Pepper is smiling at him.

Pepper is smiling very widely at him, and he loves her, he does, but Pepper rarely smiles at him like that when he hasn't finished all of his paperwork yet and since there's currently a huge stack in front of him, he's pretty sure that's not why she's smiling.

Which raises the question, why is his wife smiling at him like that and why is it setting his hairs on edge?

"Have you seen it yet?" She finally gushes, breaking like a dam when he stares at her a bit too much longer than he probably should have, leaning back slightly and probably looking more concerned than he should.

(To be fair, Pepper would be well within her rights to murder him and Tony is scared that one day she'll come to her senses and do exactly that.)

"…Seen what?" Tony asks suspiciously, remembering the last time she asked a question like that in a situation like this.

Easter. Confetti everywhere. Cute little stickers and… worse… grade schoolers coming in with their parents to find chocolate and touching his beautiful tech with their grubby little fingers and…

Ugh. He shudders, just thinking of it.

Pepper's smile widens.

Tony steels himself for the worst.

Please not grade schoolers please not kindergarteners please not small humans just please please please

"Mrs. Potts?" Peter pokes his head in, looking confused, "Isabel, the, um secretary with the cool galaxy hair, said that you wanted me to come over? Is there any reason why—"

Omigosh.

It's not small humans.

Oh. My. Gosh.

It's fantastic.

"Oh my god," Tony whispers. Peter peers at him, reddens, and Tony demands, "FRIDAY, are you recording this?"

"I am now," FRIDAY sighs, sounding vaguely done with him, but he cannot even care because this is glorious and wonderful and…

"Those aren't LED lights, are they?" Tony stands up, speed-walking over to Peter to double check, "Because this is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and it has a long ways to go in order to be more technologically advanced and properly represent my armour."

"Thanks, Mr. Stark," Peter says, in that flat way he does when he wants to be delighted by Tony just didn't human right for some reason, "I tried."

"And it's a valiant effort," Tony admires it, "Especially since you basically recreated my suit from cardboard. Kudos to you, seriously, however, that being said, my lab is always open if you want to tweak it in some ways and…"

"It's for Halloween," Peter groans, "It doesn't have to be high end."

Tony makes a wounded face, "But…"

"No buts," Peter crosses his arms, which is a feat when they are covered in cardboard.

Pepper snickers in the background.

"Fine, fine," Tony pouts, "You going for candy tonight with all the other small humans?"

Peter brightens, arms uncrossing, cardboard making a weird and slightly annoying sound but that's okay because Tony is still very flattered and delighted, "MJ sort of gathered the school together with Betty Brant to rope the whole school into doing Trick or Eat. We're going in groups to get non-perishables for the food bank tonight instead of candy."

"That's very good Samaritan," Tony says, taking a moment to mentally laugh that of course the kid would do something like that. "So you're not Spider-man for halloween?"

"No," Peter despairs, "My suit's too good, you know? It'd be a dead giveaway."

"It looks like spandex," Tony points out.

Peter stares.

Raises an eyebrow.

Purses his lips.

"Mr. Stark," he says, in that I love you but you're stupid rich and don't understand the world voice that Pepper always uses on him. Tony tries not to automatically pout at that, "I have an AI in that suit. My web shooters are fully functional. My eye masks adjust so that they filter light properly to my senses. Sometimes, if it's dark enough, the suit can glow."

"It's a beautiful suit," Tony says.

"Oh my god," Pepper whispers in the background, sounding like she's watching some sort of sitcom, except it's just Tony, pouting.

"It's the best suit," Peter reassures him, "I love it. I can't wear it."

"You should give up, Tony," Pepper says in the background, "He makes good points."

"But the irony!" Tony resists.

"I'd basically give away my identity," Peter says, long-suffering.

"That worked out okay for me, didn't it?" Tony asks.

A beat of silence.

And then, Pepper, sounding like she's trying very hard not to dump him off the side of the building, "You hearing yourself?"

"Point," Tony sighs, because when doesn't she have one? "Okay. Fine. Whatever. You know, we have these weird pumpkin flavoured marshmallows that you would like because you're weird."

Peter lights up, "Really?"

"Yeah," Tony grins, "So Brenda from accounting, you know, the normal looking one—" This is honestly a good identifier because SI employees are weird "—thought she was totally normal, right? Then one day, she comes in with this giant bag, saying she made them all— I know, right? —So she made them all because she was given some bones to make a piano frame for—"

Peter oohs and aahs in all the right places and Tony is happy and content, with this weird kid who dresses up as him for halloween and eats stupid pumpkin flavoured marshmallows (and actually enjoys them? Why) and gets food bank stuff instead of candy.


MJ is waiting for him by the time that he exits the bathroom, tapping at her phone and frowning at it with her nose scrunched up, that way she does when she's thinking about the inadequacy of others and the work that she'll have to pull in order to cover for them.

"Hey-o, MJ," Peter says, readjusting the shoulders of his cardboard Iron Man suit, "How's it looking?"

"Your driving skills are still terrible?" MJ asks, in that despairing, I-already-know-the-answer-but-I-don't-like-it voice.

Peter grimaces, "Um."

