Saturday - April 16, 2016

Parker Residence - Third Floor

04:44 p.m.

The steam from the bathroom seemed to fill the entire room as Peter stepped out, the towel he was currently rubbing against his scalp making his hair stick up at odd angles. He draped the towel around his shoulders as he moved farther into the room, the bottom cuffs of his jeans now damp as the last few bits of water dripped down his legs and pooled into the denim fabric.

After whisking away enough of the dripping water from his bare midsection, Peter tossed the damp cloth onto the floor and moved to pick up his shirt. He draped it over his head and pulled it down taut before glancing over at the bright yellow Decathlon jacket that hung on the back of his closet door.

The teen walked over to his desk and picked up his phone from where it was charging. Glancing at the time, the teen gave a small nod. He still had plenty of time before Ned came to pick him up.

So with that, the teen finished dressing and attempted to run a comb through his hair, though he knew it was a pointless endeavor. His hair always ended up looking fluffy and slightly messy no matter how many times he tried to tame it down.

Walking over towards the entrance to his bedroom, Peter cracked it open just a bit and peeked his head out to look around the corner. There was no sign of his father, which meant he was probably downstairs talking to the Cons if the voices drifting up from the room below were any indication.

Letting out a small sigh of relief, the teen stepped back and closed the door, resting his hands against the smooth surface as he shut his eyes for a moment.

Ever since the story about him and Mr. Stark had leaked to the press, neither his father nor the Cons had made any mention of it. Now there were a number of options for their lack of reaction. The first was that they simply hadn't heard of the story, which Peter found hard to believe. The second was that his father had instructed the others not to say anything.

Peter didn't know what that could mean, but he knew no good could come out of it. If anything, the suspense was more terrifying than anything else...at least for now.

Still, the teen tried to shake such thoughts from his head as his eyes caught the calendar hanging on the back of his door. Today's date was circled in red marker multiple times, Peter grinning slightly as he felt the same bout of excitement that had gripped him when he'd done such a thing returning. A full bout of nerves that always plagued him before a meet mingled with the familiar surge of excitement that reminded the teen of why he was on the team to begin with.

"Oi! What's got you all prissy an' ready to go?"

Peter jerked at the sudden voice, only to let out another more annoyed sigh as he turned on his heel and faced his open balcony window, Danny now resting on his bed with his arms folded underneath his head. Peter rolled his eyes and threw the teen a smile. "I have a Decathlon meet today."

"Oh, your nerd fight?"

"Yes...my nerd fight."

Danny nodded his head with a click of his tongue. "Sounds brutal. Make sure to pack plenty of inhalers and antiseptic."

Peter scoffed and turned away, opening up his closet door as he let his eyes drift over the pairs of shoes he owned. "What are you doing here anyway, D? What do you want, food?"

"No. But if you wanted to give me some..."

Peter turned and shrugged his shoulders with a smirk. "Sorry. Kitchen's occupied so neither of us are leaving here with full stomachs." Peter turned back around and crouched down when he found the pair of sneakers he was looking for.

"Nah, I'm joking'. I'm just here to crash for a sec."

Peter hummed but said nothing to insinuate that such a thing wasn't allowed as he sat down on the edge of the bed and lifted up a leg, slipping the shoes on one by one before crouching down to tie the laces. "Uh-huh? And your little impromptu visit has nothing to do with the latest news articles that have been making their way around the city."

The teen craned his neck to glance over at Danny, the older boy staring back at him for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders. "Well...now that you mention it..."

Peter shook his head. "It's nothing, Danny. Some reporters just happened to catch us together that time."

Danny cocked a brow as he brought up one leg to rest on the bent knee of the other. "You say that like it's not the last time it's gonn' happen."

Peter felt his face scrunch up slightly as he shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I mean...they're inevitably gonna snag more pictures. Mr. Stark likes to get out of the Tower sometimes, and sometimes it coincides with when school lets out. No big deal."

"Yeah, but why would a billionaire be eatin' at Delmar's?"

Once again, Peter turned to the boy and shrugged his shoulders. "He asked where the best places to get food were around here."

"And you said Delmar's?"

"You wouldn't say Delmar's?"

"Sub Haven's pretty good."

"You know how I feel about Sub Haven. We are not getting into this again."

Danny turned away with a grin on his face while Peter chuckled on the edge of the bed. The younger teen ran a hand through his hair as he finished the last knot on his sneakers, purposefully keeping his eyes from meeting Danny's as he continued. "Who knows? I might even see him today."

There was no response for a moment as Danny turned back around. "What do you mean?"

"I might have...invited him to my Decathlon meet."

The homeless boy let out a scoff as he rolled over onto his side and used his elbow to prop himself up as he stared over at Peter. "And he'd go for that? Why, is there gonna be an open bar or somethin'?"

Peter threw him a look before glancing back down at the ground. "I think...I think he...likes spending time with me." He said slowly as if the words themselves were hard to spit out. Hard to believe. "I think he...likes being with me." Peter glanced down at his hands for a moment, letting the words ring in his ears for a moment before turning a tentative look towards his friend. "Do you think that's crazy?"

Danny stared at him for a moment before pursing his lips and tossing his head back lazily. "Maybe, but crazy seems to be a pretty big norm 'round you so I can't really say." He lifted a hand to look at his nails. "You already know how I feel 'bout the guy so I won't rehash it." He picked some dirt from in between his cuticles.

