Welcome to winter!
Now, someone kick it in the butt and make it Go Away.
Okay, that's done. So, this story is a direct response to the 'Peter/May refuse help from Tony' trope, along with Noble Reasons and the standard justifications and, of course, Tony reluctantly accepting it with little argument. But I've also noticed a trend of 'Peter goes to his first event wearing an expensive suit and is terrified of getting mustard on it', which bothers me because even if Tony didn't think to give him some prep, Pepper would. Often, Peter has been adopted as well, but he still acts like a complete noob, which . . . no. I get that it's part of that whole 'shy, humble Peter' thing, paired with 'awkward/uncomfortable kid, IronDad to the rescue' trend, which can be a nice read, but not every time.
So: have a wordy discourse about money and some of the expectations thereof. And please share your thoughts and reactions; I'm a little nervous about this one and I really want to know what you awesome readers think.
Perspective
Pride is a curious thing.
It is one of the most dangerous, devastating emotions in the universe, and yet, it is essential for strong and stable health: mental, emotional, and physical. It is also one of the most difficult things for a person to learn to balance, and it has come before many a fall.
Discovering when to listen to his pride and when to set it aside was a lesson that Peter Parker badly needed to learn, and, through some strange quirk of nature (or, more likely, karma having a sadistic laugh at everyone's expense), teaching it fell on the head of one James Rupert Rhodes.
And by 'fell', he meant 'landed like the proverbial ton of bricks', weight and all. He even got the gritty, ashy taste of broken rock choking the air around him and clogging his throat.
But back to Peter.
He'd been adopted by Tony just over three months ago, after May lost a short but brutal battle with meningitis, and the adjustment period had been . . . rough. Full of landmines. And ongoing.
Had he mentioned the landmines?
This time, the explosion was caused by money. Rhodes had just witnessed Peter throwing a more-than-halfway hysterical mini-tantrum at having spent the afternoon shopping with Tony, who was Seriously Not Happy about being forced to deal with Rogers and his team. Worse, they were being housed at the Compound while the Accords negotiations dragged on. And on. And on.
Rhodes had thought the military was bad when it came to paperwork — and it was, don't get him wrong — but the UN had it beat, hands down. In other circumstances, it would be impressive. Right now, however, it was irritating Tony (and the rest of the enhanced people who already supported the Accords) to no end, because he'd had all this crap hashed out months ago, which meant it shouldn't have been a problem.
However, the entire world had discovered something in the last month (which had both validated Tony and put the entire world in an awkward position he spitefully maintained it deserved; Rhodes had to agree) that threw a monkey wrench into everything: Steve Rogers was stubborn to an absurd degree and he was never wrong. He was also ridiculously argumentative. Anything he didn't like, he argued against. Anything he didn't understand, he argued with.
He didn't like Tony Stark. And he understood nothing of modern world politics, geopolitics, or international anything. For that matter, he didn't even understand US politics.
To top that joyous lack of productivity off, due to the aforementioned 'never wrong', Steve refused to acknowledge his actions — any of them, though Siberia had its own special place in hell — and Tony was edgy at the knowledge that his son, who he was protective of to a degree that warmed the hearts of his family, was in such close proximity to a group of people who had proven they had no qualms about hurting him to get what they wanted.
The catalyst for this seemingly-innocuous shopping trip, however, was Steve's aggressive movement toward Tony when — for the third time that meeting — he'd held firm about the need for pre- and post-mission reports . . . the ones that every other member of every team of enhanced had either insisted on or accepted without qualm. Worldwide.
Tony's team of personal guards, rescued from the massacre that was the SHIELD data dump, had felt compelled to put themselves between Rogers and Tony before anyone could blink, visibly startling the Rogues. Then, holding true to form, Rogers had proven both stubborn and stupid enough to try shoving past them, intent on forcing Tony to 'see reason'.
And earned himself a fractured jaw courtesy of the prosthetic arm Tony had made for one of the agents after the Iron Legion rescued him from the undercover mission that Rogers and Romanova had so callously blown.
Tony's resultant agitation at Rogers' arrogant hubris and show of violence, enhanced by his need to ensure his people were safe and taken care of had, in this case, manifested itself in a shopping trip for Peter, who admittedly needed clothes that were more appropriate for his new station as Tony Stark's son and heir. He also needed lessons on how to move in those new circles, but that was a different discussion entirely.
In Peter's defense, he had no real way of knowing why spending such a huge waste of money (in his mind) on something as mundane as clothes was actually necessary, as it didn't occur to Tony to explain since he'd grown up in this lifestyle. Likewise with Pepper, who'd spent two decades with money and seven years and counting as CEO of Stark Industries.
So when Rhodes inadvertently saw the young man having a truly epic shitfit about not just the sheer amount of clothes, but the cost, he sighed and prepared to throw himself on his sword.
After all, he'd been in the same boat thirty years ago. It was amazing sometimes, how little things changed.
And money was the biggest thing that never changed.
A hand suddenly landed on his shoulder and he actually jumped. It took all his control to keep from screaming like a small child, though seeing Hope van Dyne's amused smile when he wobbled after the landing quickly shifted the feeling to a lot of confusion, four or five smidges of irritation, and a soupçon of relief.
"Where the hell did you come from?" he demanded, ignoring the fact that his voice was still half-an-octave too high. Thankfully for his ego, Hope pretended not to notice either and rolled her eyes.
"The stork brought me," she replied sarcastically. "I came to see if Tony had settled down any, but given Peter's little apoplexy, I'm gonna go with 'no'."
