"Mr. Stark, can we please not do this. Like, pretty please? I'll do anything, but really it's unnecessary," Peter begged. You wouldn't think someone could be capable of fighting off five real live villains straight out of Grand Theft Auto while simultaneously throwing a minor temper tantrum (that's what Tony liked to call it) at someone over the phone, but it turns out anything is possible when you put your mind to it.
Or not, Peter thought as a bullet grazed his side and he felt the telltale sting of an open wound where his suit had been ripped apart. He hissed in pain.
"That isn't the type of sound a responsible seventeen year old makes when he's being a smart crime fighting spider, Peter. Are you sure you don't want backup?" Tony said, a little image of his face showing up in the top left hand corner of Peter's mask.
"I'm fine Mr. Stark, just a little distracted. Besides, I'm not even seventeen yet, let up a little." He took a deep breath and flipped backwards, narrowly avoiding ripping a hole in the middle of his torso. He shot out another web and snatched the weapon from the guy's hands.
"Oh, yeah? Well you're going to be seventeen in three hours, and if you're not back before then, you probably won't live to see eighteen at all. This curfew is no joke, young man." Peter could see Tony's eyebrows lifting and his face angling downward, as if he was scolding a small child for staying up past his bedtime. The way Tony saw it, he was scolding a small child up past his bedtime. It was what Clint liked to call his Disappointed Dad Face.
"Mr. Stark, I promise I'll be home before curfew every night for the rest of the year, just please don't make a big deal out of tomorrow. It's like the opposite of a big deal. There's no deal at all, in fact. It's just a normal day." Peter finally managed to snag the last guy, by webbing him to one of the cars he had been trying to steal. In hindsight, trying to stop car thieves from stealing cars, but then ruining said car's paint job with webbing while in the process of apprehending the car thieves might have defeated the purpose of saving the cars. That hurt his brain to think about though, and Peter decided not to dwell on it.
"Kid, it is a big deal, and we're going to celebrate. Speaking of," Peter heard Tony on the other end, talking to someone else. "Steve, I'm gonna need three funfetti cakes from that Whole Foods near us, and a couple other things - I'll make you a list."
There was muffled noise on the other end of the line. This is when Peter knew he was in for it, whether he made it home on time or not. Tony kept speaking on the other end.
"What do you mean you can't go get the cake? Why the hell not? This is an important part of the traditional American birthday, Rogers. They had funfetti cake in the 1940s, right?"
There was more noise, and he was suddenly very glad he was anyone but Steve Rogers right now. Peter had no desire to explain to Tony why Captain America was indefinitely banned from whole foods: for trying to pop a wheelie on a shopping cart in the baked goods section, and then subsequently knocking down the baked goods section. Suffice to say, someone else would have to pick up the cake.
"You know what, we'll talk about this later. Anyway Peter, isn't seventeen a monumental year for kids these days," Tony said.
"No! Mr. Stark, seventeen is like the most irrelevant year ever. Name one thing you get to do when you're seventeen. I'm not a legal adult yet, and I can already drive." Tony's response was almost immediate, and Peter knew he had been waiting to do this for a long time before the question had been asked.
"I beg to differ, kid. You're the dancing queen this year! Celebrate it! In fact, Karen, can you play that audio file I had FRIDAY send your way a couple days ago?" Tony asked through the phone.
"Sure thing, Mr. Stark," she responded. Before Peter could so much as tell her she was a traitor, the song started playing through his mask's speakers.
"C'mon Pete, sing it. I know you know the lyrics. Here, I'll start." And that's how Peter found himself swinging back to the compound that night, listening to Iron Man himself croon along to the lyrics of Dancing Queen.
He approached the compound from the same direction he usually did, and spotted his bedroom window open how he had left it. Sure enough, the moment he was back in his room, the song played through the surround sound system.
"Mr. Stark," he said, knowing that wherever Tony was, he could hear what Peter was saying, "I know you're pretty old, and you feel a compulsive need to listen to old people music, but even so, I never pegged for an ABBA type of guy."
"Shut up punk. Just because I'm not an ABBA guy doesn't mean I don't respect them. You, on the other hand, do not have a healthy respect for your elders, and right now your elder is telling you to go to bed. I'll see you in the morning."
"Wait, Mr. Stark! How do I turn the music off?" Peter yelled at the ceiling.
