picked apart a year’s worth of notes, his mind kept straying back to “episode 82” as Mr Stark had put it. The calcium chloride could have stabilised his medi-webs if only Mr Stark would listen to him. Peter bit back another sigh, he could be doing so much more with his time, like working on his suit or an SI related project, if he didn’t have to tutor Knox.
It’s not that he didn’t want to help him - if he didn’t spend all his free time either on patrol or in the lab with Mr Stark, he would’ve signed up to tutor without a second thought. However, he did spend his free time on patrol or in the lab, so Spider-Man now makes a lot fewer appearances in Queens these days than he used to.
The tutoring was courtesy of Principal Morita who forced Peter into this after his unapproved absence for his trip to Germany and his many absences following afterwards. And to make up for his “slacking off” (as Morita had put it) Peter - with his straight A’s - is to meet with Knox twice a week at the library for 2 hours after school on a Wednesday and on Saturday mornings - which are both Spider-Man days. This means Mr Stark had no clue of any of it, which is fine, Mr Stark didn’t need to know of everything that happened in Peter’s life, and he might cut down their lab days if he knew anyway.
Peter was suddenly brought back to the present when Mr Stark cleared his throat right above where Peter was seated in the lab.
“Kid, am I paying you to complete a middle-schooler’s chemistry homework?”
“Uh,” Peter began, he felt his cheeks heat up and his heartbeat quicken as he looked up into his mentor’s face. Mr Stark didn’t look particularly angry, just a mixture of curiosity, confusion, and a hint of frustration, which made Peter gulp, “Y-you’re not paying me at all, Mr Stark.”
Mr Stark nodded and fished around in his pocket and brought out a note. He slid it onto Knox’s work and Peter saw that it was a 100 dollar bill, “Now will you answer my question?” Mr Stark said.
“Mr Stark! Wow- wait, that’s way too much!” Peter exclaimed, but Mr Stark scoffed and leant against the desk,
“Kid, I’m a billionaire, it’s fine. And stop dodging my question!” Peter picked up the bill like it would crumble at his touch and stared at it. It might've been the largest note he had ever touched in his life.
“Thank you- uh- Mr Stark but- um- you really don’t need to pay me, I was just joking,” Mr Stark just kept staring at him expectantly, “Right- um- I’m not completing the worksheet, I’m- um- writing it. It’s for a kid I have to- uh- to tutor.”
There was a pause where Peter avoided Mr Stark’s gaze and stared at the first problem on the said worksheet. Then, “Have to?”
Peter swallowed his nervous stuttering,
“Er- the school wasn’t happy with how much time I’ve had off lately because of you know what, so I can’t exactly explain why I’ve been away, so- so they made me tutor someone. Maybe they think it’ll keep me coming to school,” Peter shrugged. He couldn’t have predicted Mr Stark’s reaction any more incorrectly than he did, and he jumped when the middle-aged man burst out laughing,
“Oh my god, kid, that’s hilarious!” he wheezed.
“Um,” Peter wasn’t too sure why his situation was humorous to his mentor.
“You have to- tutor- cause of- absence- absence- cause of- Spider-Man- oh my god- tutoring!” he said between gasps of oxygen. Peter’s face was red but he forced himself to stay in his seat instead of running from the Tower in embarrassment like every part of him was urging him to. Eventually, Mr Stark’s laughs died down to a few giggles, “Sorry kid, that is just way too funny.”
“At least they’re not making me receive tutoring,” Peter mumbled and Mr Stark heard it this time. Unfortunately for Peter, Mr Stark also burst out laughing again and leant forward, hands on his knees. Peter sighed out loud and Mr Stark heard which fuelled his hilarity even more.
Peter’s super-hearing picked up on a set of footsteps nearing the lab and he fell forwards onto the desk, his head in his arms, not ready for anyone to see this particular situation. A few seconds later the glass doors opened and Colonel Rhodes stepped into the room, a file with “CLASSIFIED” stamped across the front in his hand. He surveyed the room for a moment, a breathless-with-mirth Tony Stark and a red faced-and-exhausted Peter Parker.
“What’s up with him?” Colonel Rhodes asked, referring to Mr Stark who was now also red in the face while trying to swallow his giggles. Peter didn’t bother to raise his head as he replied,
“He’s being a really bad mentor.”
Mr Stark calmed down enough to say,
“I’m not that bad, kid. What is it you need, honey bear?”
Colonel Rhodes rolled his eyes but held up the file in his hand,
“The report came back in, Fury needs you to-“ he trailed off, glancing at Peter. Mr Stark followed his gaze and Peter noticed all of Mr Stark’s laughter had now gone.
