'Sup?
This one is unusual; it's in two sections, two POVs, and completely unrelated — except for the base subject matter, which, astonishingly, is about respect. But it's also about conversations and discourse and communication. These things aren't mutually exclusive, but they generally go much better hand in hand.
Ultimately, I wanted to do two things here: 1) I wanted to show how the 'language' BS that Rogers pulled in AoU **should** have been handled (Tony's POV takes place during the early part of AoU, for context) and 2) I wanted to show the difference in how a maturing, reasonable person deals with things as compared to a whiny, spoiled child.
The warning/reminder: Peter's section is probably going to be . . . polarizing. That's fine. But as always: stay respectful. Debate and discussion are awesome; they are my bread and butter. Disagreement is fine — so long as you are polite, courteous, and respectful. I **WILL NOT** have a flame war or a shouting match explode in the comments, so if things go there, I will delete the comment(s) in question. Again, I am also holding myself to that standard, so if I slip and go below the belt or start throwing insults, let me know so I can rein myself in.
And . . . that's it. I hope you enjoy this one and I'm really looking forward to hearing your thoughts!
RESPECT (Ask and Answer)
Why could people never put anything where it was supposed to go? Or at least put it somewhere that was easy to locate and access?
Tony Stark heaved a frustrated sigh as he rooted through the massive pile of crap on the kitchen table that was currently serving as the Avengers' junk space, looking for Barton's StarkPad. Why it had been thrown in the middle of this mess instead of left safely in his room or even on the common room table, Tony had no idea, and he really couldn't figure out why he was the one looking for it instead of its careless owner.
Before he could really do anything with that last thought, a dirty, smelly sneaker the size of his head fell on his hand and he yelped as he snatched it back, glaring at Rogers' rogue footwear and absently wondering why there was only one shoe in the pile. Then something hard but somehow squishy slammed into the back of his head and he rocked forward, instinctively putting his hands out to brace himself and jarring his sore fingers in the process.
"Son of a bitch!" he snapped, shaking his hand as he pivoted around, shoving the missing shoe aside, and glaring at — of course it was Barton. Find his own shit? Of course not; he had Servant Tony for that. Harass Servant Tony for his own demented amusement? That, he had time for.
Bastard.
"Language, Tony!" Rogers barked, twisting around from his seat on the couch so he could give Tony that 'you're such a child' look that made Tony want to do nothing more than short-sheet his bed and top it off with banana Jell-o. Of course, that would only prove the man's point, so he had, thus far, refrained. But if the Capsicle persisted in talking to him like he was a first-grader, and a stupid one at that, he was going to gleefully unleash the prankster that had, with Rhodey's help, set new records of evil in the never-ending prank war between MIT and CalTech. Right now, however, his temper was already short and he just flat wasn't in the mood to deal with the man's grating self-righteousness.
"Oh, fuck off," he shot back, pinning the blonde with a ferocious glare. "Did you catch fire? Did some dread, incurable disease assail you? Was I accidentally right and your parents weren't married?"
That last question made Barton snort in amusement and he was fairly sure Natasha, who was next to Steve, was hiding a smile as well. Rogers, however, just looked confused, which only irritated Tony more. "Since the obvious answer to all of those questions is 'no', why don't you get off my ass and lecture Barton for throwing a shoe the size and density of a skateboard at my head, instead of bitching at me for responding to being hit by said shoe? For the record, that fucking hurt and I don't appreciate it," he added to the archer, who was utterly unrepentant. And Rogers, of course, now just looked disapproving . . . at Tony. Because of course it was fine for Barton to throw heavy shit at Tony's unsuspecting, unprotected head, but God forbid he involuntarily respond in a way that offended the Star-Spangled Prude.
Yeah, Tony was done. His fingers hurt, his head hurt, and he could feel a migraine creeping up as well.
"Never mind," he informed the room at large before turning on his heel and stalking to the elevator. "You want your tablet fixed, Barton? Find it yourself and bring it to me in a few days. Or don't; I don't care. But I'm not wasting my time looking for your shit just because you can't be bothered. And I don't care if you don't like my language, Rogers!" he snapped, not slowing down or even looking back. "Unless you drop dead from my choice of phrase, suck it up."
The expressions on the Three Stooges (disapproving, flabbergasted, startled calculation) would entertain him for the rest of the day, though it did nothing to mitigate his growing irritation with some of their attitudes.
Honestly! He was a grown fucking man, and he was just about sick of Steve 'I'm a prude and so everyone else should be too' Rogers treating him like a child — especially in his own fucking house.
Whoa.
Okay, he needed to calm down a bit. He didn't actually curse all that often in the normal course of events, but it got exponentially worse the more upset he was. And right now? He was seriously pissed off. So with a resigned, frustrated sigh, Tony headed to the lab; maybe blowing up that last failed Roomba upgrade would help bleed off the stress.