"You really should give him a chance, Danny. He's a good guy once you get to know him." Peter said with a smile as he turned back towards his friend. "Why don't you come to the tournament today? Maybe you could meet him." He folded his arms and scrunched his face slightly. "And if not, then you could at least meet Ned. I've been friends with you guys since middle school and you two still haven't met!"

Danny cringed slightly at the words, though not so much out of nerves than pure reluctance. His face then melted into a look of resigned indifference. "I'm not really a people person, cuz. Besides, watching nerds duel to see who's the nerdiest isn't really how I saw myself spending a Saturday."

Peter would have responded had he heard what Danny said. But he didn't.

Instead, his eyes were trained on the calendar once more, staring at a date he hadn't realized was as close as it was. It was a little less than two weeks from the mess that was today's circled date.

Well, this box wasn't circled. It wasn't marked in any way, shape or form. To anyone else, the date would seem to hold no importance, at least not to Peter.

April 28th.

In the background, Danny called out his name, but once again, Peter gave no indication that he heard. Instead, his fingers continued to twitch, tapping up against the side of his leg before they gripped the fabric so tightly it was a miracle they didn't rip. The teen tried to swallow but found that his mouth had gone dry all of a sudden.

He was jerked from his trance as a pillow connected with the back of his head, causing him to jerk violently in shock. "Ey! What's up with you, mate? You spacin' on me or somethin'?"

Peter turned towards his friend and blinked his eyes. He felt a breath leave his lips so forcefully it took him a moment to realize it was because he'd been holding his breath. He licked his dry lips and turned away from Danny's scrutinizing look. "I should go." He said quietly, rising up from the bed.

"Alright. You don't mind if I crash here for a little bit, do ya?"

The teen shook his head as he grabbed his Decathlon jacket and pulled it onto one of his arms. "Nah, go ahead. Just be careful, alright? Last thing I need is my father catching whiff of you here."

Danny threw him a two-fingered salute. "Can do. Good luck in your nerd war. And say hi to Tony Stark for me."

Peter smiled and gave a nod before grabbing his phone and moving over towards the door. He stared down at the calendar for a moment before shaking his head and pulling open the door a little harder than he needed if the groan of the hinges was any indication.

He couldn't think about it now.

As the door closed, Danny couldn't help but turn a curious gaze to the calendar before finding nothing interesting about it and shrugging his shoulders, folding his arms underneath his head as he let out a content sigh on the comfortable bed.

 

---

 

Shaking the last of the troubling thoughts out of his head, Peter walked down the spiraling staircase that led to the second-floor kitchen. The sound of voices growing larger indicated that most of the Cons were there right now, most likely meaning his father was there too.

Stepping off the stairs and into the large kitchen, his suspicions were confirmed. Curt and Sandra were sitting at the bar, bottles of miscellaneous liquid in their hands as they chatted away, while Max sat at the kitchen table with Peter's father, both men glaring down at the papers strewn across the surface. Flint stood over by the fridge, currently rummaging through whatever contents it held.

Sandra spotted him first, cocking a brow as she took sight of the jacket around him. "Where you going?" She called with a lazy uninterested look in her eyes as she swirled the bottle in her hand a bit before bringing it to her lips.

Peter groaned, having hoped he'd be able to slip by them without their notice. Instead, he fiddled with the bottom hem of the jacket as he shrugged his shoulders. "I have a Decathlon meet today. N-Ned's picking me up...soon." He stuttered out, eyes downcast.

Curt rolled his eyes and snickered over towards the woman he sat beside. "God, sometimes I forget just how much of a loser you are, kiddo. Then lo and behold, you throw us something like that and bring it right back up to the surface again." He tilted the bottle in Peter's direction. "Nice to know you're consistent."

"Thank you...?"

Max lifted his head and threw a glare in the teen's direction. "How long's that gonna take?"

Peter once again gave a shrug of his shoulders, body twitching as bouts of uncomfortableness seemed to shiver up his spine, making him want to squirm underneath the man's scrutinizing looks. Max could sometimes be just as bad as his father. Perhaps that was why he was Peter's least favorite by means of the Cons. Of course, such a title wasn't really anything impressive considering the thugs all held similar places of resentment in Peter's heart.

"I...I don't know. They vary, you know? C-could be a while...I guess." He tapered off, too nervous to continue lest he say something wrong. Chances of that were high whenever Max was in a bad mood.

The dark-skinned man curled his lip in disgust before glaring back down at the papers, roughly picking up a pen once more. "Get out of here, then. Go bother some other idiots for a change."

"Hey!" Sandra and Curt called from their seats. Max ignored them as he continued to scribble down notes on the papers. Richard had yet to look up, a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

Peter's eyes drifted over to his father's huge form. Even sitting down, the man was startlingly large, with broad shoulders and defined muscles that revealed themselves even through the refined fit of the dress shirt he currently wore. Swallowing thickly, Peter turned and glanced over at the stairs that led down to the bottom floor of their building. However, he made no move towards them.

An itching feeling in the back of his mind had the teen pausing, eyes lingering back over to his father, whose head was currently being held up with one hand as he used the other to scrawl on the pages of the work before him, dark eyes hard and narrowed.