“Peter, will you go test out Pepper’s nanotech bracelet or complete your middle-school homework in the testing room?” Mr Stark asked. Peter hesitated, curious to know what he wasn’t allowed to hear, but he decided not to argue and walked towards the testing room’s reinforced doors, scooping up the bracelet on the shelf outside.
He entered the room and closed the doors with a bang behind him, but he still heard Colonel Rhodes ask, “Why exactly is he doing middle-school homework?”
<>*<>*<>
20 days, 3 hours, 5 minutes, and 43 seconds previous.
Looking back at the night, Peter wished he had just gone home and had dinner with May instead of going up to the penthouse with Mr Stark. Even if the meatloaf was burnt, he would have traded it for the Thai takeaway he was about to eat at Tony Stark’s expensive dining table.
Three hours after Colonel Rhodes left, Pepper’s bracelet was well and truly tested, and Knox’s chemistry worksheet was fully prepared for Wednesday, Peter looked around the lab, looking for something to work on.
“Bored of lil ol’ me, already?” Mr Stark asked. Peter looked up.
“No, not at all!” Peter said hurriedly, “I’m just-“
“Hungry?” Mr Stark offered and before Peter could assure him he wasn’t because he didn’t want to be a bother, Mr Stark continued, “What do you fancy for dinner?”
Peter blushed and shrunk in his chair,
“I- I don’t mind, Mr Stark, anything is good.”
“Thai?” said Mr Stark and Peter nodded nervously, “Okay, FRIDAY can you add our order onto whatever is already there, please?”
“Already done, Boss,” came the robotic reply.
Peter really should’ve just thanked Mr Stark for a good Monday afternoon and left to have dinner with May back at their apartment, but yet there he stood in a silent elevator next to Mr Stark as they ascended the levels of Avengers Tower.
Mr Stark tapped away on his StarkPhone while Peter worried if there would be enough food to fill his heightened appetite. He had only ever eaten dinner with Mr Stark and Ms Potts once before and they had eaten leftover pizza on a Friday night; so by the time Peter was home he was hungry again.
The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened. Peter had been up to the penthouse before that one time with Mr Stark and Ms Potts, but it was still a sight to behold with the elegant design and expensive furnishing. Except Peter’s face didn’t break out into an admiring smile, unlike last time. On the said expensive furnishing, sat most of the Avengers, and Peter’s heart plummeted.
“Tony! About time, the food has been here for like ten minutes,” a blonde man said, hauling himself off the couch but he stopped when he saw Peter, “Who’s this?”
Peter’s throat closed up and his heart rate increased but luckily Mr Stark clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder and spoke for him,
“This is Peter, he’s sort of like my intern who I don’t pay. He just looks up to me so much that he hangs around my lab every other day.”
Peter blushed, maybe he shouldn’t have let Mr Stark speak for him. Most of what he said wasn’t even true! There was a moment of silence where Peter realised he was supposed to say something,
“H- hey everyone.”
“Peter these lazy people on my couch are the Avengers,” Mr Stark said and waved his hand in front of him, “Where’s Jolly Green?”
“Still in his lab, I assume,” a lady with red hair replied and Peter realised, 'Oh shit, that’s Black Widow', “Nice to meet you, Peter, I’m Natasha Romanov.”
“N- nice to meet you too- too,” he stuttered in reply.
“Yes, yes, I’m Clint, nice to meet you and all that yadda,” Hawkeye said, “can we eat now?”
“Don’t be so rude, Legolas,” Tony said, “Peter in this room is Legolas, Black Widow, Vision, Wanda Maximoff, and Barnes and Noble but you probably already knew that.” Peter nodded slowly, recognising them as Hawkeye, Black Widow, the Vision, Wanda Maximoff, the Captain America, and his friend Bucky Barnes.
“It’s an honour to meet you all.”
Peter wondered how he had managed to say it but he was glad he did. Now he just hoped he wouldn't have to speak for the rest of the night.
“Come sit down, Peter, we’ll set the table while we’re waiting for everyone else,” Miss Maximoff spoke from her seat beside Vision, “FRIDAY, who else is in the building?”
“Jolly Green and Birdbrain are coming to dinner. Ms Potts is in a meeting until 21:45 and Honey Bear left half an hour ago. Thumbelina says he can’t make it tonight and Point Break is off-world.”
Peter, despite feeling like his brain had been put in a blender, laughed out loud at Mr Stark’s use of nicknames for the Avengers.
Soon enough, the table was set and everyone started to sit down with a plate of food. Peter waited for everyone to collect their food before he picked up a plate trying to make a good first impression, but now he was faced with the issue of where to sit.
