Peter was late. He usually got to Tony's workshop by about 3:45, and it was 4:15.

"Hey, FRI? Any word on the kid?"

"Peter is currently in conference room #4."

"What? FRIDAY, why didn't you tell me he was here? What is he doing there?" Tony said irritably, heading for the door, intent on finding the kid.

"He said he just needed a few minutes, and asked me not to announce him."

Tony stopped moving. "Is he okay? He's not injured, is he?"

"He is not, but he appears to be emotionally compromised." Oh. Now Tony was unsure what to do. He wasn't the world's most comforting person, thanks partially to the lack of his parents ever modeling that for him. And Pepper was wonderful, but she was a little more "tough love" than "oh no, how can I make it better?" Rhodey was similar. Of course, he'd needed a lot of tough love during the years before Afghanistan, and sometimes afterwards.

Or had he? Pete was a sensitive kid, and probably needed more empathy and stuff than a pep talk about pushing forward even when things got hard.

"FRI, do you know why he's upset?"

"He did not share that information with me." Tony sighed, internally giving himself a pep talk about being able to do hard things as he resumed his path to the conference room.

When he got to the door, FRIDAY opened it silently. Peter's backpack was in a haphazard pile on the floor just inside the room, and he was in a conference room chair, his back to the door. His head was buried in his arms on the big oval table, and his shoulders were shaking a bit, though Tony couldn't hear any noise coming from him.

"Kid?" Tony's voice was tentative.

Peter's head shot up, and he swiped his jacket sleeves across his face rapidly. "Oh h-hey, Mr. Stark." His voice was casual, but wobbly. "Sorry, I was just a little tired so I decided to get a quick catnap in here and-"

"Kid." Tony waited, but Peter didn't turn. "Peter? Don't lie to me. Let's see your face, bud."

Finally, Peter turned in his seat, exposing his puffy, tear-streaked face and red-rimmed eyes.

"Kid," Tony breathed, his posture sagging. "What's wrong?"

"It's… nothing, really, sir." He stood up, moving as if to collect his backpack, still swiping at his eyes. Tony blocked his path.

"It's not 'nothing' if it's affecting you like this," Tony insisted. "Lay it on me. Maybe I can help." Tony prayed it was something he could fix. He was great at fixing things.

Peter sighed, and stepped back to lean against the table as his head dropped to his chest. "Just a really awful day, I guess. Do you know what the date is?"

"Uh… FRIDAY?"

"February 21st, Boss."

"It's the anniversary of my Uncle Ben's death," said Peter quietly. Oh. Tony's first thought was that he wasn't the right person for this. But quickly he realized he understood better than many could. Ben had basically been Peter's father for years. From what Tony understood, he had lost his actual parents when he was quite young, and had very few memories of them. But he'd been very close to Ben.

"The worst part is, I forgot," Peter said forlornly, tears choking his voice. "I didn't even say anything to May this morning when she left for work, and I didn't realize it was this day, even though I'd written the date several times in classes already." He sniffed, then continued, a little more softly. "I realized it at lunch, and I got kinda upset, and I was telling Ned and MJ, and I guess Flash heard, and he was-"

"Is Flash the kid that usually gives you a hard time at school?" Tony interrupted.

Peter looked confused. "I haven't ever said that-"

"You aunt and I talk," Tony said casually, trying not to show the anger on his face that he felt. "Please continue." Peter gave him a suspicious look before moving on.

"Anyway, he was just being a jerk, and saying stuff about how most of my parents were gone, and…" He sighed in frustration. "It's not important; I just wasn't up for dealing with it, but I couldn't cry at school, and I didn't want to cry in the car and have Happy asking me what was wrong and freaking out, and… So I came here to… to try to get it out so I could be useful in the lab. Sorry. Once I started, it was hard to stop."

Tony's heart broke for the kid. Acting on some oft-buried instinct, he walked forward and wrapped his arms around Peter, pulling his head down to his shoulder.

"Um. Are we there?" Peter asked wetly. And Tony realized that even though he and the kid had grown close, and though he was fairly tactile with Peter, he hadn't actually hugged him like this yet. Well, crap. He probably needed to fix that. Especially seeing how broken up the kid was over his uncle. Tony didn't presume to consider himself a father figure of any kind, but he was definitely one of the most present adult males in Peter's life, and that meant he had some responsibility to not screw the kid up. Basically, whatever his dad would have done, he needs to try to do the opposite. So he tightened his arms around Peter, pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and said, "Well you can cry here, Pete. There's not a schedule, no timeline for grief when you lose someone, and no one's going to think less of you."

This prompted another strangled sob, and Tony was afraid he had messed it up. But then he felt Peter hold tighter to him and press his face hard against his shoulder. Maybe he hadn't.

It took the kid another few minutes of crying, as Tony rubbed a hand soothingly up and down his back, but he eventually tapered off, and then stepped back. He started to apologize, but Tony cut him off, raising an eyebrow and a finger to forestall it.

"No sorries; it's not a problem."