Peter could practically see his heart attempting to burst from his chest as he took a small step closer to the others, the thrumming in his ears so loud, he was surprised it didn't shake the entire house. Sweat began to leak through the skin of his palms as he nervously clenched and unclenched his fists against the fabric of his pants, toes curling inside his shoes as he grimaced ever so slightly.

Practically every nerve n his body screamed at him to get out of there. To take the free ticket Max had offered him and book it before Sandra and Curt got any drunker and began to mess with him, before Max's mood shifted and he decided to take it out on Peter, before his father let them.

And yet, the image of an empty seat sitting in an otherwise full gymnasium kept him rooted to the spot, the sounds of Flash's jeers and the pitying looks of his teammates culminating in his chest and freezing him where he stood.

It was then that Max lifted his eyes and noticed the teen was still there. He narrowed his eyes and glared. "The hell you still doin' here?"

Peter felt his mouth opening before he had any time to think better of it, which meant before he had any time to come up with an answer. "I...I-I uh...I was just wond...wondering if...if um...I mean, I'd assume you're busy but I...I uh..."

It was then Richard Parker lifted his head and closed his eyes with a loud inhale through the nose. Peter instantly quieted at that, the other Cons glancing over at the man as he set down the pen in his hands and took the glasses off of his face, setting them down onto the table as well. He slowly exhaled before opening his eyes and turning towards Peter.

"What is it?" His voice wasn't necessarily angry. It was just cold...disinterested. Annoyed.

Immediately feeling bubbles of regret floating up through his intestines with the threat of bringing up whatever food he had in his stomach (which wasn't much if he were being honest), Peter licked his lips and clenched the fabric of his jacket hard. Staring into his father's eyes made him feel like he was literally pooling into his own shoes, melting away under the intense look.

Nevertheless, he swallowed the bile that loomed in the back of his throat and lifted his gaze. "It's just...at t-the last meet, my teammates were...were asking about...were asking about you and I was...um, I was just wondering if maybe...m-maybe you wanna...come with me?"

He regretted the words as soon as they were out there. But there was no taking them back now.

Silence filled the kitchen, Sandra and Curt staring at them as their bottles lowered, Flint glancing up from his fridge raid and Max watching him with a cocked brow.

Then laughter. Howls of it.

Sandra and Curt doubled over as they practically fell out of their chairs, faces scrunched and red as they gasped and chortled while Flint snorted from his place by the fridge, his loud nasally laugh seemingly making the whole room quiver. Max said nothing, merely sneered before turning back to the papers below him.

But Peter's eyes weren't on them. They were on his father, whose face had yet to emote any sort of emotion. They just continued to stare at each other, seemingly locked in a battle of wills that Peter found he couldn't look away from. Despite the shrill shrieks of laughter, the sounds of pens scribbling on paper or the clinking chink of a bottle cap popping off the top as Flint finally slammed the fridge door shut, Peter could do nothing but stare into his father's eyes, so deep and brown they were more black than anything else.

However, all noises instantly quieted as the harsh sound of Richard's chair scooting against the wooden floor screeched through the air. Slowly, quietly, the man lifted himself out of the seat, Peter instantly taking a step back as the man moved forward, seemingly before him within a footstep.

Peter had been wrong before. Now he wanted to melt into his shoes.

Expecting a smack, a punch, something, the teen braced himself for a blow of some sort, any type of punishment for stepping out of line. That made it all the more surprising, then, when his father reached behind the teen and grabbed a folder that had been sitting on the counter behind him. Peter released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding as his father flipped open the folder and glanced down at it, never even looking at the boy as he spoke.

"What do you tell them?"

What?

"What?"

"Your teammates. What do you tell them about me not being there?"

"Oh...I...I usually just tell them that you're...that you're working late or s-something..."

The man loudly shut the folder with a resounding slap as he narrowed his eyes and stared at his son. "Then why the fuck are you bothering me with this?"

And there it was.

Peter cringed under the man's harsh tone, seemingly curling in on himself as he shrank back. "I...I-I was just...j-just..."

The man paused and pressed a hand to the bridge of his nose, seeming to take a breath. He licked his lips and glanced down at the papers below. "Peter...you know you're important to me, right?"

That's...not what he'd been expecting. Unsure of how he should respond, the boy decided not to. Richard didn't seem to mind, for he continued anyway. "You are important to me because you're important to my research." He stated, folding his arms behind his back as he turned to stare down at the boy. "And my research means everything to me...meaning you, by extension, mean very much to me as well."

The room instantly seemed to darken as the man narrowed his eyes and leaned closer. "But do you see us doing research right now?"

A tight lump began to form in the boy's throat. "No..." He whispered almost inaudibly. His father picked up on it, however.

"No. We aren't." He growled, lifting himself back up. "We aren't working meaning you aren't of use to me meaning doing such things would be a complete waste of time and you know how I feel about wasting my time!" The man snarled as he turned back to the table, slapping the file down onto the surface, the papers already there fluttering slightly at the small breeze.

Peter instantly took a step back as Richard's temper flared for just a brief second before the man shut his eyes and seemed to flip a switch, instantly reverting back to normal, his voice so calm it made Peter's skin crawl. "So...why on Earth would you ask me such a question?"

Okay, on second thought, perhaps he would have preferred the slap.