"It's programmed to sing you to sleep, kid. The music turns off when you do. I think I'm going to call it the Lullaby Regimen." And with that, the call ended, and Peter knew that whatever Tony had in store for his birthday, it could not possibly be worse than the endless repetition of having the time of your life, see that girl, watch that scene, digging the dancing queen.
Peter's request that his birthday be inexpensive - as in no professional chefs, no excessive gifts, no celebrity appearances, no live music, and no guest list exceeding that of fifteen people - had at least been respected. However, this meant that Tony had to do it the hard way, and not pay people to do it for him. Of course, Peter hadn't actually given him all of these instructions until one day before, so this meant he had to cancel on the caterers, the new car, the Dean of Science at MIT, and The Who.
In the process of planning a birthday party, one must take into account the interests and hobbies of the birthday boy. In Peter's case, it could be legos, it could be chemistry, it could be Thai food, it could be literally anything having to do with Star Wars, Star Trek, and the whole plethora of science fiction movies that Peter had been watching religiously since he was 7.
He should have known that Tony had a compulsive need to always, always hit the nail right on the head, though, because when he sat down at the table and Steve handed him a paper plate emblazoned with his face on it, Spiderman's face, covered in syrup and pancakes, Peter knew he had underestimated him.
His napkin was Spiderman, the tablecloth was Spiderman, and upon further inspection, Steve's apron was decorated with spider webs, covered in batter, and occupied by one Captain America, smiling like this was the funniest thing to happen since stand up comedy had become popular.
"Good morning, Underoos! Is this cheap enough for you? I had a real tough time deciding between this and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, but I figured you would appreciate this the most." Tony looked at Peter with a bigger smirk than he thought had ever existed on the face of the planet, and reached behind him.
Suddenly, a small party hat was being strapped onto Peter's head, and every single Avenger in the compound popped into existence before his eyes. Clint came out of the air vents, as per usual. Bucky and Sam both popped up behind the counter, where they were sitting at Steve's feet. Wanda appeared from behind a huge houseplant that seemed to have been manipulated into covering more than it should physically be able to, and Vision came right out of the wall, because, well, he's Vision. Natasha came from God knows where, and Peter suspected he'd never find out, and Bruce just walked in the exact same door Peter had, as if this was all a big surprise to him too.
"Happy birthday!" They all yelled, throwing confetti at him and blowing into their Spiderman noise makers. Peter noted that along with a terrible screeching noise, a little strand of fake webbing also came out of the noisemakers, as if it was a bona fide web shooter. Little red and blue pieces of paper drifted through the air, onto Peter's hair, into Peter's syrup, and all over the small semblance of hope Peter had that Tony would just forget it was his birthday at all, and treat him like he always did
"C'mon spidey, the day hasn't even started. Don't look so miserable yet," Natasha said, picking confetti out of his hair and loading pancakes onto her plate at the same time.
"Did you commission spiderman party gear just for my birthday? Because I know you didn't find this at a local grocery store." Peter said, shooting a glare at Tony.
"I swear to God, kid, hand on my heart, that I did not ask for this to be made for you. I was down in Queens, paying a visit to Aunt May, I wandered into a store, and these were sitting in the party section. I hate to break it to you, but you're on paper plates now. Next thing you know, it's cereal boxes. When Ben and Jerry's names a flavor after you, though, you'll know you're as high as you're ever going to get."
"Mr. Stark, I don't believe you. People are not putting me on…" Peter trailed off, looking in awe at all the spiderman decorations in the kitchen. "... tablecloths. I can't believe Spiderman is famous enough to be on tablecloths."
Steve dropped a hand onto his shoulder and shot him his trademark smile. "Get used to it, kid. You're a hero."
"And as a hero, it's critical that we celebrate all your big accomplishments - including turning seventeen. So dig into your patriotic pancakes, there's more when you're done!" Tony seemed ridiculously pleased with himself, and Peter couldn't help but grin at everyone surrounding him. This wasn't so bad, after all. Vision turned to him from the other side of Natasha, and Peter sensed an informational spiel coming on.
"I have been informed that in the event of one's anniversary of birth, many rituals occur, such as: the beating of the pinata, an object that originated in…." Whatever else Vision was about to rattle off was lost to the sound of Dancing Queen playing on the speakers overhead, and some more confetti drifted down into his syrup as the rest of the team serenaded him. Peter smiled, and sang along.
I'm so sorry I didn't update sooner! I know this is sort of crappy, but I wanted to get it up quickly, and I didn't really proofread thoroughly. Thanks so much for all your sweet reviews and follows. Please, if you want me to write about something, I'll do it, just send it in!