I am delighted to announce that last night I finished writing the final chapter of this whooole long adventure! It's going to be, at minimum, 102 chapters (parts 1-5) and 608,000 words – before I decide to add extra bits or tag on additional fun moments. I have a sizeable list of stuff I pulled out of the main narrative for throwing off the pacing but might go back and write as additional oneshots to stick on the end in a collection. It took me 16 months to get here, but this series is actually done!
At least, it's done on my Google drive. I'm still only going to post one chapter a week, though. That's just…my thing.
(FYI, the next item on my to-write list is a fairy tale crossover with the MCU because I just haven't gotten enough of Peter and Tony and everybody (and possibly even Morgan!) yet. So even when TMOI ends, there will still be at least one more hurrah in this fandom from me. After that…who even knows?)
But the future is…well, in the future. Today, let's sit back and enjoy Peter's long-awaited Avengers-themed thirteenth birthday celebration.
The song for this one is "Life in a Northern Town" by The Dream Academy. It's not really about the lyrics on this one, just that warm, comfortable, fond feeling.
Enjoy!
Chapter 7: The Morning Lasted All Day
Once again, nobody would tell Peter what was happening for his birthday with May and Mister Stark. The tenth of August happened to fall on a Sunday, so he spent all of Saturday over at Ned's having that part of his birthday. He knew others his age had parties with lots of friends or whole sports teams, but Peter really only had Ned. Sure, E-Bit, Estrella, and Nkosi were his friends at school, but Peter wasn't quite ready to bring them into the rest of his life.
Ned, however, was a constant.
"So, are you going to do something neat and sciencey with Mister Carbonell again?" Ned asked when they talked about it.
"I don't know." Peter could only shrug. "Aunt May and Mister S-Carbonell keep making weird faces when I ask about it. I think they like surprising me."
"Well," Ned said, not noticing Peter's near-slip, "it's cool that they want to do something secret."
"I'm sorry you can't come with me for whatever they're doing," Peter said, genuinely sorry. Ned hadn't even met Mister Stark, and now that Peter knew his true identity, he wasn't going to let Ned anywhere near him yet. Ned wasn't any more likely to figure out he was Tony Stark than Peter had, but the chance wasn't worth taking anyway.
And, if he was really honest with himself, Peter wasn't ready to share Mister Stark with Ned, either.
"Nah, it's okay," Ned said, always so unbothered. "You've never come to my Lola's for my birthday because it's supposed to be 'family only,'" and he made the quote gesture, "even though you kind of are family. I mean, we've been friends since before we knew Darth Vader was Luke's dad!"
Peter could only laugh. They had been friends for so long, he had no idea when they'd really clicked together anymore. They'd watched all the Star Wars movies for the first time together, built all the best Legos for the first time together, even learned to ride bikes together. There was almost no part of Peter's life before Ned — none that he could remember, anyway.
Now that he lived in Astoria and it was a train trip back and forth, they didn't live in the same easy sync they always had, but they were still best friends and always would be.
Someday, Peter vowed, I'll tell him all about Mister Stark and the Avengers. Not without getting permission, but I will. Ned will freak out and die. I'll get JARVIS to record it.
"Hey," Peter said, "you know what?"
"What?"
"We need a handshake. A secret one. We can't have a club because a club of two people is stupid, but we could, you know. Something cool." Peter felt himself run out of steam on the idea as Ned stared at him.
Then Ned's face bent into a broad smile. "That is the best idea ever! Let's do it!"
They spent all afternoon searching the internet for all the best best-friend secret handshakes they could find, choosing the most awesome parts, and piecing them together into a single ritual. It took longer to memorize than it did to get right after they choreographed it. By the end, they both had sweaty palms and Peter had smacked Ned's chest more than once and Ned had — somehow — managed to poke Peter in the eye at one point, but they had a best friend handshake worthy of the name.
The Star Wars speeder Lego kit was an awesome gift, but the handshake — and the friendship — Peter shared with Ned was way better.
When Peter got home that night, he found Aunt May waiting with another cryptic note just like the year before.
I know 9am is early, but get up anyway and meet me in the parking lot. You can sleep in the car. Wear your lab boots and clothing May won't kill me if it doesn't come back unscathed. Layers, because we'll be outside and shade is a thing. Make sure your phone is charged. But don't bring anything else you would mourn if it met destruction. Remember: 9AM. We've got a drive ahead of us.