The man shook his head and blew out another breath, Peter resisting the urge to hightail it out of there before the man could speak once more. However, he rooted himself in and cautiously lifted his head as he watched the man lean back down into his seat, perching his glasses back atop his nose. "I have business I need to attend to upstate. I'll be back on Thursday." He turned to look over at his son. "You have till then to get yourself in order. I don't want to hear any more stupid questions leaving your mouth after this."

He narrowed his eyes. Peter was sure a plant behind him burst into flames. "Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir." Crystal.

"I'd better be. Now get out of here before you really piss me off."

He didn't need to be told twice. He ignored the snickers of the Cons that followed him down the stairs, feeling them bounce off the door as he slammed it behind him. A deep breath deflated out of him as he leaned up against the front door to the building, eyes shutting as he leaned his head against the smooth surface.

In all honesty, that went better than expected.

Gently fluttering his eyes open, Peter took in the sight of the quiet street before him. Only a few cars lay parked on the road, the sidewalks empty of any and all joggers, walkers or anything else of the sort. His street was always pretty quiet. Or maybe it was just around his house.

The neighbors always did try to avoid them.

Slowly stepping down the few steps leading up to the front door, Peter stopped and crouched down on the last one, sitting up against the railing as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. It would still be a couple of minutes before Ned came to pick him up.

Shoving his phone away, Peter ran a hand through his now-dry hair and let out a tired sigh. He could still feel his heart pounding from his previous conversation, the pulse beats slowly dimming down as he tried to take a couple of deep breaths.

Bad idea. Bad idea had practically been written all over it. The teen shook his head and glanced down at the cracked concrete below his feet. "God...such an idiot." He murmured under his breath.

And he was. Plain and simple. There was no other way to explain it. He was, in fact, just a huge idiot.

His father only ever took interest in him when the topic of his DNA was on the table. In the lab, under the microscope, during training, Richard Parker's eyes were always trained on him. Down there...Peter was important, Peter was coveted...because Peter was the key.

But away from the lab, out in the real world, the real world with families and parent-teacher conferences and birthdays and holidays and just about anything and everything that made up what a real father-son relationship looked like...Peter Parker meant nothing, and his father had no qualms about making it known.

Somewhere in his head, Peter knew this. He'd known this ever since he was four years old and his little hand had remained without another to hold at his mother's funeral. He'd known this ever since teachers stopped asking him about when his father would be available for conferences. He'd known this ever since the Cons entered his life and ultimately made it ten times worse.

Somewhere in there, in the amalgamation of ideas, nerves, and thoughts that constantly circulated through his mind, Peter knew this.

And yet...in that sea of noise, Peter couldn't help but be hit with wave after wave of hesitation, the water slamming into him like a slap to the face, knocking the breath from his lungs. It came in the form of memories. Memories of Peter sitting at his father's feet while he worked, of helping him in the lab as they went over Peter's unique DNA structure, of his father telling him that one day, Peter would be incredibly important in helping the human race thrive.

("We aren't working meaning you aren't of use to me...")

With every reminder of who his father was becoming, Peter was slapped by the waves, the distant crashing of memories he refused to let go of. The water was just too strong. The current wouldn't let him go.

He was trapped. And he was drowning.

A loud roaring filled his ears, the familiar deep-throated growl of an expensive car's engine. Peter's eyes instantly flung open as he leaned forward on the concrete step, craning his neck as his eyes strained to catch a glimpse of a sleek expensive car with one very grumpy driver at the wheel, putting an ironic twist on his "Happy" name.

However, Peter visibly deflated as he watched one of the neighbor's cars pass him by, the wind it stirred up making his hair lick his cheeks as it blew past him. Get a grip, Parker. He isn't coming. He growled at himself.

It wasn't that he was surprised. Peter had known from the second it'd left his mouth that inviting Mr. Stark to his Decathlon meet had been a very big stretch. With everything the man was dealing with - the Accords, government officials, the media, the Rogue Avengers - it was a miracle that Mr. Stark even had time to see him on a weekly basis.

Peter was just grateful for that, for the opportunity to see the man on a regular schedule. So he'd been a hundred percent prepared for the man to decline his offer, to say on no uncertain terms that such a thing was way below his standards.

Therefore, Peter shouldn't have been upset that Mr. Stark wasn't coming today. He should have been prepared for it, just like before. Last week during their impromptu pizza night, Mr. Stark had made it abundantly clear that laying low and keeping out of the public eye was in everybody's best interest. The man was right. The man made sense. He wasn't trying to make Peter feel bad. If anything, he was trying to help him.

So why did it still feel so...bad?

In the back of his head, the image of an empty chair in a filled auditorium made his fingers twitch against his sides once more.

No, Peter wasn't surprised...and that's what made him feel so disappointed. Because in the months that he'd known Mr. Stark, in the talks that they'd held, the connections they'd developed, the bond they'd created...Mr. Stark always surprised him.

He surprised him in the way that he genuinely seemed happy to see him. He surprised him in the way that he made him laugh and giggle and smile in ways he hadn't for years. He surprised him in the way that he actually seemed...interested in his dorky intern.

(We aren't working meaning you aren't of use to me...)

So, no. Peter wasn't surprised. And perhaps that was what surprised him the most.