Two days and four exploded Roombas later, Tony was in the elevator with Rogers, Natasha, and Bruce; he was headed to Marketing to look over a potential issue on their new water purifiers, and the others were headed for the gym. The car was crowded and the atmosphere not entirely congenial when it stopped on Tony's floor and opened to reveal a short, stocky man. He was holding a folder and looked inordinately relieved to see Tony, who wrinkled his nose, feeling mildly alarmed. Either Edward was waiting for him or had been about to go looking for him, neither of which boded well.
"Doctor Stark," the other man said in greeting as Tony exited the car, before giving the others a nod as they followed him off — which, what the hell?
You know what, he didn't care right now. If they wanted to get a boring — and for them, incomprehensible — look at the inner workings of SI's marketing department, more power to them. He didn't have time to argue today.
"Hey, Edward. You look entirely too happy to see me, so I'm assuming that's for me?" he said, pointing at the folder and getting an affirmative nod as they headed for the man's desk. "Well, let's see it, then," he said, getting a second nod before Edward placed the folder on the desk corner and took a step back. From behind him, Tony heard Steve's disapproving sigh and rolled his eyes. Why the man took his dislike of being handed things so personally, Tony could not fathom, but it was really annoying. Still, he decided to ignore it; he didn't have the time to explain idiosyncrasies to Rogers, and even if he did, it wasn't like Capsicle would believe his reasons for not wanting people to put things directly in his hands, stubborn, opinionated, narrow-minded jackass that he was.
And in a moment of glorious solidarity, showing exactly why SI's employees were the absolute best of the best, Edward gave Tony one of the most artless looks he'd ever seen and asked, "Have they sentenced the woman who tried to hand you that pen-bomb a few months ago?"
Stunned silence emanated behind him for a good thirty, forty seconds, and then Rogers choked, Bruce gasped and, shocking no one, Romanova gave no audible reaction. A tiny sneer came to Edward's lips as he observed them, but he controlled himself immediately and arched an eyebrow. Tony let off a soft huff of amusement and replied, "It should be in a couple of weeks, unless her lawyer manages to play the 'injuries are still healing card' again. But Helen doesn't think he will, so we're just waiting now for word, one way or the other."
"Good," the other man replied, eyes angry now. "She's lucky she just lost two fingers; though I guess it's good she's such a bad bomb maker."
"Mm," Tony agreed with a nod, heroically ignoring the second round of choked gasps. "Of course, she is one of Hammer's people, so . . ."
Edward nodded, satisfaction at making his point to the judgmental people behind his boss softening to humor. "Good point, Dr. Stark. Now, about this purifier . . ."
He trailed off as Tony nodded and picked up the report, promptly immersing himself in a problem that shouldn't exist. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Edward give all three Avengers a contemptuous look before he turned away and gave his attention to his boss. In the back of his mind, Tony gave the man full credit for effect. He wasn't sure anyone could have put them in their place quite so effectively, and it was more gratifying than it probably should have been.
Then he finally got to the in-depth description of the problem and everything else vanished from his thoughts.
Wide-eyed and more than a little incredulous, he looked at Edward and demanded, "How accurate is this? Because I am begging you to tell me they're just trying to see how effective Hammer-level paranoia is to improve performance."
His employee gave him a rueful look and shook his head. "I'm afraid not. And nobody seems to know — or is willing to admit it — what went wrong, or why it took three weeks to catch."
"Three weeks?!" Tony spluttered, dropping the report as he gaped at the other man. "Are you fucking kidding me?! This launch is set for eleven days and I'm only just fucking hearing about this?!"
Edward gave a minute flinch at his words, and Tony stopped as guilt flooded him. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath to calm himself down before stepping forward so he could meet the man's gaze.
"I'm sorry, Edward. I know you don't like that word and I did not mean to say it," he told his employee, who gave him a kind smile in response.
"It's okay, Doctor Stark," he said, but Tony gently cut him off.
"No, it's not. You asked me not to use that language in front of you and I failed. It was an accident, but that doesn't make it okay," he said firmly, refusing to let the other man let him off the hook. "I didn't realize how often I said it until I started trying not to and I swear it just came out. I'm upset, but that's not an excuse, and I don't want you to let me off because it was a slip-up and I'm your boss," he continued, nodding when this garnered him a surprised look. "I need you to keep letting me know when I mess up like that, because I might not always be aware or paying enough attention. I won't be upset, I promise, and I'll try not to add to the offense when I do realize."
His last sentence was more self-deprecating than he'd intended and Edward unexpectedly grinned. "No problem. To be honest, I actually said the same thing when I first saw this."
On hearing that, Tony lost complete control of his expression and gawked, which pulled a delighted laugh from the usually sober, quiet man.
"Oh, yeah. Sarah almost did an exorcism on me, she was so shocked," he said, chuckling now, and Tony snorted. Sarah Manning was a wonderful woman, frighteningly intelligent and possessed of a wicked sense of humor, but she was also the most superstitious person he'd ever met. Add the superstition to the intelligence and factor the wicked humor in, and the result was a person who could hit 'manic paranoia' so quickly, you'd find yourself leading a revolt against England before you'd finished your coffee. "Luckily, someone heard her and knocked an entire case of salt over, so I was able to escape before she broke out the pea soup."