"That's not mysterious or anything," Peter said, scowling at May. She laughed at him.
"Before long, you're going to be outsmarting all of us. We have to take advantage while we can."
Peter gave her a look. "For as long as you and Mister Stark and JARVIS can talk to each other when I'm, you know, not around, I'm pretty sure you'll be able to keep your secrets."
Aunt May beamed in response. Peter decided that meant he wasn't getting anything else out of her and sighed.
Peter stayed up way too late thinking about all the possibilities for the next day, so when Aunt May shook him awake at eight-thirty, he was groggy and a little on the grumpy side. He cheered up when he learned that she had bought him donuts, the good kind with filling and sprinkles. Dressed in the sturdy, steel-toed boots Mister Stark had bought him for use in the lab, a pair of old jeans, and a half-faded shirt with Albert Einstein on it, he grabbed a zip-up hoodie and his phone and dashed out the door with a frantic wave at Aunt May just to reach the parking lot exactly one minute late.
Mister Stark pulled up in a car Peter had never seen before. It was sleek, shiny, bright orange, and convertible. Already, the thumping beat of Mister Stark's workshop mix was audible.
"Welcome to your teenage years," Mister Stark said, smiling behind his sunglasses. "Hop in and let's hit the road."
Peter slid gingerly into the passenger side, falling into the leather bucket seat that was so smooth it felt almost soft. As soon as he'd put on the seatbelt, he felt a poke on his shoulder.
"Here," Mister Stark said, holding out a set of smaller sunglasses. "Trust me, with the top up, you'll want them."
Peter slid the sunglasses on and suddenly felt like a secret agent. He grinned at Mister Stark who grinned back before ruffling his hair.
"Ready, mini me?"
"Yeah!"
"Hold on, kid."
Leaving the city was pretty normal driving, even for a Sunday morning, but once they reached the roads free of the city's congestion, Mister Stark hit the gas and took off as fast as he pleased. Peter couldn't sleep through the rush of adrenaline that came with the rapid shifting, the curves that pressed him back into his seat, the darting around trucks going somewhat more slowly.
"You drive like Iron Man flies!" Peter yelled over the whipping wind, roaring engine, and loud music.
"You've got it backwards," Mister Stark yelled back. "I fly like I drive!"
Peter couldn't help it. He put his hands in the air and let out a whoop. It was better than a roller coaster, better than any carnival ride, because it kept going all the way away from the suburbs northwards into the green forests and hills of the Hudson River valley.
Finally they turned off the big roads and started winding along small, dusty streets through towns that had fewer houses and stores than any four blocks in Queens. Peter didn't ask where they were going now — he was just enjoying the morning and the drive. This wasn't like sitting on a school bus for a field trip to a farm to look at cows. This was like the outset of an adventure.
Still, two hours and a bit more later, he was ready for a stop. "Are we going to get wherever we're going soon?" he asked. Mister Stark had turned the music down when they had to go slower on the smaller roads, so he didn't have to shout to be heard.
"Yep. Just a little more."
Soon they began seeing signs of construction along the roads — more recent paving, big tracks in the dirt where equipment had sat, even newly-dug ditches filled with pipes. Mister Stark rounded a stand of trees to reveal a set of buildings which looked like they were in the process of being taken apart.
"What is this place?" Peter asked, looking around at once. He spotted an old version of the Stark Industries logo on the side of one still-intact wall.
"Well, it used to be an old storage facility," Mister Stark said, aiming away from the buildings towards a cleared area to one side. "Now, we're refurbishing it as kind of an outpost for the Avengers and SHIELD. Eventually, we'll use this as a base more than the Tower, but it'll take a while to get it all up to speed."
"Wow." Peter wondered how many people would ever know about this place and figured probably not many who weren't actually agents or Avengers. "Is this what we're seeing today?"
"Nope." Mister Stark parked the car and climbed out, heading for the trunk. "This is just a big piece of land I own where we already have permission to have some fun."
Peter scrambled after him. In the trunk were several sealed white boxes and tubs. And a big cooler and an open box of picnic supplies.
"First," Mister Stark said, "we get to recreate our Fourth of July cookout tradition because the Compound doesn't really have a kitchen yet and I haven't vetted the local fare."
Peter grinned. "Okay."