Rhodes sighed and slumped against the wall, rubbing his forehead. "No, he hasn't. And I can't blame him. That prick Rogers pushes his button on a good day, but Tony hasn't had many of those since these negotiations started. That being said," he added, a smile lifting his lips, "it was worth it to see Malcolm lay him out."
"That was awesome," Hope agreed, her satisfied smile matching Rhodes', but his mirth quickly faded to a dark, vindictive protectiveness when he remembered why the man had needed to punch Rogers in the face.
"If Rogers ever gets that aggressive with Tony again, I'm blasting him in the groin with a repulsor," he informed her, feeling his face tighten with an unresolved anger that started with Palladium poisoning and Natasha Backstabbing Romanova and ended with Steve Fucking Rogers sauntering back into the compound —Tony's compound — like he hadn't committed treason or become an international terrorist.
Oh, and he'd also lied to Rhodes' best friend, stolen from him, used him, abused him, and nearly killed him.
"Good," Hope replied, her eyes dark with her own protective anger. Despite Hank's . . . unhappiness . . . she and Tony had gotten along like a house on fire once they'd commiserated about their fathers being assholes before geeking out over Firefly, and Hope had become something of a sister to him. "So, why is Peter flipping out?"
The sudden change in topic made Rhodes blink and he could only stare in confusion for a bit, until the tiny smirk curving her mouth jarred his brain back to working order.
Damn woman, always trying to knock him off-balance.
(damn woman, always succeeding)
Still, being Tony Stark's best friend for thirty-plus years, on top of being an Air Force officer and Pepper Potts' confidante (apparently, he wasn't nearly as bitchy as women, but still somehow mostly understood them. He didn't quite get how that worked, but whatever), had rendered him immune to all surprises and announcements for anything less than 'Pepper is pregnant' (and yes, he was including 'aliens are attacking', because . . . well, duh). So his only response was a rueful grin, paired with the succinct explanation of, "The kid is upset because Tony finally took him clothes shopping for real and — well, you know Tony."
Hope did know Tony, but more importantly, she was from the same world, which meant she could explain the intricacies of that world to Peter, seeing as he now lived in it.
Rhodes, on the other hand, was intimately familiar with Peter's side of the equation, having grown up in similar circumstances: poor. He'd had two sisters, but he'd also had two working parents, at least until shortly after his 13th birthday, when a car wreck had ended his mother's career as a professional seamstress. Luckily, his dad's income had been enough, albeit barely, though he'd been killed in a construction accident shortly after Rhodes started his second year of college. So while their family never had anything expensive and not a whole lot of new things, other than shoes, they'd scraped by and never lacked for any of the basics and all three kids had earned a lot of honors and awards and trips in junior high and high school.
But every second of it had been done using their own blood, sweat, tears, and iron will.
He was extremely well acquainted with the shame of wearing threadbare clothes for weeks after they were more 'bare' than 'thread', and of shopping in thrift shops for stuff that didn't really fit but at least only had two holes instead of twelve. He knew how demoralizing it was to miss out on field trips and parties and new toys. It was impossible to ignore the sneering condescension when you got anything for free, whether it was food or new socks for your birthday. And there were no words to describe the horror of showing up in the cast-off clothes of someone you knew.
Yeah. James Rhodes knew exactly how Peter Parker felt about wealth, and why he was so upset now.
After all, Rhodes had shared that mindset until he'd gone to MIT. But it wasn't until he got saddled with a mouthy, breathtakingly brilliant genius as a roommate, one who was completely unprepared for life, that he'd learned both the values and the pitfalls of having money. Tony being a Stark meant he had it in spades, something he wasn't ashamed of, but it was simply a sad fact of life that most people wanted to get close to him so they could siphon off some of that wealth for themselves. They still did now, of course, but in college, Tony had been painfully young and naïve, despite Howard's heavy-handed attempts to teach him otherwise. It was, Rhodes grudgingly admitted, one of the few useful parental things the bastard had tried to do, but as usual, he'd done it so badly that his son and heir had ignored every single thing he should have learned.
Of course, Tony was also in full-on rebellion mode, having learned that nothing would earn him Howard's approval, so he did the exact opposite just because he figured that since he was going to get in trouble either way, he might as well earn it. Luckily for both of them, Rhodes was more stubborn than Tony and had a much better understanding of the real world. And it hadn't taken long for him to claim the man as a brother. It had taken longer for Tony to reciprocate, of course, but that was only to be expected. Also, James Rhodes did not give up on anything he considered worthwhile. Helping Tony see that he was worth a hell of a lot more than his money and his genius was, to this day, Rhodes' greatest personal achievement.
Of course, letting Tony be himself with money hadn't been easy, even by then, because the Rhodes family was proud and worked hard to ensure they were able to make their own way in the world. They did not need handouts or charity, thank you, and woe betide anyone who offered either.
This was an attitude he'd seen and heard from Peter several times, and, according to Pepper during a de-stress meeting that was comprised solely of alcoholic ice cream floats, May had actually been worse, to the point she'd turned down a job offer from Helen Cho before Pepper finished talking. Helen had been extremely insulted and it had taken Tony two hours to explain that it wasn't personal, May just considered anything that was offered to her as charity or pity and refused no matter what. They'd all hoped the offer coming from Helen instead of Tony would make a difference, but . . . it hadn't.
It was frustrating (and a lot annoying and more than a little insulting) for everyone. But no one had felt it was permissible to challenge that attitude while she was still alive, for a lot of reasons, and Peter naturally followed her example. So the issue was never addressed, much less resolved, and now Peter was alone in the boat on a sea he had no way of understanding, so he was holding on to the things he was comfortable with like a drowning man to a buoy (okay, it was weird that he, an Air Force officer, was using so many water metaphors).
