Unsurprisingly, Peter's parents hadn't had any issue with the later Friday nights Mr. Stark had proposed, as soon as he assured them they wouldn't need to come pick him up. He didn't blame them for that. No one wanted to drive in New York, even that late. He was surprised that Mr. Stark's driver was willing to do it. Peter hadn't quite figured out how Mr. "Happy" Hogan had gotten that nickname, since he hadn't seen the man smile once, or even speak, once they got in the car the night before.

The awkward ride home had been worth it, though, to get to help Mr. Stark move through a bunch of possible clean energy applications for arc reactor technology. The engineer had seemed to honestly want his input, and they had narrowed the possible projects down to three, and drawn up some preliminary designs for them.

It still made Peter a little starry-eyed when the genius explained everything in a way that Peter understood and then asked for his opinion, and actually seemed to value what he said. Ned was super smart, and MJ too, in different ways, and he liked talking with them about techy or science-y stuff, but Peter couldn't remember the last time someone had taken the time to teach him things. Or the last time an adult had seemed to care so much when he spoke. He was starting to look forward to his lab time less in an oh-my-gosh-this-is-amazing way and more in a happy-warm-feelings way.

Most of the week before had passed in a bit of a blur, but Peter had still been working through how he might want to use his powers to help. He was ready to move forward, but was going to need some money to put together his ideas for a functional, anonymous suit-of-sorts. He'd waited for his parents to bring up the money, but so far, they hadn't. He was finally feeling impatient enough (and brave enough) that morning.

"Hey Mary?"

"Hmm?" As usual, his parents were just starting to struggle out of bed when Peter was getting ready to leave. Some mornings he didn't even see them before school, but it was a Saturday, and he was leaving the house soon to go hang out with Ned. And other things. He knew their work kept them up late lots of nights, but he'd hoped to catch them before he left.

"I, uh… someone at my internship said it's paid? Did you see that?"

"Yes, that's right," she said with a yawn. She was leaning against the counter in her pajamas, staring at the coffee maker, as if that would help it work faster.

"I…how does that work? Like, can I use some of it for anything?"

"Oh. I suppose so? You should save some for school, of course," she said absently, pulling a felt-tip out of the drawer to scribble something on a napkin. From what Peter could see, it was a cross-species microarray DNA expression, but it looked strange for some reason.

Mary noticed him looking at what she was writing and turned away from him, slipping the napkin into the pocket of her pajama shorts.

"What would you need to buy with the money?" she asked him, sounding more awake even though her coffee wasn't done yet.

Peter had that answer ready. "Like maybe some computer stuff or some other clothes I want or something?"

She narrowed her eyes. "You're not going to get more electronic junk to spread around the house, are you?"

"Uh, no, of course not. We're working on it at Ned's."

"Right. I guess that's fine, then. But save half."

"Okay." He kept standing there looking at her. She had her hand in her pocket, obviously fiddling with the napkin.

"Did you need something else?"

"How do I, uh… get the money? Like did it come to you, or…" Why was she making this so awkward? It was technically his money, right? Even though it was from an internship, and he was a minor?

"Oh, right. Hmm." Her eyes unfocused for a moment, and she walked out of the room. Okay. Was she coming back? Peter just stood there and waited, following her progress with his super hearing. It sounded like she was shuffling through some papers.

When she came back, she handed him an unopened envelope. "We had to open a bank account for you for the direct deposit. The card should be in there, it feels like. Follow the instructions to activate it. But don't waste it on useless garbage, Peter, please."

"Yes! I mean, no! I won't."

She nodded, grabbed her mug off the counter, and filled it full of the steaming liquid, then shuffled over to the kitchen table, seeming to have forgotten his presence. Peter could hear his dad finally moving in their room as well, and decided it was time to beat a hasty retreat before his hypothetical spending habits became a family discussion.

Instead of heading to Ned's (who was actually busy this morning) Peter headed north on the train, the bank envelope burning a proverbial hole in his backpack. Once he reached the city library, he quickly found an unoccupied corner (not difficult on a Saturday morning) and pulled it out, along with his laptop. He read through the instructions and set up the online access to his account with slightly shaky fingers. He had no idea if there was even any money in it.

