The organizers of the decathlon knew that teenagers with full bellies had short attention spans. In deference to that, there weren't any rounds scheduled for the rest of the evening and when they were done eating the participants were free to go back to the hotel and do whatever they wanted.
For some teams (especially the ones that weren't doing as well in the competition) that might mean some extra practice sessions. While Peter's team was doing well – they were in the top bracket, so far – MJ was tempted to have them do more practices as well, just to keep up their winning ways.
Ned wasn't so willing.
"Come on, MJ," he said, giving her the same look he used on his mom when he wanted something she wasn't – quite – willing to let him have. "Peter was stuck in an elevator all day. He deserves a chance to do something fun. Not study."
She rolled her eyes, more amused than annoyed, especially since Peter didn't look too put upon at the thought of practicing.
"Fine. But we're going to be in the suite early tomorrow for a final practice before the finals start, tomorrow."
"Definitely."
"The pool's open at the hotel," Abe reminded them.
There was a scheduled pool party, but the pool was always open for the hotel guests to use whenever they wanted.
"Good idea," one of the others agreed.
"Except that you just ate," Flash pointed out. "So you'll get a cramp and die."
Ned rolled his eyes.
"That isn't true. It's an old wives' tale. We swim at the compound after eating all the time."
"Is that true, Peter?" Abe asked, curiously. "The cramping thing, I mean."
The boy shrugged.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I'm not a doctor. I'm not going to go swimming, yet, anyway, though," he added, standing up. "I'm going to go back to the room and call Tony."
"And Shuri?" Flash asked with a sly smile.
Reminding all of them just how much his relationship with Peter had changed, lately, since bullying and berating had always been common, but not friendly teasing like this.
Peter's shrug wasn't at all defensive. It was a good idea, after all.
"Maybe."
"I'll come, too," Ned told him. He looked at the rest of the team. "But I'll be in the pool in an hour."
The hotel pool was a popular spot for the kids of all the teams, really. It might not have as many occupants that evening, but now that he knew how to swim, Ned was always willing to play in the water – and so were many of the others. And don't even get started on the fact that it also afforded the boys a chance to see the girls in bathing suits (and vice versa for the girls, of course).
"Are you going to swim?" Abe asked MJ.
She shrugged, but it did sound like a good time, and a chance to do something active after an entire day of competitions.
"Probably."
No sense having full access to the pool and not using it, after all.
OOOOOOOOOOOO
"Hello, my sweet…"
Peter smiled at the greeting, pleased that he was able to have a video call with Shuri, even if he couldn't have her up on the big screen like he did at home.
"Hello, my princess. You look wonderful, today."
Ned rolled his eyes at the mushy greetings, but he was definitely amused.
"Because I am beautiful and exotic," she reminded him with an impish smile.
Both boys chuckled at that, well aware that she wasn't so narcissistic.
"That you are," Peter agreed.
"How was the competition, today?"
"Peter wouldn't know," Ned told her. "He spent the day in an elevator."
Even in the smaller display Peter could see the confusion in her expression.
"Why would you want to do that?"
Ned snorted, amused, but it was Peter who answered.
"I didn't want to," he assured her. "It was stuck between floors. It took five hours before they could get it working."
Another frown.
"Tony could not fix it?"
She sounded like she was pretty sure that he could have taken care of it in a minute, and Peter was sure she was right.
"He didn't come down," Peter replied. "Because he didn't want the people in the elevator with me to know who I was."
"Ah." She nodded and he knew that she understood the need for security – better than most, really. "To protect your anonymity."
"Right. And because if there was a big deal made, then it might affect whether or not you're allowed to come for the final," he added. "Assuming we make it that far."
She looked down at a piece of paper she was holding, and Peter and Ned both knew it was the paper she was tracking brackets on. Ned and Peter were both emailing her the results from the competitions each day, so Peter knew she probably already had the ones from that day – even if he hadn't been able to send them to her.
"You are doing well, so far."
"Yeah." Ned was the one who answered. "We're going to have to self implode to do badly enough, now, to miss it."
"Which you will not do," she said.
"Probably not," Peter confirmed. "How's Wakanda?"
