Beginning of February
"I think we might be able to start the full-scale model soon."
Peter looked up from his phone, which he was reading his notes he doodled in class off of. Mr. Stark offered multiple times to get him a new phone but he preferred the simplicity of this. When he told Mr. Stark it was easier to use the man acted all offended under his smile. Teasing Peter about his inability to figure out a simple phone when they were working on building a full-scale code and model of tech for cars. It was also easier to understand his thoughts written down. While they didn't look particularly neat on the page it made more sense to him. Mr. Stark seemed to understand that.
He snapped his jaw shut when he realized it was hanging wide open.
"Really?" He said, dropping his eyes back down ignoring the sinking feel in his chest.
Mr. Stark chuckled and went back to scanning the algorithms.
"We can get a full team in here to work on it. Whatever we need."
A whole team? Someone to take over what they were doing? Peter flinched.
Their work had come so far. From car models went from mere imaginations, to metal models, and back to hologram full scale models. Their protocol were written in C++ after debating between the Python coding.
Peter found the time… soothing to his mind. Sometimes coming in late at night to work by himself even if Mr. Stark wasn't there. Friday always let him in with a kind word.
He remembered the first couple of times they worked together Mr. Stark would get into a kind of trance, rock music blaring in the background. While Peter liked the music – he made his own playlist to all the songs they listened to – his head rang after an hour or so.
His expression must have revealed more than he wanted to because without comment the next time Peter arrived the music was quieter.
It was little things like that and the temperature which had Peter settling into their work focusing more on Mr. Stark and less on Tony Stark.
With summer coming up in less months than he thought Peter was sure their time would be cut short.
What he wanted to do was ask the man himself. To beg him to continue working through the summer and next year and the next even if it meant bringing in fifty other people to work on it. He wanted to finish their project, to see their models turn into something real. Something that could help people. The selfish part of his brain suggested that what he really wanted was to continue working with Mr. Stark even if it didn't end up helping anyone.
Instead what Peter did was stay silent and hum slightly to the music nothing about his appearance gave his thoughts away besides the fists he made every so often looking at Mr. Stark working.
Would he even want to continue working with Peter?
End of February
Julia sat next time him while the subway rumbled forward. He kept his legs folded in front of him, fingers grasping backpack which rested on his knees in order to take up less space.
They already passed his stop but he stayed on like he always did riding with Julia.
"Do you really think the permission will go through?" She asked quietly. Julia had fidgeted today in the lab. Her eyes scanned the paperwork over and over making sure they filled out every form correctly. Their whole team practically had their proposal memorized with the amount of times they'd reworked it.
"I'm sure they will." He said but continued when her expression didn't change. "It was really good, Julia. You did a great job."
Peter stared at the glass window on the other side of the subway. Their reflections looked back and he saw her head duck down.
The subway came to a stop and she stood to leave. She ran her hand through her hair and looked at him.
"Thanks for riding the rest of the way with me. Text me when you get home?" Her tone was quiet and it was Peter's turn to drop his head. "You're a great friend, Peter."
He mumbled something and she smiled over her shoulder walking onto the platform. The doors closed behind her but he didn't lift his head.
Peter switched trains but couldn't stop the smile from coming over his face.
She thought they were friends.
Beginning of March
"Kid… Peter?"
He blinked. Mr. Stark's hand landed on his shoulder. His muscles tensed under the sudden intrusion but Mr. Stark's eyes never left his face. Slowly, he squeezed, calming Peter's pulse, and stepped back.
Mr. Stark ran his hand through his hair.
"Time for food." He said and waited for Peter to put all his notes away.
"I can just go home, Mr. Stark. It's no problem."
The man chuckled and Peter flushed knowing he said that every time.
"I already ordered your favorite from that Korean place down the street."
Peter stopped walking before hurrying to catch up. They settled around the table piled with way more boxes of food they could ever finish. Sure enough a container of Bibimbap with all tofu, no eggs, and spicy sauce was waiting for him.
Mr. Stark began telling him some gossip he'd heard around the office.
"And how do you know about poor Mr. Singer?" He said, scrapping the crispy rice off of the bottom of the takeout box.
The man didn't even have the decency to look ashamed when he spoke. "Oh, I just happened to be walking by when his wife came storming in."