"I thought so," MJ sighs. She's dressed in a tuxedo, a white mask fitted neatly over her face. Peter is still trying to guess what she is, and he has a feeling that if he guesses wrong, she'll never talk to him again. "It's okay. The current map will have to do."

The current map being a highly ambitious, there is no way we can do this unless we perfectly carry it out just like we planned it route that makes Peter's knees shake.

He has a feeling that the actual carrying out of the mission will be a lot less high pressure than the dotted red lines and sticky notes with shortcuts make him think, but still, Peter doesn't really want to know how they'll carry it out.

(Unless they actually succeed. In which case, he'll take a moment to gape and wonder how they managed to pull such magic.)

"How are Ned and Flash?" Peter asks, rubbing the little LED arc reactor that he had made.

"Flash is changing in the van," MJ answers, jerking a thumb towards the general vicinity of the outside world, "Ned is waiting with him."

"Coolio," Peter bobs his head into a nod as they skitter toward the exit. (Well. He skitters. MJ… MJs. That thing she does, where she does a mix between stomping and gliding? Yeah. That.) "You excited?"

She squints at him, as though to ask did you seriously just ask that?

Peter swallows, but does not give in. He will not say point. He will not give her that satisfaction.

MJ raises an eyebrow.

"Okay," Peter gives in grudgingly, "Point."

She gives a satisfied, subtle little dip of her chin, and then she's back to Default, chin raised and shoulders back, as though everything else is just an ant beneath her shoe.

Flash is sitting cross-legged on top of the van when they come out, dressed in a button up shirt and slacks, holding a cereal box with a knife through it in one hand, chatting excitedly with Ned, who's dressed up in heavy-looking silver and yellow armour.

Ned lights up when he catches sight of Peter, "Dude!" He exclaims, clapping his hands together, "You look great! Did Mr. Stark see it?"

"Yeah," Peter rolls his eyes, "Tried to tell me that it was terrible and needed improvement while also complimenting me and telling me that I did great in the same breath."

"Sounds like him," Ned sighs, a mix between starstruck and exasperated, "You look wicked."

"So do you," Peter holds up a fist and Ned bumps it. "You really went all-out."

"I got a bit lazy," Ned admits, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm just wearing my cosplay from comic con, actually."

"It looks great," Peter shakes his head, "Like the real deal."

"You think?" Ned beams, "It's Brigitte, from Overwatch."

"Okay, nerd," MJ moves forward to pat Ned's shoulder, "It's lame, but it's not bad."

Which is MJ for 'amazing effort, A+'.

Ned and Peter exchange amused glances.

And then Flash makes a little noise in the back of his throat, surprised and pleased and he exclaims, "You're Tuxedo Mask!", jabbing a finger at MJ, eyes lit up like he's been handed a basketful of candy.

MJ turns to Flash, and her gaze is cool, but Peter recognizes her nerd face. "Didn't expect you to be the one to point it out first," she muses, reappraising Flash.

Flash stares for a moment, arm still pointing, and then slowly, ducks down his head and looks sheepish, "Look, there's nothing wrong with liking Sailor Moon."

This should be the moment when one of them starts to crack up.

Instead, Ned asks, "Does this mean that Flash gets to join us for marathons, now?"

A beat.

Peter, decisively, "Yes."

MJ, amused, "He already joined us for the last four."

Flash, "Wait, is this, like, an official thing or—"

Ned, clapping his hands, "Cool. Now that we've got that figured out."

Flash, "Wait, I'm still—"

MJ, raising an eyebrow, "Did you bring my latte?"

Another beat.

Then, Peter, incredulous, "You don't even like lattes."

"I know," MJ says, pursing her lips.

"Wait, she doesn't?" Flash yelps, "Then why did I get a latte for her?"

Ned sighs, "You're not going to take my drink again, are you?"

MJ shrugs unapologetically, "You're the only one with a somewhat decent taste in drinks."

"I mean, it's true, but—"

"Wait, I take offence—" Flash protests.

"It's not gross, it's just different—" Peter doesn't even sound passionate, more like he's reciting lines.

MJ holds up a hand.

The three boys immediately stop.

"Flash, your taste in drinks is dull," MJ says, holding up one finger.

"There is nothing wrong with vanilla," Flash sulks, "It's a perfectly good flavour."

Ned winces, like he sees MJ's point.

"Peter," MJ scrunches up her nose, "Peter."

"I know," Peter sighs miserably.

"You ate fish with peanut butter."

"It's an acquired taste."

MJ stares at Peter.

Peter tries not to squirm.

Peer squirms.

Sighs.

"Yeah, alright, point."

"Thank you," MJ tilts her head, regally, as though her being right were never in doubt (which, honestly, isn't wrong), "So, moving on. This is our route for Halloween and…"

"Wait, Flash," Peter gasps, delighted, "You're a cereal killer!"

Another long pause.

MJ sighs.

"Dude," Ned says, "Did it take you this long to realize?"

Peter pouts, "Look, I was focused on your amazing armour."

"I would be offended," Flash says, "But Ned's costume is seriously cool."

"Aw, thanks, dude," Ned clears his throat and turns back to MJ, "So, route?"

"Right, so we'll start here and…"