He and Ned split up shortly after making their way inside, Ned's Gran already waiting by the teen's first class.
Meanwhile, the principal, Mr. Morita, was shaking Mr. Stark's hand vigorously, and Peter could've sworn there were stars in the mans' eyes as he sung the engineer's praises. Thankfully, by some miracle, nobody else among the few other students that'd entered had noticed the blatant presence of the literal superhero, and Peter was eternally glad that there were staggered time slots for the conferences.
He tapped his foot anxiously against the floor, waiting by the entrance instead of approaching the pair, not wanting to deal with that whole social interaction. Mr. Morita was still making non-stop flow of conversation, Mr. Stark going along with it easily enough.
Unfortunately, his decision to remain hovering by the door until the principal left was promptly yanked from his grasp after only a few moments, Tony spotting him and gesturing him over with an excessively jovial wave of his hand.
Peter sighed, shoulders slumping, and he walked over to them resignedly, pulling his lips up into an attempt at a smile. Judging by Tony's expression, it wasn't a very good one.
The principal didn't seem to notice either way, and he greeted Peter exuberantly, cheeks flushed and split so wide by his smile that Peter's own twinged in sympathy pain.
"Mr. Parker! Thank you for coming in today - and with your new guardian too!" he exclaimed, eyes continuously darting back to look at Mr. Stark as if they just couldn't settle.
"It's… good to be here…" Peter replied slowly, taking the offered handshake and promptly having his arm thoroughly jarred up and down.
Tony dropped a hand onto his shoulder, smiling his press smile. "It certainly is, Jim" - when did he get on first name basis with the principal? Peter wondered - "mind pointing us to Pete's first class, I haven't gotten the tour yet," Tony quipped. He shared a commiserating look over his glasses with Mr. Morita, glancing over at Peter as if to say, 'kids,' which was very much not appreciated by said teen.
Mr. Morita started, eyes widening and expression turning aghast as if he'd just committed the greatest offense. "Of course! Mr. Stark, Mr. Parker, if you'd follow me…" he turned around, quickly leading them down the hall. And it was just as they were rounding the first corner that Peter saw Flash entering the building, the other teen's eyes widening and mouth dropping opening in shock as they turned the bend. Peter's enhanced hearing caught on to a faint noise that was reminiscent of a dying whale, and a bead of sweat trickled down Peter's back. He hoped, prayed, that Flash would just put it up to being some kind of visual hallucination. That'd be way better than the other teen chasing him down to start some kind of confrontation. Peter shuddered; he was mortified enough as it was.
Then he mentally paused for a moment, contemplative, before giving a little shrug. Honestly, he wouldn't put it past Flash to do the former - literally convincing himself he hallucinated. Anything to not let it be true that 'Penis' Parker was actually working for - with - Tony Stark.
Mr. Morita came to a stop at a near empty classroom - that of Peter's first period class, like he'd thought it'd be, leaving Peter bemused as to why they needed a personal escort to get to it.
The principal turned hopeful eyes to Mr. Stark, then to Peter. "Mr. Parker, if you ever need anything - anything - my office doors are always open," he said strongly, hands twitching forward as if he wanted to grasp Peter's own in both of his. Peter nodded back slowly, eyeing the man.
Mr. Morita seemed like he had to internally struggle with himself for a moment longer before forcing himself to leave with a reluctant farewell, and Peter turned accusing eyes on Tony, not yet opening the classroom door.
"You don't actually own my school, right?" Peter hissed, barely refraining from grabbing the man's lapels to just shake the smug expression off his face.
"No," Tony sniffed pompously, then his lip twitched. Peter's soul sank to his toes. "I've just made several… significant contributions over the past couple of years," he said innocently.
"You- that's," Peter spluttered, grasping for a word that fit. "That's nepotism!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air.
Tony idly admired his fingernails. "Any suggestions I made to the board were beneficial to the entire student body," he guilelessly replied.
Peter gaped at him. "You-"
"Oh look we're gonna be late!" Tony interrupted him, swinging open the door without a moment's hesitation.
The teacher's - Mr. Gnaff's - head shot up towards them, and, upon seeing exactly who was standing next to Peter, he snapped his chair backwards so hard in his hurry to stand that it collapsed onto the floor with a booming clatter. Mr. Gnaff hardly seemed to have heard, only twitching slightly at the noise as he continued to stare at Tony Stark.
"We're your five o'clock appointment, right?" Tony needlessly verified, pretending to check his watch, and Peter shot him a look.
It did serve to snap his teacher out of it, though, the man stuttering over a reply as he rounded the desk to approach the pair, Tony smoothly putting his hands into his pockets to dissuade anymore handshaking. "Y- a, Mr. Stark, Peter, it's a - a real pleasure to have you here!" he exclaimed, coming to a stop in front of them, bright eyed.
"Yes," Tony replied briskly, and Peter had to muffle a snort, following the man's lead and sidestepping his teacher to head into the classroom.