"And then, Master Chemist Parker," Mister Stark said with a bright smile, "you and I are going to mix ourselves the world's best pyrotechnics."
Peter's jaw dropped. "We're making fireworks?"
"We are." And even Mister Stark looked a little giddy. "And we better do a good job, because when the sun goes down, we are responsible for putting on a show for everybody."
"Who's everybody?"
And that was when Peter realized he had his back to a big pile of construction stuff. Mister Stark looked over Peter's head, and Peter turned to see what looked like all the Avengers popping out of hiding places amidst the supplies.
"Surprise!"
Peter knew he was staring. Sure, he'd seen a few of the Avengers around sometimes, especially when he went to hang out with Mister Stark in the Tower's workshop. But it was different seeing Captain Rogers, Colonel Rhodes, Doctor Banner, Mister Barton, Prince Thor, Miss Romanoff, and Mister Wilson all grinning at him.
"Pepper and May will be here later," Mister Stark said. "They're bringing dinner and cake with them."
"I...you all…?" Peter looked back at the Avengers. "But…"
Captain Rogers approached first with a warm smile. "It's not every day a young man turns thirteen," he said. "That's worth a celebration."
"Indeed!" Prince Thor yelled, leaping over most of the pile of lumber to join them. "I've been informed that the transition into what you call adolescence begins at this juncture, and for such a noble ally it is an honor to partake in this ritual."
"Besides," Colonel Rhodes said, flashing a smile, "we haven't gotten to hang out just...hanging out, since you made a cake explode in Steve's face."
"Different kind of explosions today," Mister Stark said.
"Plus, somebody's gotta know how to cook steak right," Mister Wilson added, "and I have a feeling not one of y'all has ever actually done a proper cookout before."
"I have," Doctor Banner offered, "but I like steak well-done, so apparently that disqualifies me from preparing it."
Miss Romanoff elbowed him. "You bet it does."
The next hour was a chaotic mess of setting up a giant picnic on the cleared area away from the buildings. Peter helped Mister Stark and Captain Rogers light the fire while Mister Wilson and Colonel Rhodes and Doctor Banner exchanged some colorful discussions about the best way to make burgers, hot dogs, and steaks over the fire. Apparently Mister Stark had actually bought stuff this time, so they had more cooking implements than they knew what to do with, and at least three things nobody could identify.
"Tony, did you just walk into a sporting goods store and buy the whole section?" Colonel Rhodes asked, laughing.
"I did no such thing."
"Nope," Miss Romanoff said. "He made Happy do it."
The first round of steaks did come out well-done, so Doctor Banner was happy while Mister Wilson face fell as if it was a personal failing on himself and his ancestors.
Peter was content with hot dogs, but somehow the whole thing turned into a cooking-over-the-fire competition with Prince Thor as the judge because he could eat the most. Peter, of course, teamed up with Mister Stark, and the two of them managed to get one steak perfectly medium-rare and one burger cooked evenly without losing all the juices. Doctor Banner dropped two burger patties in the fire before he gave up, and Mister Barton roasted a skewer of hot dogs off one of his heat-resistant arrows instead of messing with the complicated stuff.
"You're actually ruining your arrows for this?" Miss Romanoff asked him.
"Hey, this way I get, like, six hot dogs. And the arrows can take it." He'd winked at Peter. "When else is anybody going to let me do this?"
While the others kept up their cooking competition, Peter went digging through the cooler and other bins of food — because there were multiple bins to feed several Avenger-sized appetites — and found that someone had packed enough supplies for s'mores to feed two armies. He snuck around the fire to the other side, grabbed one of the store-bought skewers, and toasted himself some marshmallows. Once he got it down and tested a few of his own, he quietly added a s'more to Thor's growing table of food options.
Mister Stark had brought a book about fireworks and the chemical processes behind them along, so Peter settled comfortably in the shade of a tree to read while everyone else finished lunch and waited for Prince Thor's verdict.
He was startled out of reading by the shouting.
"That is cheating! Who played dirty?"
"That wasn't even in the rules!"
"Okay, which one of you was diabolical enough to put perfectly good meat products up against the greatest camp dessert known to man?"
Peter started giggling. A moment later, he was swept up and perched upon Prince Thor's broad shoulder.
"Of course I must award the victory to he whom we celebrate today!" he boomed. "For he has provided the finest option of all! I hereby declare that s'mores as you call them are the most delicious of any food in our tournament!"