That made Tony burst out laughing; he could picture the scene perfectly, and it was going to amuse him for the rest of the week. Hell, it might keep him entertained for the rest of the month. Which he was going to need if this fuck-up was as bad as seemed.
The reminder sobered him quickly and Tony looked at Edward, his smile fading as he asked, "I don't suppose you have one of the malfunctioning ones here?"
Expression regretful, Edward shook his head. "Sorry, no. I wasn't expecting to run into you so quickly, and the thing is too bulky to lug around the building. Gimme a minute and I'll grab one."
With that, the man trotted off, leaving Tony alone with his teammates and a budding headache.
He wondered sometimes if Rogers had some kind of radar for those, because without waiting for Edward to clear the corner, he whined — he actually fucking whined, and dammit, Tony had done it again. Apparently, he had no choice: he was just going to have to completely eliminate 'fuck' and all variants of it from his vocabulary. He was thinking it way too often, which was making him say it more.
Oh, hell. Rogers was still whining.
"I can't believe you, Tony! I've been nagging you for months about your language and you just ignore me. Worse, you throw it in my face! But this man didn't even say anything and you apologized to him!" the blonde lectured, looking unnervingly like the ubiquitous schoolmarm in every Western movie ever. The only thing missing was the hideous dress and matching hat.
Normally, that image would have diffused Tony's temper, but he was still fuming at just now finding out about a serious problem a month later than he should have and Rogers' self-righteous haranguing just poured fuel on the fire.
"Well, Capsicle, it's like this," he drawled, icy contempt coating each word. "You said it yourself: you nag and pick at me and you do it front of everyone and in my own home. You scold me like I'm a stupid elementary school kid instead of a grown man who can think for myself and make my own choices about what I do and don't want to say. Edward, however, simply politely asked me if I could try not to use certain words in front of him, because he doesn't like them. And when I forget or slip up, he politely reminds me. He isn't condescending or self-righteous or a rampaging prick. He's courteous and respectful, he doesn't lecture, and he's never once asked me to stop using whatever words I want to say. He simply asked me to not say certain things in his hearing, which is a completely reasonable request. Maybe you should think about trying it sometime."
Tony stopped there, breathing hard, and glared viciously at Rogers, who just looked mulish.
Every ounce of satisfaction at finally saying what he really thought drained away, and Tony forced back a sigh. Why had he bothered? Hadn't he learned by now that Steve Rogers didn't register anything that contradicted his vision of how the world should be?
On the other hand, he'd said it out loud and in front of witnesses, so the next time Rogers mouthed off, Tony would — well, he should — have some backup. And if he didn't, he would at least have evidence showing in hi-def detail the exact issue he had with Rogers' approach to the situation.
But right now, he just didn't have time for this idiocy, and he sure as hell didn't have the patience or inclination. So with a brusque, "I have work to do. See you later," he turned and headed the direction Edward had gone, knowing they wouldn't follow. Not here. None of the team was comfortable being around the various departments that comprised this division of SI (something Tony didn't let himself think too closely about), which meant that he would have some peace from the Avengers, even if he now had to work a miracle and fix a massive mechanical failure that shouldn't happened.
As soon as he was out of the team's immediate vicinity, tension began to bleed from his body and he remembered again Edward's description of Sarah's zealous attempt to 'fix' him after his unexpected and highly unusual choice of language and began to chuckle. By the time Edward found him, Tony was almost in a good mood.
And if he refused to let himself think about why being around his team was more stressful than fixing things that shouldn't be broken with a tight deadline looming, well . . . he'd never been as good with people as he was with machines.
He really should have remembered that.
As MJ was finishing up her practice presentation for her Social Sciences class, Peter Parker sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
He really liked MJ: her intelligence, her dark sense of humor, her ability to take asshats like Flash down a peg or three, her fierce devotion to causes close to her heart. He absolutely adored those things about her . . . but more and more, her rants denouncing capitalism were starting to bother him. And he positively hated her characterization and opinions on Tony Stark.
But how to tell her that? He didn't want to offend her, but he didn't like or agree with several of her ideals and — as Hope and Pepper and May and Ned and Jessica and Rhodes and Wade and Tony and, well, pretty much everyone he knew, had been telling him for months — his thoughts and opinions deserved equal weight and consideration. Just because she thought differently didn't make him wrong, and he didn't even really want to make her change her mind. He just wanted her to stop putting down and criticizing the industry, the company, and the man that were going to be a huge part of his life and future.
"What's up, Loser?"
He cringed at her greeting and suddenly realized that yeah, that annoyed him too. It might be said in jest, but he'd heard that moniker from too many people who meant it for too many years to ever be okay with it, no matter how it was intended. Then again, it was how she showed affection and approval, so . . . but he still didn't like it.
Not for the first time, his mouth took off before his brain could make a decision.
"Can you please not call me that?" he asked abruptly, watching closely as she blinked several times, clearly caught off-guard.
"I — what?" she finally asked, taking a step back, her eyes filling with confusion.
