The school was always bustling at the end of the day. Kids (all of them much older and bigger than Peter) were eager to get home, parents and school busses were queuing up at all entrances to collect students, and even the teachers were heading out as quickly as they could get away with it. This was especially the case on Fridays, when they were all anticipating the upcoming weekend, or – even better, for most of them – on a Wednesday like this day, when it was the start of a holiday.

Thanksgiving break was upon them, and they were all excited to have a few extra days off school.

All of them but Peter, that was.

Before, he would have been excited. Tony had told him – before he was moved from Eric's – that they were going to celebrate Thanksgiving with the Avengers. Not at the compound, because that wasn't the place to have such a fancy meal, but at Tony's own apartment. They hadn't decided if there was going to be a caterer or if it was going to be a potluck style meal, with the others each bringing a dish, and Tony providing the turkey – which he'd assured Peter that he knew how to bake, although the boy had had his doubts.

Now, however, he didn't have that to look forward to.

He'd been informed (not asked) that they were going to be going to the house of one of her relatives. He got the impression that the relative was wealthy, and some kind of business mogul, although she never actually mentioned any names. She was looking forward to taking Peter to meet him, though, she said, because the boy's brilliance was going to impress her relatives and those who were going to be attending.

"I'm not going to have you put on a show," she'd assured him, when she'd told him about the plan. "But I do want you to wow them with some formulas and equations, perhaps. As young as you are? You'll amaze them all – and maybe there will be a special program that Justin can establish to make sure you have the opportunity to go to the college of your choice. "

Peter had simply excused himself, saying that he needed to finish his schoolwork – which hadn't exactly been the truth – and had gone back to his room and sat on the bed, hoping that maybe later Natasha might show up, again, at his window. So far, it had only been the one time the week before, but he was up, anyway, so it didn't hurt that he stood by the window, looking out hopefully.

"Hey, kid…" a voice said, bringing him out of his reverie. "You look like you could probably use a ride."

Peter's head shot up, and he turned, hardly daring to believe what his ears were telling him. Sure enough, though, standing by the door, leaning against the brick wall and dressed very casually in jeans and a sweatshirt against the chill of the afternoon, Tony Stark was watching him.

"Tony!"

The billionaire smiled, and Peter ran the few steps to him, and was immediately caught up in strong arms, which lifted him, backpack and all and hugged him close.

"Hey, buddy. I sure missed the hell out of you."

Peter held him tight, burying his face into the man's neck and unable to speak around the lump that was suddenly choking him up. It was okay, though, because Tony was holding him, tightly, too, and Peter heard him sniff, softly. After a long moment of initial elation, Peter pulled back – but didn't let him go.

"What are you doing here?"

"Came to pick you up from school."

His eyes were moist, but they looked happy. And smug.

"Miss Marples picks me up," he reminded him.

"Not any longer."

Stark shifted his grip, but didn't put Peter down as he turned and walked away from the building. Peter saw his car parked along the curb; the sleek sportscar out of place among the minivans and sensible sedans most of the others drove.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, let's talk about it," he replied. "But not here. It's too noisy."

"Are you kidnapping me?" Peter asked, curiously, only letting Tony go when the man opened his car door and put him on his feet so he could help him get his backpack off and put it in the back of the car. It was just as heavy as Tony remembered it being, but now he knew why Peter carried it so easily.

He buckled Peter into the front seat.

"I thought about it," he admitted. "About a million times, the last couple of weeks."

"You'd get in trouble."

"You'd be worth it." He smiled and shut the door, and then went around to get behind the wheel. "But to answer your question; no. I'm not kidnapping you."

"Where are we going, then?" he asked. His expression grew concerned. "To Miss Marples'?"

"Nope. Hush for now, okay? I need to concentrate on traffic."

He smiled when he said it, though, to make sure the little boy understood that he wasn't annoyed with the questions.

"Okay."

"Did you have a good day at school?"

