"We meet again, Mr. Parker…"

Peter smiled, a combination of excited and shy.

"Hi, Mr. Hogan."

"You can call me Happy."

The boy nodded and Happy opened the door of the car for him. It wasn't the limo; he was one small kid, after all, and not a handful of them. Instead, it was a sleek, black, sedan. He got into the back seat and buckled in while Happy went around to get behind the wheel. Peter's study room advisor had walked out to stand with him – and to make sure it was Stark's driver who picked him up – and the boy waved at her before she turned and walked back into the building.

"You could call me Peter."

The driver turned and looked over his shoulder.

"I'm going to be the one who picks you up, every day after school," he told him. "No one else, unless you hear otherwise, and we'll notify the school administrators, as well. Got it?"

"Yes."

"Good. We want to make sure you end up where you're supposed to be, after all."

Peter just wrapped his arms around himself, excitedly, and nodded.

He was going to see Mr. Stark, again. Was going to see him every day after school – unless some Avenger thing came up, of course, and he had to leave.

The boy had been so excited to log onto the computer two days before to tell JARVIS about the phone call Eric had received from Tony Stark's PR people, asking if Peter was interested in the idea of having the billionaire as a mentor. Eric had hesitated, but Peter had jumped at the idea, and the boy's foster father had eventually given in. Peter didn't ask for many things, after all and he was clearly eager for the opportunity.

JARVIS had been properly pleased, of course, and had cautioned Peter to make sure he didn't do his homework in class like he normally did.

"Part of his duties will be to assist you with your work."

"I don't need help, very often," Peter had pointed out. "It's not that complicated."

"But it will give him something to do with you," JARVIS had said. "Trust me. It'll work out better this way."

"Okay."

"And I don't want you to mention your special abilities to him, yet," JARVIS had added.

"Why not?" Peter had asked, confused. "That's the best thing about being so close to him; he can teach me what I need to know."

"He needs to learn about you, first," JARVIS explained. "To know the other things that you can do. Then we'll let him find out about your other talents. We need to plan for the long term. Understand?"

Peter didn't. But he had figured out, by then, that JARVIS was a pretty smart guy. And he liked him – even though he knew it was dumb, since he wasn't really a person.

"Okay."

"Good."

OOOOOOOOO

"We're going to be met by one of the receptionists," Happy told Peter as he pulled into traffic. "They'll make sure you get a new security badge, and make sure you know how to find Tony's office."

"Okay."

The driver smiled; even looking at him through his reflection in the mirror, the little boy looked so excited that Happy thought he might vibrate himself right out of the car.

"You're going to have a good time," he told him. "But, if for some reason, you don't…" Meaning that Tony was a jerk to him, or something. "I want you to tell me. Okay? That way we can fix whatever it is. This is supposed to be fun for you."

Peter nodded.

"Thank you."

OOOOOOO

Tony looked up at the polite knock at his door.

"Enter."

The door opened and one of the security guards entered, with Peter trailing behind him. The boy was carrying the always present backpack, wearing jeans, the same old shoes and a blue jacket.

"Mr. Parker has arrived, Mr. Stark."

The security guard had clearly already fallen under the spell of Peter's adorability, Tony decided, suppressing his annoyance at that. The kid was annoying more than cute. They'd see that if they'd been stalked by him like Tony had. But Jarvis was right about not having too many responsibilities with the kid, due to his age.

That had been smart.

"Thank you." He waved the boy in. "Come on in, Peter."

The security guard left, closing the door behind him, and Peter walked over to Tony's desk, looking around with interest. Tony watched as he took in the other desk in the room; smaller and more basic, but with a good view of the city below them and a supply of everything that a student might need.

"This is nice."

"Yes, it is." Tony came around and leaned against his desk, looking down at the boy. "So, Happy is picking you up from school every day at 2:30, and you'll be here until 5:00. Correct?"

"Yes."

"That's your desk, right there. If you have homework, you're supposed to do it."

"Right."

"Do you have any homework?"

"Yes."

"Then get to it."