Completely undeterred by the hero's abrasiveness, Mr. Gnaff dazedly followed behind them, then quickly rushed over to his desk upon realizing himself. He hastily gathered a small stack of papers on his desk and shuffled through them. "I - ah, is there anything you'd like to discuss in particular before we get started?" he asked, glancing up at the pair quickly before scrambling to right his chair and sit down in it.
Mr. Stark had taken a seat on top of the desk across from the teacher's table, and Peter had done the same on the one next to him.
It looked like it physically pained the professor to not comment on it, but he managed to restrain himself. Probably out of sheer deference.
Tony hummed contemplatively, giving Peter an exaggeratedly considering glance from behind his shaded glasses that had the teen scowling back with a slight flush creeping up his neck.
"Has Peter been making any friends?" Tony asked, and Peter faintly contemplated throttling the man as his blush darkened to a fascinating shade of burgundy that he valiantly tried to force down. He also resisted the second urge to bury his face in his hands.
At least Mr. Gnaff seemed nearly just as much at a loss, lips parted slightly for a few moments before he came to, shoving his wire-framed glasses back up from where they'd slipped down his nose. "A-ah. Yes, of course, Mr. Stark," he strained out. "He and Mr. Leeds get along well," he added, looking very out of his depth as he fidgeted with the paper in his hands.
Tony nodded along sagely. "And no problems with any of his peers?" he checked, and Peter kicked him in the ankle, ignoring his teacher's wide-eyed look at the clear action done in perfect view.
Tony, for his part, only gave a twitch of a wince before the expression disappeared back into calm, concerned serenity. Peter barely refrained from looking to the ceiling for help.
Still looking dubious about the action but clearly not about to question anything that the hero hadn't, the professor went ahead and answered the man's question. "Mr. Parker… does have a bit of a… rivalry, you could say, with one of his classmates," Mr. Gnaff hesitantly admitted, and Peter watched resignedly as a spark lit in Mr. Stark's eyes. He sighed.
"Oh?" Tony noted, deceptively light. "Rivalry over what?"
Peter's immaculate eyesight enabled him to see the sweat beginning to bead along his professor's forehead and temples, the man's eyes darting to the side for a second as he realized he'd made a potential misstep. He licked his lips. "They're both quite bright students, Mr. Stark; you know how competitive kids are these days," he tried to appease, a strained note entering his voice.
Peter took pity on the man - partially for his own sake since this was not exactly a conversation he wanted to be having. "Yeah, it's all good Mr. Stark - just stuff cause we're both in the Academic Decathlon," he said dismissively, squinting his eyes challengingly over at Tony.
Mr. Gnaff let out an audible sigh of relief, pushing back a portion of his hair, which then stuck in place from how damp it was. It sort of looked like a sad replica of a cow lick. "Yes, well, are there any academic concerns you have, Mr. Stark?" the professor quickly switched topics, looking desperately hopeful.
Tony stared the man down as, for a few moments, nothing was said. He leaned further back in his position against the desk, arms crossed in what would look like a defensive position on some but exuded only confidence and clear superiority from the hero.
Mr. Gnaff wiped his palms somewhat surreptitiously against his pants, visibly swallowing with how his Adam's apple bobbed low in his neck.
Peter huffed, and the corner of Tony's lip twitched faintly, which was practically a blatant grin between the two of them.
"No," Tony said dismissively, brushing a nonexistent piece of lint from his suit and putting his weight back on his feet, Peter doing the same. His teacher flustered, scraping his chair back in his rush to stand but this time managing not to make it collapse behind him. They all walked back over to the door, with Mr. Gnaff, for whatever reason, profusely thanking Mr. Stark again for his time. Because that's how parent-teacher conferences usually went.
Peter kindly shut the door on the teacher, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief when they weren't followed out. Then he rounded on Tony, jabbing an accusing finger at his chest. "Are you serious right now?!" he exclaimed in a hushed tone, trying to instill his best glower but definitely failing miserably.
Tony sniffed. "It's my duty as your guardian," he answered unrepentantly.
Peter squinted at him. "Yes," he agreed lightly. "If I was a kindergartner," he hissed empathetically, throwing his head back and letting out an exasperated groan.
"You'll always be my widdle boy," Tony simpered grandmotherly, having the audacity to give him a single pat on the head that Peter immediately - and with a sufficiently horrified look - batted away.
"You didn't even meet me 'till I was, like, eight!" he disputed, refusing to acknowledge that his face was definitely doing a decent impression of a tomato.
Tony's smile froze slightly, then faded into something of a confused quirk of his lips, head tilting slightly. "Eight…?" he echoed.
Peter nodded along, oblivious for a moment, before he frowned up at Tony's expression. "You don't remember?"
Tony, very clearly wrong-footed, opened and closed his mouth slightly before wordlessly shaking his head. "Remember what, kiddo?" he finally managed to ask, trying to imbue a trace of amusement into his tone but not quite succeeding. "Don't tell me you hacked the company before you were fourteen," he joked, this time managing a genuine, ribbing smile.