Oh. There was. They had opened the account with $50 in it, and apparently he'd just gotten his first paycheck on Tuesday, and it was for the first week of his internship. He'd worked about 10 hours, and Stark Industries paid its interns approximately $15 an hour, according to the $145 he had in his account. Wow. He'd never really had any money that was his , other than a few bills for birthdays here and there. There was also a "savings account" with $5 already in it, and he dutifully transferred $72.50 over to that account, since his mom had said he needed to save half of it. So what could he do with the remaining money? Not the $50, of course. That part wasn't his. They probably had to start it with a certain amount. He'd ask how to give it back to them.

Peter pulled the card off the paper, struggling for just a second with the adhesive backing. He read the sticker on the front card, and carefully dialed the number on the front. He tried not to feel nervous about who he'd be talking to, and if they'd ask him questions.

He shouldn't have worried about the first part, because it was just an automated system. He punched in the number on the back of the card when prompted, as well as part of his address, but he ran into an issue when it asked for the last four digits of his social security number. What? Flustered, he hung up.

Peter texted his mom, asking if she knew what his number was. She didn't reply, and Peter sighed in annoyance. Well, he couldn't actually buy anything yet, but he could shop online and get a rough idea of what things might cost, right? He started googling things, and checking prices on Amazon.

what is captain america's suit made out of?

which materials are the most fire-proof?

cheapest safety gear

what makes material not reflective?

keep bugs out of my face while going fast?

motorcycle goggle sunglasses?

what can i wear to be more aerodynamic?

can you use spray paint on body armor?

whats a full face mask called?

balaclava most comfortable

most flexible shoes

what can spiders not stick to?

what are spider webs made of?

what makes spider webs so strong?

weird spider characteristics

pictures of spiders

pictures of small spiders -australia -goliath -huntsman tiny spiders please

chemicals spider webs

mechanical spinnerets

Two hours later, after having gone down several rabbit holes, and his head spinning with options, Peter checked his phone again. No reply from his mom. He called her, willing to brave her displeasure if it would help him access his account and buy the stuff in his Amazon cart.

She didn't answer, but finally returned his text.

I don't know. It's in the filing cabinet in the office. Folder with your name. Don't touch anything else. We'll be home late.

Sighing in disappointment, Peter tucked his phone in his pocket and gathered up his materials. He was going to Ned's today, just not as early as he implied when he left this morning. He was supposed to meet Ned and MJ there in about 45 minutes.

According to MJ, it was a good thing he hadn't been able to activate his card yet.

"You're planning to wear this?"

"Well, yeah…"

"It's all stiff-looking. Isn't part of your thing that you're like super-flexible? And it's just… black."

"I thought it would be easier not to be seen. And what if someone shoots at me?"

"Well, they're less likely to if you don't look like you're an undercover cop in riot gear."

"It's true, dude. Especially with that face thing, you're gonna scare people," Ned agreed.

"So you have better ideas?" Peter asked MJ, a little miffed.

"Of course I do. But you may have to get part of it after your next paycheck. This isn't something to skimp out on, Parker."

He rolled his eyes at her, but handed her his laptop. "I don't want to wait that long," he complained.

She just shot him a look, ignoring his whining.

"Peter, where are you gonna get the tech you need for those web shooters in this design?" Ned asked, looking carefully at the sheaf of papers Peter had been working on all week. "Which are really awesome, by the way."

"I've got some thoughts on that. I might be able to get them at my internship. I have to ask a few questions, but in a way that's not suspicious."

Ned nodded, his wide eyes turning back to the design.

MJ, however, seemed to be suppressing an urge to laugh.

"What?" He knew his friends cared about him, but he was a little offended that she didn't like his ideas for a costume.

"Just… have you ever seen yourself try to lie? You're awful at it."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she pushed forward:

"That's not a bad thing, loser. If everyone in the world was like you, we wouldn't need vigilante do-gooders. But you're going to have to figure out a way to ask that's just leaving things out or bending the truth or something, because you're far too pure for this world." She patted his cheek condescendingly, but also gave him a little smile to let him know that she wasn't just teasing him, and that she did think highly of him. Having her touch his face was startling enough to keep him from responding.

