Hehe aaaaaand another one. The plot idea for the next one is already in my head, so I might start writing that soon. We'll see.
Enjoy reading!
Sleepy Spider
Peter sighed as he pulled himself out of the car. He was exhausted. Downright bone tired. He was so dead on his feet that he couldn't even bring himself to be excited about today's workshop session. Which was a big thing because Peter loved tinkering, especially if he could tinker with one of his favourite adults in the whole world - Mr. Stark. He both admired as well as adored the man and having the opportunity to watch him work and be at his side and learn from him was something so special that it felt like the first time every time he set his foot into that workshop.
The workshop itself looked more like a weird mix of garage, living room, and an exploded hardware store. It had everything and when Peter said everything, he meant everything. No matter what you wanted, you'd be able to find it in there. And for the rare occasions that that wasn't the case, it could easily be built from scratch with the stuff stored in the room. So, to put it simply: It was heaven on earth.
Even today it was heaven on earth. Peter felt the familiar tingle of excitement course through him as he mumbled a thank-you to a scowling Happy and trudged his way towards the entrance of the Tower. He could feel the adrenaline try to force itself through the wall of tiredness, but it didn't succeed in reaching the surface. It was rare that he was tired. Well, no, that was a blatant lie. He needed to rephrase that - it was rare that he was that tired. He was tired nearly every day now, but that never stopped him from (literally) jumping onto and off the walls in excitement when Mr. Stark let him design and build new upgrades for either the Iron Man or the Spider-Man suit.
He adjusted his backpack on his shoulder and tapped his foot as he impatiently waited for the elevator to arrive. He hadn't even noticed that he'd literally walked through the entrance hall, past the security checkpoint, and over to the spot where you could choose one of the five elevators. Damn, he really needed more sleep. Mr. Stark always told him so, he knew that. Karen did as well. Sometimes (who was he kidding, it wasn't just sometimes, it was always) she turned into a mother hen. It was very endearing. If you didn't think about the fact that Karen was his AI. Oh, and May, of course. She was probably the first person to tell him that. Actually, now that he thought of his aunt, one of the conditions he had to agree on for her to allow him to move into the Tower had been him not putting Spider-Man before everything else - especially when it came to schoolwork and his health. In that order. If he could still hold his grades, everyone was happy and didn't ask any questions, so if he managed to answer a question in class while practically sleeping, everything was good.
So, yeah. He wouldn't even manage that by now, so, thinking like the responsible person that he was, he should probably not go out tonight and stay indoors for once. Out of his suit and on the humongous couch in between all of the other Avengers. Oh, did he mention that already? Yeah. He was an Avenger now. Wasn't that wicked?! Yeah, he knew. Trust him, he knew! He still couldn't believe it! Every time he heard the team's name on the news or overheard someone talk about or even mention them he was ready to flip.
Sure, Mr. Stark had offered him the position three years ago already, but back then he had fully believed it to be a test. A test to… well… test Peter. To see whether he was capable of choosing and doing the right thing, which, back then, had been staying close to the ground and looking out for the little guy. Or at least he had thought so. He had found out by accident that that actually hadn't been a test in the first place and that the reporters Mr. Stark had mentioned right after offering him the position had actually waited behind the door. He hadn't really been able to react much when Clint (hehe, that's Hawk-Eye. Yep, he was on a first-name basis with the Avengers, WASN'T THAT WICKED?! Phew, he felt light-headed just thinking about it...) had blurted it out after Peter had been introduced to them officially for the first time. He had just stood there, stared at the archer, and had forgotten to breathe. Mr. Stark had nearly had a heart attack that day, at least according to him, but considering that the billionaire was a very dramatic person, Peter figured he had been just fine. Now, him on the other hand…
No, he hadn't been fine. Like. At all. The first thing that had happened was overwhelming confusion. Then, once his brain had registered that the team had remained calm and nobody had started to laugh, the panic had set in and it had felt as if his brain had been melting. No, he wasn't overly dramatic. Well, yeah, okay, maybe a little bit, but his neurons had fired at a speed that had made him dizzy, and he had actually had to sit down after the living room in which they had all been standing or sitting had tilted to the side slightly, which was an unnatural thing for a living room to do, so it must have been him tilting and not the room itself. Which made sense because, after all, he had felt insanely dizzy at that point.
So, that day had been an experience, but suffice to say - it definitely broke the ice. Clint couldn't stop teasing him, Natasha couldn't stop teasing Clint, Bruce had tried to calm everyone down, and Steve had just sat on the couch, rolling his eyes. He was an Avenger, with everything that position entailed.
A soft and melodic ding pulled him back to the present and alerted him that he had reached his destination level. Feet dragging over the wooden floor, he slowly made his way through the corridor and all the way to the workshop, a distance he usually covered within like two seconds, but that was when he was relatively awake. Which he wasn't at the moment, so he took his sweet time. Shortly, very shortly, he considered turning down another hallway that led to his room to stash his school things and maybe pull on some comfy clothes, but… meh, he couldn't be bothered. He'd probably also fall asleep right away as soon as he saw his bed. That's what you called conditioned behaviour.
"About bloody time!" a voice behind the door shouted and, before Peter could do anything more than stop his slow shuffle, the metal door flew open and revealed a disgruntled Mr. Stark. "What took you so long, kid? Fell asleep on the way here?" He raised one brow, eyes slightly worried behind the coloured glasses. He blinked as the usually bubbly and hyperactive spider teen merely sniffed, dropped his backpack right where he was standing, and shuffled around his mentor into the cosy workshop. "You actually look as if you are still asleep."
As soon as he reached his worktable, Peter dropped onto the chair with a heavy sigh. DUM-E, his favourite bot, rolled across the room and beeped happily at him. Its claw was tilted upwards and, ever since Peter had stuck googly eyes onto it, it looked even cuter than before. Mr. Stark had groaned loudly as Peter had proudly presented him his upgrade. One of his best as of yet if he said so himself. The robot might be a bit overenthusiastic when it came to anything remotely dealing with fire, but it was a source of light in the sometimes dull and exhausting days of - Okay, he was getting very melodramatic and slightly poetic here. He didn't think he liked the latter. All he needed was a good night's sleep and that was it. And because his brain was so preoccupied with self-pity and the general grouchiness of a tired teenager, Peter didn't notice his mentor creeping up on him until it was too late. A loud yelp escaped the young superhero as he flinched so hard that he tumbled right off the chair, all the while Tony Stark stood next to the now vacant chair, looking highly confused.
His mentor didn't do anything except shake his head in a slow motion that looked too deliberate to not be planned. "What happened at school, kid?" he asked quietly. He had once been the sole witness of a tiredness-induced sensory overload and Mr. Stark had seen a lot of messed up shit, but that had topped it all. First, he hated seeing vomit. Second, he hated said vomit to be spread across his furniture. And third, he hated seeing Peter in pain. He'd do anything to not have him go through that again, so, whenever he detected a certain level of exhaustion in the kid, he lowered his voice, the lights, and the number of fumes wafting through the workshop. Just to be on the safe side.
