Hi guys… If I told you how sorry I am for the late updates, would you believe me? I really am, but the truth is, I'm struggling a bit with this story. Don't panic! I am definitely keeping it up, and I have a clear view of what is going to happen, but as the plot gets more complicated the chapters take a lot longer to write, and when you add that to everything else in life that has to be balanced, what used to take me hours now takes me weeks. I am also thinking of trying a beta reader, just to keep me straight and bounce ideas off. As always, thank you so much to my reviewers. You are what keeps this story up and running, and if anyone has any ideas or questions I am always so happy to hear other opinions, flattering or not. Please let me know if the characterisation of Peter and Tony is ok. Call me crazy, but it's hard to put myself in the shoes of literal superheroes. Ok, now you can ignore this and move on to the chapter, which is what you're all here for. Enjoy!
"But let's be real," said Peter, putting on his best serious face, "Ms Potts is a lot nicer than you ever were."
Tony shrugged. "Won't argue with you there." He considered for a moment, before saying in a mock-whisper,
"Probably shouldn't either, if I want to live past fifty-five"
This earned him a rather soft glare from Pepper, to which he replied with a sunny grin, then turned back to Peter, who was still adjusting to the sight of family man Tony. He was wearing a T shirt picturing a man in... a schoolboys outfit...with wires coming out of his hands. Pretty standard for Tony, at least when he was working in the lab. Definitely better than the tank top he wore that one time. But it wasn't the outfit that was throwing Peter off. Tony just seemed...different. Lighter, somehow. Less defensive, more... for lack of a better word, Peter would have said goofy. He realised that this must have been the first time he had ever seen Tony truly happy. He felt an odd twinge through his chest. Peter figured it must have been leftover muscle pain from his breakdown the night before. His mouth went dry as he thought of May, and he put down his fork, his appetite gone. Tony frowned at him, and Peter really hoped he wasn't going to bring up the events of the night before. Not straight after breakfast, anyway. Luckily he was saved from an interrogation by Morgan, who had taken it upon herself to climb onto Tony's lap and beg to be allowed outside to play. Once again, Peter was struck by the uncanny similarities between the two. Tony laughed as he unlatched her arms and set her on the floor.
"Not while you're in pyjamas. I'll take you out to play later, m'kay?"
"I'll go get her dressed, Tony, if you and Peter want to wash the dishes." Said Pepper, taking Morgan by the hand and leading her away. Morgan dutifully plodded away with such a mournful face, Peter would have thought she was being led out to face the firing squad. He grabbed his plate and started stacking the others, while Tony turned on the tap, adding a generous squeeze of washing liquid.
"I'll wash, you dry?" Suggested Tony, and Peter agreed. They made small talk as they cleaned. Well, talk of some kind, anyway. Peter told Tony about the difficulties adjusting to life five years in his future; about all the people he had grown up with, who had now grown up without him. About the school struggling to cope with the influx of new students. Tony seemed slightly too interested in the resources they were missing, and Peter suspected that soon Midtown S&T wouldn't be missing quite so many resources. Tony, for his part, told Peter about everything he'd missed in the last five years. He fudged the beginning pretty well, something Peter appreciated, but he also told him about some of the good things that had happened. The whales in the Hudson. The huge decrease in poverty levels. Some little things, like the building of his house on the lake. Some not so little things, like the stories of incredible human kindness that, as Tony remarked 'were always brought out in a crisis rather than any other time.' Peter contested that, arguing that people just noticed them more in a crisis because they needed them that much more. They covered a lot of topics, but managed to skirt around the uncomfortable ones. Peter wasn't sure where to begin, wasn't even sure he wanted to begin at all. In the end, the choice was taken from him. As Tony scrubbed bacon grease off of a particularly stubborn pan, Peter was left with nothing to dry. Looking up from the draining board, he began to inspect the contents of the shelf that was situated at a perfect height for snooping. Inviting it, really. Sadly, there wasn't much of interest. A few brass pots, some salt and pepper shakers, glasses... a picture, was that Tony's father? Maybe Pepper's dad, actually. Peter couldn't see a resemblance to Tony. But there was another one, tucked in behind it… Struck by a weird sense of nostalgia, he reached over and manoeuvred the smaller picture out from behind the large one. He noticed that most things on the shelf were covered with a thin film of dust, but the glass on this picture was dirt free. Peter stared. He'd forgotten all about this picture. He hadn't even realised Tony had a copy... Peter looked up at Tony, who had stopped attacking the pan and was looking directly at Peter, his expression unreadable. Peter felt a slight, stupid prickling at the back of his throat. Tony had returned to scrubbing the pan, staring studiously at the soapy water. Peter looked back at the photograph, where a mini version of himself was grinning madly, holding up a pair of bunny ears over the billionaire himself. He felt as if he had intruded on something private, which was odd considering he himself was in the photo. But it all felt so long ago. The Peter in the photo was a completely different boy. And somehow the new Peter felt like an imposter.