To be blunt, he was highly uncomfortable with being given money and expensive toys. And as he'd said, Rhodes got that. He really did.
In fact, that mindset had caused him a lot of grief when he was getting to know Tony Stark and it had required a stern and very humiliating lecture from his mother during his second semester as Tony's roommate, complete with physical examples from his teenage years, to beat the pride out of him. Roberta Rhodes was a proud woman, but not stupid, and had learned when to allow her pride to rule and when to put it aside when her son was seriously looking at colleges.
He'd qualified for a partial academic scholarship to MIT, but it hadn't been enough and his mother hadn't been willing to apply for the low income grant he didn't know about at the time. It had taken a lecture from her best friend, Rhodes' beloved Aunt Cassie, to force her to see that refusing the grant simply so she could tell people she'd 'done it on her own' was stupid and arrogant beyond belief (only not nearly as PG; Aunt Cassie had a vocabulary that made sailors flinch), because it wouldn't allow James to attend his preferred college, one that would nurture his talents and abilities, and allow him to realize his own dreams.
Unless, of course, telling people she'd 'done it on her own' was more important than her son's future.
Rhodes hadn't been present for that . . . uh, discussion; he hadn't even known it had happened until he was receiving the same lecture a year later. It had been pointed out to him that refusing every single gift Tony tried to give him was just as insulting as using the man for his money, especially since it was highly likely that giving money and stuff was the only way Tony knew to show affection. Once the arrogance of his blind assumptions had been laid bare so thoroughly he could only stare blankly at his furious mother, Rhodes had eaten crow for three days straight as he voluntarily rearranged his worldview, and then did exactly what Tony wanted: he pretended nothing had happened and accepted the next gift his roommate and closest friend offered him.
It had been hard at first, allowing Tony to spoil him, and he'd definitely had to set some limits, but they'd managed to work things out pretty quickly and their friendship only strengthened from there.
Then Sunset Bain managed to worm her way past him and, without a second of hesitation and no shame or regret, wreaked near-total destruction on Tony's trust — worse, she almost destroyed his heart. The only semi-positive thing to come from that clusterfuck was the fact that it forced Tony to start maturing and he finally began to grasp the dangers inherent in the pit of quicksand that was Being Rich. Up to that point, being used for sex and/or fifteen minutes of fame or kidnapped for ransom had been his only worry.
Sunset, though . . . she wasn't cold-hearted. Rhodes could have dealt with that. No, her entire soul was encased in ice, concealed by acidic poison, though at least she hadn't lied to Tony about her reasons and given him false hope that 'she loved him but'. Still, her betrayal had hurt that much more because Rhodes had spent months refusing to take Tony's money in lieu of lunch or going to the movies or having a marathon video game session, while teaching Tony that it was possible for people to like him and want to spend time with him just because they wanted to, not because he had money and influence, and Tony had finally started to believe him. Getting him back after that bitch had been a long, slow, agonizing process and more than once, Rhodes had seriously considered going after her and killing her just to give his best friend a little justice and some peace of mind.
Unfortunately, that would create more unnecessary problems than it solved, so he swallowed his hatred and turned his focus on helping Tony heal, which had meant he'd let his friend go crazy in making sure Rhodes had everything his heart had, did, and might ever desire, so he would never have a reason to betray or abandon him. In return, Rhodes made sure their room was always stocked with Tony's favorite snacks and drinks, he covered the tab on at least half of their meals out and was Extremely Obvious about it, he worked out a deal to ensure total access to Tony's preferred lab, and every person who insulted or denigrated his best friend without being provoked first got explosive diarrhea.
All that to say, Rhodes did understand where Peter was coming from and he knew exactly how uncomfortable and awkward and . . . and demeaning . . . it was to accept money and expensive gifts from someone who thought $100 filet mignon was a burger from McDonald's. Whether you wanted it or not, you always felt cheap and like a charity case when someone offered to help you with the most basic stuff, and the more badly you needed it, the worse it felt. Weirdly, it was actually easier to accept high-end things, because middle-class kids usually couldn't afford a brand-new gaming system either, so getting one as a gift was somehow more socially acceptable.
People were strange on top of being jerks when it came to money.
Thus (ack! He had to stop watching Downton Abbey with Happy; he was picking up too much of the lingo), he was eternally grateful that Hope had decided to crash the party. He knew how Peter felt, but Hope could explain Tony's side, which the kid desperately needed to understand.
So: time to ambush the boy.
Well, this was going to be fun.
And again, thank God for Hope, because she beat him to the punch.
"How unhappy was Tony?" she asked their oblivious, still-fuming nephew conversationally, grinning when Peter shrieked and flipped himself to the ceiling, eyes wide and hair fluffed in both shock and indignation. Given the delicacy of the topic they were about to broach, neither Rhodes nor Hope commented on his decision to stay up there while he visibly thought the last few minutes over, grimaced, and did one of those disgustingly limber backflips to the floor, sticking the landing with grace obviously aided by his enhancements (heh, Rhodes saw what he'd just done there) and giving them a narrow-eyed look full of suspicion.
Well, that was fair. Rhodes was Tony's best friend and Hope had become his permanent second in command in addition to that whole weird 'adopted siblings but not really thing' they had going on. The dynamics gave everyone else a headache, but at the end of the day, they would kill for each other and that was all a semi-intelligent person needed to know.
So when Peter's reply was a wary "Huh?", Hope just nodded and said, "He was pissed off when he left the meeting today and given your reaction to the results of his stress-shopping, I'm guessing he hadn't calmed down when he dragged you off to — what, Fifth Avenue? Or did he just commandeer the mall and work his way through each floor?"