"Nothing," Peter mumbled and pulled himself into a somewhat standing position again. "I'm just tired, is all."
Mr. Stark's eyes narrowed. "How much sleep did you have lately? And don't lie to me because I will ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. and she will tell me the truth anyway, so don't even waste your energy."
A deep frown crept onto the teen's face as he looked up at his mentor. Peter could feel the blush even before Mr. Stark could see it. "I didn't plan on going out on patrol tonight anyway," he defended himself before the billionaire could do more than open his mouth, also successfully answering his question while not answering it at all. "I will stay at home, watch a movie with you guys, and go to sleep early. I promise."
Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow and watched the twitching superhero for a bit longer before he exhaled loudly and shook his head. "Yeah, that sounds like a solid plan, kid," he said and ruffled Peter's curls. The teen was so exhausted that he didn't do more than scowl adorably. "You know that May calls me twice a week to ask what you've been up to because you don't call her enough." He sent Peter a reproachful look that yelled 'You are dragging me into this and I do not approve', but the teen didn't see it as he had set his eyes on the 'I 3 Iron-Man' mug that was still half-filled with lukewarm coffee.
He felt a fuzzy warmth spread through his body, starting in his belly. He had bought that mug for Mr. Stark two years ago as a joke gift for Christmas. Back then, he had thought it was hilarious and had figured that Mr. Stark would laugh it off and put it into the very back of the cupboard in the kitchen that housed all of the glasses and mugs, but his mentor had started using it on Christmas Eve immediately after unwrapping it to drink Rhodey's signature hot chocolate. With cinnamon. Rhodey put whipped cream, marshmallows, and cinnamon on top of it and it was - Oh, God - it was heavenly! Ever since then it had been his go-to mug for his coffee, the rare occasions he had tea or hot chocolate, and sometimes even if he wanted a sip of water. And Peter loved it.
Cap and Pepper teased Mr. Stark about it from time to time whenever he threw a fit when he caught someone with his mug, but Peter had to admit that the "Don't you dare touch that mug with those filthy hands of yours! Give it to me! Give it - Where are you going? Come back here, Clint, you son of a - COME BACK HERE!" was quite entertaining to watch. One time, he had allowed his mentor to rope him into a stealth mission in which the goal was to crawl through the vents silently to spy on their fellow Avengers to find out where Hawk-Eye had hidden the mug. At first, they had tried to get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to do the spying, but she had refused, sounding oddly amused by the whole situation. Yet another reason why Peter seriously doubted that the AI wasn't secretly a human sitting in front of a microphone, laughing her ass off.
"Yeah, sure, go ahead and drink my coffee without asking, I don't mind whatsoever."
"Thanks, Mr. Stark," Peter answered hurriedly, hand reaching for the mug before having uttered the words, and gulped down the bitter liquid. He didn't hear the frustrated sigh as he exhaled sharply and allowed himself to drop back onto the chair again. Ew. That was disgusting. He coughed dramatically. He never drank coffee and that just now had reminded him of the reason. Well, no, that was wrong. The main reason was that Mr. Stark had banned him from ever drinking or smelling coffee, even if it was just the aroma that some people put into food to make it taste fancier than it really was. Peter had a thing when it came to energy levels that weren't quite normal.
The first time he had tried coffee during a movie night with Ned had him literally stuck on the ceiling without being able to release. He had just been… stuck. So he had hung out (quite literally) above Ned for the rest of the night, all the while buzzing with pent-up energy that hadn't had a release. The following morning, he had gone on patrol to let off some steam. His brain and muscles were tired because he hadn't slept for over twenty-four hours, yet his cells were practically vibrating. So, after he had stopped three thefts, one kidnapping, and one shooting, he had literally fainted in a tree, stuck between branches while he had tried to convince a cat to not climb further up a tree to get away from him.
Having seen the pictures of him between the leaves the next day in both the news as well as on Twitter and any social media that existed on this planet, he had decided to never drink coffee again. Ned had tried to get him to drink an energy drink once so that they could binge through the entirety of the Star Wars movies, but he had kindly declined, ending up falling asleep on the couch midway through 'The Empire Strikes Back'. It had been an exhausting week; don't judge him.
So his pride told him that he didn't drink coffee because he didn't enjoy it. Which was true. Totally true. It wasn't because Mr. Stark had first made it his personal mission to print out the pictures taken of Spider-Man asleep in a tree and handing them out to random SI employees as well as decorate every free surface of the penthouse with them for him to see. He had even taped one onto the inside of the toilet seat cover! Peter had had the worst shock of his life as he had lifted the lid and had seen himself, mask slightly askew, showing the skin of his neck, hanging in between three branches, looking even less cool than he was in his civilian life. And a bit hungover, not gonna lie. After he had had his fun for a week, Mr. Stark had told him to never touch the beverage again, and Peter had wholeheartedly agreed.
Until now. Because right now he was so tired that he had to fight unconsciousness. But he could feel the dreaded buzz of the caffeine flood through his body, so he shook his head, sending his locks flying, and rubbed at his eyes. "Okay, I'm awake now!"
"Yeah," Mr. Stark drew the word out into a loooooong syllable to show just how much he believed the young superhero at that moment. Peter couldn't help but snicker. He didn't take the other's snarky side very seriously, not anymore. He found him quite funny, actually. "Well, now that you're among the living again," he continued, going back to business, "I need to tell you something." Mr. Stark took the mug out of Peter's hands and couldn't swallow the loving smile down entirely. "I told you last week already, but I figure you've forgotten by now."
"Hey!"
The billionaire ignored Peter and sniffed. "I want to first say that this wasn't my idea and that Pepper is making me do it."
"Theoretically speaking, Miss Potts is your boss, boss," F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice came from the ceiling with an amused undertone in it.
Mr. Stark glared up at the lights. "This is my company, F.R.I.D.A.Y.!"
"Technically speaking, Sir, you are the owner, yet Miss Potts is the CEO, meaning she makes all of the relevant decisions."
"Backstabbing AI," the mechanic muttered, ill-tempered, causing Peter to grin. "Anyway," he said in an extra loud voice, "what I wanted to say was that there will be five individuals that will be led through the halls of my building," he shot a glare at the ceiling, "and they said they want to meet you."
Oh, right, the charity drawing of children and teens in need, who could use some cheering up. Pepper had explained it to him some time ago as she had been about to introduce the idea to the board of SI. She wanted to polish and improve the company's reputation by inviting a few teenagers who had suffered through a blow of fate lately to give them something to look forward to and enjoy. On the application form, the kids could put down the name of one person (Avenger or not) who they would love to meet one day.
Peter would have put Mr. Stark's name on the form, still would until this day. He hadn't really thought much about any other options, because who wouldn't want to meet Iron Man?! He was the superhero, he was an incredible person, and - Wait. They wanted to meet -
"Me?" Peter stared at him with wide eyes.