"Please stop calling me 'loser'," he said again, a little more gently. "I know it's a nickname from you, but I just . . . I really don't like it and I don't want you to call me that."
Eight months of — and he quoted 'learning when to stop talking and drop the mic is an essential business skill, Peter' — training, mostly from Pepper, in how to take control of a conversation had worked wonders for his ability to shut up. It wasn't consistent yet, and to be honest, it probably never would be (a trait he and Tony shared), but he was getting better. And as he watched MJ flounder from being told 'no' by someone she professed to like and respect, he had to admire the effect.
It was a rare person indeed who could render Michelle Jones mute.
Fifty points to Peter!
"Umm . . ." she began, only to stop, shake her head, and meet his eyes. "Okay." This was said steadily, calmly, without a hint of sarcasm or disdain. "I'm sorry; I didn't know it bothered you."
He nodded in return and said only, "Thank you. I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner, but I didn't realize how much it bothered me until today."
That got the rest of her attention and she frowned, sitting down and putting her bag on the floor at her feet before meeting his eyes again, hers dark and serious.
"Why today?" she inquired, her voice even, and Peter sighed. Well, he'd wanted to talk to her about it, hadn't he? He just . . . would rather have had some prep time first, come up with a speech.
Yeah, that you wouldn't use, Ned's voice echoed in his head. You'd fumble and stutter the way you did the first time you met Dr. Banner. Which, hey, totally not judging you for, 'cause I wasn't any better. But if you're gonna meander all over the place, you might as well do it straight from the heart
Dammit. He hated it when his brain took his best friend's side instead of his own.
Worse? His non-present best friend was right.
So: where to start?
Well, duh. Her presentation had been what kicked off his moment of crisis, as MJ liked to call them, so that was probably the best way to go.
"I . . . you . . . oh, hell, I hate doing this," he muttered to himself, floundering right out of the gate and not even remotely surprised. But as Tony had repeatedly told him, sometimes authenticity was the best, the only, way to go. Peter hadn't understood at first, because he didn't understand how on earth not telling the truth could ever turn out well in the long run (see: Spiderman), but after sitting in on board meetings, department head meetings, and ground floor meetings, he'd started to understand.
And MJ was a ground floor employee, so to speak. So he was going to be best served by just speaking his mind. The fact that he wasn't particularly comfortable with that and was therefore going to ramble and stutter was something they were both going to have to deal with.
Well, at least she appreciated up-front, plain speech. He knew from experience that teachers who used euphemisms and double-speak for everything drove her up the wall. So while he was definitely going to ramble, he would at least do it straightforwardly.
"You . . . MJ, I admire you so much for your passion and commitment to the causes you hold dear," he started slowly, holding her gaze as he sank into the chair across from her. "But I — I don't like the fact that you focus so much on Tony and SI. No, let me finish," he said quickly as she opened her mouth to object. Startled again by his unexpectedly sharp tone, she slowly leaned back and said nothing, wordlessly challenging him to continue.
But he was defending his mentor, his dad, now, as well as the company he was going to co-inherit with Harley Keener, and there was very little that was closer to his heart.
His own passion throbbed in his voice as he continued. "I know exactly what the media and his rivals, competitors, and people who just don't like him say. And I know what he says about himself sometimes, when things get to be too much and all he can see is the bad. But Tony Stark is so much more than that, MJ. And the way you hammer him for being a weapons manufacturer is not okay. No, I'm not done!" he said forcefully when she started to object again, holding up a warning hand this time. Clearly shocked now, she blinked several times before slowly nodding, and he blew out a harsh breath.
"I'm sorry, I just . . . you need to let me say this," he explained. "Let me get it all out or it will never make sense. And — MJ, I'm not trying to change your mind. I'm really not," he insisted at her justifiable skeptic look. "But you don't have all the facts or the background, and so because of that, you have some really wrong, really bad, impressions of Tony and SI. And after I'm done, if you still feel that way, at least it'll be a fully-informed opinion instead of one based off the surface crap that gets all the attention."
Behind the skepticism, curiosity and a bit of respect flickered in her eyes and a wave a relief flooded Peter; that could have gone very, very badly.
But he needed to say this and she seemed open to listening to him, and he swallowed, looking for the right words.
What did she complain about the most?
"Tony is not a weapons monger, and he isn't a war profiteer," he began, holding her eyes and watching, pride mingling with vague disbelief, as she visibly fought down her instant objection. Emboldened by this, he kept going. "He isn't," he repeated. "He inherited his father's company, which was a weapons manufacturer that Howard started after the end of WWII. And MJ, making weapons legally and selling them for profit to companies and people and entities that have contracted to buy them isn't illegal. And it isn't immoral," he added forcefully, remembering all the times she'd complained about that aspect of SI. "For one, war and battle have been around a hell of a lot longer than SI, and for two, they weren't and aren't the only weapons company in the US. But I don't see you protesting at HammerTech, or ripping apart the morals and ethics of Glock or Smith & Wesson or Colt or anyone else. They're just a few of the companies who currently make and sell weapons legally, but for some reason, the only one you focus on is SI. That's hypocritical, MJ. I also don't appreciate you constantly accusing Tony of not caring about all the people he supposedly hurt and killed by way of his weapons."
