"Go to therapy." It was a woman's voice, one he didn't recognize, but that didn't mean much. Jarvis hadn't announced the incoming call and the caller ID didn't say a name, which was weird. Things had been a little slow lately, so weird was okay, and somehow, he didn't think he was allowed to hang up.

"Excuse me, who is this? How did you get this number?" He thought he sounded reasonable enough, a well-balanced Martini of rational and affronted, with just a hint of crazy to act as the olive juice.

"I'm not going to let you fuck this up anymore than you already have," she went on, not flatly but brooking no argument. Who the hell was it? Pepper could sound like this but he'd know her voice and this wasn't her. It wasn't Natasha or Darcy and God knew it wasn't Jane. He'd have to ask again, letting himself sound more annoyed than he was.

"Who the hell is this?"

"May. May Parker. Peter's aunt. Are you listening to me?"

"What do you mean, go to therapy? How'm I fucking anything up?" Tony exclaimed. He'd smoothed things over with Pepper about the press conference and he'd expected a few days of relative peace while they settled into the new digs.

"Peter. If you ever treat him that way again," May began but Tony didn't wait.

"Treat him what way? I treated that boy like a son!" he yelled. He'd even nearly ruffled the kid's hair after Peter had refused the new suit and the new apartment and the brand-spanking new apartment at Avengers Central and he hadn't sulked for a minute over the rejection.

"Then you're a terrible father. Or you would be, if you were Peter's father. You're not though. His father's dead and he's my son, my child. Not yours, whatever you want to pretend. That's what the therapy's for," May said. She sounded like she could be very patient, when she tried, but she was not trying very hard right now.

"I treated him better than my own father treated me—I did my best," Tony replied. It was the truth and Pepper said it would usually win any argument to deploy it, or at least take the wind out of the other person's sails. Pepper had not met May.

"Then, pardon my French, but your best is shitty," she said, pausing so he could really marinate in the condemnation, starting up again before he was ready. "And Peter doesn't deserve it. I know all about it, the battle and Captain America's shield and the training wheels program, I know what you said to him and so help me God," May said, laying into him for all she was worth.

"How do you know all that?"

"I'm his parent. It's my job to know all that. And it's not impossible to get a kid to talk to you if you're willing to listen to them. And their friends," May said, finally sounding tired.

"If you want to be in his life, you're going to have to do it better. He's a kid, you can't keep telling him that and then conveniently forget it when it suits you. It's not about your convenience, full stop, you selfish jerk. It's about helping him grow up, making sure he does and doesn't kill himself in the meantime," she added. "He needs you, he needs someone who can help him with his powers and it seems like you're the one who wanted to step up. So. Step. Up. Do I make myself clear?" May said. Jesus, he wanted to meet her. He wanted Pepper to meet her and to get a smile for introducing them.

"Yes, ma'am," he said quickly. He didn't know how the hell he was supposed to do what she said but she'd given him some instructions. Therapy. Listening. Remembering Peter was a kid. There were worse operating manuals.

"Not ma'am. May. If the Wikipedia entry is right, you are three years older than me," she said.

"May. Gotcha. I have to know, how'd you get this number? How'd you get through?" he said. It would bother him all night if he didn't have the answer.

"I told you, listen to a kid's friends. Ned did it, he's Peter's best friend. You should know that about Peter, if you want to be part of his life," she replied.

"Got it. Ned. May. Therapy," he rattled off. She laughed and Jarvis made the ping that meant Pepper was within three blocks.

"Also, call him. Peter. He needs some practice on the phone. Not just texting," she said. "I have to go now, I have a meeting to get to. Good night."

"Good night, Tony," he replied, wanting to establish it, wanting to make her maybe laugh, maybe see he wasn't a total asshole. That he deserved a chance to be in Peter's life and that he understood how he had to be her peer and not Peter's.

"Okay. G'night, Tony."