"Yes, you, squirt." Mr. Stark winked at him, causing Peter to turn bright red. "I don't know why anyone would want to meet a scrawny little seventeen-year-old, but hey, who am I to judge?"
"Hey!"
The billionaire laughed at the indignant outcry of his mentee. "Believe it or not, some people actually look up to you."
Peter bit his lip. It was a weird thing to think about. Not that he hadn't thought about it once or twice before. How could he not have if he had kids come up to him on a regular basis to give him pictures they had drawn themselves or thank-you cards? Honestly, that was his favourite part of his job - seeing that what he was doing actually helped people. So he made it a point to hang on to every single scrap of colourful paper he got gifted. First, he had put them all in an old shoebox, but soon he had had to upgrade. Now he owned seven albums and those housed letters and cards that could easily fill at least seven more. Mr. Stark hadn't said anything when he had asked for more binders. He had simply nodded up to the ceiling and later that day, Peter had found a whole stack of them on his bed.
"Oh, and speaking of people wanting to meet Spider-Man…" Mr. Stark picked up his mug and walked over to the little kitchen located at one of the walls of the workshop. It was one of those handy installments that the mechanic loved and Pepper hated since it allowed him to just stay in his workshop for hours on end without having to go to the kitchen to get something to drink because, who was he kidding, Mr. Stark didn't drink anything other than coffee. Bleh. "Don't forget about the press conference on Sunday."
Damn, he had completely forgotten about that one! That was the thing with the stupid Accords - if you wanted to do good on a big scale, you needed to be an Avenger. If you wanted to be an Avenger, you needed to sign the Accords (now improved and less restrictive, thank goodness). If you had to sign the Accords, though, the government needed to know your identity. Signing a legally binding contract with a made-up name just didn't work, so, if the government knew his identity, there wasn't any reason left to not let everyone else know. That way he knew that the bad guys knew and could ensure the protection of his family and friends. If he weren't to show his face to the world, the bad guys could still find out who he was since after having signed the Accords, more people than only the Avengers and his friends would know who he was. That way, someone could sell that information to the highest bidder and he'd only find out when it was too late. He wouldn't risk that.
So, after multiple long discussions with Mr. Stark and May, he had decided that it would be best to reveal his identity under his conditions. And since Mr. Stark was involved, that meant Stark Industries style. Meaning a press conference. An official SI/Avengers press conference that would air on Sunday, 11 am, worldwide. Ah. He really hoped that he wouldn't fall back into his nervous stutters. Imagine. A stuttering Spider-Man. No-one would believe that he was telling the truth.
"Right…" Peter said slowly and randomly picked up a piece of a web shooter that he had tinkered with the day before. It was lying in between other scraps and parts of either the Spider-Man or the Iron Man suit since he had left in a hurry the day before. The ordered pizza delivery had arrived early and he had been excited. And hungry. Very hungry. "I totally forgot about that."
Mr. Stark leaned against the workbench of the kitchen, refilled mug in his hand. After a while of just watching the twitching teenager (the caffeine had started to work, Peter could feel it), he took a deep breath, worry lines evident on his forehead. "We can still cancel the conference, Pete," he said softly as he walked over to where Peter was hunched over the work table. "We don't need to tell anyone who Spider-Man really is."
Peter shook his head quickly. "No, we have to." He looked up at the man he thought of as a father. "We have to."
"No, we don't!" Mr. Stark slammed his mug onto the metal table, coffee sloshing over the sides. "I don't care what Ross says. I don't care what the bloody president says! All I care about here is you and if you are uncomfortable with that decision, we change it. We fix it. That's what we do. We fix things that need to be fixed."
Peter blinked back the tears that had sprung into his eyes. He loved it when Tony let him know what was important to him and (although he would never say it) he loved it when he saw how much the man cared for him. It made him feel all sorts of things. "It's fine, Mr. Stark," Peter said softly, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Really. I mean, sure, this is scary as f*ck ("Language, Peter." Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.), I mean, I've always stayed incognito and in two days literally the entire world will know that I'm Spider-Man, meaning that Flash will also know it, now that I think about it…" He trailed off, thoughts focussed on the school bully.
Wow. Today had been the last day that Flash hadn't known that he was Spider-Man. Flash's favourite superhero was the guy he constantly made fun of. Ha, he couldn't wait to see his face when he found out! Well, technically speaking, he wouldn't see Flash's face, as he would be standing on stage at the SI Tower in New York City, and Flash would most likely sit at home and stare at the television or phone or laptop or whatever he would use to watch the press conference. And watch it he would for sure, that Peter knew. Why did he know that you may ask? Well, Mr. Stark had made sure to have the PR department of SI announce that the identity of their newest member would be revealed and everyone who loved superheroes would know that Spider-Man had joined the team last. Also, Spider-Man was the only Avenger whose identity was still a secret, so Mr. Stark had added that piece of information for dramaturgical reasons only, he figured.
So, yeah. No. They couldn't cancel the press conference. Not again. No, he wouldn't get sucked back into the embarrassment that The Test™ had been.
Mr. Stark blinked at Peter but continued to wait (im-)patiently for him to return to planet earth. His brain was too busy thinking about multiple things at once, so him spacing out happened from time to time.
After a few seconds, Peter shook his head quite aggressively, sending his curls flying. "Anyway," he said and cleared his throat. Mr. Stark raised his eyebrows, still standing in front of his mentee's table. "We discussed this quite thoroughly and I know that May and Ned and MJ won't be in danger. I know that if I join the Avengers on a full scale, I will be able to do so much good, and I know that I will still be able to help the little guy in NYC. So, sure, yeah, it'll be scary, especially in school, but I'll manage. It'll be fine. Right? Yeah, yeah, yeah, it'll be fine."
Skeptically, Mr. Stark kept watching Peter. "You don't sound very convinced, though," he said as he frowned at the pale teen.
Peter shrugged and put down the web shooter wrist band. "I'm nervous, is all. I mean," he added as he saw that his mentor still wasn't convinced, "who wouldn't be? I'm not good at speaking in front of people, especially if those people are actually focused on me. I had to give a presentation in front of my English class once and it was terrible! I forgot how to talk, kept using words like 'bader' instead of 'worse' or 'gooder' instead of 'better', it was a disaster. I mean - who does that? I do. When I get nervous. And I start to stutter. I'm not good with words, so having cameras pointed at me is a big deal for me."
"You seem to be fine whenever a random reporter gets a hold of you on the streets, though."
"Yes, but then I'm in costume and there's usually a maximum of maybe ten people around. And they can't see whether I blush. Which a room full of reporters will on Sunday and that will make me even more nervous and I'll blush even more and then I'll stutter even more and then I'll make a right fool of myself and it'll turn out to be the most horrible day in my life and the whole world will laugh at me." Peter puffed out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding and sucked much-needed air back into his lungs immediately. "I'm just nervous. But you will be there and the rest of the Avengers will be there and I'm sure it'll be fine. Because you will be there," he ended lamely.