He paused for a few seconds, breathing hard, and watched as she once again had to physically bite down what was probably a very vitriolic response. But she was doing as he asked and letting him talk, and something about that was doing nice things for his confidence. "First of all, you have no idea how much those deaths bother him. It's why he shut down weapons to begin with. But you keep saying that he should have known, and that's bullshit, MJ. It is. Everybody conveniently forgets that his godfather, the man who had been in his life from his actual birth and acted as an advisor, even another parent at times, was the one who doing the dirty deals, the double dealing. Not Tony. And why, realistically, would he have had any reason to suspect the man? That's like saying Liz should have known her dad was the Vulture."
Outrage filled her face at that, but Peter watched with trepidation and more than a little awe as she stuffed her hand in her mouth to keep from snapping back at him for that, instead forcing herself to actually listen to what he'd said. And then he saw her absorb the point, followed by reluctant agreement. He was right and she knew it and was pissed off because he'd just proven a longstanding assumption wrong, but MJ was nothing if not pragmatic. She might not like it, but she wasn't one for denying the truth when it was in front of her face.
If only their teachers were so mature and open-minded.
And if only Tony could let himself see and accept that he wasn't responsible for everything bad. Peter was trying to get him to see that, as was Harley, but it was a long, difficult process. Still, as stubborn as Tony was, his sons were even moreso and they were determined to prevail.
But that was private, a secret kept between father and sons.
"So please, stop harping about how evil Tony is for making a profit on legally selling weapons the government asked him to make," he . . . well, pleaded with her. "I know you hate fighting and think armies are the reason we have wars and I'm not arguing that. But governments aren't going to stop keeping and building active militaries, including ours, so leaving them defenseless would be stupid. And Tony still does a huge amount for the military; he makes body armor and protection and armor for their vehicles and the stuff he's designed for extraction of injured people is just amazing. The extraction tracker and drone are so effective, he's also converting it for civilian use and is working directly with first-responders and disaster relief to make it more practical for them," he informed her, greatly enjoying the surprise that came to her face. "In fact, FLIP is the reason there were so many survivors discovered after the tsunami hit Thailand last year. But the only reason he's been able to make such effective defensive equipment is because he intimately understands weapons, and also because he had such good relations with the military to start with."
"I . . . FLIP?" she asked, her voice a little unsteady, and he gave her a quick grin.
"Finding Live Injured People," he replied, grin widening when she just blinked a few times for nodding to herself and motioning him to continue.
"So like I said, Tony still does a huge amount for our armed forces without giving them weapons, but even if he was still supplying them, it's not a crime. It's not a crime to make weapons or sell them and even when he was the premier manufacturer in the country, Tony never did anything wrong. You can't even really hang 'irresponsible' on him, because Stane had spent most of his life earning his trust while also gaslighting him and making him the media's black sheep so that IF anyone looked closer, they'd make the same assumption you did: that Tony was just being irresponsible and careless," he . . . well, lectured. He didn't want to, because MJ was hardly alone in that. But he'd gone back over a lot of footage of the Rogues and seen Romanova do it on a near-daily basis, though Rogers and Wilson were just as bad, because they were so ready to see the worst in Tony that if she told them he tortured puppies for a hobby, they'd believe it.
And frankly, that pissed him off. A lot. So when his voice suddenly went hard and sharp, he wasn't surprised and he made no effort to pull himself back. He was unhappy, dammit, and he had the right to be.
"And that's deliberate, MJ; Stane spent decades making sure the media would only focus on Tony's so-called worst traits, so that even the good stuff he did was either ignored or played off as a PR stunt to hide some scandal. It was a very carefully manipulated smear campaign and even now, today, more than a decade after he died and Tony stepped into a more active role as CEO, and that's on top of becoming Iron Man, it still works. People still automatically believe the worst of him the second the media says anything bad about him or there's negative press. And yeah, you give him grudging credit for 'doing the right thing' and switching SI over to clean energy and technology, but it shouldn't be 'grudging'. Again, he has not committed any crimes or broken any laws by building and selling weapons. And I completely accept and agree that you don't have to like the fact, that is definitely your prerogative, but you don't have the right to judge him for it, either. Or penalize him, especially when people and companies who are doing the exact same get a pass. Why is it okay for Justin Hammer to sell weapons — badly made ones at that — to our armed forces, but Tony is a jerk and a bad person?"
To Peter's own surprise, his breathing remained even as he gave her a long, steady look, finally inviting her to speak. To his following eternal shock, she tried and failed, clearly unable to find an answer that wasn't 'because he's Tony Stark'.
And that saddened him, because he really had hoped he was wrong about that, that she had some hidden reason for hating Tony other than 'because he's the media's favorite whipping boy'.
When the silence hit the two minute mark, he swallowed again and then nodded decisively. Time to move on.