Those expressive brown eyes, so much like Tony's, widened in sudden panic. "He can do that?!" the boy blurted out, appalled and the tiniest bit awed, and Rhodes couldn't contain his amusement.
"Oh, yeah," he drawled, gesturing Peter to the kitchen island and grabbing three water bottles from the fridge. "It's the only way he can get anything done — well, that or he gets them to open up at, like, midnight. But it's generally easier to just close to customers during working hours. And yes, there have been a few times where the mall thing or shopping at midnight was necessary. But you don't look that traumatized, so I'm guessing he just hauled you to a few places that closed for him and bought half the merch."
"Yes! It's insane!" Peter exclaimed, looking both relieved that someone understood his agitation and also highly agitated at the memory. The combination on his face was comical and Hope let out a soft, musical peal of laughter, catching Peter's hand in her own as she delicately said, "Sometimes it is, yes. He was just feeling . . . protective."
His answering nod puzzled both adults, who exchanged a quick look sharing said surprise, followed by his matter-of-statement. "I know. He wanted to make sure I'm safe and protected and aren't lacking in anything I might ever need or want for the next decade."
Well. That was blunt, succinct, and absolutely correct.
"And you're annoyed because you already have perfectly good clothes," Rhodes continued for him, nodding at the sour look the kid was now sporting. "I hear you, Pete, and I understand. I was the exact same boat when I was in school and first year at MIT, so when Tony got assigned as my roommate, we had some serious, ugly fights about money and presents. I'd earned my place and I was proud of that, and I didn't need some snot-nosed rich kid buying my affection. I sure as hell didn't need his charity. Levis and t-shirts were perfectly fine; I mean, what college kid getting their bachelors needs Armani, right?"
Peter's expression had morphed from irritated to surprise to relief during Rhodes' commiserating mini-rant and he mentally sighed in relief. That was a positive sign and the odds were good that Peter would actually listen to him.
Beside him, Hope took a sip of water and remained quiet but watchful, occasionally brushing her pinky against Rhodes' sleeve to let him know she was reading the situation and wasn't seeing a problem. It was an alert system they'd developed on the second day of negotiations, after Barton had nearly gotten himself killed when one of the former SHIELD agents serving as Pepper's bodyguard had had enough of his hateful, snide comments, aimed at both Tony and Pepper. So if one of them saw a potential or growing issue, but actually speaking up wasn't possible, they'd developed a system of which finger meant what level of danger and so far, it was serving them well.
Anyway.
"Right," Rhodes answered his own rhetorical question, leaning forward a little and catching Peter's gaze in a trick he'd learned from his first colonel. A bomb could go off in the kid's ear and he wouldn't be able to look away. "And it's insulting, people assuming that because you're poor, you're looking for pity or charity. So what if you're barely scraping by? You're making it and aren't really lacking for anything, so it's fine and people need to mind their own business."
Peter nodded in response, but he'd already lost a little of the indignant bluster that had caught Rhodes' attention to start with, and thank heaven for it. The kid was so quiet and self-effacing, no one would guess how stubborn he was when it came to his principles.
"Well, that was my family when I was in high school, especially my mom, and me when I first met Tony," Rhodes told him, not relinquishing his gaze but allowing it soften just a little; he didn't want to intimidate the kid too much, after all. "In fact, my mother almost kept me out of MIT because of it."
The kid's mouth actually dropped open, which was a lot more amusing than it probably should have been, made worse by Rhodes' failure to keep his snort of laughter contained, and he barreled forward with an explanation to keep them from getting distracted.
"I had qualified for a partial scholarship; it covered two-thirds of tuition but not the dorms or meals, and definitely not books. And since my dad was our only source of income and I had two younger sisters, it looked like I wouldn't get to go. I didn't find out until after Tony became my roommate that MIT offered a low-income grant and my mom had refused to apply for it, because that was charity. It was okay for me to earn a scholarship, 'cause it was determined by my grades. But getting a grant because our family income was so low? Oh, hell, no. Roberta and Patrick Rhodes were not going to beg for money."
When he paused for breath, a little surprised at how intense the memories were, he saw that Peter somehow looked wary, guilty, and defiant simultaneously, and fondness for his nephew surged up. He was a great kid, but like everyone, he had blind spots. And while he was stubborn, he wasn't stupid, so the odds were good that Rhodes could talk him around so long as he kept the conversation from getting too emotional. Like Tony (and Rhodes himself, honesty compelled him to admit), Peter didn't handle that kind of situation well.
Which suddenly led Rhodes to wonder if they'd run a paternity test, because given the increasing number of traits they shared that were either similar or identical, that seemed like a smart thing to do. He made a mental note to talk to Tony and then returned his full attention to Peter.
"I didn't know about this for a long time, but my Aunt Cassie found out that Mom had refused to apply for the grant and . . . took it upon herself to correct a few misconceptions," he said carefully. Even now, thirty years later, he was eternally grateful he hadn't been there. Two proud, stubborn, stronger-willed women didn't exist — and he knew Pepper Potts. "According to my mother, it took a lot of yelling, followed by one simple question: 'is your pride more important than your son's future?'".
Peter went very still at that, eyes wide with a lot of emotions, but he said nothing and Rhodes wasn't entirely sure he breathed for a minute or so. After a few seconds of thought, he chose to treat the reaction as natural and kept going. "So, obviously, Mom didn't have a good — or, well, any rebuttal to that, so she swallowed her pride and applied for the grant . . . and nobody cheered louder or cried more when I graduated. But. But. There was that three year period in-between. And that's where my story starts."
He paused and took a long drink of water before catching Peter's gaze again, noting with approval that it was now clear and curious; if there was resentment or the like, it was well-hidden, and Rhodes could deal with that.