Dang it, he really needed to think of a cool way to end his sentences. May would say to just stop talking once he was done saying what he wanted to say, but that was easier said than done. Peter rambled when he got nervous. A room full of reporters that were recording and sending live was one of the things that would make him nervous. Hell, it was making him nervous now, two days before the actual event took place! So, a bunch of excited reporters plus a nervous Peter equaled rambling, which equaled being uncool. So uncool. Even Ned had told him once, and whenever Ned said something like that… Dude, it was serious.
Mr. Stark blinked. "Wow, kid. There are a lot of thoughts jumping around that curly head of yours, aren't there?"
Peter grumbled something incomprehensible as an answer, which caused the billionaire to chuckle. He walked around the table that had still separated the two of them and put a warm hand on his mentee's shoulder. "First thing you need to do is to take a deep breath and calm down. I've been in more press conferences than I care to admit and if there is one thing that I've learnt, it is that whenever it gets too much, you can just get up and leave. It doesn't matter whether it is because of the situation being too overwhelming or your senses acting up - you can just leave the room. The reporters will be there because they want to know what you have to say. If you don't feel comfortable saying much at all, you don't have to. No-one will force you to. You'll be the one in control. By all means, if all you feel safe doing is stand on the podium, pull off your mask, and grin into the cameras, that's fine by me. Lord knows the reporters will be having a field day if you decide to do that. Those doe eyes melt everyone's heart. So, either Pepper or I can do the talking. Maybe even Cap? I wouldn't choose Clint, though, you can't trust him with stuff like that. He might want to take a mick out of you and the reporters may actually believe that idiot."
He squeezed Peter's shoulder slightly and the teen felt his heartbeat calm down. He hadn't noticed how worked up he had gotten during his panicked rant. "Just say the word and we will sort everything out. Trust me, Peter, you won't make a fool out of yourself." He tilted his head to the side, waggishness sparkling in his eyes. "Unless you decide to take along one of your Lego sets and start inviting reporters to join you in building it. That might cause them to look at you a little funny."
Peter whacked his hand against Mr. Stark's shoulder (lightly, so he wouldn't hurt the man. He didn't want to start bruising people around him, who did you think he was? Pfft!), who had started to cackle insanely. Yeah, he'd be fine. He had Mr. Stark by his side and his mentor would make sure that he would not come across as the loser he felt he was. Yet he couldn't help the little twinge of worry crawl into his belly as he watched Iron Man double over and wheeze.
Ah, he'd be fine.
*~*Spider-Man*~*
Later that night, after having eaten seven burgers, Peter let himself fall onto the incredibly comfortable couch in the living area of the penthouse.
Before he had moved in, Mr. Stark had had him over every other weekend for workshop time and movie nights. The first night he had been invited, he had slept in a guest bedroom, but only because he had felt really bad when Mr. Stark had told him that he indeed had a bedroom at the Tower because he was welcome at any time. Peter hadn't been able to deal with the flood of emotions that had threatened to drown him then, so he had opted for the guest bedroom designed in neutral colours - tan carpet, dark brown wooden furniture, dark brown curtains with a fancy tan, almost golden pattern on them… and a humongous TV. It hadn't felt sterile at all, it had actually been quite comfortable, although Peter wouldn't have chosen brown as a colour theme. Seemed like an unlikely colour to actually look good, considering what was brown in nature, but he had to remedy that opinion as soon as he had set foot into the room.
Later he had found out that all of the five guest rooms had different colour schemes - brown, blue, green, red, charcoal grey; no light grey, which would have been the obvious choice for a bedroom that was supposed to be liked by dozens of guests. But that particular tone of grey reminded Mr. Stark of hospital rooms, and who wanted their guests to feel like they were staying at a hospital? No-one with their sanity intact, so brown it was.
The visit two weeks later, though, Peter had come to terms with the fact that Mr. Stark (and the rest of the Avengers, if he was completely honest with himself, which was difficult because come on, the Avengers!) had quite literally adopted him, he had agreed to let his mentor show him his new bedroom. Which he had done with great pleasure. Actually, Mr. Stark had probably been more excited than Peter had been and that, in and of itself, was a right feat!
His room (Oh. My. God. He had his own room at the Tower! The place in which the Avengers were living! Well, now he was living there as well, but he was still freaking out from time to time, especially if he caught himself just watching everyone. It was too insane to grasp, really.) was incredible. Mr. Stark had made sure to choose a very subtle red-and-blue theme, which (although it might sound a bit much) actually looked amazing. Peter loved it. The main colours were grey (yes, he knew) and a very, very light grey that would look like white if Peter wasn't able to literally see every single pigment in a colour, and the red and blue were used as very tasteful accent colours to highlight… well… highlights in the room. Which there were many of. Too many to list here. Mostly because Peter had a habit of finding even more on a daily basis, and he had been living there for a while now.
A big sigh escaped the teen as his body hit the cushions of the couch. This place was heaven on earth. So many soft, comfortable pillows and blankets, warm air making it impossible for him to freeze (and he was freezing almost all the time ever since the spider bite)... So nice.
"Which one should we watch today?" Clint's voice pulled Peter back to reality, just in time before something heavy landed in his lap. A breathy groan escaped him as a sharp elbow dug itself into his stomach.
"Oof."
"Oh, sorry, didn't see you there." Hawk-Eye's smirk was so wide that Peter scowled at him but didn't deem him an answer. If he would, he'd just give the archer even more ammunition and Clint with ammunition was deadly. Both on the battlefield as well as during the weekly movie night. You wouldn't want him as your enemy, so Peter didn't mess with him if he knew he'd lose. Now if he had Black Widow on his side, though...
"I want to watch Transformers," Natasha said, lounging on the other side of the couch. She wasn't paying Peter and Clint any attention. Come to think of it, she was the best in ignoring the archer. Probably since both of them were spies. Maybe it was a spy thing - ignoring each other? You probably needed to do that on a daily basis if you were spying as a spy as no-one was supposed to find out that you knew the other spy in the room. Yeah, that made total sense.
"I'm game." Sam let out a loud sigh and plopped down next to Peter, also ignoring the man still digging his elbow into the youngster's stomach. "I haven't watched that series in ages."
"What're we watching?" Peter twisted around to see his mentor stroll into the living room, a big bowl of popcorn in his arms. He winked at Peter and motioned him to shoo Clint away so that he could sit there.
"Off you go, birdie," he said to underline his protégé's unsuccessful efforts to get rid of the archer. "I want to sit next to the kid, so bugger off."
Without checking whether Clint had removed all body parts from Peter's vicinity, Mr. Stark plopped himself down onto the fluffy couch, sinking into the cushions right next to his favourite teenager. As soon as the man was sitting, Peter reached for the deliciously warm popcorn, grabbing a handful. He loved popcorn and Mr. Stark knew that, so, every time they had their movie night, he'd make an extra big bowl, so Peter could eat, eat, and eat some more. He stuffed the treat into his mouth and started to chew, resting his head on his mentor's shoulder. If he were to look up at that moment, he would see Mr. Stark's gentle smile, but he didn't, as he was busy grabbing some more popcorn.