She smirked.
"T'Challa has had his significant other here at the palace for the last two days," she reported. "I think things are becoming serious."
"Will we be invited to the wedding?" Ned asked, cheerfully.
"You are Wakandan," she pointed out. "You will most likely be invited."
"Sweet."
"I have to go," she told the boys. "My day is beginning, and I have much to do."
"I'll call you, later," Peter told her. "Have a good day."
"You, too." She smiled. "Bye Ned."
"Bye, Shuri."
The call ended but Peter didn't out his phone away. One more call to make, first. He hit the proper speed dial button as he settled himself on the edge of his bed. A moment later, it was Tony who was on the display.
"Done eating?"
Peter nodded, shifting in his spot so Ned could sit next to him, also in the display, now.
"Yeah. What are you guys doing?"
"Mom and I are going to enjoy a quiet evening of dancing and dining," he reported. "Since we don't have to worry about our teenaged son being underfoot, we decided we can go out."
Peter wasn't heart broken.
"Sounds like fun."
"It is." His expression turned a little serious, then, and Peter knew he had had other reasons to want him to call. "Ned? You have to decide if you want to hear this conversation, or not," the billionaire told Peter's friend. "If you stick around, it stays in the room. Understand?"
"Yeah." With that kind of warning, there wasn't any way the boy was going to leave and miss the conversation, of course. "I won't tell anyone."
"What's up?" Peter asked.
"Apparently the guys in the elevator with you weren't able to finish their meeting, today, so they're staying over, tonight. At the hotel."
"Oh."
A million thoughts started running through Peter's mind. First and foremost was that Tony and Pepper (and probably all the rest of them) wouldn't want Peter at the hotel, too, so they might be telling him that he couldn't stay, there, any more. Or maybe he couldn't even finish the competition? Peter really wanted to finish the competition. Not only was he having a good time, but also, he wanted to give his grandfather's lighter to Nico, and he couldn't do that if he wasn't there. His expression must have given away his thoughts, because Tony was quick to speak up, reassuring as he did.
"There's no need to worry, son," he said, breaking into Peter's thoughts. "We just wanted to make sure you knew, so you could avoid them."
"Why do you want Peter to avoid salesmen?" Ned asked, curiously, proving he was listening. "So they don't find out you're his dad and come try to sell you something?"
Tony smiled at that.
"Not quite, Ned. Peter will explain it, later."
"I will?" Peter asked, surprised.
"Sure." He shrugged. "But it stays in the room, like I said."
"Alright."
"Are you guys still leading?"
"Yeah."
"Going to be in the finals?"
"Probably."
"Can mom and I come watch?" Tony asked. "Or would it be too much of a distraction?"
"It won't distract me, at all," Peter told him, honestly. "But stay low-key, okay? So it doesn't distract the other teams…"
Tony nodded.
"Fair enough. Need anything?"
"No. We're going to go to the pool party, and then come back to the room for the rest of the night."
"Sounds good. If you need anything, call."
"I will. Love you."
"We love you, too. Keep him out of trouble, Ned."
"Always."
The call ended and Ned turned toward Peter.
"Tell me about these guys…"
OOOOOOOOOO
"What are you doing, Nicholai?"
The head of the west coast Russian mafia looked up from the tablet he was studying and saw his cousin and close friend both looking at him.
"I'm doing some research, Vlad."
"What kind of research?" Joel King asked, curiously.
"Checking out that kid that was in the elevator with us," came the reply. "Peter."
King frowned, uneasily.
"Why?"
"Because a kid like that? Smart as he is? We could use him."
"He's a kid," Vladimir said, also frowning. "What use could he be to our organization?"
"He's some kind of genius kid, though," Varsto pointed out. "We find a way to get to him, and we could own him. We send him to the right school, maybe have him do all kinds of hacker shit and we could branch out into online…" he winced, though, even as he trailed off, his expression suddenly a million miles away.
"Nick?"
Vladimir put his hand on his cousin's shoulder, concerned at just how pale he looked, suddenly. "Are you-"
Before the sentence could finish, the mobster toppled out of the chair he was sitting in and tumbled to the floor, lifeless.