Peter was so glad he had his phone so he could grab pictures of the entire Avengers roster staring at him with looks ranging from utter despondency to betrayal to unmitigated glee. Mister Stark was laughing too hard to stand up straight, but he did manage to give Peter a fist-bump. Miss Romanoff also offered a fist-bump.
"That's how you outsmart your opponents," she said with approval.
After everyone had eaten, Mister Stark drew Peter off to where there was a temporary workshed set up.
"You all try not to catch on fire or anything. And for the love of god don't burst in here unannounced while we're doing science!" he yelled.
"Are they really going to catch on fire?" Peter asked, glancing back. It looked like Captain Rogers and Mister Barton were about to get into some kind of competition with Prince Thor.
"Kid, they might be 'Earth's mightiest heroes,' but they're also 'Earth's biggest children!'" he called over his shoulder. "If we make it through today without needing a fire extinguisher or a medic, it'll be a miracle."
Peter laughed. "They; never put that stuff on the news."
"No, the news wants people to feel safer with us protecting them, and the image of Cap with his eyebrows burnt off would be bad for that. So we only let the madness out when we're off duty." He set down the box he'd been carrying inside the workshed and gestured for Peter to do the same. "But this is still science and that means we are going to be careful."
"Also," Peter put in, "Aunt May will kill you if I have a chemical burn when she gets here."
"There is also that."
With JARVIS in both of their phones, the book of instructions, and a lot of small-scale trial-and-error, Peter and Mister Stark figured out how to build pyrotechnics from raw materials. The chemistry itself was pretty simple, but making the colors or patterns, timing the fuses, and balancing the weight of the rockets against the payload was fascinating. Peter lost himself in it, utterly engrossed for hours. Neither he nor Mister Stark had any idea how long they'd been working when they finally emerged with dozens of fireworks (hopefully) ready to dazzle the others.
They emerged into a scene of happy chaos.
The folding chairs and tables they'd had set up for the picnic had been moved to one side and the remaining food clumped together. The fire was burning lower, although not out, and Doctor Banner sat where he could keep an eye on it.
Everybody else was spread out in the grassy area that formed an impromptu lawn playing some kind of game that involved a great deal of running, dodging, and yelling.
"Oh, hey Tony," Doctor Banner greeted when he saw them.
"Do I even want to know?" Mister Stark asked.
"It's some combination of capture the flag and tag and maybe rugby. The rules seem pretty fluid. There's just a lot of running and tackling after the two halves of a tablecloth Thor ripped apart."
"Are there teams?" Peter wanted to know.
"More like...shifting alliances," Doctor Banner said. "Except everybody is pretty consistently ganging up on Steve and Thor when they get the chance."
"Well, obviously," Mister Stark said. "But since nobody's using powers or equipment, agility is really the thing. And the SHIELD twins are out of everybody else's league."
"SHIELD twins?" Peter asked.
"Barton and Romanoff," Mister Stark said.
"But, in the heat of it," Doctor Banner said, smiling, "they go under the radar."
"Yeah, that's kind of what spies do." Mister Stark looked thoughtful. Then he turned to Peter. "Hey, kid. How would you feel about showing some Avengers that you can't out-fight a genius? Or two geniuses?" He winked at Doctor Banner. "Three geniuses?"
Bruce smiled and gave a nod.
Peter was pretty sure this was the best birthday anybody ever had anywhere. "Sure!"
Mister Stark's grin was feral and bright. "Perfect. Then here's what we're going to do."
A few minutes later, all three of them were moving around the field carrying loads of what looked like the pyrotechnics Peter and Mister Stark had spent the afternoon making.
"Don't mind us!" Mister Stark yelled to the still-playing Avengers. "Just stay clear of our stuff unless you like finding out if you're flammable!"
Peter watched the group acknowledge the information — every one of the six glanced over, taking in the situation. He could even see them mentally marking where the fireworks were being set so they could continue their full-contact game of keep-away without getting too close.
Peter was the farthest from the group with a bucket in each hand, a bouquet of the wooden poles for mounting fireworks sticking up out of one. He set his buckets down, careful to keep his body between the Avengers and what he was doing. In the earpiece he had been lent, he could hear JARVIS giving instructions.
"Doctor Banner, just another three yards ahead ought to be ideal."