Before the teen could dwell on the subject anymore, the sound of a car horn snapped in his ears, making him jolt in his seat. He whipped his head up and felt a smile crawl onto his face as a large blue minivan pulled up along the curb. The back window rolled down, Ned popping his head out as the large boy beamed. "Guess who's got the latest issue of Super Mario Party and is gonna play it all the way to the convention center?"

"No way! When'd you get that?!"

"This is no time for questions!" The teen shouted as Peter opened the door and Ned forcefully shoved the bright red controller into his hands, adjusting the miniature screen so that they both could see. "We have a tournament afoot and nothing says mental preparation like beating Mario's ass around a Star Map."

"Language." Mrs. Leeds called from the front seat, shaking her head with a smile as she turned around. "How are you, Peter?"

The teen gave her a smile in return. "Apparently about to get savagely beaten in the span of thirty minutes." He said as he waved the controller around in his hand, the woman chuckling before turning back around in her seat.

"You guys are such dorks." Peter blinked before craning his neck to see Ned's sister in the passenger seat in front of him, the eleven-year-old twisting in her seat to gaze at them with disdain Peter didn't know an eleven-year-old could possess.

Ned glared at her. "Shut up, Kayla."

"You shut up, nerd."

"We are not doing this for the next half-hour you two." Mrs. Leeds said with an air of exasperation that made Peter think such a thing happened often, which - considering he'd known Ned for years- he knew it did. "Kayla, stop bothering your brother."

"I'm just saying. You made a nerd, mom. Really dropped the ball there."

The woman pursed her lips, Peter guessing she would have pinched the bridge of her nose had she not had both hands on the wheel. Ned rolled his eyes and Peter let out a laugh before the other boy was nudging him in the shoulder.

"Whatever. Forget about her. All you need to know is we have thirty free minutes and a game to beat."

"Show me what you got, Leeds."

"Bring it, Parker."

. . . 

"Shit, I wanted to be Yoshi."

 

---

 

Thirty minutes and one heated Mario Party game later found the group stepping out of the car and walking in through the front doors of the convention center. Having been cleaned up and organized for the school function, bakery booths and drink sales were lined up in make-shift tables along the walls, banners and streamers hanging from the ceiling, both in their respective school's colors: Midtown's yellow and blue and George St Luke's green and white.

"Alright. I'll see you two inside. I need to buy Kayla some snacks to keep her preoccupied through this." Mrs. Leeds said with a roll of her eyes before pinching Ned's cheeks. Said boy whined and pulled away, pushing Peter towards the auditorium doors while the other boy waved goodbye to the older woman.

Stepping in through the doors, they were instantly greeted to the sound of numerous voices all overlapping each other, people either sitting down in their seats or walking along the aisles talking to others.

"Man, Decathlon's really heating up this season. I don't think there's ever been this many people." Ned breathed from beside his friend with a large smile. Peter scanned the crowd, taking in the different faces, voices, smells. He took a few deep breaths to ground himself, feeling his heart pound just a little faster than before.

As the two teens walked along the far aisle closest to the wall, they approached the curtain that led them backstage, whipping it back as they stepped in the dimly lit area.

Quickly spotting the other members of their team, the two fell in line as MJ scanned her eyes over them. "About time you two showed up." She muttered, Ned shrugging his shoulders. "We aren't even late. We're ten minutes early."

"Next time, make it fifteen."

The boy rolled his eyes but said nothing as the other members of their team nudged their hellos with winks and quick smiles. Both Peter and Ned returned them, neither of them noticing Flash in the back, his arms folded and his face pulled back into a disapproving sneer.

MJ cleared her throat and began to speak to the team. "Alright, people. This is it. We've been preparing for this meet for the past month and I expect it to show out there."

Mr. Harrington walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder before glancing at the kids before him. "Just do the best that you can, guys. You'll do great!"

MJ threw him a look before turning back to the group. "Losing is not an option."

"But...it's okay if you do. I'm still proud of you guys anyway."

"Earn my pride. Win this thing."

"Okay...well..."

The team members glanced back and forth between the teacher and the girl, eyes darting left and right. Peter could still hear them talking in the back of his head, but his eyes drifted away from her and over towards the black curtain separating them from the audience. The curtain was peeled back just enough that a crack was visible among the dark fabric.

Through the crack, Peter could see the audience as more and more people sat down to find their seats. In the front few rows, each and every chair was reserved for a specified number of family members. One one side of the auditorium, green name cards sat for the family members of the other team while light blue cards sat on the chairs for Midtown.

He could make out several familiar faces, faces he saw every time there was a meet. Ned's mom and little sister, Cindy's dad, Charlie's parents, Abe's siblings, even Flash's butler. As his eyes continued to drift, he could make out May sitting in her usual seat, rummaging through her bag as she pulled out a bag of almonds she'd smuggled in through the doors, completely ignoring the rule that no food other than stuff bought at the complex was allowed.

May always smuggled in food. She lifted her gaze as she snuck an almond into her mouth, her eyes suddenly reaching Peter's. She did a double-tack just to make sure it was him before giving him a little wave and placing one finger over her mouth as she gingerly held up the bag of almonds and shook it for him to see.

Peter smiled and shook his head in return, only for his eyes to drift to the seat next to May. The usual name it always displayed sat and stared back at him, only this time, it was crossed out with permanent marker and a new name was written underneath it, just large enough for Peter to make out.