The booming sound of the intro music echoed through the large room as Clint snuggled in next to Natasha, chewing on some nuts that she had brought to the couch. Sam and Rhodey leaned back, and Steve crossed his legs in a very dignified way, his cup of hot chocolate in his hand.
After a while, Peter stopped reaching for the popcorn as he felt his eyes get heavy. He hadn't had much sleep lately and as he wasn't going on patrol tonight, he allowed himself to sink further into the softness of the couch and the warmth of Mr. Stark and closed his eyes. He was intent on staying awake, he just wanted to rest them for a while. They were burning quite intensely, which, Peter feared, could lead to a headache, which then could lead to sensory overload. It had been a while since he had had any issues with his dialed-up senses, but he didn't want to risk it. He sighed softly as he heard the first whirring sound of an Auto-Bot turning into its real robot form. He really liked those movies. His favourite bot was Bumblebee, the adorable whirring yellow one that had a real personality. Okay, every bot had its own personality, but you had to give it to him - that moment in the first movie when Bumblebee peed on that ass from that secret government organisation? Dude, that was hilarious! The other bots were cool too because… Okay, he had to admit that alien robots turning into cars was a bit lame, but they were cool aliens and -
His thoughts slowed down and without noticing, the darkness had overtaken him.
*~*Spider-Man*~*
Tony felt Peter's head get heavier and heavier with the minute, and he knew even before looking at the teen that exhaustion had won and he had fallen asleep. Soft puffs of warm breath escaped his slightly parted lips as Peter sighed in his sleep. The mechanic couldn't help himself but feel his heart melt at the sight.
The boy meant a lot to him, and even though he would never admit it to anyone but himself, he thought of him as the son that he had never had. He hadn't had a great childhood. Sure, his mother was loving and had a heart of gold, but even she couldn't fill in the spot that his father had left vacant. Because of that he had always had commitment issues, never really wanting to bond with anyone or let anyone see what was going on on his inside. When he had recruited Spider-Man, he hadn't thought much about the future. Back then, the important thing had been getting Cap to see reason and Tony had been willing to do anything to get him to calm down again - and that had included wrapping a fourteen-year-old into a fight of adults. Yeah, he knew, it hadn't been his best decision, but if he hadn't chosen to endanger Peter, he would never have met the boy, so he couldn't bring himself to really regret anything about it. And without him noticing, Peter had come over once a week at first, then twice a week to work on something or other in his lab, before Tony had missed him when he wasn't there and had asked him to spend his first weekend at the Tower, which then had led to giving Peter his own bedroom, and the rest was history. The teen had wiggled himself into his heart with those damn doe eyes and cheeky grin and horrible science puns. It was Peter and Peter was family.
He hoped that he was as important to Peter and Peter was to him, but he wouldn't want to force anything. He was content with just resting on the couch, letting his son (yes, he's said it, his son) use him as a pillow and just enjoy his life for once.
"Is he asleep?" Natasha whispered. Tony turned to see her look at Peter, warmth clear in her eyes. The spy had adopted Peter as soon as she had set her eyes on him. She insisted that it was just spiders needing to stick together, but Tony knew better. She adored him and Peter adored her. Well, everyone adored Peter, so no surprise there. It was hard not to like the boy.
"Yeah," the billionaire whispered back, careful not to jostle too much. Peter needed the rest. He had been literally dead on his feet and it was a miracle that he hadn't fallen asleep while walking yet. Tony slowly raised his right arm and wrapped it around the teen's shoulders, pulling him just a tad bit closer. Pale hands jumped up and grabbed onto Tony's shirt, holding it tightly. He didn't see the knowing grin finding its way onto literally everyone's faces, as he was busy watching his kid.
"Did you remind him of the tour tomorrow?" Nat asked softly, not wanting to disturb anyone - neither Peter nor the rest of the Avengers who had gone back to following the plot of the movie. Someone had to watch it if the kid had fallen asleep ten minutes after they had put it on and Tony and Natasha's eyes were focussed on the teen.
"I did," Tony said and looked up. "He forgot about it."
A silent laugh shook her body. "I knew he would forget about it."
"He didn't forget about the press conference, though. Well, I wouldn't be surprised if he did but just didn't want to admit it. Still, I'm not gonna lie," Tony turned back to Peter, raised his hand and let his fingers card through his soft curls, "he seemed very nervous about it. I mean, he wants to do what's right, of course, he does, he's Peter, but I can't help but feel like he feels pressured to do it. And I want it to be his choice. I want him to want to tell the world who is protecting New York and the world whilst hidden behind the red mask. I want him to do it because he feels like it's the right thing, not because it's needed, you know what I mean?"
For a while, Natasha didn't say anything but studied the man in front of her. After a few moments, she took a deep breath and slowly shook her head, eyes imploring. "Stark, I don't think that you're looking at this objectively enough. No, please let me finish." She raised a hand and prevented the mechanic to speak up and defend himself.
"It has been his decision, not yours. Sure, he needs to have his identity out in the open in order to sign the Accords and fully join the Avengers, but he doesn't need to tell the world who he is. You said it yourself when the kid told us - your legal team made sure that only those who absolutely needed to be there would see Peter's face and know his real name. It's been Peter, and Peter alone, who said that he wants the world to know. He has his reasons, Stark, and he has thought this through thoroughly. He knows what he's doing. I would have done the exact same thing if I were in his shoes." She reached forward and squeezed the man's shoulder, silently offering her support. "You need to push back your dad-side and look at it with your business-man-and-strategist side. You know that he's doing the right thing. It's your feelings towards the kid that makes you want to protect him and shield him from the world, but you won't always be able to protect him, and you know that. He's an Avenger, Tony."
Tony blinked as Natasha used his first name. She rarely used it, usually only to mock or tease him, but with the way she was looking at him, he knew that she couldn't be farther away from teasing right now. "I know," he mumbled and took a deep breath. "It still doesn't make it easier knowing that."
"I can imagine, but you have to try. Sure, he's your kid, everyone knows that here, but he's also a superhero. One, I might add, with incredible powers and a heart of gold."
"Yeah," Tony said softly, eyes on his kid again. "That's Pete."
*~*Spider-Man*~*
"It is 10 am, boss. You wanted me to remind you one hour before the contest winners arrive to get dressed so that you would look presentable for the 'damn little squirts.'"
His own voice boomed down from the ceiling.
Tony groaned loudly as he heard the disembodied voice echo through the lab, shortly followed by his own. His AI was learning and taping snippets of conversations that she could later use to underline her announcements. Sometimes he loved it, sometimes he hated it. Today was one of the latter days. No-one needed to bring up that Peter loved that part of her programming. Of course, he did, that little shit. He loved everything that could be used to make fun of the mechanic, and that was the only reason why he wasn't even thinking of changing her code.