Peter groaned, the flush coming right back with a vengeance, but he couldn't help but smile back. "No, Tony, I mean - no. That was - you know I didn't get in 'till then. I was talking about that time at the Stark Expo!" he exclaimed, waving his hands around.
Tony's smile immediately dropped, and he took his glasses off with a snap, staring Peter dead in the eye, gaze flickering between his and completely serious. Peter's own smile disappeared as he stared back, frowning slightly.
"You good?" he asked slowly.
Tony ignored the question, expression becoming more concerned. "You were at the Stark Exposition nine years ago?" he verified, a note to his voice that Peter didn't quite get.
Peter nodded dumbly for a moment before his eyes shot wide open and he let out a shocked sound. "I didn't tell you!" he exclaimed, slapping his own forehead with an audible smack.
Tony hummed somewhat affirmatively, eyes looking a bit wild. "Nope, haven't heard a word of it Pete," he agreed, a bit strangled, as he folded his glasses with careful motions and shoved them into his pocket.
"Uhhhh…" Peter laughed a bit nervously, raising his hand up again to rub at the back of his neck as his eyes darted around anywhere but Tony. "So," he licked his lips, "you remember how there was, like, an attack?"
"No," Tony deadpanned, then let out a stressed breath. "Yes, Peter, I remember very clearly that there was an attack at my own event, seeing how I showed up to stop it. Mind telling me where you come into this?" he questioned impatiently, motioning him to move on with it.
Peter nodded quickly. "Right. Right, so, basically, I kinda got lost when it got super crowded and I couldn't find Ben or May, so I was kinda just wandering around, and then the attacks started, yeah?" He looked up when Tony made a slight wheezing sound but continued valiantly on. "So, I had on this Iron-Man mask because, like, obviously? And, then there was this super huge robot that kinda flew at me, and, well. I… sortajustpretendedIwasyou-"
"Repeat that," Tony interrupted, looking a bit faint.
Peter winced, grimacing sheepishly. "I, kinda pretended I was you, and, uh, did your move like I was blasting it…?" Peter trailed off for a second, looking resolutely at a far wall as Tony made a sound that on any other man would've been considered as a dry sob. As it was, Peter soldiered on. "But then it was all okay because you were there and you blasted it away! And it was super cool cause for a second I thought I did it but then I saw you and you were all like, 'Nice work, kid,'" he finished, pitching his voice lower to mimic Tony's.
He looked up at Tony, only to find that he'd dropped his head into his hands.
"Mr. Stark…?" Peter called out hesitantly, reaching a tentative hand out towards him.
"I remember that kid," came the muffled, hoarse reply, Tony finally showing his face as he dragged his hands down it before dropping them limply at his sides. He looked like he'd aged a good few years, and he sighed such a heavy, exhausted sigh as he looked at Peter that the teen winced, trying to contort his expression into something apologetic. Tony just sighed again. "I remember that kid," he repeated, shaking his head resignedly. "I remember thinking, 'Jesus, imagine the type of trouble he gets into; thank God I don't have to deal with that,'" he mocked himself, huffing out a laugh. He continued on before Peter could misconstrue his meaning, saying, "Don't get me wrong kid, I'd never trade you out of my life for anything, but you're just as much of a troublemaker as you used to be, and now you're legally my problem," he snorted.
"I am not a troublemaker!" Peter immediately protested, despite very much knowing the truth of it.
Tony scoffed. "Exactly how many lab explosions have you caused?" he questioned pointedly.
Peter spluttered. "Labs are made to be exploded in," he defended petulantly.
Tony hummed dubiously. "Yeah? How about hacking the Pentagon?" he asked airily.
Peter looked around frantically, loudly shushing the man. "You told me to do that!" he hissed accusingly, pointing a condemning finger at him.
Tony folded his arms, raising an eyebrow. "I told you to hack into the most secure place you thought you could get into," he said.
Peter scowled. "Not my fault you underestimated my power," he shot back unrepentantly.
"You…" Tony shook his head. "Alright, Pete, you win," he conceded, fond amusement lacing his voice as he took his shades back out from his pocket and put them on again. "Just imagine you with superpowers, Pete, all the sh-crap you'd get into," he muttered, shaking his head with a snort.
Peter let out a wheeze as his heart shot straight past his throat and into his mouth, making him choke on his reply. Tony quirked his brow but didn't comment on it, simply turning around and sauntering off. Peter just stood there for a few moments, watching him go, and his panic slowly, steadily ebbed away, melting into bemusement. He coughed delicately, eyes too bright and innocent to be genuine, and lightly called out, "Other way."
Tony paused, turned neatly on his heel, and strolled right past Peter in the opposite direction with nary a word.
Peter barely withheld his own snort, following behind with a quiet huff - both thankful and amused - and gave a small, inward prayer that the rest of the conferences would go smoother and without any more surprises.