"I'll spare you the unnecessary details, because a) they don't really matter and b) they're really boring. The important thing is that Tony learned from birth that money was all people cared about when it came to him. He wasn't really appreciated for his genius and engineering skills until he was about 13 or so; yeah, he built a circuit board when he was four, but most people assumed Howard did it and used it as a PR stunt to introduce Tony. And he was . . . I'll be blunt: Howard Stark was an ass. He didn't want kids and his war experiences had done a lot of mental damage. Doesn't excuse anything, but it resulted in him being a very absent, very neglectful father. He never hit Tony, but he never had time for him — no, that's not true," he corrected himself, feeling that old anger on Tony's behalf flaring up. It took three deep breaths before he could continue.
"He flat-out ignored him unless Tony did something bad and big enough the media noticed. Then came the scathing disapproval, followed immediately by continued distance. So Tony didn't learn social skills in school or at home. His mother was . . . she loved him, but she was a product of her time. So she never went against Howard and instead taught Tony how to survive in the world of SI: business, politics, fundraising, networking . . . basically, by the time he was ten, Tony could raise a million dollars for anything he wanted, but he didn't know how to ask a another kid to play Tag."
Peter looked horrified and Rhodes felt a small stab of guilt; he hadn't intended to go there, because Tony was private and fiercely protective of his childhood, albeit mostly for the wrong reasons, but Peter was his son . . . and he had to understand or this money thing was going to blow up into a huge problem.
So: onward it was.
"The thing is, because he didn't learn any of the standard social skills, Tony was really naïve," he said, choosing his words with care. "So it was easy for people to take advantage of him and use him for his money — and his tech genius, once he started really developing it. But his whole life, up to now, 98% of the people who approach Tony want money. So that's . . . that's how he thought the world worked. So when he tumbled into my dorm room, tiny and terrified and excited and miserable, with his butler helping him move but no sign of either parent, the first thing he did was offer to buy me my own bed because dorm beds suck. And they do, Kid," he informed Peter, remembering with a wince just how uncomfortable that mattress had been. He still wasn't sure it had been a mattress, actually; there was a lot of evidence pointing to 'granite slab'. Peter, meanwhile, had a small grin, which made Rhodes give him one in return before he returned to making his point, convoluted as it was.
"At first, I obviously thought he was joking. I mean, who does that? Only, a week later, I stagger in after the worst and longest day on my schedule, and what do I see? A brand new bed and mattress, no shitty dorm bed in sight, and Tony looking pleased as punch."
He stopped there, once more ashamed of his reaction at the time, understandable though it had been.
"And I lost it. I went ballistic. I was furious, Tony was confused, neither of us could actually communicate to save our lives . . . it was a mess, Peter. And it went on that way for the entire semester. If I wanted something or Tony thought I wanted it, he got it for me. He upgraded my meal plan and then made standing reservations for every good restaurant in a 60-mile radius, and they were for me. With or without him was fine; if I wanted to go out to eat, I could go anywhere and put it on his tab. That almost broke us. When he told me, giddy as a schoolgirl, I just . . . stopped. I wasn't even mad. I was just done. In my entire life, I'd never been so insulted . . . and Tony was completely lost. For the life of him, he couldn't understand what was wrong. And since neither of us were good at talking, I screamed something about not being his damn charity case and stormed off. And by 'stormed off', I mean I got in the car he'd bought me a couple of months earlier after mine died for the fourth time in a month and headed home."
He glanced up at that and saw with bitter commiseration that Peter had clearly figured out where this was going and didn't like it one bit. But his inherent politeness had kicked in, so he said nothing. Not being stupid, Rhodes took immediate advantage of that.
"Yeah, I ran away sulking like a Disney princess," he said, his voice full of self-disgust. "And I ranted and raved to my mother about my crazy roommate, who didn't respect anyone and thought that everything could be solved by money. Now, I'd been bitching about this very thing for a full semester by then," he explained, taking another drink. "So none of this was new. But Mom had been trying to let me figure it out myself, so she didn't give many hints or much advice, and everything she did say was . . . cryptic. And despite knowing the woman literally my entire life, all of it went over my head, mostly because I didn't want to understand. Which is why she finally gave in and brought out the big guns and gave me no choice but to understand," he said on an explosive sigh, reliving that embarrassment in bright, vivid memory.
A second look at Peter's tight face, full of unhappy defiance, made him stop and reconsider his next words. He might do better making this personal and pertinent to the young man, instead of wandering down the yellow brick road of Rhodes' youth.
"Let me ask you this," he said abruptly, feeling Hope's quiet amusement at Peter's jolt of surprise. She'd been so quiet and still that he'd forgotten she was there, honestly, though that was a good thing. He needed all his concentration for this. "Have you ever had someone refuse Spiderman's help?"
A puzzled frown came to the boy's lips, but he slowly nodded, and Rhodes nodded back. He'd already known that, of course, but Peter needed to feel included and relevant, which was a big part of the underlying issue.
"Right. And it's frustrating, isn't it? Knowing that you have the ability to help someone but they refuse to let you? And you can force them, sure, but you won't because they're adamant about it; hell, they might even hurt themselves just to prove the point. They're fine and they don't need you interfering, so fuck off. Yeah?"
A heavy sigh was Peter's answer as he slumped forward, taking a drink of his own water and meeting Rhodes' eyes of his own accord this time.
"I get where you're going," he said quietly, gaze calm. "And I know you're right. But helping out with rent or food or — or college isn't remotely the same thing as buying me enough designer clothes to supply Queens and half of Manhattan."
"Actually, it is," Hope interjected — and both she and Rhodes watched in open-mouthed disbelief when Peter yelped and flipped himself to the ceiling again, eyes full of shock.