The only free seats were two on Mr Stark’s left and one between Captain America and Hawkeye. Peter observed all this from the kitchen, anxiety eating him up. Where the fuck was he supposed to sit? Surely Dr Banner will want to sit next to Mr Stark and the Falcon will want to sit next to Captain America. So Peter was supposed to sit between Wanda and what will be Dr Banner, right? But how is he supposed to sit down in that seat before Dr Banner has sat down, he will look so rude and also weird because he barely even knows Wanda.
Peter felt his breath catch in his throat as the sound of the elevator approaching their level got louder, he heard its ding and two sets of footsteps coming into the room. All of it happened within a minute. Peter’s heart sped up even more as everyone at the table greeted the newcomers enthusiastically. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, wondering where to go as both Dr Banner and the Falcon appeared in the kitchen, discussing something heatedly between them, and not noticing Peter at all.
“I’ve found the leak of the photo, it was in Vienna, and it wasn’t easy to trace.”
“None of this has been easy and it’s already travelled to Austria. I only just got back from Berlin last night.”
Peter wanted to say something, he really did, but the words never came up and he stood perfectly still, watching the conversation unfold between the two oblivious men.
“We haven’t found a way of controlling it yet. We’re just following lead after lead at the moment,” Dr Banner said, piling some food onto his plate, not glancing at what it was.
“I’ll take Redwing up there tomorrow and speak to your lead,” the Falcon replied, grabbing a plate from the table after Dr Banner.
Peter didn’t move a muscle from his position in the middle of the room. What the fuck is happening right now! Both men left the room still speaking excitedly and not noticing Peter at all. Peter stayed still for a moment longer before releasing the breath he was holding.
Surely there will only be one spare seat now, and it’ll be next to Dr Banner. Only the Dr Banner! Peter felt his heart rate accelerate and took a few breaths. It’s okay it’s okay it’s okay. He took a few shaky steps forward into the room.
“Kid, where’ve you been? I thought you ghosted us!” Mr Stark exclaimed from his seat and Peter noticed how the two seats on Mr Stark’s left were now filled by both Dr Banner and the Falcon, leaving Peter’s seat between Captain America and Hawkeye.
“Um- I was just- um-“ Peter mumbled.
“Come sit down next to Capsicle here,” Mr Stark said and gestured towards the seat. Peter just nodded and kept his gaze on the floor, despite feeling many eyes upon him.
“Good evening, Peter,” said Captain America as he said down beside him, “I’m Steve Rogers.”
“Good evening Mr Captain America Rogers, sir,” Peter replied and the whole table went silent. Peter froze and cursed himself. Why, why, why, why, why! Peter’s blush grew deeper as multiple people chuckled and Mr Stark laughed out loud.
“God kid, you’re hilarious,” Mr Stark said and let out a guffaw.
“You can call me Steve, son,” Captain America said with a small smile.
“Good luck with that, Capsicle,” said Mr Stark, “For the whole 2 months I’ve known him, Peter’s never called me anything except Mr Stark despite the multiple times I’ve asked him to call me Tony."
“Well, I’ll settle for Mr Rogers then,” Mr Rogers said, “But really, son, you can call me Steve if you’re comfortable.”
“Well I don’t know about the rest of you but if the kid calls me Mr Hawkeye or Mr Hawkeye Barton even once I’ll lock him in an empty room and set Fury on him,” Hawkeye said, “If you really don’t want to call me Clint, kid, call me Hawkeye or Barton.” Peter just nodded, his throat was way too blocked up to speak and there was a stinging sensation behind his eyes which was trained on the table in front of him. Curse all the attention that was on him.
“Let the boy eat in peace,” came Wanda’s voice and Peter felt a surge of gratitude towards her. One by one, Peter's spidey senses felt the eyes of the Avengers leave him as they went back to their dinners. Peter let a small sigh of relief pass through his lips.
“Are you alright?” Mr Rogers asked. And Peter realised, 'enhanced hearing, right.'
“Yes thank you, M- Mr Rogers, sir,” Peter replied and his spidey-sense told him Hawkeye was shaking his head in disbelief on his other side.
“So what do you like to do, Peter?” Hawkeye asked.
“I- um- I like science and- uh- technology,” Peter replied glancing up Hawkeye a few times, “My school-“
“Ah, so you are Tony’s son,” said Hawkeye.
“Just because he likes science doesn’t make him Stark’s son,” said Steve, “They’re very-“ but Peter never got to know what he and Mr Stark 'very' were as Mr Rogers was cut off as the Falcon shouted across from his side of the table,
“Steve, are you coming to Vienna with me tomorrow?”
“I can’t Sam, Bucky and I are following the Submarine case early tomorrow morning. I thought you and Scott were assigned the Polaroid case?”