Twenty minutes later, Peter was still glaring slightly, but his mood had shifted to grudging respect. MJ had transformed his shopping cart. They were still getting a few of the things he had planned on: a lightweight, dark blue hoodie, with some white fabric paint to make some kind of spider emblem. But she'd found a different site, which boasted full bodysuits which were ultra flexible, and even flame resistant. ("When am I gonna be on fire , MJ?" "Not on fire, but if there's a fire, I know that you're just heroic enough to try to help people anyway, and I bet your crazy spider powers don't include being immune to that…") They'd found two suits in his price range, (on clearance, probably because of their color) and he'd finally opted for the bright red vs. the neon green one. He could get the suit, the stuff in his Amazon cart, and the slim-fit, tinted airsoft goggles for about $60.

"And I should be able to find gloves I can cut, and some shoes, hopefully, at the thrift store."

"You're really gonna do this, huh?" Ned asked, his face a mix of admiration and worry.

"Yeah. I feel like I'm getting a better sense of my powers, and they don't feel so out of control anymore?" Peter said more hopefully than confidently. "I don't know if this is it, or if new stuff is going to pop up," he said, trying to push away the anxiety at that thought, "but I feel like I'm ready to try to help some people."

"Okay then, I guess this stuff is what you need. Now you just gotta activate that card."

Peter sighed. "I guess I should go home then. It's lonely there, though."

"I'd totally come with you if we could," Ned said.

"I know. I wish they weren't so difficult about me having people over. We could stay in my room, and not be in the rest of the apartment."

"Yeah. They don't even know us! How could we be 'a security threat?'" Ned complained.

MJ raised an eyebrow. "Speak for yourself."

Peter grinned at his friends. They always made him feel better. "Right? The stuff they're working on isn't even that interesting, and they keep most of it at the lab anyway. I don't know why they're so against having anyone else in our apartment. But I get the feeling that if they didn't have to, they wouldn't let me in, either, so…" He shrugged, trying to keep his voice light, though part of him, unfortunately, believed his statement.

He avoided MJ's knowing glance and shouldered his backpack.

"I'll call you guys if I get it figured out."

"You'd better."

Peter didn't have any trouble finding the folder with his name, and he carefully suppressed his curiosity about all the other files he fingered through as he reached the folder labeled "Peter" in the gray metal drawer. There was another drawer below that was locked. He hadn't ever given any thought to the filing cabinet in here, and definitely hadn't known there was a folder with stuff that was his.

We'll be home late.

Feeling a little like it was forbidden, even though it was stuff about him, he pulled the folder out and opened it on the desk.

"Where would a social security number be? On my birth certificate?" he asked the room at large.

There really wasn't much in there, for someone who'd lived 14 years: A brief form of the paperwork where he'd gotten his asthma diagnosis as a kid. A few early report cards from school. Ah, yes—his birth certificate—which he'd never seen, but which did not have any numbers labeled as "social security". Paperwork from other doctor's visits. (He often blocked out how often he'd been sick as a child. It seems like he'd always ended up staying with Uncle Ben and Aunt May during those times.) A picture he'd drawn of himself with his parents and his aunt and uncle. (That one made him pause.) His glasses prescription from last year. Huh.

He'd stopped wearing his glasses after the spider bite, since they now obscured his perfect vision, but after about a week, his father had narrowed his eyes at dinner one night and asked where they were. Peter had acted like he'd just forgotten them in his room, and his mother had told him to go put them on. So he'd spent the rest of the evening looking underneath or over them to actually see things. MJ had helped him order a similar-looking pair of no-prescription ones on an inexpensive online site with the credit card he had from his parents for food and school supplies. They'd arrived at her house quickly, and he wore them most of the time when he was home, to avoid more questions.

Ah, there it was. Peter pulled the blue card out and snapped a picture of it with his phone. It was so weird-looking, and didn't feel very durable. For good measure, he also took a picture of his birth certificate. Ned would most likely yell at him for such a lapse in personal security, but he'd delete them thoroughly after he stored them somewhere safe on his hard drive. They were useful things to keep track of.

Peter carefully returned everything exactly as it had been, and shut the door with a weighty snick . He retreated to his room, and eagerly called the number on his card again. He was able to complete the process this time, now that he had his fancy adult number.