Peter snorted. "Friday told you. Didn't you, Friday?" He asked over Mr. Stark's copious denials.
"That is correct, Peter." He smiled upward at Friday and failed to notice the soft look Mr. Stark was giving him.
"You caught me, kid."
End of March
It would have been easier to accept if the letters were stamped permanently in red across the whole paper. It would have made since in a way – been final. Instead they received a formal reply. One with fancy wording and apologies that had the vague pretense of sounding sincere and apologetic.
This made the news so much worse.
Their proposal had been rejected or as the letter said: "at this time we are not allowing student groups access to our facilities."
Julia's face crumpled while Frank swore. Monica began typing frantically but through it all Peter just sat there.
What would they do now?
Beginning of April
"You still have a lot of time to make yourself be what you want. There's still a lot of good in the world."
They were watching The Outsiders while he waited. Peter had read it the year before in English but had missed the movie day because he had been sick.
The rain pelted down against the glass windows. Thunder and lightning battled in the sky only an arm's length away from where they sat. He'd watched many storms pass through from his fire escape but here, this high up, Peter felt like he was inside it. Every clap of noise sent a pulse into his bloodstream pumping the blood through his veins. It didn't key him up like it did in the apartment. The sounds were loud enough to sooth his racing thoughts enough so he could focus on the movie playing in the background and the soft sounds of response Mr. Stark was making to the movie. He felt safe there in the storm.
Of course, Peter had put up a mild protest. He'd been fine to go home, he told Mr. Stark. But the man took one look outside and suggested the movie. Food was involved, too.
It took Peter exactly thirty-two seconds to decide he could wait for the rain to pass.
An hour later, laden with stir-fry and popcorn Peter was boneless on the couch. He smiled as Mr. Stark leaned forward, his eyes focused on the screen. It was the man's first time watching it as well and though Peter knew the ending, it didn't stop his enjoyment.
He yawned and sank deeper into the cushions.
The day had seemed unending and filled with busywork assignments. Things that weren't teaching him anything but would take all night to do. Ned was gone so he spent all lunch listening to Mike debate the pros of anarchy with everyone at the table. He stared at MJ until she caught him and he ran away to the library. It wasn't until he got to the lab that he had a moment to breath.
Something touched his shoulder and then with more force he was pulled away from the couch.
The sound of the credits rolled. He didn't realize his eyes had shut.
Peter could hear Mr. Stark's voice whispering something and a feminine answer but his eyes stayed closed, blessedly on the brink of sleep.
His head was against a hard surface, a chest, and Peter was lulled deeper by the heartbeat within. A hand brushed back his hair after he was placed on something soft and he could swear the voice said something important but Peter was too asleep to make sense of it.
B
Ned leaned across the lunch table. His hands bordered their lunchboxes in a protective frame as Peter relayed the news from his meeting the previous week.
"I just feel so bad for those Frank and Monica. I mean they're graduating and everything. This was their final hurrah." He said, nibbling on a carrot.
"Dude, that sucks. What are you going to do?"
Peter nodded at the question. As it was they weren't sure.
The prototype of the machine was necessary for them to see before they could come up with a model for themselves. He had thought about going to Mr. Stark and asking him for advice, but he decided not to in the end. It was an unfair advantage that the other teams couldn't use. If no one else could go to the owner of Stark Industries for help, why should he?
Peter was also proud of the work they accomplished so far. Sometimes he forgot how young they all were, given the amount and quality of work they completed.
The whole experience had changed him more than that though and he was loathe to sit there and do nothing.
"I don't know, Ned. We'll figure something out though."
He could only hope.
B
"Look, Peter. Mr. Stark will understand if you can't make it today." May spoke with an edge to her voice. "I forbid you from going."
"May, I have to go. This is important."
"Peter, you're sick. It's okay."
He coughed into his elbow, sniffling and meagerly taking a tissue May was holding out to him with pouting lips.
Peter whispered something to her. Something he was too afraid to think but needed to say.
"What sweetheart?" She said and even though he was sick and had a fever May sat on the edge of his bed.
"It's just," he licked his chapped lips. "What if he finds someone else to help out?"
He thought of the team Mr. Stark mentioned before. Peter looked away from the piercing glance. His fingers fidgeted with the blanket wrapped around him.
"Peter, he would never do that. You know he wouldn't."