"Like I said, I completely understand why you hate weapons and war and all that," he told her as gently as he could. He honestly didn't want to hurt her feelings, but he just could not keep listening to her harsh, untrue putdowns of Tony. He just couldn't. It wasn't right or fair, and yeah, life wasn't fair, but that was no reason to make it worse. "But you have to be fair about it. If you're going to hold Tony responsible for the harm his weapons caused, then you have to do the same for everyone else who makes and sells them. You have to say and do to them the same things you say and do to SI — or you have to stop completely. The same actions and the same intent means equal treatment . . . and if you're gonna keep campaigning for equality, which I am totally and completely supporting you in, then you have to extend that equality to everyone. It isn't right to harass Tony because he's brilliant and good at what he does and ignore Justin Hammer because he can't consistently produce a solid, well-made hammer. Quality doesn't matter when you're judging on actions. Or intentions. Especially since badly-made weapons cause twelve time more damage to their users."
She sniffled and looked down as he finished speaking and his heart clenched, but he somehow managed to bite down the instinctive apology. He hadn't said anything wrong, or even mean, though he could definitely understand if she felt attacked right now. And because of that, and because he felt satisfied he'd said everything he wanted to about the weapons thing, he gladly gave her a few minutes to take everything in and compose herself.
It took less time than he'd expected for her to catch his eyes, her own filled with several emotions he couldn't readily identify. He didn't see anger, though, and a lot of tension abruptly left his back, almost causing him to faceplant on the table. The resultant catch and balance probably looked absurd, if her muffled giggle was any indication, but that was okay. The atmosphere was less strained now, which was good. That would make it easier for him to broach the next topic. And, as if reading his mind, she gave him a tiny smile and said, "Well, go on. You're on a roll, Lo—Parker."
The simple fact that she'd remembered his request in the middle of what looked like a lot of mental upheaval made tears spring to Peter's eyes and now he had to look away. In the darkest corner of his thoughts, where he didn't let himself look too deeply, he had wondered about the true depths of her respect for him. She kept her emotions so tightly under control that it really was impossible to tell her genuine thoughts and he was too insecure to ask (and if he had, he wouldn't have believed her. His lack of self-esteem was something all of the adults in his life hated with a passion and were working hard on, but it was a slow, difficult process).
"Okay," he managed after a minute. His voice wasn't quite steady, but a deep breath helped settle his nerves and he was able to meet and hold her gaze again.
"I also know that you . . . you have a big issue with the amount of money that Tony has, and I don't — I don't . . ." he began, only to trail off as he failed to articulate what he wanted to say. To his shock, MJ said nothing as he mentally flailed for a minute, trying to find the right words. It took him a bit, and he wasn't really happy with it, but he'd done okay so far with winging it, so why not?
He had no clue that the more he talked, the more confidently he spoke and the more cohesive and polished his arguments became.
This was a good thing, as that knowledge would have shocked him right back into rambling incoherence.
"It's like this," he started again, looking out the window this time as he tried to corral his thoughts and make sure they stayed both on track and articulate. "Yeah, Tony has a lot of money. A lot. But that isn't a crime, or illegal, and it doesn't make him a bad person. I mean, nobody works for free. He — you can't even begin to imagine how much both he and SI give to charities and foundations, and Tony makes a lot of straight-up personal donations too. But he can't give it all away, MJ, and he doesn't — I cannot tell you how hard he works for SI, how much he does for them, and that's without taking into account the fact that he is the literal face of the company, which means he's the one who gets all the blame if something goes wrong. And then there's — I mean, Tony is directly responsible for something like 80% of all the new inventions they're successfully making and putting on the market. So he earns the money, and I'm not — I'm not — look, I don't like that he's always trying to buy me Armani because I don't need it, but I will never hold it against him, because that's what people do: they go to work to make money so they can live life. And most people want to have nice things as well. Tony just makes more of it — and so does Pepper Potts. She doesn't work for free," he said, very deliberately, looking her straight in the eyes as he made that particular point, and was gratified when she scowled.
Pepper Potts was one of MJ's personal heroes (and rightly so; Peter adored her and so did Harley, and Harley adored nobody), but again: he was tired of listening to her praise Pepper for the very things she denigrated Tony for doing. And also for the hypocrisy: she had an iPad and, by her own admission, she had a moderately-big addiction to Amazon.
Which he pointed out.
"You order something from Amazon once a week. You also have a lot of Apple products and Jobs was a multi-millionaire before he died, and so is Tim Cook, and I have never heard you say a word about their fortunes, or Jeff Bezos," he said, refusing to let her look away. "So if you're going to condemn Tony for making and keeping that much money, you have to do it to everyone. Everyone, MJ. That means Hollywood and pro athletes and every business owner and hedge fund manager and whoever else has millions of dollars to their name, regardless of how they got it. And no, I know you don't care about actors or sports, and that's fine; I don't either. But just because you don't care doesn't mean they don't have the money. But it's just like the weapons thing: it isn't right to pick on one person and ignore the dozens of others who meet the same criteria. Look, I'm not saying you're wrong," he added, seeing the frustration building on her face. "But I can't stand the hypocrisy anymore. Yeah, you talk a lot about wealth inequality, which is fair, but the only person I've ever heard you consistently mention is Tony, and that's not right, MJ. It's not."