The rest of Peter’s sentence had died in his throat a few minutes ago, had its funeral and was now buried six feet deep underground. His throat closed up and Peter knew it wasn’t producing any more speech that evening.
<>*<>*<>
The rest of the night passed relatively alright, Peter considered. He’d been in worse situations. No one else spoke to Peter but his spidey-sense told him there were eyes upon him, even though when he looked up he couldn’t see anyone’s eyes in his direction.
Peter had finished his food ages ago, and even though the two World War II soldiers and the spies got up for seconds, Peter stayed in his seat, knowing full well that it would be suspicious if he ate as much as the super-people. And Mr Stark didn’t notice, which Peter couldn’t decide was a mercy or not, considering his stomach might just eat him alive from hunger. Curse enhanced metabolism.
Almost an hour later, Peter found himself staring out one of the floor to ceiling windows and out into the city of New York.
Peter imagined the people down there, bustling their way back from work, Ned and his schoolmates completing their homework after eating dinner with their parents, and May as she watched some silly reality TV show with her feet up on the couch- shit, Peter realised, and he checked his watch which read 9:34 pm.
Everyone had finished their dinner what felt like hours ago and Peter realised he needed to get home soon.
The whole table was noisy. Mr Stark, Dr Banner and Mr Rogers were all in conversation about some experiment Dr Banner had started that day, Hawkeye and Miss Romanov were fighting over whether knives belonged in the heel of a shoe or up a sleeve (Peter couldn't even tell who was for what position at this point), and Miss Maximoff, the Falcon and Mr Barnes were using Miss Maximoff’s powers to catch food in their mouths.
The table was really rowdy and Peter didn’t know if Mr Stark would hear him at all if he spoke up. He also really didn’t want a repeat of the start of the meal where everyone was looking at him when he spoke. Maybe he should just get up and leave. It’s not like anyone would notice his absence. No, that’s bad manners, he can’t do that. Shit, shit, shit, shit I just have to say something, cmon Peter.
“Um- Mr Stark?” Peter tried but no one heard him and his voice came out all scratchy from not talking for an hour. Peter cleared his throat and tried again,
“M-Mr Stark?” but still not even the Man-with-a-Plan looked his way. Peter took a deep breath and said loudly,
“Mr Stark!”
This time everyone but the three throwing food at each other looked his way. Peter’s face went red and he started to feel his throat close up.
“You alright, Peter?” Mr Stark asked as if he only just remembered that Peter was with them.
“Uh- I- May will be- um- wondering where I- am,” Peter explained.
“Oh shi- oot- sorry kid, I completely forgot about the tIME- yep, definitely time for you to skedaddle,” Mr Stark said and stood up, “Happy’ll still be here, I’ll get him to drive you home. Just take the elevator down to the lobby, okay?”
“Y- yep, all good,” Peter stuttered and stood up. He hesitated, not quite knowing what to do with his dirty plate.
“Leave your plate on the table, son,” said Mr Rogers with an almost apologetic smile as if he realised he had ignored Peter all night, “We’ll wash it up.”
“Oh- okay, thank you for having me, Mr Stark and- everyone,” he said before he turned his back and made his way to the elevator. It was at times like this that Peter wished he could turn off his spidey-sense as it was screaming at him that everyone at the table was now watching him leave.
Peter got to the elevator and before he got in, he mumbled,
“Bye,” before he stepped in. He wasn’t even sure if anyone heard him.
<>*<>*<>
19 days, 7 hours, 21 minutes, and 16 seconds previous.
Of course. Of fucking course Peter had woken up late.
Peter had tossed and turned last night, willing himself to forget the worst moments of his dinner with the Avengers, whether it was Mr Stark laughing at him in the lab, the seating arrangements or being talked over and ignored the whole night.
So Peter had rushed out of bed, skipped breakfast, ran straight to school and ended up only having 3 minutes before the first bell. The hallways were almost empty by now, as everyone had headed to class already and was waiting for their teachers, so Peter fumbled with his locker for one of the minutes and sprinted as quietly down the hall as he could for another, making it to his home group just as the bell rang.
Maybe he’d be able to slip in unnoticed. But nope, the whole fucking class turned to look at him as he entered, probably expecting the teacher to have just walked in. Peter gulped, tried to steady his breathing, and walked over to the seat beside Ned.
“Dude,” said Ned, “where were you? I thought you weren’t gonna come today but then I realised you definitely would be coming because we have that super important chem lecture and the physics test today and you would never miss that.”
Peter swore he would’ve thrown up right then and there if the teacher hadn’t walked in at that moment. Peter had completely forgotten about both of them. Shit, he was going to fail.
“I woke up late,” he mumbled as the teacher reached the front of the room.
“Good morning, class,” Ms Warren said and Peter zoned out.