Peter pulled out the poles and set them on the grass. There were no fireworks attached, just empty tubes. Then he reached into the emptier of the two buckets and carefully mixed the compounds one last time and made sure the tiny device they had thrown together was turned on and hooked up to JARVIS for deployment.
"Whenever you are ready, Mister Parker, Sir and Doctor Banner are in position."
"Bombs away," Peter whispered back.
Then he upended one bucket into another and took off upwind.
In moments, a thick smoke began billowing across the field. The Avengers shouted in alarm, turning to look in Peter's direction. But two more clouds of smoke emerged, filling the field from opposite sides. Peter continued to move upwind, listening to JARVIS in his ear.
"Just a few more steps, sir. Well done. Now turn thirty degrees to your left. Doctor Banner, I suggest you speak up now."
"Nobody worry!" Peter heard Doctor Banner yell across the smoke-filled field. "Just a little chemistry accident. It'll clear in a second!"
"Are you trying to poison us?" Mister Wilson demanded from somewhere in the cloud.
"It's harmless!" Doctor Banner shouted back.
Then, Mister Barton gave an indignant, "Hey! More cheating!"
Peter bit down on the inside of his cheek as he angled around the smoke-filled area back towards the tables and chairs. He planted himself there as the afternoon wind began to clear the haze. He heard the feet in the grass before he could see the silhouette appear in front of him of Mister Stark grinning madly.
Wearing one half of the tablecloth tied loosely around his neck like a cape.
Mister Stark draped the other half over Peter's shoulders and tied it the same way before he dropped to sit on the grass beside him.
The field was still clearing when Doctor Banner made his way back, returning to his chair and smiling serenely. By now, there was more yelling in the dissipating cloud in the field.
"We already said you weren't allowed to put it in your pants, Barton!"
"I didn't! I lost it!"
"I, too, have misplaced the item of import!"
"Nat, did you get one?"
Miss Romanoff's voice was clear and Peter could see her walking towards them. "You're idiots." But she smiled at Peter and Mister Stark sitting there wearing the tablecloths with identical glee.
"Pretty good," she told them.
The other Avengers realized they'd been tricked and tromped over with varying degrees of annoyance. Mister Barton looked the most put out, but Colonel Rhodes was laughing.
"Proving a point, Tones?" he asked.
"Always," Mister Stark replied, wrapping an arm tight around Peter's shoulders. "Brains beat brawn every time. And mastery of chemistry is not to be underestimated."
Captain Rogers sat on the grass nearby and leaned over to tousle Peter's hair. "It's your birthday, so I guess we can let you win today. But next time, I want you on my team. Both of you."
"There weren't teams this time," Mister Wilson complained. "And if you're taking the brain trust over there, I want Banner."
"Don't forget about Colonel Rhodes," Peter felt the need to speak up. "He went to MIT, too."
"Yeah!" Colonel Rhodes shot Peter a grin. "Just because I don't have more PhDs than I have fingers on one hand doesn't mean you can lump me in with the brawn club."
"Don't worry about it," Mister Stark said. "Next time, you can play on Team Science Bros too."
Peter was content to sit around with the others picking at some of the food they had remaining — though he was reminded that a real dinner and cake would arrive soon — and laughing. Eventually he decided to walk the area in order to retrieve all the fake pyrotechnics supplies they'd left everywhere so they didn't get left in the field. Everybody offered to help, but Peter waved them off.
Honestly, after such a chaotic day, it was nice to have a moment to himself. He gathered all the supplies up, piling the buckets one in the next, but took his time about walking back. It gave him the chance to watch the Avengers from the side, no longer embedded in the middle of them. He could see them relaxing, talking to one another, just being together. He could see Mister Stark's open and comfortable posture, could see how Doctor Banner didn't hold himself apart as carefully, could see how Miss Romanoff smiled a little more.
He suddenly felt a little bit like an outsider. He was the only kid, and the only non-Avenger here. Sure, they cared about him and sent him texts and had come to his party, but he wondered if they would be able to have even more fun if he wasn't there. If it made it weird for them to be hanging out with a thirteen-year-old.
"Hey."
Peter almost dropped his buckets at the unexpected voice. He looked up to see Mister Barton perched in a tree right at the edge of the field nearest him.
"Oh. Um, hi. I didn't know you were there," Peter said.