His stomach churned slightly at the sight of it.

Feeling a gentle nudge sway him just a bit, Peter turned and saw that Ned was now standing next to him, watching the crowd as well. Behind them, MJ's "motivational" speech had finished and the other teammates were milling about backstage either glancing over flashcards one last time or chatting amongst themselves.

Ned gestured with his head towards the empty chair. "You think he's gonna show? Cause, not gonna lie, I think I would die. Right there. On the stage. Just...dead."

Peter stared at the chair for a moment longer before letting out a sigh. "Well, I think you're safe for tonight, Ned. With all the media buzz that's been going around, he's probably gonna wanna keep a low profile. Besides, the last place he'd want to go to tonight would be some lame Decathlon tournament."

Ned didn't seem so convinced. "Well, he didn't outright say 'no' when you asked him the first time so he obviously hasn't totally dissed it."

"Or he was just being nice."

"Nah. I'm sensing no dissing."

Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes, Ned nudging him again in the shoulder with a small smirk. However, both boys let out surprised grunts as they felt arms loop around their necks. "Gotta say, Penis. You're really going all out with this little charade of yours but I mean..." Flash glanced over towards the empty chair. "This is getting a little sad." He threw the boy a mock pout.

Peter ducked underneath the teen's arm while Ned threw it off a bit more forcefully. The loud jeering had caught the attention of the other Decathlon members, who were now glancing their way. Noticing their looks, Peter ducked his head slightly and lowered his voice. "What do you care, Flash?" He muttered.

"I'm just saying. If your own dad didn't wanna come to this thing, then what makes you think Tony Stark is a better option?" He smirked as he folded his arms over his chest. "It's pathetic, Parker. You're pathetic."

"I'll tell you what's pathetic. Having your butler sit in for your parents at a Decathlon meet you aren't even participating in." MJ said in her usual deadpanned tone of voice as she smoothly strode over, the other members of the team drifting closer as well. Flash clenched his fists and rounded on the girl. "My parents have jobs they need to worry about. They'd be here if they could." He growled out before rounding on Peter once more, desperate to get the attention off of him. "Not like you can say the same 'bout Peter's dad."

Cindy cocked a brow. "Peter's dad is one of the biggest manufacturing giants in the entire city. I'm pretty sure that counts as an important job."

"Whatever." Flash jeered. "Puny Parker just can't handle the fact that his dad's embarrassed by him, so he decided to throw in a last-ditch effort to make himself look worthwhile by pretending Tony Stark might actually come to his Decathlon match" He leaned closer to the boy, Peter narrowing his eyes and averting his gaze. "As if, loser."

The small spark of fire that Peter had felt back during their practices at school did not reignite at the boy's words. For it was hard to gain a sense of indignation when Peter knew he was right.

Mr. Stark wasn't coming. Flash was right. (Told you this was a bad idea, idiot.)

However, Ned didn't seem as ready to let it go as Peter was, for the teen bunched up his fists and got right back in Flash's face. "I wouldn't be so sure of that, Flash. There are pictures going around the whole city of Peter and Tony Stark together." He scoffed before folding his arms. "It's everywhere."

Flash scoffed and waved a hand at that. "As if. Those pictures are just of Tony Stark hanging out with some kid. There's no way that's Penis in those pics. You're just as delusional as your friend, Leeds."

Ned gritted his teeth and glanced over towards the other team members for some sort of backup, only to deflate as he caught sight of their doubtful looks. None of them would ever say anything outright, but it was obvious they weren't convinced of Peter's supposed relationship with Stark.

Flash seemed to notice that things were shifting in his favor as he let a victorious grin slid onto his face before he leaned closer to Peter. "What's the matter, Parker? Got nothing to say?"

Nobody said anything as all eyes slid to Peter. Ned threw his friend an apologetic look, while MJ's remained as passive and neutral as ever. Peter's eyes remained locked on the ground by his feet. as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "No."

MJ narrowed her eyes and looked away at that while Ned turned to glare at Flash once more. "That's what I thought." The teen scoffed as he pushed past Peter and made his way over towards the chairs lined along the backstage wall. "Good luck, loser. You're gonna need it."

The other Decathlon members said nothing, shifting uncomfortably as they kept their eyes averted before walking away to hover by the front curtains. MJ stalled for a moment, throwing her gaze over towards Flash before turning back to the two boys. "Match starts in a few minutes. Make sure you're ready." She said before walking over towards the others.

Ned glared at her as she left before turning back to Peter. "Don't let him get to you, man. He's just a jackass." He said as he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

Peter blinked down at the ground for a moment before turning to gaze at his friend.

( We aren't working meaning you aren't of use to me... )

He might not have had his father. He might not have had Mr. Stark. And he might not have had the support of his classmates. But as he gazed at his friend's shining eyes and his bright beaming smile that always made his cheeks look even bigger than they already were, Peter could honestly say that at that moment, he didn't even care.

He had Ned. And that was good enough for him.

"Yeah. Yeah, he is." He nudged the boy back. "Thanks, Ned."

"If both teams would please make their way to the starting tables. The match will begin in five  minutes."

"Don't mention it, man. Now...let's go kick some nerdy butts."

"Ned...we're nerds."

"Exactly! And let's make sure they don't forget it!"