"Y,know," said Tony, breaking Peter out of his thoughts with a start,
"We could set up a real Stark internship, if you want. Not a sham one like that." He said, nodding at the picture frame, still clutched between Peter's fingers. "Although," he went on, still scrubbing at the same pan, "I suppose it wasn't really a sham, you still wound up cluttering up my lab half the time, but if you wanted something more... official. We could do that."
"Yeah, no, well...I mean that sounds great and all, I just... there's a lot going on, at the moment."
Peter gulped. This was as good a moment as any, to tell Tony about his meeting with Clint and Doctor Strange. He was going to do it. He was. He- it was no use. He couldn't do it. He slid the picture back onto the shelf, as the familiar weight of deception settled itself firmly back on his shoulders. Better to let Tony thing that 'a lot going on' constituted schoolwork and May. And thinking of school...
"How am I going to get to school tomorrow?"
He had accidentally spoken aloud, but it was a valid question. When he looked at Tony, the man looked rather pleased with himself. Peter wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not.
"Ah." He said, finally giving up on the pan, and handing it to Peter.
"Well, you don't have to worry about that. I left a message with them this morning to say you'd be taking a couple of days off. I said it was for the internship, but-" he added hastily, "- of course that's not an obligation, that was just an excuse I used."
Peter nodded slowly. He didn't need spider sense to know that the conversation was headed for a place he was still reluctant to go.
"I hope that's ok." continued Tony. "I just thought you could use a break, kid. You really went through the wringer the other night, by the looks of things. I also left a message with your Aunt May."
Anything Peter might have been about to say was abruptly cut off as Tony raised a hand.
"Now, before you start banging on about a betrayal of trust or whatever, I had to do it, as part of being a responsible adult. I think that's what Pepper said anyway, and May doesn't know this address, but she does know that you're fine, and that you asked to come stay with me and Pepper. I didn't tell her about the state I found you in the other night either, but we're gonna get to that too at some point."
"Do we have to talk about it now?" Asked Peter. His voice came out disconcertingly small.
Tony shook his head. "No."
He gathered up the dry pans off the draining board and started putting them away. Peter heard a thumping noise coming from the second floor. Tony evidently heard it too, as he groaned and straightened up, staring at the staircase with resignation in his eyes.
"However," said Tony "we are going to have to take the creature out to the lake."
Peter was confused. "Wait, this isn't like, a Frankenstein situation or something, is it? Cause I didn't even think you did that kind of scien- oh. You meant Morgan. Gotcha."
"Come on." Tony began walking what turned out to be the porch. "You can borrow some wellies."
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They stood on the lake shore as Peter tried his best to explain his sensory overload to Tony. It was strange though, because standing there, he couldn't imagine ever having another one. It was just so peaceful. The waves on the lake rippled gently, and although the breeze was blowing towards Peter, for once it didn't bring smoke and petrol with it. Just the scent of soil and pine needles. There was a distinct chill settling in, not surprising considering it was practically December, but the sky was clear and the sun was bright, if weak. Peter was pretty toasty anyway, in a borrowed jacket and boots of Tony's. They fit surprisingly well, considering their difference in size. Morgan looked like a marshmallow, all bundled up in a large pink jacket. She was right at the waters edge, pelting bread at a few ducks who seemed less than impressed.
"So let me get this straight," said Tony. "Your senses went all haywire and you went to a park to chill out." He snorted loudly, and smirked, looking at Peter as if he'd come to a profound realisation. "Figures. I always thought you were part Labrador."
"I- wha- excuse me! I am not!" Peter sputtered incoherently.
Tony spread his hands wide and sucked in a breath, looking back at Peter apologetically.
"You do spend a lot of time chasing cats."
"Rescuing them from trees! Come on, Mr Stark!"
"The facts speak for themselves, Pete."
Tony snickered and Peter rolled his eyes, a smile making its way into his face despite his best efforts. He recognised Tony's ribbing for what it was; a way to lighten the mood and make Peter feel better, and he was grateful for it. But he knew he had to be honest- well, at least partially honest with Tony.
"The truth is,"
His mouth had become irritatingly dry.
"Aunt May… She found out we were in contact. She thinks that- she doesn't realise that you're as against me working as Spiderman again for a while as she is. She thinks that I'm going to get hurt again. We had a fight. A pretty big one."