Rhodes honestly couldn't believe it: Peter had forgotten she was there.
Hope burst out laughing, which earned her the patented Teenage Disgruntled Look, and that set Rhodes off. For a good minute or so, the kitchen was full of the sound of two adults giggling uncontrollably and one teenage boy grumbling under his breath while he continued to hang from the ceiling.
With the patience of a woman who had Hank Pym for a father, had briefly dated Scott Lang, and was now a sister to Tony Stark, Hope waited him out, calmly eating Oreos while she watched him without blinking. It was unnerving as hell, even from the side, and Rhodes found himself holding his breath as Peter's teenage stubbornness clashed with Hope's stubborn patience. He was about to call it a draw when the kid heaved a sigh and dropped to the floor, looking adorably disgruntled.
Thankfully for all of them, Hope didn't let that distract her, and she didn't use it to infantilize him, either. Peter was in a difficult situation and they couldn't help him if he thought they weren't taking him seriously. Rhodes knew without being told that after her husband's death, May had done exactly that, though she hadn't meant to. But like all parents struggling with money, she thought it was better to keep that knowledge away from her young nephew, because 'kids shouldn't be worried about money'.
On the surface, that made perfect sense. The problem was that kids like Peter — highly intelligent, gifted at math and numbers, and empathic — knew full well they were being patronized and shunted off. For Peter, that led him to believe that their financial situation was worse than it really was (and he knew it was bad), which made him feel guilty at being an unwanted expense on his aunt and uncle, which spiraled into anxiety, which created sensitive and defensive feelings about money. Then, factoring in the Parker Luck that even Tony shuddered at, came the Spider Bite of Doom. That unexpected and irreversible change into Spiderman created another layer of problems for the boy: he began to feel like a burden instead of 'just' an expense, because now he needed more than he knew his aunt could provide.
The thing was, May (and likely her husband, a cop) had taught her nephew from a young age that if you wanted something, you worked to earn it, and accepting handouts was never necessary or acceptable. Peter, being a good-natured, obedient child, with a stubborn streak that made Rogers look inadequate (not that that was particularly difficult and no, Rhodes wasn't bitter at all) and a deep well of familial pride, had taken this to heart and it had likely been a rare issue for the family, even if they'd never been what could be considered rich, or even comfortably middle-class.
But then his uncle was killed right as Peter's new enhancements matured. The family's income got cut in half overnight, while their expenditures more than doubled. Peter refused to put that onus on his aunt, however, and she used her pride as a bulwark against the agony of her loss. Neither of them would accept help, especially money, and they certainly wouldn't ask for it, something that had driven Tony (and Pepper and Happy and Rhodes and Helen Cho) up the literal wall.
Then she died so unexpectedly and Peter had latched onto that mantra with all the strength he possessed, because it was one of the few things he had left of his beloved aunt that he knew she would be proud of him for doing.
All of which had led to the situation they were currently in.
You know, a good time for everyone.
Not.
"I know," she insisted at his look of patent disbelief that expensive, name-brand clothes were somehow the same as food or rent or college, giving him a self-deprecating smile that conveyed her sincerity more than words ever could. "And I do know what you mean — yes, I do."
This was a direct reply to his rather sardonic snort, and now Rhodes was the one biting his tongue. He had to let Hope handle this, if only because she was the inside expert on having money and he was not . . . a fact he'd gone to great lengths to establish not fifteen minutes ago. But he knew exactly what Peter was thinking, though the boy was likely using better mental language than Rhodes had during his Come to Jesus moment.
"I can see you thinking 'how can she know how I feel? She grew up with money.' And yes, I did," Hope said calmly, her eyes never wavering. "I grew up never wanting for anything material. But . . . but I also grew up with everyone knowing that I had money, so I never got presents from 'friends'. No one ever bought me lunch or even a coffee or saw some stupid little trinket that reminded them of me. It was understood that when I was out with someone, I got the bill. It was also heavily implied that if someone wanted something, I'd be a pal and get it for them."
Peter blanched and reached across the table, taking her hands and giving her a soft, earnest look that did something Rhodes had sworn was impossible: it turned Hope van Dyne into a living, breathing marshmallow (not the one from Ghostbusters!, thankfully, though given their lives, he gave the room a quick check just in case).
"That sucks," he told her, his voice full of empathy, and got a gentle smile in response.
"Yeah, it did. And a lot of people still think like that today. The thing is, though, because I'd always had money, I just assumed that's how life worked: I took care of the things the people I cared about couldn't do themselves. Money for rent or groceries, handling the dinner tab, clothes shopping, whatever — because when I went to college, I met a lot of people who weren't in my social circles and some of them were really hurting for money. But that was okay; I had the resources and they didn't, so why not help them? And I was . . . wow," she murmured to herself, looking faintly stunned at whatever she was remembering, and Peter and Rhodes both held their breath so they didn't break the moment.
"I was nearly thirty before someone refused my offer to buy something for him. Shocked me stupid, let me tell you," she added, nodding at Peter's horrified expression. "Yes. It's shocking to you because you've never been on the giving end; it was shocking to me and Tony and everybody else in our position because we'd never been on the receiving end. But that has nothing to do with why you need the stuff Tony got you today," she said, veering smoothly back on course and making Peter blink a few times as he tried to keep up.
"B—"
Gently but firmly, she cut him off.