She said it with such conviction but his stomach sank. Did he know that?
May kept talking, running a reassuring thumb over his knuckles but Peter was too wrapped up in his thoughts. He went through cataloging every interaction and every word spoken between them.
Peter thought of the way Mr. Stark smiled when he came into the lab and how he would always check the temperature to make sure it was warm enough. The man practically bought the whole menu at a restaurant when Peter stayed for food and it was getting more common for him to stay after a work day. Sometimes they would watch a movie but most times he would just work on homework as Mr. Stark continued with business. But were those concrete signs? It certainly didn't mean he would abstain from finding a replacement if the work needed to be done. Peter sighed into his hoodie, wincing at the way his stomach was cramping.
It was with the image of Frank helping Mr. Stark in the lab that Peter made his decision.
He realized May had left when she popped her head back into the room.
"Stay home, Peter. Okay? I'm sorry I have to go to work."
His cough wracked his chest but he managed to tell her he loved her. She gave him one last searching look before she left for work.
After he heard the door shut with limbs groaning Peter got out of bed. He toggled back and forth as the blood ran to his head but with careful steps made it out of his room. His hand swept across the length of the highest cabinet and found the last packet of powdered vitamin C before mixing it in his water bottle.
There was sweat seeping into his sweatshirt and on his forehead by the time he made it to the subway platform and he shivered into it. His breath shuddered when he finally sank down into one of the empty seats, making sure to touch as little as possible. He kept his hoodie up and took small sips of the vitamin infused water, praying for an instant cure.
Friday greeted him when he got into the elevator but he didn't lift his head up to the lights like he normally would. They burned his eyes.
"Hey, Friday." He said rubbing his hand along his chest to stop a cough. Even to his own ears his voice sounded tired.
"Are you alright, Peter?" Friday said, softer than normal.
"I'm fine, just a cough."
Friday said nothing but the elevators opened.
The room was void of people and Peter sat down with a heavy breath. He crossed his arms on the table in front of him. Thankfully Friday must have forgotten to put the lights on so it was dark in the room.
Every minute he sat there, Peter shrunk down until his head came to rest on his arms. Wet coughs racked his chest and he shivered again. It was cold in the room but he didn't want to bother Friday. The curt tone he used earlier with Friday sent a guilty tendril tightening along his spine.
The doors swept open and bursting into the room with wide eyes was Mr. Stark. Peter tried to smile but from the furrow in the man's mouth, it wasn't as reassuring as he meant it to be.
"Kid, what's wrong? You okay?"
Peter sat up trying to relax the ache in his muscles. He flinched back when rough hands touched his cheek before moving to rest against his forehead.
He felt silly to realize Mr. Stark had moved across the room and was now kneeling beside him. Peter concentrated on the small lines forming lightly in the corner of his eyes. For a moment he imaged being younger and being sick at home, but instead of Ben kneeling in front of him it was Mr. Stark making sure he was okay.
With a shake of Peter's head Mr. Stark removed his hands and walked away. His voice rung out as he barked orders to Friday and then he was on the phone.
Peter gripped the edges of the counter, tears blurring in his eyes. How could he even think that? The betrayal of his thoughts sent a tear over the edge and down his hot cheek. Worse than that though was the longing he'd felt – still felt - when Mr. Stark looked at him with such concern.
It wasn't right. It wasn't his to want.
Mr. Stark came back and led Peter into the elevator. His tone was quiet, soothing, and Peter weakly followed him after brushing his tear away. Friday chimed in to give reports on his temperature. His brain felt fuzzy.
There was an arm, guiding him, warm across his back.
"Come on, Kid."
They arrived into a bedroom and dimly Peter realized this is where he fell asleep the previous month. He stopped short at the door.
"Peter?" The man spoke softly and the back of Peter's throat itched.
"But… we have the meeting. We were going to work on …" His brain failed him at the end.
"Hey, kid. You're in no position to be working. Hell, you're burning up."
He sent Peter to the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.
Peter sat at the very end of the mattress, his butt halfway off the edge. It wasn't his bedroom, just one for guests. There was nothing in there that was his, but Peter noticed that the lamp was where he moved it before when he tried to get some reading in the morning when was there.
He moved closer to the headboard, eyes on the light in the bathroom, and switched it on.