"But I got your shirt all wet. And I'm nearly 16; I shouldn't be-"

"First of all, you're not nearly 16, and even if you were 18, or 25, or 40, it's still okay to be sad and to cry. That means you're human, and that you love a lot, not that you're a little kid." He handed the kid his backpack and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, leading him outside the conference room. "

Now, how about we order a nice dinner for when May gets home later, so you guys can be sad together, if you need to, and maybe we can find something to blow up in the lab. How's that sound?

"That sounds good, Mr. Stark," Peter said, finally smiling.

May wasn't due home until almost 8 PM that night, so Peter had dinner #1 with Tony and Pepper at 6. Pepper brought home sub sandwiches (meatball for Peter), salad, and chips, and they all ate in the living room, laughing at Big Bang Theory reruns. When they were done eating, Pepper unfortunately had to go finish up a few things for a board meeting the next day. She kissed Tony (which Peter made the obligatory teenager-face-reaction to) and ruffled Peter's hair, and headed into their room.

They finished the episode, but it wasn't quite time to go yet, and Tony noticed Peter sitting rather still on the couch, and not lounging comfortably like he normally would. He heard the kid sniff, and his sleeve came up to surreptitiously wipe at his eyes again.

"Peter."

Peter turned, already apologizing. "Sorry, Mr. Stark, I just-"

"C'mere," Tony directed, opening his arm in obvious invitation. Peter hesitated, then settled back against Tony's arm with an audible sigh. Tony brought his hand up to stroke the kid's hair once.

"No timeline on grief, remember? My parents died over 20 years ago, and I've cried about it in the last year, I think."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's been a long time, but sometimes it just hits you."

"I think… I think that's part of why I was so upset this afternoon. When I realized it was the anniversary, I didn't automatically feel sad. Like, I just noticed it. I felt bad that I didn't feel as sad as I did right after it happened. Is that dumb?"

"Nah, kid. It does ease with time, and that's okay. You couldn't continue to function if your grief was always as sharp as it was right after it happened. You handled it way better than I did, I promise," Tony said, thinking of the week of his life he'd basically missed because he was black-out drunk most of the time. And frequently after that. Rhodey had helped pull him out of it, but no one had ever helped him understand or accept his grief until much, much later in therapy.

Peter leaned his head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry about your parents, Mr. Stark."

"Thanks, kid. I would have liked you to be able to meet them. Well, my mom anyway. She would have loved you. My dad would probably either ignore us both, or be a jerk, in which case I might have to punch him, so…"

"Wow, no issues there," Peter said mildly. Then contritely, "Sorry, sir, I shouldn't joke."

"Would you stop it with the 'sir' nonsense, Underoos? It's fine to joke. Sometimes it's one of the tools that gets us through. And you're right. Lots of issues there." He brought his hand up to cup the back of Peter's head. "I'm trying not to repeat them though."

Peter looked up and met his eyes at that, eyebrows showing his surprise at the implication. He was quiet for a moment, and Tony wondered if he had overstepped.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I try to explain something to you?"

"Of course, kid." Tony was a little nervous. The kid wasn't generally so serious-sounding.

I know you keep asking me to call you 'Tony,' instead of Mr. Stark, and you say I don't have to call you 'sir,' but I think… I think I feel different when I say those things than I did when I first met you. I like calling you Mr. Stark. It's… you. 'Sir' is kinda the same way. I mean, you call me 'kid' more often than you use my name, but I know it's not because you don't know it, or don't care about me enough to use my name. It's kinda like…"

"A term of endearment?" Tony said, his mouth quirked up in a half smile.

"Yeah. I mean, I don't know if that's how you're meaning it, but that's what I hear…"

"Yeah, kid. I mean it that way." His hand brushed across the kid's head again.

Peter grinned shyly, flushing just a little. "Well, 'Mr. Stark' and 'sir' are the same for me. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, I think it does," Tony said, his own eyes misting just a bit. A bit dramatic there, he thought of his reaction, sniffing.

Tony narrowed his eyes, pulling at some levity to get control of his emotions. (Because he'd been taught that 'Stark men are made of iron,' no matter what he told the kid. Baby steps.) "But, hey. I do call you Peter sometimes. Think you could work on using 'Tony' occasionally, along with all my other names?" he said, elbowing the kid gently.

"Yeah, I'll work on that, Mr. Stark, sir." Peter said glibly.

"Little punk," Tony growled. Then, "Hey, it's almost 7:30. We'd better go if we're going to grab the food and the flowers for you guys to take to your uncle's grave tomorrow."

Peter smiled and jumped up, offering a hand to Tony to help him do the same.

"You think I'm old or something?"

"No, sir. I know you're old."

"I'm docking your allowance," he growled.

"What's half of nothing?" Peter snarked back.

This kid. Hmm. He might have to do something about that, too. The kid's jeans were looking a little short. He might be having a growth spurt. Either an allowance or a shopping trip at last, and then…

Tony shook his head in wonder at all the new, strange ways of thinking this kid had introduced into his head. What an unanticipated plot twist in his already exciting life. This one, though. This one he was pretty grateful for, and couldn't wait to see where it led.