"Ah-ah-ah. Let me explain. You see, you are now officially Tony Stark's son and heir, even though it hasn't been announced because you guys are keeping it quiet as long as feasibly possible. Knowing Tony, probably a year or so after that," she groused, pulling a laugh from Peter while Rhodes ginned; she wasn't wrong. "And that's good; it gives you time to acclimate. Because the thing is, Peter, you have entered a very different social atmosphere." Her voice softened unexpectedly at this, causing Peter to give her a puzzled look, while Rhodes mentally nodded as he began to see the point she was making.
"The people you'll be dealing with as you move up in SI, or pull the most epic prank ever and give your dad a heart attack by working somewhere else, will expect certain things from you. The way you dress is one of them. Yes, it's ridiculous," she agreed to his offended look. "It's ridiculous and it's not fair, but it is reality. And you aren't Tony; you simply don't yet have the presence to walk into an official board meeting in sneakers, jeans, a T-shirt, and a dress blazer, no matter how much you wish you did."
A mulish expression, full of resentful defiance, came to Peter's face and Rhodes mentally winced. That was not a good sign and he started to fret about the best way to redirect things.
Hope had no such concerns and certainly no such intentions.
"You're a casual guy, Peter," she bluntly informed him, earning herself several startled blinks. "You're uncomfortable dressing up, even for a dance, and it makes sense. You've never had reason to wear anything formal — seriously formal, I mean; high school dances are a start, yes, but they're a once-a-year event, and the people who attend are generally on the same level. Generally," she repeated, shutting that protest down before he could open his mouth. "And there's always that one guy who has to make an ass of himself regardless, because he's a dick. You could be wearing custom-designed Armani and he'd still mouth off. But the people who inhabit the world of SI and Pym Industries, Apple, Microsoft . . . even HammerTech" (they all gagged in disgust) "are a different breed. They will expect you to dress . . . not so much a certain way, though adhering to tradition is a good idea, at least until you develop your own style and are secure in it. But the kinds of clothes you wear will matter."
She was blunt and matter of fact, and poor Peter didn't have a clue how to respond. He'd somehow found enough fortitude not to gape at her, but it was a near-run thing and the sight was amusing, though Rhodes worked to hide it. The kid was sensitive to emotion and took way too much to heart, which had led to some truly epic misunderstandings, and not just between him and Tony. Rhodes had stuck his foot in his mouth a few times, as had Pepper. And there was a group-wide, mutual agreement to never mention Happy's attempt at giving etiquette advice for a banquet Peter had attended for existing and new scholarship kids at Midtown; Tony and Pepper had been unexpectedly summoned to Hong Kong before they could help the kid prepare, May had never been to anything like that, and Rhodes had been on assignment, so Happy stepped up.
Something that would never, under pain of death, happen again. In fact, Rhodes was pretty sure Peter would choose death over what had actually happened.
Oblivious to his trip down memory lane, Hope continued.
"Thrift store clothes won't work anymore, Peter, and neither will Levis, outside of this penthouse and your private labs. Not for the world you're in now. Even if you were working in the lab and wearing casual clothes and run into some self-important blowhard, if you aren't wearing Burberry or Calvin Klein or the like, his opinion of you will instantly plummet, and so will his respect. It sucks," she said forcefully, leaning forward to emphasize how much she meant what she was saying. "It sucks and it's fucking stupid, pardon my French. But that's the way of our world and before you start that crusade, understand: everyone else has already tried — including Tony. And he's probably come the closet. But even when he wears jeans to a board meeting, they're designer because people will recognize if he isn't and make a fuss. Will it matter in the grand scheme of things?" she said rhetorically, watching Peter closely and looking satisfied at the sullen understanding in his eyes. But not only did she not acknowledge it, she barely paused to take a quick breath.
"For Tony, no. But it took him more than twenty years to develop his reputation and earn the respect to do it. And when he goes to formal events, he's in a designer suit, because that's what's expected, even of him. But there are certain things that cannot be undone, and the impression created by what you wear is one of them. So Tony buying you a ton of higher-end starter clothes is good, because you need to start getting used to it now, before it really matters."
She fell silent, giving Peter some time to assimilate this, and brushed her pinky against Rhodes'.
Huh. She didn't see any issues developing. Well, that was . . . good. Surprising and possibly a little concerning, but good. Rhodes would take it.
"So yes, start wearing the Burberry and Calvin Klein to school. Do it in stages, even, that's fine." When he gave her another puzzled look, albeit one with a heavy dose of resentment still mixed in, she nodded soberly. His aggravation was adorable, in a way, but it was also very real and Hope was walking a thin line. If she failed to get to Peter understand this, it would fall on Tony — and he would do a bad job at explaining it because he didn't actually understand it himself. He had, quite literally, been born to this life, so no one had ever needed to explain the rules to him. Hope had also been born to money, but Hank Pym had never been on Howard Stark's level (which the entire world knew, whether they wanted to or not), so his daughter had been forced to learn a lot of the ropes the hard way as she grew up.
In other words, it was Hope or no one. And the latter wasn't an option.
"Wear the Everlane shirt with a pair of Levi's one day, or a pair of Hugo Boss shoes, and you'll work your way up to suits and tuxes. But you have to start getting comfortable with expensive, high-quality things. And I don't just mean clothes," she told him firmly, all humor fading as she leaned forward a little, refusing to let him look away. "But be honest, Peter: do you really want the first gala or conference you attend as Tony's son to also be the first time you wear Tom Ford or Armani? Or does it make more sense to get comfortable with the idea and the reality, a little at a time?"
Peter swallowed hard, but his acceptance of her logic was clear to see, and she softened a little.
"I know you don't like it, but this is a part of your life now. One way or another, you'll have to adapt. Speaking from experience, the sooner the better. And when you're at school and people who aren't your friends, or don't even know, ask about it, just shrug and walk away. You don't owe anyone answers, Peter, though I appreciate that's easier said than done. But there isn't any point in trying to explain, so why put yourself through that? And let's be real: your friends will either already know, won't care, or will accept 'my guardian got them' because they're your friends. Nobody else matters."