Peter could still convince Mr. Stark they could work today. It would be fine. Mr. Stark wouldn't have replaced him then as long as he remained useful.
"The work will still be there later." Mr. Stark said emerging from the bathroom as if he read Peter's thoughts. "Drink this while you take this." He gestured to the water and Tylenol in his hand.
Peter's protest died on his tongue and Mr. Stark spoke again.
"I'm not in any hurry to finish the project. As long as you get better."
He blanched at the implication of the words.
There was no anger in the man's face. Something uncurled in his chest when all he saw was concern. Ben used to wear that face well.
Peter's eyes dragged on his cheek. Another cough stormed through his chest.
"I'll go fill this up again. There's sweatpants and t-shirts in the dresser."
Peter stood up, feeling red on his cheeks. There were clothes there?
He browsed the drawers looking at the various t-shirts - all avengers themed. Quickly he got into sweatpants and sweatshirt glancing at the door back and forth.
With a speed he used when changing after gym class he shucked his shirt and pants off and into his chosen clothes, grey sweats and Stark Industries shirt. His hand brushed over the ironman one but he couldn't quite make himself put it in.
He settled on the bed again just before there was a knock on the door. Dizziness wavered through him and Peter grasped the bedside table for support.
Mr. Stark came in carrying the glass. The covers were pushed back and Peter found himself lying down. The man hovered for a moment, his hand came up from his side reaching out before dropping back.
"Get some rest, Kid. Friday will be here if you need anything and I will just be in the living room outside."
Peter's eyes closed of their own accord and he nodded. Footsteps swept across the room but before the door could close Peter thanked Mr. Stark, wishing he had the right to say more.
"Of course, Peter." Peter's throat went tight. The door shut and Peter spun around. He didn't want to look at the lights shining through the cracks in the door.
Of course, he said like he would look after Peter. As he would have if Peter's mind conjured up sound for his imagination. Like he cared.
The knot loosened in his throat and Peter locked the guilt away for a moment, instead basking in the knowing someone was waiting up in case he needed them right outside this room that wasn't technically his.
He reached up, adjusting the pillow under his head and closed his eyes.
Middle of April
Peter's stomach protested as the smell of leftovers wafted from the lid he opened. The nausea from being sick still lingered and Peter found his appetite was suffering because of it.
The cafeteria, loud as ever, raged around him. He pushed the container of food away with a grimace.
Something nudged him from the side and he saw Ned's profile looking straight ahead. He shrugged and went back to staring at his lunch. Ned's elbow dug into his upper arm and Peter looked over while rubbing the spot of impact. Narrowly dodging another nudge, he got the hint and followed the boy's gaze.
Peter blinked at the figure coming forward.
Flash waded through the crowds and tables. His gaze was fixed forward and now that they weren't precisely enemies Peter let himself feel intrigued by how people just seemed to get out of Flash's way.
He wondered why Ned was so interested in Flash until the boy in questions eyes moved and landed on Peter.
He was making his way in their direction.
Peter knew from the previous eight months how rare this was and his stomach cramped in response. His eyes flounced back to the Tupperware.
"I wonder where he's off to," Ned said.
Peter watched Ned in his observations not wanting to be caught blatantly staring at Flash himself. Despite the itching feeling crawling through his limbs Peter smiled at his friend and the way he moved forward so Flash's view of Peter would be limited.
Under his lashes he looked up to see Flash continued the straight path to them. Peter held his breath and watched his legs, which seemed much safer than his face.
Flash continued forward until he was a table away. Peter finally looked up at a sound from Ned and met his eyes. The boy stared straight at him and Peter forced himself to maintain contact. Flash glanced toward the doors and back at Peter, his brow quirked when Peter's face remained in ignorance. He did it again before veering off toward the exit.
The doors closed behind him blocking Peter's curious gaze, food dilemma forgotten.
Should he follow?
Ned began talking about how weird Flash had been lately and Peter nodded along. His hands twisted in his lap, bouncing in time to the rise and fall of his foot against the ground.
Without breaking eye contact with the door, he stood up, murmuring something to Ned whose eyes flickered to the door. Ned nodded without missing a beat.
As Peter was passing toward the door he briefly reached out to touch Ned on the shoulder before hurrying away. Ned was such a good person…. A good friend.