"I know." He smiled. "I'm not always the most social guy. So it's nice to step away sometimes and get a different perspective on things."
"Do you always climb trees for your perspective?" Peter asked.
"If there aren't any tall buildings around, sure."
Peter nodded, not sure what else to say to that. He was about to walk away when Mister Barton called after him.
"You don't have to feel like you have to give us space, you know."
Peter turned around. "What?"
"You were looking at everybody and suddenly thinking about us as adults and Avengers instead of your friends. And you were thinking maybe you should back off so we could do our own thing without you in the way, right?"
"Um…"
"I've seen that look before. So, take it from me, kid. You've got a place here. We've got a weird family reunion vibe going, but the kids are always part of the family. And besides." He winked. "Everybody basically threatened to throw Stark out a window if he didn't let us come hang out with you on your birthday. We didn't have to be here, but we are. Don't overthink it."
Peter blinked at him. "O-okay. Thanks?"
Mister Barton grinned and hopped down from the tree. "Any time, Stark Junior."
That made blood rush to Peter's face and he knew he had turned bright red.
Mister Barton smirked and picked up the buckets, heading back to the group and leaving Peter staring at him. Peter made himself chase after, though he had completely run out of words. Something must have shown on his face, though, because Mister Stark spotted him and immediately strode over.
"Are you bothering my kid, Barton?" he asked. "Whatever he said, ignore him, squirt. He can't be trusted."
Mister Barton grinned. "I'm hurt, Stark. What if I was saying important, supportive stuff?"
Mister Stark raised an eyebrow. "Were you?"
"Well, yeah." But Mister Barton's grin got deeper. "I also called him Stark Junior."
Peter looked up at Mister Stark and Mister Stark had just stopped. He didn't flush the way Peter had, but he thought maybe they had the same reaction otherwise.
"Oh, yeah," Mister Barton said, snorting. "That's gonna stick. It makes you both crash like a computer dumped in a fish tank."
Peter still didn't have a good response, but Mister Stark snapped out of it and came up with one instead.
"Birdbrain, you better go hang out with somebody else. I can feel our IQs dropping for every minute we spend with a guy who thinks the best way to take out enemies is with a weapon from a thousand years ago with extremely limited ammunition. And then you try to get under the skin of one of the only people around who can actually make your ammunition. Now, does that sound like a good plan, or have you taken one too many hits to your oddly square head?"
If anything, Mister Barton laughed harder. "Okay, note to self — Papa Stark is protective. It's cute on you, Tinman."
And Peter wasn't sure, but he was fairly certain the looks the two exchanged had more in them than just teasing. It was the same sense he got when Mister Stark and Aunt May went after each other. Which meant they weren't really annoyed with one another — which Peter appreciated. But he could still deal with somewhat less of being in the middle of whatever it was.
A car horn sounded and everyone got up to investigate. Apparently Mister Hogan had just pulled up in a big car with Miss Pepper and Aunt May, which then triggered a rush to unload the food they'd brought, and Peter could hide himself away in the chaos for a while. Dinner turned out to be a massive taco bar feast as prepared by the best taco place in Queens, so the setup took longer than it did for the crowd to eat it to nothing. But Peter managed to get the last of the fish tacos and the last of the good guacamole with the lime juice, and he was only a little suspicious that they let him have it because of his birthday.
Then, horrifyingly, Aunt May suggested they should all sing 'Happy Birthday' to him while she lit the candles on his two-tiered cake. Mister Stark actually brought out his phone so JARVIS could get a better angle on recording it. By the end, Peter was ready to throw himself into what remained of the bonfire.
But he blew out his candles with a wish anyway.
I don't really need anything, so I wish that I never have to lose what I have right now.
Apparently cutting the cake was followed by presents, and Peter had no idea what to do with the fact that the Avengers had all gotten him presents. Mostly Legos, or tools for the lab, or books, or, in the case of Thor, an actual sword "For you to begin your training for battle!"
Peter hoped JARVIS had somebody's phone in position to get a picture of Aunt May's face when she heard that one.
"My turn," Mister Stark said finally. "Come take a look. This doesn't wrap well."
Peter remembered the last present Mister Stark had given him that 'didn't wrap' — a spot in the workshop — and felt excitement churning in his gut.