 

---

 

Saturday - April 16, 2016

Stark Tower - Business Room 1

06:20 p.m.

"So...was there any point to this little chat other than for you to yell at us, or- to be more specific- me?"

"Tony-"

"No, I feel like it's a valid question," the billionaire muttered, glancing back towards Rhodey before turning to stare at the holograms before him once more. "You even got your little goon squad to come and make an appearance. Really, I'm touched," he scoffed, throwing Ross an unimpressed look.

In reality, only three people actually physically stood in the room, those being Pepper, Rhodey and Tony himself. The other four they were currently staring at were merely holograms, including two older men, a woman and Ross. Tony didn't know the names of the others. He was sure they'd told him before but he hadn't bothered to remember them.

"Mr. Stark," the woman began. "We are only here to discuss the strategy and outcome of apprehending the rest of your team-"

"Ex-team."

She sighed. "-Ex-team in order to ensure they do not cause any more damages to the city or those surround it and to protect the lives they would inevitably be placing in danger," She said, eyes narrowing as her pointed face lowered, gaze piercing through overtop the rim of her glasses.

Pepper furrowed her brow and stepped forward, tied-back hair swishing as she moved. "I'm sorry, but haven't they been pretty quiet since they disappeared?"

"For now," Ross interjected from his seat on the end. "But it's only a matter of time before they do something catastrophic."

"Catastrophic?" The woman echoed, shaking her head with a scoff. "Don't we seem to be exaggerating this just a little?"

Tony scoffed and stood up from where he'd been sitting on the corner of his desk, turning his back on the projections as he reached over towards the bottle of scotch sitting in a glass dish. "So basically, you're just gonna sit there on your asses and twiddle your thumbs hoping for them to blow up a city block or derail a subway train so you can finally make your move and hop on out there with your butterfly nets?" He poured some of the amber liquid into a glass and turned back around, swishing it around for a moment before taking a sip. "Gotta say, not a great plan from where I'm standing."

One of the holographic men straightened out his jacket. "Things would go much smoother if you were to assist us."

Tony lifted a finger away from the glass and pointed it towards the projection. "Nuh-uh. See that's not gonna happen. You know why?"

The other man shook his head and lifted a hand in exasperation. "Do enlighten us, Mr. Stark."

The billionaire took a step closer. "Cause while you all are running around New York City playing a nation-wide game of Where's Waldo with a who's who list of the FBI's most wanted, I'm trying to forget about them. No, better yet. I'm trying to shape up the Accords. You know...the job you should be doing?"

Ross narrowed his eyes and sneered, the look reflecting perfectly through the pixels. "The Accords are perfect the way they are," he snapped, failing to notice the sidelong glances the other senators threw his way.

"The Accords are a ticking time bomb created with a chemical combination of paranoia, fear, and bruised feelings," Rhodey muttered from where he stood with his arms folded along the back wall. Tony turned and lifted his glass to the man, Rhodes rolling his eyes and shaking his head at the gesture.

Nevertheless, the Secretary didn't back down. "Last I checked, your signatures were on those papers."

"Yeah, cause it was either a pen or a prison cell," Tony growled, taking another swig of his drink before setting it down on the table and letting out a small sigh, lifting a hand to rub the bridge of his nose as he suddenly began to feel how much two hours of sleep could mess you up.

"Look," he started softly, dropping his hand again as he stared down the senators. "I understand what you're trying to do, what the Accords are trying to do. And I still believe that we need something like those Accords. Something to hold us and people like us accountable. But the Accords that we have right now are associated with the disbandment of the most recognizable group of superheroes out there."

Ross let out a small chuckle. "I wouldn't hold yourself on too high of a pedestal, Stark."

A flare of heat ignited in the billionaire. This prick... "Okay, you know what-!"

Before he could say anything though, Rhodey was grabbing onto his sleeve and pulling him back, grip on his wrist tight and grounding. Tony glared up at his friend, only for Rhodey to stand his ground. It was hard to miss the bags under the billionaire's eyes or the deepening wrinkles on his face, letting the colonel know just how close to the end of his rope his friend was.

Still...pissing off Ross was the last thing any of them needed. The look he shot Tony said it all, the billionaire taking another second to glare at the ground before shutting his eyes and sucking in a deep breath, releasing it again after a moment before twisting back around on his heel.

Ross opened his mouth once more and with the look on his face, it wasn't going to be anything good leaving his mouth. Thankfully, Tony noticed this and shot off right away. "I'm not excusing them," he started, effectively cutting the man off. "Not even a little bit. But no new superheroes are gonna want to sign something they associate with the Avengers breaking up," he said.

The senators glanced over at each other before seeming to individually mull over what the billionaire was saying. Ross glared over at them but said nothing either.

"So no. I'm not gonna help you find those assholes. I'm not going to stop you, that's for sure. You can do whatever you want. Chase them, jail them, heck, you can blow them into last year and I won't care," he scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. "It's the least they deserve." His tone shifted at that, both Rhodey and Pepper sharing looks behind his back.

"But I'm not going to help. cause I'm dealing with something bigger here. Something that will hopefully prevent this in the future. Cause right now, the Accords are shit. At best, those things are in Stage 1 of what will no doubt be a long and grueling process that I have the benefit of looking forward to."