Feeling excited, he opened his laptop again and went to check out on the two sites where he had shopping carts, putting his new card information in. They appeared to go through, and he silently pumped his fist in the air.

Things were looking up. He considered calling Ned and MJ, but opted to just text them instead.

It worked! I ordered the stuff!

They both replied with enthusiastic emojis.

Gonna run to the the thrift store on 3rd and see if they have any of the other stuff I need

Ned responded immediately.

Wish I could come - my aunt just showed up

And then MJ chimed in, of course.

Text me pictures before you buy anything loser

We have an aesthetic to maintain

Peter sent her an eyeroll emoji, and Ned sent laughing emojis. Did she have no faith in him? Still, he couldn't hide a small grin, knowing she cared. He shrugged into his jacket, since the sun was getting low in the sky, and it was rapidly feeling more fall-like outside. With some luck, maybe he'd find everything else he needed today.

Tony was stuck. He'd been working on some bugs in the new Starkphone, but it was tedious going through other peoples' programming to figure out where they'd gone wrong.

"FRIDAY, can't you debug this for me?"

"I'm sorry Boss, but my search hasn't shown any errors, or I would have pointed it out originally." Was her voice a little frosty there? He kept his next thought—JARVIS could have found it—to himself. No need to offend his AI further. Some things just needed human eyes. But it was a weekend, and the half dozen programmers he could have passed this off to for another run-through weren't working today. And it needed to be fixed before the update rolled out Monday morning.

"Ugh, I need tacos. Honey, order me some tacos, please."

"Your usual order, or the most recent one from Tuesday?" FRIDAY asked. Oh. Peter could eat a lot of tacos. Peter could also probably find this error as well as any of the programmers they had on staff. Why hadn't he thought to have Peter work on this last night when they were playing with clean energy instead? Even though his programming knowledge wasn't as extensive as his engineering or chemistry, he was still pretty good, and his eyes were young. Why did Tony always put these things off until the last minute?

"Hold that thought, FRI, and call the kid for me."

"It's not an internship day, Boss. Today is Saturday the—"

"Save it, my dear. I know what day it is. Just call him."

"You can see how past experience might lead me to believe—"

"FRIIIIIDAY." Yep, she was frustrated with him. And he wasn't even being that difficult today. Mostly. Probably.

"Calling Peter Parker."

"I swear I did not program my AIs to be so sassy," Tony muttered under his breath.

"Must have been an error you missed," she replied smugly, her voice easily heard over the background ringing. He shot a glare at her sensor.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Hey, kid. You busy?"

"I, uh… no, I guess not. What's up? I mean, what can I do for you?"

"Any chance you want some internship hours this evening? I could use an extra set of eyes. I'm about to order Mexican, if that's any incentive."

"I, uh… yeah, I guess that would be fine." The kid sounded eager, not reluctant, like a teenager should be on a Saturday evening.

"You're sure your parents don't mind?" Tony prodded. Peter was young enough he should still be checking in about stuff like that, right? Though, Tony had plenty of doubt about the Parkers' involvement with their son after everything he'd observed and found through his recent searches.

"Nah, they're working late. I'll just let them know. When do you want me there?"

"As soon as you can get here. I'm ordering the tacos now. What kind? You want anything else?"

"No, tacos are great," Peter said, an odd quality to his voice. "Anything is fine."

"Peter. What did I say?"

"Uh… can I get carne asada ones? And maybe a few extra? I think I accidentally skipped lunch."

"What else?"

"Chips and guac?"

"You got it. Be here soon, or I'm feeding them to Happy."

"Hey, no! I'm hurrying!"

"FRI, end call."

Tony twirled around in his chair, smiling at the endless lines of code, now. With Peter working on this, he could do that update on DUM-E he'd been having to put off. Both he and U had been running into things much more often than usual the last few months, and Tony was pretty sure they were due for a thorough cleaning and maybe some updated chips that handled their spatial awareness. He just hadn't been able to justify time to make it happen. But with the kid doing his "work" for him… He jumped up and went to the mini fridge to get a bottle of water. "Tuesday's order, FRI. And add an extra four tacos, and the chips and guac."

"On it, Boss."

Even though Pepper wouldn't be home until late, his night had just improved. The thought of having Peter around, brightening up the place with his smile and chatter, cheered him immensely.