Backpack slung over his shoulder Peter followed the path his eyes traced before and saw Flash leaning against the lockers down the hallway from the cafeteria.
"Flash. Hey." He said trying to keep the weary tone out of his voice. They'd seen each other off and on at their time at the Tower but hadn't seen much of each other at school. In fact, the last time they talked was when Peter had a meltdown in front of him, which was slightly awkward to realize how Peter yelled at him before. Not that he didn't deserve it.
The boy's arms were crossed in front of him. Peter could see his shoulder's tensing and he held his body still. Peter forced his hands to stop fidgeting by shoving them in his pockets. A blush worked its way onto his cheeks when neither of them spoke. Was he wrong? Was he supposed to follow Flash?
"So, I hear you need a connection at Oscorp?" Flash said uncrossing his arms and casually raising his eyebrow at Peter.
His jaw dropped. This was not what he expected.
"Uh… How did you hear that?" He said trying to find a semblance of rational thought.
Flash had the decency to look embarrassed but he answered anyway, if a little cautiously. "That Mike kid is loud as shit. Anyway, do you?"
"Why?"
Flash sighed and crossed his arms again.
"Listen, I'm trying to be... decent. My dad has connections there and I could see if something could come of it."
"Why?"
Was that all he could say?
"Is that all you can say?" Flash snapped.
Peter shut his mouth and thought about the options. He could lie. Say that they didn't need this. Then he wouldn't need to repay Flash for anything. But the image of Julia's clenched hands and the hours they spent working came to mind. And he decided he didn't care if he was put in Flash's debt or that he didn't know the motivations behind this act of supposed kindness.
Plus, Flash proved changed – sort of – mostly. If he wanted help, well, Peter wasn't going to say no.
"Yeah, Flash. We do need help, if you're willing to offer it."
They nodded at one another before walking down the hallway too close to be considered friends but too far away for anyone to perceive them as enemies.
B
"Sorry, Monica couldn't make it today but she said as long as we take notes it should be fine."
Flash stood shuffling on the balls of his feet in the doorway. Julia and Frank were clearing off a spot for him to sit at the table while Peter motioned him forward.
Frank clapped Flash on the back in greeting and welcomed him.
"Thanks man. This is going to be a great help."
When Flash sat down, moving his backpack to rest against the leg of the table, everyone stared at him. It was the first time after their sandwich fiasco that Peter had seen him look so embarrassed and out of place. He withheld a smile.
Flash got straight down to business, explain the security and how his father got them a tour and question time with the person in charge of the prototype. Julia's hand flew over the paper trying to write every word he spoke. Without breaking his speech Flash slight a typed-out sheet of all the information. Her hand shook slightly and thought she thanked him, Peter noticed she didn't look him in the eye.
The meeting passed quick and Peter was pleased with how much Flash got along with everyone. He and Frank spent a bunch of time talking about sports and the playoffs. After some cajoling he even got Julia to talk about their new kittens at home. In turn, Flash smiled as she told him how BOGO would steal all of Free's food.
Flash smiled at the story. A real, teeth-baring smile.
B
Peter was used to things happening slowly in his life.
It took him almost half a school year to decide to participate in the S.T.A.R.K competition. Days avoiding the sign in sheet until finally he took the plunge. Months after dreading nearly everything he settled into a routine. He was opening up to the people around him.
He thought back to how scary it was considering Ned's offer to sit with him at lunch. It was weeks until he was able to go more than once a week. He even went over to Ned's house over break.
But all these things took time and much thinking on Peter's part. He weighed the consequences of everything before stepping forward and rarely out of his comfort zone. That was safe. That was good.
Things happening quickly were never good in Peter's opinion. Ben's funeral came and went so fast. The whole thing sped up like someone was pressing fast-forward. Though he was careful and took his time letting Sam into his life; it took but a second for her to break his heart.
That's why when Flash sat at their lunch table at the end of the week, Peter's stomach turned sour. He knew to expect the worse. He foresaw the worst. But there was nothing he could do or say in the moment.
Ned, after a moment of scrutiny, looked between Flash and Peter, then stuck out his hand for the two of them to shake, forever reminding Peter how forgiving Ned was.
How many second chances had Ned given him?