This silence was fraught and Peter hated it, but he also held firm against it. Even if MJ didn't change her mind, he needed her to stop making so many snide, untrue comments about Tony, about his dad, in front of him. Neither Tony nor Peter deserved that, even if she didn't know Tony had adopted him.
Because that shouldn't matter. You couldn't demand equality if you weren't willing to hold everyone accountable to the same standards.
Given the look on her face, a combination of anger, frustration, reluctant agreement, and a few others he couldn't immediately identify, Peter was pretty sure he was getting through to her. And as he'd said, he didn't necessarily disagree with some of her points. But his points were also valid and she needed to at least see that, even if she didn't ultimately agree — which was also okay. Difference of opinion and respectful debate made the world go 'round, as May liked to say. And yeah, he was a lot surprised that she had stayed quiet and let him talk as much as he had, and he was beyond grateful for it, and decided not to waste the opportunity presented by her continued silence. He had one more thing to say, to get off his chest, and he was a little terrified to say it, but he had to.
He had to.
"I know that Pepper is one of your heroes, an icon to you," he said carefully, nodding at the wary and slightly-puzzled look he got in response. "And she should be; Pepper Potts is freaking amazing and I absolutely adore her. But this . . . this veneration you have for her is not cool. It's not. And the reason," he continued more forcefully, once again refusing to let her instinctive objection stop him, "is because you keep saying that Pepper is the best thing to happen to Stark Industries. But MJ . . . she can't be. Because it was Howard who started the company and provided the foundation and built the initial reputation. It was Tony who grew the company from a US-based, million dollar business to an international, billion dollar powerhouse. Tony did that — and when he did it, Pepper was still his PA. He hadn't even begun that transition of power. Now, has she done great things as CEO? Hell, yeah," he said fervently, nodding at MJ's vindicated expression.
"She is amazing, and she is terrifyingly good at it. But — but. The truth is that without the foundation Howard and Tony gave her, none of that could have happened," he said as gently as he could, mentally deflating a bit when another scowl darkened her features. But he kept going; in for a penny, in for a pound (another of May's sayings and wow, his aunt had a lot of sayings). "And she herself has said several times that without the training and experience she got from Tony, she would have failed — and she still needs his help and support today because she's good at the business and political side, yes . . . but so is he, and he's the product expert as well. You — well, most people really—" he corrected himself, wanting to be as fair and truthful as he could — "forget or ignore, I don't know which, that Tony was CEO for twenty years and . . . well, I said it: he turned SI into a global empire in just over a decade. And it's just . . . I can't handle listening to you brag about how amazing Pepper is for doing the same things Tony did, and still does, sometimes," he confessed, looking at the table for a few seconds before meeting MJ's dark, unreadable eyes again. The lack of visible emotion was unnerving, but Peter took a few deep breaths and pushed through it. He wasn't quite done and wow, he'd honestly had no idea how deeply he felt about some of this.
In the back of his mind, he could hear Ned's hysterical laughter and mentally flipped off his still-not-present best friend before returning his attention to the girl he really hoped would still be his friend when he finally ran out of steam.
"You — I — she isn't automatically better just because she's a woman, MJ, and that's how it comes across when you talk about her and Tony and SI, even though I don't think you mean to," he told her, squirming a bit when her eyes narrowed. Yeah, he probably could have worded that better. But he couldn't unsay it and he knew from experience that if he tried to correct himself, he'd just make it worse. Better to barrel forward. "The thing is, you — you condemn Tony for being a billionaire and 'being the face of patriarchy', but I have never once heard you say so much as a syllable about Pepper. Do you really think she would put up with Tony treating her as less because she's a woman — which, by the way, he absolutely does not? Do you honestly believe that?" he demanded, hearing how loud he suddenly was and realizing that his emotions were starting to get the better of him.
So he stopped and just breathed, letting MJ process things while he calmed down a bit. It didn't take long and with another bracing breath, he found his train of thought again.
"So there's that," he began, watching as MJ frowned at the table before looking back up at him. "But Pepper . . . she sure as hell isn't working for free. And why should she?" he asked rhetorically, wincing a little as he remembered the last time he'd shadowed her on one of her quieter days. Her workload was unbelievable. And terrifying; he sure as hell understood why Tony had moved from CEO to CTO. "I've seen some of what her job entails and she works her ass off; I honestly don't know how she does it sometimes, I really don't. But she earns every penny she makes, and it's not right for you to be okay with that and then sneer at Tony for 'hoarding wealth'. That's a huge double-standard, and — MJ, you're better than that," he told her, sounding earnest even to his own ears . . . but he meant it.
Because MJ's heart was huge and it was absolutely in the right place. She just had the bad habit of seeing the surface level of something, or maybe a couple of layers below that, and assuming she had all the pertinent facts without trying to look deeper. Now, was Peter biased because she seemed to have a particular grudge against SI and Tony Stark? Absolutely.