"Yes."

"Have they begun to place you in those pre-college courses?"

"I thought you had to concentrate on traffic…?"

Tony rolled his eyes.

"It's small talk, buddy. I can do small talk and drive. It's the important conversations I can't multitask with. Answer the question; I've been out of the loop."

"They're testing me for what classes I can do at my school and if I need to go to an actual class at a regular college where there is a professor. It could take a few weeks, or they might wait to figure it out until the beginning of the next school year."

"You're okay with that?"

"Yes." He looked out the window. "Where are we going?"

Tony had missed the turn for Miss Marples' house, which was a relief, but had also missed the turn that would have taken them to the tower, which he'd been holding out hope for. An afternoon with Tony in his office – even if he worked on classwork – would still be better than an afternoon in his fancy new house.

"To get ice cream."

"Really?"

"Yup." Tony reached over and tousled Peter's hair. "Interested?"

"Yes."

"Tell me more about what they said about your classes."

Peter did as he was told, and was almost relieved to have Tony to talk to, again. He didn't have to explain things to Tony, after all, like he did everyone else – even Miss Marples, who was pretty smart, herself. As he told him what the counselor and teachers had told him, he watched the buildings, trying to get an idea of where they were really going, and he was surprised when they pulled up to the front of Tony's apartment building.

The valet saw the car coming and immediately rushed to the driver's side, not seeing Peter until Stark had stopped the car.

"We're having ice cream here?"

"Yup. I'll get your backpack. Be careful."

They were near a busy street, after all.

There wasn't any reason to be concerned, however, since another valet had hurried over to the passenger side of the car and was already opening the door for the little boy, being careful to stand between Peter and the street, and offering him a hand, immediately.

Peter took it, smiling at Tony when he was walked over to stand by the billionaire and the car was driven away.

"Wow."

"Come on," Stark said, and now it was his hand that Peter held as they walked into the lobby.

There was a lot of security, but no one stopped Tony or his little companion as they went to the private elevator that led only to Tony's apartment. Peter had been to the place a couple of times, before, but it was still exciting. He knew that some of the security people were SHIELD agents, after all, and that was heady stuff for an eight year old.

The elevator opened into a small foyer that also provided access to a stairwell – in case of emergencies. Without needing to unlock the keypad, Stark opened the door and walked the boy into Tony's apartment. He set Peter's backpack on the sofa as he let the boy's hand go.

"Hello, Peter," JARVIS said, the moment the elevator closed. "Welcome."

Peter smiled.

"Thank you."

"Ice cream?" Tony reminded him, walking across the open living room area toward the kitchen.

"Yeah."

Peter went over to join him, and was surprised to find a new barstool at the island. It was similar to the others in that it matched them, but it also had a couple of metal spurs on the main support, and the boy found that they were perfect for allowing him to climb to his seat without needing to be picked up and put into place.

"Like it?" Tony asked, watching with a pleased expression as Peter figured out the new chair on his own.

"It's great."

"I got it for you."

"Really?" That made him smile, and he couldn't help but hug himself. "Thanks."

Tony opened the freezer.

"Rocky Road?"

"Yeah." He watched as Stark dished up two bowls; one with rocky road and the other with pistachio. "You're not going to get in trouble for picking me up from school?"

"No." Tony set a bowl in front of the boy, and retrieved a spoon. "Let me ask you something. And be honest, okay?"

"Okay."

"You and I get along pretty well, right? I mean, I know I freaked out on you at the compound that one day, but aside from that you know I really like you. Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What would you say if I said that Pepper got me certified to be a foster parent in the state of New York?"

Peter hesitated, even as he was scooping a spoonful of ice cream from his bowl.

"Like Eric, you mean?" he clarified. "And Miss Marples?"

"Right."

"Why?"

"Because I want you to come live with me, and it was the only way that we could make it happen – legally – anyway."

The spoon clattered to the floor.

"What?"