But, God dang it, he really didn't want to guide children through his place! The only child that was allowed in here was Peter and he was still asleep on the couch upstairs in the penthouse. He hadn't had the heart to wake him up last night after he had fallen asleep. After having watched the first three parts of the Transformers series and he still hadn't woken up, Tony had carefully extracted his arm from around the kid's shoulders and had gently laid him down on the soft sofa. Back when he had bought all of the furniture for the new Avengers base, he had put special focus on comfort, meaning that the sofa in the living room was just as comfortable as any of the mattresses he had bought for the bedrooms. Natasha had sneaked a pillow under Peter's curly mob of hair and Tony had successfully tucked him in, pulling the soft blanket all the way up to his chin. He loved tucking the kid in and he regretted that he couldn't do it as often as he wished, but the kid was nearly of age now, so it would just be weird for him to actually like being tucked in. That didn't keep Tony from doing it anyways when Peter was unconscious, though. When he was unconscious, he couldn't complain, so Tony made the best of those moments.
"Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y.," he muttered dejectedly and pulled himself out of the chair he had spent the last five hours on. He really didn't want random kids creeping around his place, but Pepper had told him that if he wouldn't do it, she'd never cover for him ever again. That meant that he'd have to go to the freaking SI meetings himself, and hell no, he wouldn't want that to happen. Those were so infuriatingly boring. So he had chosen to spend his morning with kids. It was Pepper's fault, really. She had been the one thinking that he as well as SI needed a bit of a reputation boost, so here he was. Trudging through the Tower towards the elevator to take him up to the penthouse.
A soft ding announced his arrival and the elevator door swiftly opened. He didn't waste any time, as he knew he would do so enough when forcing himself into a suit and out of his comfy lab clothes, and strode into the living room. The area was empty, as the rest of the Avengers were either down in the basement, sparring in the gym, or out on missions. Tony was the only one who had busied himself doing something other than sweat, namely fiddle with Nat's Widow Bites until he could solve the problem of why his suit, when called, didn't slow down before zooming right into his crotch. Well, Tony and Peter, who was still peacefully sleeping on the couch, in the exact spot where they had left him last night, or early this morning.
His soft, curly hair was all over the place, standing up in peculiar angles. His cheeks were a soft pink, calming Tony's nagging thoughts. He was always worried about the kid being too cold, as, just like spiders, he couldn't thermoregulate properly. At least he could to some extent, but the part of him that was distinctly 'spider' made him freeze more easily. Thank God, he hadn't gone into hibernation mode yet, as either Tony, May, or MJ were always around to yell at him when he started to shiver.
Tony bit his lip as he thought of his kid's girlfriend. Michelle Jones was both loving and kind, as well as hella frightening when she wanted to be. She had quite literally kicked Peter's arse often enough for Tony to give the young lady his full respect. She knew the teen just as well as Tony and May did, maybe even a tad bit more, and she was so loyal that the mechanic didn't have any worries about leaving the two alone. Not too alone, for obvious reasons; he either made them leave the door open or remind Peter that F.R.I.D.A.Y. would be there if he needed anything. That was more than enough to get him to blush a deep crimson, yell, "Mr. Staaaaaaaark!", and hurry after his girlfriend, who, by then, had usually reached the teen's bedroom.
He loved messing with Peter, but Peter loved messing with him just as much, which would sooner or later end with him having a heart attack or losing all of his hair. Because the greying process was already in full swing and he solely blamed Peter for that.
Carefully, as to not make any sudden noises the enhanced teenager would hear and categorise as a threat, Tony moved over to him and gently pulled the blanket further up towards his chin, smoothing it down lovingly. A soft sigh escaped Peter as he snuggled further into the fluffy pillow.
"Fifty minutes, boss," F.R.I.D.A.Y. whispered from the ceiling, having scanned the room and detected the sleeping Avenger on the couch.
Tony nodded towards the ceiling, not daring to answer. With a last look at his kid, the billionaire took a deep breath and forced his feet to move out of the living room and towards his and Pepper's bedroom. The sooner he got himself dressed, the more time he could spend to mentally prepare himself to deal with the children, and maybe, just maybe, they didn't have that many questions and he could send them on their way early.
As he pushed his arms into the sleeves of his suit jacket, he remembered what Pepper had put on the form - all of them wanted to meet Spider-Man, who, as of now, was peacefully sleeping next door, without a suit or mask, cuddled into a fluffy blanket. Tony blinked at his reflection. What should he do? Should he wake Peter up? No, the boy needed the sleep desperately. He didn't want to be the reason for yet another day of Zombie-Peter shuffling through the hallways and dropping things in the lab. Or kitchen. Steve would get very annoyed if Peter were to drop yet another carton of orange juice. Tony inhaled slowly, not entirely sure what he should do. In the end, his AI took the decision out of his hands.
"The contest winners have arrived and are waiting for you in the lobby, boss."
"Tell them I'm on my way." And with a last tug on his tie, he strode out of the bedroom. He'd let fortune decide - if Peter were to wake up in time, F.R.I.D.A.Y. would remind him of the tour. If not, tomorrow would be the press conference in which Spider-Man would reveal his identity to the world. If a few random kids saw the superhero's face one day early, it wouldn't kill anyone.
Except maybe Peter's self-esteem, but Tony would make sure that the kid would be more embarrassed about being caught sleeping on a couch than being caught without his mask on. He was too adorable.
*~*Spider-Man*~*
"And this is the end of our tour through SI," Tony said, hoping desperately that he sounded cheerful and not as exhausted as he felt. Mentally exhausted, that was. Dealing with children, no matter how old, wasn't something that he was comfortable with. They had sticky fingers and wanted to touch everything. The stickiness changed the older they got, but the touch-y thing didn't. Sometimes, he felt that it got even worse the more their brains developed. "I hope you've enjoyed your day."
That was it. They were standing in front of the large window that made up one wall of the penthouse. Pepper had forced him to bring the kids upstairs and show them where the Avengers hung out. No private rooms, of course. No baby, child, or adult that wasn't an Avenger was allowed in their bedrooms if they weren't acquainted with at least one of the team! Thankfully Pepper hadn't wanted them anywhere near the bedrooms, either, so that was that. Looking at a vast couch that filled the whole, humongous room, though, seemed safe enough to give the kids something to feel special about. After all, no-one had ever set foot into the penthouse. Except for the Avengers and their families, that was. So you could imagine the pure excitement as Tony had led them to the elevator and had told F.R.I.D.A.Y. to bring them up to the penthouse. They had looked nearly as excited as Peter looked when he set foot in it, and he lived here.
He had to admit that ending the tour in front of the window in their living room had been a genius idea. They could see half of New York City stretching out in front of them, as well as the tiny dots, moving through the streets down below like ants scurrying to their burrow. It was an amazing view, one that Tony had learned to appreciate as soon as Peter had started spending more and more time here. It was weird how much the kid had changed the way he looked at things. Spending time with him made him realise just how fascinating the little things could be - like the view of New York at their feet with its citizens moving through the streets. Not that New York was 'a little thing', but you get what he meant. Peter just had that thing about him that made you appreciate life. Speaking of...