She stopped there and took a deep breath, leaning back but never once relinquishing Peter's gaze.
"But I'll be honest, it will change things. People who haven't paid attention to you will start, because you'll be . . . well, basically, you'll be speaking a whole new language, one that they understand. And those are relationships you'll need to start cultivating. Make friends if at all possible, but connections are just as important. It's also something that Tony and Pepper and Jim and I will help you with, so don't worry. Networking is as much as part of life as breathi—no, don't shake your head at me," she scolded, giving him an arch look that cut off his next protest.
"You network as Spiderman all the time. You found that bomb when none of us could because you're friendly with that homeless guy on 57th. Even if we had known about him, he wouldn't have talked to us . . . but he likes you and trusts you because you built a relationship with him, so he told you when you asked. That is the exact same thing as cultivating people in high school and college. Just . . . a lot less cutthroat."
This blunt (and true) assessment pulled a chuff of laughter from Rhodes and Peter blinked, then turned and gave him a long, searching look.
"What do you think, Uncle Rhodes?" he asked quietly, directly, trusting that Rhodes wouldn't to lie to him or placate him.
It was also the first time he'd acknowledged the relationship Rhodes wanted to have with him, and the title he'd already claimed.
A wave of pride swamped him, so strong it almost knocked him over. Even after everything that had happened to him, Peter Benjamin-Parker Stark was strong, proud, and independent. He didn't like what he was being told, which was absolutely fair, but he was mature enough to accept it.
But he was also insecure enough to want the affirmation of someone he trusted almost as much as he trusted Tony.
God help him, but knowing that was just as profound now as it was the first time Tony had demonstrated his trust to Rhodes, and it took everything he had to keep from crying.
"She's right, Peter," he said a touch hoarsely, leaning forward as well. "I'm in the military, so I have more leeway with casual clothes, but when I go to SI in my position as liaison, I wear dress clothes. Not necessarily a suit, but dress pants and shoes and a nice shirt — and yeah, it's Gucci and Versace and Hugo Boss, because that's what's expected of someone in my position for a company like SI. Admittedly, I sometimes have to change when I get here because Tony got me something new, 'cause he thinks I'll like it or he apparently has a crystal ball and knows I'll need it before I do. But that's just Tony: generous to a fault."
Rhodes held Peter's gaze a little longer after he finished speaking, knowing that Hope was doing the same, and after he felt sure Peter was ready, they finally let the young man look away for the first time since Rhodes had started this, however long ago it had been. A deep sigh was their reward, followed by the incongruous sight of Peter burying his face in his hands as he took some time to just absorb everything they'd told him.
After a few minutes, he sighed again and slowly stood up. His face and eyes were unreadable, for what might be the first time in his life, and both adults watched curiously as he approached. When he gave Hope a gentle hug, she broke out in a delighted smile and returned it, murmuring something in his ear that made him nod against her shoulder before he pulled away and turned to his uncle.
Again, he didn't speak, but the warm hug he received made Rhodes' throat tighten again with love for this boy who loved Tony so fiercely and had staked a defiant claim on him long before Tony had adopted him. If nothing else, Rhodes knew, Peter would adapt for his father, and that was a solid start. He would have all the guidance and help he needed as they moved forward, and Rhodes could not wait to see what Peter grow up.
As he headed out of the kitchen, Hope nudged his pinky with hers and he glanced her way, only to see her staring intently at the kitchen's other entrance . . . where Tony was watching his son, his eyes glassy with tears and lips curved in a smile so full of emotions that it hurt to look at. Then his senses told him he was being observed and he turned to face his teammates, his friends, his siblings . . . and he sniffed once, straightened, and gave Hope the blinding, pure, 'Tony' smile that until now, only Rhodes, Pepper, Happy, and Peter had ever seen.
It actually made her catch her breath and sway a little, which in turn had both Rhodes and Tony laughing at her.
Then Tony turned to Rhodes and his amusement deepened to the love they had shared for thirty-two years. Tony took a single deep breath and gave Rhodes the greatest respect he could: a sincere, military-grade perfect salute. His body responded on instinct and Rhodes returned it, nodding in silent understanding and acceptance of Tony's thanks and gratitude for helping his son.
Then he left to go to Peter, while Hope and Rhodes stood in silence in the empty kitchen and pondered the weirdness that was their lives and relationships.
It was becoming almost maudlin when Hope huffed, turned to him, and said, "I'm never doing that again, I don't care about the Bambi eye. Also, I want salt, alcohol, and grease. Take me to the best Mexican hole-in-the-wall in New York."
Stunned, Rhodes couldn't do anything but blink before her words sank in and he nodded vigorously.
"Agreed," he said. "Tony can raise his own damn kid. As for the best place . . . how do you feel about sopapillas?"
The incredulous look he got in return made him laugh and as they headed out in search of sustenance, bickering amiably about the best way to eat the popular Mexican dessert (Rhodes dipped the pastry in a container of honey, while Hope filled the thing to overflowing and crammed as much in her mouth as was humanly possible — and she could rival Peter for that), he took just a minute to reflect on how much his life had changed in the last year. He didn't miss Rogers or the others, not even a little, and he would sell his soul for Tony not to have suffered the way he had . . . but without those things, they wouldn't have Peter. It was cliché, it really was, but that boy made everything worth it. His presence had done so much to alter everyone's perspectives that it was kinda mind-boggling when Rhodes really thought about it.
But you know what?
His future — all of their futures — had never looked brighter.
~~~
fin