Mister Stark flipped his phone out and held it laterally, parallel to the ground. It was one of the really new ones that was see-through. Peter knew he didn't use it when he was in Queens because Tony Carbonell had no reason to have an unreleased Stark phone, so he hadn't seen all it could do yet.
"JARVIS, go for it."
A hologram emerged from the phone floating above it just like they did in the labs at the Tower and beneath the workshop in Queens. Peter immediately recognized Mister Stark's personal lab at the Tower — not the one connected to the common room the Avengers used most often, but the one a few floors down where he did real work. The one where Dum-E and You and Butterfingers lived and where Mister Stark built his Iron Man armors and everything else important.
Peter wasn't wholly surprised to see a worktable set aside for himself, just as Mister Stark had given him one in the workshop. But he was surprised by what he saw in the hologram on his table.
"Mister Stark, is that…?"
"You're thirteen now," Mister Stark said, sniffing as he did when he was avoiding letting emotion out. "Time to do more than tinker with chemicals and little projects. And if anybody here gives you grief, I promise you I'll make them pay for it."
Peter reached over to the hologram and carefully enlarged it. The table and tools were amazing enough, but it was the array of stuff on the shelf above the table that had his full attention.
There was one of Miss Romanoff's stunning "widow's bites," the components for Mister Barton's arrows, and a set of Mister Wilson's goggles. There was even a pair of gauntlets side-by-side, which Peter knew on sight to be one each from an Iron Man suit and an Iron Patriot suit.
"You're going to...seriously…?"
"With supervision, obviously," Mister Stark said, mouth turning up. "But between me and JARVIS helping you, there's no reason you can't tinker with some genuine Avengers gear. Maybe even improve on some of it. Barton's quiver's been giving me fits. No better time for an outside opinion."
Peter knew his eyes must be huge. He turned to the rest of the Avengers — and Mister Hogan and Aunt May and Miss Pepper — and stared at them.
"You'll really let me…?"
Captain Rogers smiled. "It's a good learning experience for you, and Tony says you're ready. That's good enough for me."
"Trust me," Mister Barton said, "you can't be worse than the techs at SHIELD."
"Probably significantly better even before Tony gives you the first lesson," Miss Romanoff said. "I've got money on you showing SHIELD up in under six months. Don't disappoint me." She winked at him.
Peter rubbed at his face in pure disbelief. "I…"
Mister Stark cleared his throat. "It's not a traditional...well. It's not something you can take home and show your friends. But I thought…" And he suddenly looked nervous. "I thought we could expand what we build together into something a little more interesting."
And Peter decided that, yes, there would be no birthday in the world better than this one.
He swallowed a lump of too many feelings in his throat. "I...building Avengers gear...this is the literal best thing ever." And he threw his arms around Mister Stark. He lowered his voice and whispered, "Thank you, padrino. I love you."
Mister Stark held him tightly and whispered back, "Love you, too, figlio."
Peter was fairly sure he'd never remember all the specific moments that happened after that, but many would stick with him. The competition to make the perfect s'more just to show up Peter's act of rebellion earlier and its messy results. The sight of Colonel Rhodes successfully roasting half a dozen marshmallows on individual limbs of one large tree branch stuck over the fire and laughing at everyone who hadn't been a Boy Scout to learn what he called 'critical life skills.' Thor attempting to chop firewood by flinging his hammer at a particularly large piece of log and accidentally taking down a whole tree. Aunt May in a chair with Miss Pepper sitting on a blanket at her feet while Aunt May braided her hair — which somehow ended with Doctor Banner on the blanket nearby having his hair braided by Miss Romanoff. Mister Wilson attempting to encourage people to sing campfire songs, and getting no traction whatsoever. Mister Hogan trying to pretend he wasn't enjoying himself and failing miserably even when he had to clean an entire piece of melted chocolate out of his beard.
And when the sun had set sufficiently and Peter and Mister Stark — with some backup help from Colonel Rhodes — set off their homemade fireworks in chaotic, slightly uncoordinated bursts of color, Peter watched the faces of everyone around him. Watched their smiles in the flashes of gold and red and blue and green and purple that came out kind of bluish. Watched Mister Stark smile unguardedly and laugh freely when one poor rocket went horribly sideways and ended up in the middle of the parking lot spinning in a circle.
He remembered what Mister Barton had said about 'family reunion vibes.'
Peter had never been to a family reunion before, but now he was pretty sure he knew exactly what that meant after all.