But that didn't make him wrong.
Didn't make MJ wrong, either.
They just needed to work more on communicating, and on research. New facts and updated information were always available and they could and should use them to debate and exchange ideas and grow. As long as she remained fair, or at least neutral, to Tony, Peter was more than willing to do that (hey, he'd never claimed to be a saint. Tony was his hero and Peter would do whatever it took to protect him). He knew perfectly well that the man wasn't perfect, but then, he'd never claimed to be. Tony actually took on guilt and responsibility that weren't his, and he did not need other people adding to that.
So yeah, Peter was happy to debate and research and learn about any topic MJ wanted to pursue, but he was determined that going forward, it had to be balanced. For him, for the world MJ was absolutely going to change . . . and for her. Because she was amazing and was going to be amazing in the future and she had the potential to reshape the world, something Peter desperately wanted to see.
But she needed to understand the world she wanted to change.
"You're so amazing, MJ," he whispered, leaning forward and taking her hands as his gaze bored into hers. "You're brilliant and compassionate and . . . and . . . God, you're just amazing," he repeated, smiling softly when tears filled her eyes. "And I'm not — I don't want to hurt you, ever, but I . . . I just . . . there's so much that you don't know, that you have no way of knowing, and I had to tell you, because your heart is absolutely in the right place and knowledge is power, right? I just . . . I only wanted you to understand," he finished quietly, sighing deeply as he looked away, tears coming to his own eyes as the magnitude of what he'd just done really hit him.
He didn't, and couldn't, regret shattering so many of her preconceived notions about Tony and SI and Pepper . . . and probably about him, too. No doubt she had picked up on a lot of things he hadn't intended to reveal, and that was okay. She had always been scarily observant and given how many surprises he'd undoubtedly laid on her, she would have been paying even closer attention. Of course, that meant he'd probably just destroyed any chance they might have had at a romantic relationship, at least for the time being, and that sucked, because he really liked her.
But he was pretty sure they'd still be friends, once she'd had some time to think about and absorb everything he'd said. He also had no doubt that he was in for a lot of detailed grilling and questions once she'd processed everything.
Which, truthfully, he was not looking forward to. MJ was a pitbull when she decided to dig deeper into something, and Peter . . . well, he was notoriously bad at keeping secrets. So the coming interrogation was not going to be fun.
But for now, he'd said enough. It was time for him to leave her to her thoughts, and he needed some time to himself as well.
"Hey, I'm gonna head out, okay?" he murmured, brushing a hand over her shoulder as he stood up. Her gaze followed him, and once again, he couldn't read the emotions swirling through those dark eyes . . . but then she lunged to her feet and wrapped both arms around him. He was so stunned that he couldn't move and stood there like an idiot as she buried her face in his shoulder and squeezed so tightly, his back popped.
She pulled away before he could get his brain and his body to cooperate and hug her back, her eyes searching his for . . . he couldn't begin to guess, but it was extremely unnerving, especially since she had yet to say a word. But he marshaled his patience and allowed her to look, somehow managing not to squirm beneath that steady, probing gaze. After a couple of minutes, her lips curved in a tiny smile.
"I should probably be pissed at you," she informed him, bending down to grab her bag and giving him a short reprieve from the intensity of her eyes. "Surprisingly, you've made some good points, and given me some things to think about and look into. So thanks for that. But be warned, L—Peter—" and wasn't one of the more frightening things he'd heard this month — "now that I know you can build and present in-depth logical arguments, you're going to start doing that for Lit. No more slacking off," she threatened, satisfaction flashing across her face when Peter involuntarily blanched. "You're too smart for that and I'm not letting you let the teacher win just because you hate the class. Now I know you can do it, so you are going to start doing it. And I will do the same," she said firmly, ignoring his squawk of protest. "You said you want me to be better, right?"
And dammit, he couldn't argue that.
Why, why, did he have to like intelligent people? WHY?!
"Yes," he muttered sullenly, refusing to feel bad when she only rolled her eyes. He'd rather get stabbed than be forced to diagram another Shakespeare play, especially for Mrs. Hanson. Not only did the woman think Shakespeare was the only playwright in existence, but she seemed completely unaware of anything but the tragedies.
"Okay," was her reply. "Well, that's what I want for you. If you're going to take over Stark Industries one day, you need to be well-rounded in everything, not just science and engineering. Didn't Pepper minor in English Lit in college?" she added sweetly, and Peter mentally cursed, because MJ was absolutely right. Her answering grin was smug, because she'd won and they both knew it.
"Fine," Peter conceded with a complete lack of grace that, again, she ignored. Instead, she leaned forward, kissed his cheek, and headed for the door without another word.
Alone in the library, Peter could only stare in disbelief, not quite sure what had just happened.
Other than his life suddenly becoming both more terrifying and a hell of a lot more intriguing, that is.
He suddenly had a much deeper appreciation for Pepper's devotion to Tony, and smiled.
Maybe, if he was smart, that would also be part of his future.
And right now, that was more than enough for him.
~~~
fin