Peter couldn't bring himself to tell Tony all of what May had said. She had way overreacted anyway. Yes, he was planning on going into the past to steal an infinity stone and use it to rescue one of the other avengers, but it wasn't as if Tony knew that. Speaking of, he really needed to find his phone so he could find out if Clint or Strange had made any progress. And before anyone else saw anything. Just thinking about the plan was setting him on edge, and he almost jumped out of his skin when Tony patted him hesitantly on the shoulder.
"Um… Thats my bad, kid, I'm sorry." Said Tony, putting his hands in his pockets and staring out across the lake. He looked across at Peter.
"You might not want to hear this right now, but at some point you have to go talk to her. You're all she has, and until recently she didn't have you at all." He sighed. "I can't say I blame her for her reaction, I knew how she felt and I should have stayed well back."
"It wasn't your fault!" Replied Peter hotly. He rolled his eyes. "If you and May stopped playing the blame game for a second you'd realise you're both trying to do the exact same thing here! Y'know, keeping me in bubble wrap until I'm 20."
"Don't be ridiculous Pete. Until you're 40, at least."
As it turned out, Morgan had ideas for playing by the lake that didn't involve standing around talking, and Peter was her chosen victim. He found himself taking on various roles, most of them playing the villain to Morgans hero. Tony was all too happy to watch and mock him, but when he was called upon to be Pegasus for Morgan, who was at that moment a Valkyrie, he did it with a surprisingly pleasant attitude. That was, after the muttered threats of violence that were to be enacted if Peter ever mentioned this to anyone. For a while, Peter forgot all about May, and Nat, and had more fun than he had had in a long time. He was itching to show this place to Ned. There were so many places to explore, and he was certain that Ned had never been this far from a city before. After what seemed like hours, Morgan began to complain of starvation, and they made their way back to the house. As Peter took his jacket off, one of the zippers caught on his sling, tugging on it and sending a jarring spike of pain up his arm.
"Shoot!"
He clenched his teeth. The arm stopped hurting pretty quickly. He just hoped Tony didn't notice. However, the look on the man's face when he looked over told a different story. Peter sighed.
"I know, I know," he said, trying for a realistic grin. "guess I won't be doing much cat rescuing for a while, huh?"
Tony looked away without saying anything, and though he knew it was stupid, Peter felt ashamed of his weakness. Manoeuvring his wellies off with one arm, he followed Tony wordlessly to the kitchen. He chatted with Pepper and Morgan over lunch, but his earlier enthusiasm had gone, and it wasn't coming back anytime soon. Which was a shame, really, cause the lunch was amazing, and deserved way more enthusiasm than it got. When they had pretty much finished eating, Tony turned to Peter.
"You got any plans for the afternoon?"
A bit confused, Peter shook his head. "I don't think so?"
Tony nodded. "Good. I've got something to show you." He turned to Pepper. "Mind if we split honey? I'm gonna take him up to the top floor."
She raised one eyebrow. 'Fine by me. I'm meeting Janice for dinner, and Morgan's having a sleepover with one of the girls from kindergarten so you've got the whole evening."
Tony grinned. "Thanks honey."
Peter was suspicious.
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"Ok…" Peter tried his best to peer around Tony as he opened what looked like the door to a nuclear bunker.
"I had no idea that whatever this is, was the entire top floor of your house. Um… What is it, anyway?
The enormous steel door slid into the wall noiselessly as Tony spread his arms wide.
"Welcome to the workshop."
When Peter eventually managed to form words, they weren't impressive.
"Nuh uh. No way!"
Tony was looking smug, but in this case it was totally justified. Peter shook his head repeatedly as he tried to take it all in.
"Nah Mr Stark, no way. This isn't a workshop. A workshop is like, a tool bench and, I dunno, a car or something. Pottery maybe. This is… I don't even know what this is."
"Good, isn't it."
Tony gestured proudly across the room, past the rows of gleaming metal suits in their cases, and the cluttered workstations, and the freaking holograms. Peter was completely awestruck. Tony continued to talk, as usual, pleased to show off at any opportunity.
"I tried the whole garage amateur thing for a while, couldn't hack it. It's not as good as the labs at the old compound of course, but boy am I glad I moved my favourite projects here before the battle. What do you think?"
"It's awesome. Oh my god, it's awesome."
Peter couldn't believe his luck. This tech was incredible. He began to feel a familiar restlessness as he itched to look at everything. He had so many questions.
"Are you- are you gonna be working in here? Can I help? I don't even mind just handing you tools and stuff, but I can watch and learn, and-"
"I knew you'd appreciate it." Tony grinned widely at Peter. "Pepper pretends it doesn't exist, and Morgan's not getting within 50 yards of this place until she's old enough to tie her own shoelaces. But,"
He began weaving his way through the tables, until he reached one that was covered with an old, oil stained sheet.
"that's not actually what I wanted to show you."
In one fluid motion Tony swept the sheet off the table and cast it aside.
"This is."