"Do you have any questions?" he asked, sincerely hoping that they would shake their heads negative and be on their way. But no such luck. He bit back an annoyed sigh as a girl with red hair timidly raised her hand.
"I have one, Sir," she said softly. As his eyes focussed on her, a blush that would put any tomato to shame coloured her cheeks. "First I want to thank you for the opportunity you gave us by visiting the SI Tower. I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say that today has been the best day of our lives." The other kids nodded eagerly, bright grins lighting up their little faces. If Tony didn't want them to leave, like, now, he might actually find that endearing, but no. The only person that was endearing in this household was still snuggled under the huge blanket, lying behind the unsuspecting teenagers, and even he wouldn't ever find out that 'endearing' was part of Tony's vocabulary. Forcing himself not to look at his protégé, Tony blinked at the girl, knowing exactly what she wanted to ask. "On the forms, you gave us a slot where we could put down the name of one person that we wanted to meet, and I - I mean - we have hoped to actually meet him."
The girl seemed to be the spokesperson of the group, as the others were nodding along just as eagerly as before, maybe a little more excited at the prospect of meeting their hero. Before Tony could do more than smirk, she inhaled sharply and, eyes glowing, she asked, "Can we meet Spider-Man, Sir?"
"Meet Spider-Man, huh?" Tony chuckled as he thought back to what face Peter had made when he had found out that there were people who actually worshiped and wanted to meet him. Probably ask for his signature while they were at it. Tony wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. Peter on the other hand would be and it would be the most hilarious thing to witness.
The billionaire could imagine the kid's reaction perfectly - big, horrified eyes, a dark blush on his cheeks, and a choked squeak that forced its way out of his throat. Later, the young superhero would deny something like that had ever happened, but Tony would know better, as he would have proof to show around and embarrass his kid even more. He had a trusty AI on his side and said AI just loved to take pictures and videos of Peter. The mechanic would love to say that it wasn't because of the way he had programmed F.R.I.D.A.Y., but… Well… It was the way he had programmed her. He still liked to believe that the AI liked Peter anyway, because who didn't like Peter? That's right. Someone like that didn't exist, and if they existed, Tony didn't want to know anything about them.
"If you'd look behind you…" he trailed off, smirk getting more pronounced the longer the teenagers stared at him, clearly thinking he was trying to trick them. He raised his eyebrows and nodded, which seemed to have been enough encouragement, as first the red-haired girl and then the rest of the bunch turned around and froze.
In front of them on the couch, they could see a bundle of blankets that were moving slightly in the slow rhythm of someone breathing. A mop of brown, curly hair peeked out from under the blanket, resting on the soft fabric of the fluffy pillow. Peter wasn't facing their way, his face turned towards the back of the couch, which, in hindsight, had been the only reason why it had taken the kids so long to react the way they had, eventually.
Before Tony could do anything other than wince, all five of the chosen winners opened their mouths and screamed on top of their lungs. The girls started jumping up and down, grabbing each other's hands excitedly, whereas the boys jumped from foot to foot, not able to remain still. Thanks to his super-hearing, which Tony might have not added to his calculations (oops), Peter woke up with a loud yelp and catapulted himself out of his blanket castle straight onto the ceiling, where he sat, crouched, and shifted in a fighting stance, ready to take on what- or whoever had interrupted his peaceful rest.
When Tony saw his kid's big, panicked eyes as his alert gaze jumped from one person to the other, coupled with his horrendous bed hair and the red mark where his cheek had been pressed against the pillow, he cracked up so badly that he couldn't stop the tears from flowing. Peter's breathing was erratic and coming in fast, shallow puffs, as his eyes zoned in on his mentor. Understanding slowly caused him to gape at the still screaming teenagers in front of him, as he realised that, first, today was the tour Tony had dreaded, and second, he had just been caught sleeping by a bunch of people around his age, no less, who thought he was cool.
Peter glared at his mentor (which, apparently, wasn't scary at all, at least according to the billionaire, but that didn't keep Peter from trying to look threatening anyway), who was wiping tears out of his eyes, all the while trying to figure out how he could retract his hands and feet from the ceiling to greet the excited bunch underneath him. Like the cool hero, he was.
Problem was… He was stuck.
*~*Spider-Man*~*
"I can't believe you would do something like that to me!" Peter whined loudly as he and his mentor stood in the lab a few stories further into the building. It was the next day. Peter had survived the awkward encounter with his fans (Oh God, he actually had fans; it was both exciting and oddly humiliating. He wasn't a cool person, really, he wasn't! What those kids saw in him was beyond his imagination) and, hours after they had left, still excitedly chatting to each other, Mr. Stark had managed to calm him down by allowing him to tinker on a repulsor from the Iron Man suit. That didn't mean he had forgotten about the whole ordeal, though! Oh, hell no, he'd never forget that disaster! He had been stuck on the bloody ceiling, for crying out loud! AHHHHHH, WHY?!
He glared at his mentor, trying to look intimidating. His cheeks had excited red blotches on them, his eyes were bright and big, and his curls were literally everywhere from having run his hands through them time and time again (That was a nervous habit of his. Well, one of his nervous habits, but still. He couldn't get rid of it. He had tried and it hadn't worked. So he'd given up trying. Aunt May said it looked cute, seeing him in such an 'adorably dishevelled state' - her words, not his - so he had decided to just take a deep breath and accept that he would never be threatening and would forever stay his 'adorably dishevelled' self. Ugh.). In conclusion, Peter was pretty sure that he looked just as insane as he felt right about now.
"Why would you just let me sleep? Couldn't you have woken me up before leading a group of teenagers into the room? Weren't you supposed to - I don't know - support me?" He threw his hands in the air and gestured wildly. Which probably made him look even less in control. Nevermind, don't you dare judge him! "You have a weird way of helping me keep my secret identity, Mr. Stark."
The mechanic snickered at the teen's obvious embarrassment. He seemed just a bit too amused by the whole scenario of 'Hey-let's-all-laugh-about-Peter.' "Don't worry about it, Underoos," Mr. Stark said, only to be interrupted by a loud and frustrated groan. The grin that spread across the man's face was way too happy in Peter's modest opinion. "Those kids signed an NDA before I even let them catch sight of the elevators. Well, their parents did, but that's basically the same thing. Parents are responsible for their children, and all that jazz. Besides, you'll tell the world who Spider-Man is in exactly twenty-eight minutes anyway, so why stress about it?"