Just like that Flash began to eat lunch with them sometimes. Not every day, but throughout the week he would stop by and join an argument between Mike and Midge before wandering off again. Somedays he would even find Peter in the library when the cafeteria was too much for him to get through.
Flash was quieter than Ned. He would hold himself still, aware of his space at any given time and there was still tension between them sometimes. But it was nice all the same.
Peter didn't find it so strange that Flash and him became friends so quick this time.
End of April
Peter looked around the lab. Scattered on the tables were scraps of paper, all smudged with crunched writing, and metal shavings discarded from the models they had built. His backpack was folded over itself on the floor by the door on top of which his jacket was crumpled.
Mr. Stark stood beside him and if Peter turned his shoulders slightly to the left he could see the slight furrow in his brow. How his hand would come up and rest under his chin while his finger traced his goatee every five minutes or so.
It was his thinking face, Peter knew.
Months of working together and Peter's steady heartbeat was proof he was relaxed. Content.
He didn't think about the fact this would all be ending come summer. And he absolutely ignored the itch in the back of his throat thinking about the possibility of never seeing Mr. Stark again.
"I'm still thinking we are going to totally have to overhaul the thrust mechanisms on this side, Mr. Stark. It's working now, but barely, and it could be so much better." He said breaking the silence.
Mr. Stark's eyebrows rose in response but he didn't say anything. His eyes stayed trained on the new schematics displayed in front of him. He grumbled something under his breath and Peter cracked a smile knowing he was right.
The lab settled under the silence again. Peter moved around to Mr. Stark's other side and grabbed a Stark pad off the table. Easily Mr. Stark stepped to the side to accommodate his reach and giving Peter enough room to work at the table.
B
Peter yawned as he opened the door to the apartment. He grabbed a box of Chex mix and sank into the couch. His phone vibrated again and shoving his hand into the box checked his messages. The group chat between everyone went off with a near consistency putting his flip phone into overdrive.
There had been time of the subway to look at it but he ended up falling asleep, waking only to find drool gathering on his sleeve where his head rested and to hear he missed one his stop.
Even though he was barely awake now, Peter considered the walk home beneficial. The moon hung in the middle of the sky decorated by a vague face and stars all around.
It let him think, at least.
His third handful came away as the rest, only the little breadsticks and the occasional rye chip. May must have eaten her way through the bag first. He set it aside feeling a cramping in his stomach. Maybe he was still sick.
He yawned again and sank further into the couch knowing he should go to bed, but his bones felt too brittle to get up.
Everything was coming to a head soon. Midterms, Mr. Stark and their work, and the tour were compounding at an exponential rate.
It was all amazing. Peter knew he was so lucky and at times thought he dreamed it all.
But it was sometimes too much.
He wasn't used to having so many people in his life or having to check his phone throughout the day to see who was texting him.
Who would have thought at the beginning of the year Ned and Flash would send each other memes? Or that Julia would come out and lead one of their group meetings?
Peter smiled remembering how Monica's jaw dropped when Julia, gently, corrected her on some of the analytics. Or how she gave everyone in their group, Flash included, a newer version of the pen that landed her in the internship program.
He felt so full of life, something he'd never thought possible for someone like him.
And right now, it hurt that all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep for the weekend. He wondered what would happen if he told them. If he just needed some time to disconnect for a bit.
He knew he couldn't do that though. They would be fine without him, they would move on and continue texting minus his phone number, and Peter wasn't ready to get rid of them so soon. They deserved someone who was normal, who could sit in the cafeteria for the whole week without feeling bone tired, or someone who could be fully present without worry about sneezing the wrong way.
Peter would get through it and soak everything up. Every laugh, and debate at lunch. Flash's and his new acquaintanceship. And especially any time Mr. Stark was willing to work together. He could push through it for now.
It would be fine.
He groaned against the couch pillow thinking about everything he had to do and after looking at the calendar on the way he realized something.
It was only a week until they would tour Oscorp.
It's always one step forward and two steps back for our Peter isn't it?
a/n: Hi sweet friends. I hope you are all doing well and you and your loved ones are staying safe. This semester has been crazy, as things get in real life. My classes have been moved online so I can finally start writing again which makes me so happy. I also just wanted to say thank you for continuing to read this story. Every comment and favorite make my week so bright.
As always, I would love to hear your thoughts.