Peter nodded and sat down at the desk, a little crestfallen at the man's abrupt tone, but not arguing. He set the backpack on the floor and pulled out a few textbooks, a notepad and a gnawed on pencil. Ignoring the high-tech computer display and the pens and other items placed there for his use, he opened the first book up, while Tony returned to his chair and turned the display back on, his attention going to the newest incarnation of his Ironman suit.

It was still in the development stage, but it was going to be sleeker, better and ever more deadly than the one he wore, now. He glanced over at Peter, who had his cheek on the table and was scribbling, furiously, on the paper, his lower lip between his teeth as he concentrated.

Tony frowned, and watched him for a long moment, wondering how the hell anyone could even see what they were doing – much less actually do it – in such an odd position. There were equations being written, though, he could see – sort of – and they were far more advanced than any eight year old should be able to do. He reminded himself that he didn't care what the little kid was working on – he was just there for good PR – and started making his own notes.

The room was silent, then, with just the scraping of Peter's pencil on the paper that his nose was practically touching.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Well?"

"What?"

Pepper made a show of looking around Tony's office.

"I don't see flames, or flood or any blood."

"Because there aren't any."

"And Happy took him home?"

"Yes."

Pepper smiled.

"What did you boys talk about?"

"Nothing. He did his homework and I worked on my suit."

"You didn't help him?"

"He didn't ask for any."

She rolled her eyes.

"Did you even talk to him?"

"I asked if he had homework."

"Tony…"

"Pepper…" he shrugged, defensively. "I'm doing what you want. We're in the same room and I'm right there if he needs something."

"Did you offer him a refreshment?"

"No."

"Tony…"

Now she sounded exasperated.

"He was here for two hours. He wasn't going to die of thirst."

"He's a little boy, Tony. Little boys are always hungry. You were one, once, remember?"

"No. I spent a lot of money on alcohol to forget my childhood."

Pepper wasn't impressed. She crossed her arms over her breasts and gave him the look she gave him when she was most annoyed with him.

"You know this kid's history. Why would you actively try to be cruel to him?"

"I'm being cruel because I didn't offer him a juice box or a plate of cookies?"

"You ignored him. You said it yourself."

"I didn't leave. I was right here."

"You might as well have left."

"I'll remind you, I didn't want to do the mentoring thing, in the first place."

"And I'll remind you that your attitude with the public is what led to you doing it," she countered. "You make an effort to be nice to him or I swear to god, I'll make you take him to baseball games every weekend, and the zoo once a month."

"Pepper…"

"I mean it, Tony."

He could tell that she did, too. The billionaire scowled. And huffed. And rolled his eyes.

She didn't back down.

He sighed.

"Fine."

"Thank you."

"Whatever…" he turned his attention back to his display, but Pepper didn't mind.

She'd had her say, and she'd keep close track of what he was doing. The field trips had been great, and approval was inching up. Spending time with a guy as adorable and good as Peter was might mellow Tony Stark a little, too, and that could only be for the good.

OOOOOOOO

The next day there was a small plate of cookies on the desk when Peter sat down at it. There was also a bottle of water and a cola with a glass of ice.

"Make yourself comfortable," Tony told him. "Since I didn't know what you might want – aside from the fact that I know you drink water – you'll have to tell me if there's something you don't like."

The boy's smile was uncertain, but he nodded as he set his backpack on the floor by his feet so he could open it.

"Thank you."

Tony nodded, and went to sit at his desk, host duties complete.

"You're welcome."

"Do you want a cookie?" Peter asked, offering him the plate.

That made the billionaire hesitate, and he felt just a little sliver of warmth at the invitation.

"I had one. Thanks, anyway."

"Okay."

"Do you have homework?"

"Yes."

"Is it hard?"

"No."

"Get to work, then."

Peter nodded, and turned his attention to the papers and textbooks he was setting on the desk, but while Tony watched, surreptitiously, the boy picked up one of the cookies, ran it under his nose to sniff it – probably suspicious of they were chocolate chips or raisons – and then crammed the whole thing into his mouth.

The billionaire snorted, softly, amused, and turned his attention back to his own display.