Peter froze. "Twenty-eight minutes?!" he squealed loudly, his eyes getting bigger as his heart rate accelerated if that was even possible. He felt like he might faint at any moment. Oh, God. Twenty-eight minutes. The press conference. He couldn't believe that he not only forgot about the tour but also about the press conference! For the second time! The one situation in which he, Peter Parker, would tell the world that he was Spider-Man. He had overheard Pepper tell Mr. Stark that she had invited over fifty different newspapers, news channels, news magazines,... Peter hadn't even known that there were so many independent news agencies, let alone fifty of them! And that didn't mean that the agencies had only sent one reporter each. And if the conference was to start in just under half an hour, then they would probably all be waiting for him in one of the conference rooms that Mr. Stark had walked him past a couple of years ago with the words, "Ah, don't worry about them, there's only boring stuff going on behind those doors," so Peter had absolutely no idea what they looked like and whether there were hidden doors that led directly to the front of the room, or… Was there a stage? Would he need to be standing at a podium on a stage in front of over fifty people? What had Mr. Stark said again, how many had signed up to attend? He'd forgotten. How could he forget something as important as that?
Adrenaline made it possible that all of those jumbled, panicked thoughts rushed through that dishevelled head of hair in less than ten seconds. "What do I wear?" That was the first question that tumbled out of him as he blinked at his mentor, panic clear in his brown eyes. He felt totally overwhelmed. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. He didn't know whether they wanted him to say something. Wait, had Pepper told him to prepare a speech? Oh, God. Dread filled his stomach as he gulped. What if she had and he'd just forgotten about it? What if he would stand in front of all of those reporters that had the permission to stream the whole thing live for the whole world to see and he'd just stare at them and say something stupid like… like… Oh hell, he couldn't even think of an example! It was that bad! He was screwed. He was so screwed, he might as well just cancel the whole thing.
Meanwhile, Mr. Stark stared at his protégé as if he had lost his mind. Which, if you were to ask Peter, would most likely be the case. The chance was high. Very high, in fact. He was close to losing it. "Did you seriously just ask me what you're supposed to wear?" The billionaire pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting for composure. "What do you think you should wear? You suit, of course! I don't care which one - either your normal one or the Iron Spider, whichever is more comfortable." Those words, although answering the teen's question, didn't do anything to calm him down, so Mr. Stark took a deep breath and decided to quickly walk him through what would happen.
"Put on your mask and once Pepper has greeted the reporters and given them a short summary of what you have done so far in your superhero life, what the Avengers stand for, she will announce that Spider-Man is the newest member of the team. Which should already be obvious for people who have a functioning brain, but things need to be announced officially still. I never understood it, but hey. Who am I to complain? She will then wave you forward, you greet everyone, take off your mask, say your name, and be done with it. It's no big deal, Peter, really. Pepper will be there, I will be there, hell, even the rest of the team will be there."
Sure, Peter knew he was a worrywart. Even worse than Karen but triggered in situations that, unlike Karen, didn't need that much worrying energy, really, at least if you believed Mr. Stark and Aunt May and Pepper and Karen and F.R.I.D.A.Y. and, hell, probably everyone on the planet. Objectively speaking, bleeding out on a random roof of an apartment building was more worrisome than some press conference that would be handled by other people, but Peter didn't see that, of course. Of course, he didn't. If Peter had known all of that, he might have been able to take a calming breath, but Mr. Stark wasn't the most comfortable man when it came to… well… comforting. Still, Peter knew he was doing his best. "You don't have to give a speech, you don't even have to stay on stage" - so there was a stage! Ohhhhh… he felt sick - "for the entirety of Pepper's speech. For all I care, I'll pull you into the room seconds before she announces you as part of the Avengers, you pull your mask off, say hi, and leave again." Okay, that sounded doable. He could do it. Yes, he could and he would do it. It wasn't like anyone would really care afterwards, right? Right. "Really. Don't worry about it." See? Even Mr. Stark thought so, so it had to be right. "They will be happy with everything that they'll get, as this will be the story of the month for them."
...AHHHHHHHHH!
That had been the wrong thing to say and Peter could feel all blood drain from his face. What would his friends say? No, wait. Ned and MJ already knew. What would his school say?! His classmates? His teachers? He wouldn't be able to go back to school, would he? Peter took a deep breath to calm himself down a smidge. Mr. Stark's voice pulled him out of his panicked thoughts and his enhanced eyes zoned in on the man immediately. "You won't be on your own, Peter," he said and put both hands on his shoulders. Their warm weight grounded the teen and made it easier for him to think clearly. Of course, he'd be able to go to school afterwards. Sure, things would change, but he had known that when he had decided that this was what he needed, and wanted, to do. "We're a team, remember?"
Yeah, that he did remember. He'd never forget that. "So, off you go. You have fourteen minutes left to get dressed and be back here in time."
"Fourteen minutes?!" Peter yelped, whirled around, and sprinted down the hallway, nearly crashing into the wall before he could take the turn that would lead him into his bedroom.
Mr. Stark rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his face. That kid was pure chaos. He wouldn't have him any other way.
*~*Spider-Man*~*
Peter bit his lip, fingers squeezing the flexible material of his mask. He was standing in front of the closed door that would lead him directly onto the stage and thus into the focus of every single person in that room. The last - he quickly checked the clock ticking away on the wall to his left - twenty-nine minutes and twelve, thirteen, fourteen seconds had been spent trying to calm down and breathe.
Once he had managed to get his suit on, Karen had greeted him cheerfully. She had been part of why he wasn't hiding in some random vent right about now. He was Spider-Man, damn it, and Spider-Man was a superhero and an Avenger and he was cool and strong and funny! And people looked up to him. So, he figured, all he needed to do was to try and focus on those people - the teens that he had met the day before, the little boy who had handed him his (halfway eaten) ice cream cone, which had been a sweet gesture, but also slightly disgusting. He needed to think of the happy grin and the teary eyes of the girl for whom he had bought a balloon after hers had sneaked its way out of her grasp and flown into the air, where even he hadn't been able to reach it. He needed to think of those who he had helped and who gave him enough motivation and a purpose to go back onto the streets and do whatever he could to help.
If he were to do that, then he'd be just fine. At least that's what Karen had told him, showing him recordings of his patrol experiences, reminding him once again that she saw everything and that she made sure that everyone could see what he did if they just begged Mr. Stark for access. Which, at first, had helped him calm down his rapid and unhealthily fast heartbeat, but had accelerated it again once he had remembered that teeny, tiny bit of information his brain hadn't deemed important enough before. Ahhhhh...
"You will do just fine." Mr. Stark's voice pulled him out of his reveries. He blinked and tore his gaze away from the clock. On the other side of the door, Pepper had just finished summarising what the new and approved Accords stood for. "Try not to worry too much. You won't be alone in there."
Peter nodded quickly and took a deep breath. Yeah, he'd be fine. If Mr. Stark said he'd be fine, he'd be fine. He had to believe and trust his mentor. Phew. Was it always that warm in here? And kinda stuffy too… Huh. Did F.R.I.D.A.Y. turn off the AC? But before Peter could wonder more about that (or crawl into the vents to check, and never come back out), he heard Pepper's voice get louder.
"And without further ado, I'd like to introduce to you the newest member of the Avengers. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a big applause for Spider-Man!"
Peter is the best!
Until next time - see ya!