Once more he turned to the glass on the table and lifted it into the air. "So...if we're done here, I have your job to do," he toasted with a smirk before taking another sip.

The three senators all displayed varying looks of uncomfortableness, frustration, uncertainty, or a combination of all three. They shared looks with one another before the woman spoke up once more. "That is all, Mr. Stark," she said, removing the glasses from her face. "But this conversation isn't over. And you can rest assured we will be discussing this further, especially next week when Mr. Secretary accompanies us to visit your Tower."

"Joy." The man deadpanned with a cock of his eyebrows and another swig of his drink.

Rhodey nudged the man once more before turning towards the projections. "We'll see you then."

With that, the projections slowly began to fade down into the floor, the glass cases physically displaying the images sinking into their respective slots. However, the person Tony wanted gone the most had elected to extend his chat.

"So you don't know where they are?" Something about his tone of voice made the billionaire suspect Ross already believed he knew the answer. Nevertheless, Tony would sooner die before giving the man any sort of satisfaction. "You know, they do say hearing loss is a side effect of old age so don't feel too bad about it."

"Tony." Rhodey sighed, a hint of warning in his tone.

Ross, however, was not fazed by the jab. "Cut the crap, Stark. I know you could find them if you wanted to." The man accused, face scrunching slightly as his eyes narrowed.

Tony rolled his eyes and set the glass down, folding his arms. "1) they have more than one capable super-spy who I'm pretty sure need to take basic classes in how to stay off the grid if they wanna graduate from whatever assassins university they come from. 2) And this is a big one...I don't care."

Behind him, Tony could practically feel Pepper and Rhodey throwing him exasperated, agitated looks. Ross, on the other hand, didn't seem all too fazed. In fact, a smirk was beginning to spread across his lips, a look that made Tony wanna figure out the math on how to slap a holographic projection.

"You will," Ross scoffed from his seat in whatever cave he usually crawled to whenever he wasn't trying to blast Tony's ass off. "Once they start to wreak havoc on this city, you'll wish you'd helped us."

He rose up from his chair and folded his arms behind his back, eyes growing darker if such a thing were possible. "Those people are dangerous. They're a menace to the nation and to this government and they must be stopped by whatever means necessary."

The two men locked eyes with each other, neither saying anything for a moment as their gazes held tight, an internal battle of wills as they stared each other down. Tony could feel his hands clenching and unclenching around his arms from where they were crossed over his chest. To hell with this asshole.

"Well, whatever means those happen to be...you won't be getting them here." His voice was low. Dangerous.

Ross lifted his chin at that and straightened out his jacket. "We'll see." With that, the projection began to fade, Tony's eyes never leaving the glass as he watched each and every particle dissipate.

"I guess we will, won't we?"

As soon as the glass disappeared in its slot with the others, Tony twisted around on his heel and let out a haggard sigh, dropping down into the chair behind his desk. "Jesus Christ. I need a Popsicle."

Pepper walked over, patting the man on the shoulder as Rhodey rubbed the back of his neck. "One week, huh?" the woman sighed. "Guess we're gonna have to Ross-proof this place."

Tony shook his head. "How do we do that? Put Avengers merchandise on all the walls of this place? Cause I'm pretty sure I have some Hawkeye mugs and a couple of Captain America bobbleheads that we can put on the desks down in the offices."

The others smirked at that, a new voice cutting through the space. "Captain America bobbleheads? Now those I gotta see."

All three of them turned around and whipped their heads towards the doorway, Natasha leaning casually against the frame with a smirk spreading across her lips. Tony blew out a breath and placed a hand to his heart. "Fucking...god, Romanoff. What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, trying and failing to get his heartbeat back to a normal rhythm.

"Don't you have some government assholes you should be avoiding?" Rhodey asked with a cocked brow as he watched the woman walk further into the room. "I feel like it's probably not the best idea to come over here when we're literally video-chatting the very people who wanna put your head on a spike and pin it outside the capital building."

The woman didn't seem all that fazed by the graphic imagery as she shrugged her shoulders. "What can I say? I'm a spy. I like to have all the information," she said as she took a seat at the conference table, propping her feet up onto the surface.

"Right. So you're here to know what he knows." Tony muttered from his chair, one fist propped up against his cheek as he glared lazily at the other woman.

Said woman either didn't notice the look or - the more believable option - she just didn't care to respond to it. "And right now, he knows nothing."

"Mm-hmmm."

Pepper and Rhodey once again shared knowing looks before Pepper blew a somewhat amused huff from her lips, patting the side of Tony's cheek. "Well...we'll just leave you guys to it."

Tony straightened up at that, throwing the others incredulous looks. "Hold up. What? You're abandoning me with her?" He asked, gesturing wildly at the woman who still hadn't moved from her relaxed position. If anything, she simply raised a brow at the comment.

"You want that Popsicle or not?" Rhodey muttered.

"...I do want that Popsicle."

Rhodey smirked as both he and Pepper moved towards the exit. "Then have fun. Now stop complaining or I'll bring you back a grape-flavored one."

And with that, the two left and both Tony and Natasha were alone. For a moment, Tony said nothing, simply content with glaring after his two retreating friends before he let out an annoyed sigh and dropped his head, swiveling his chair so that he was now facing Natasha. After a second, he lifted his gaze and threw the woman a disgruntled look. "What?" he asked with a grunt.

Natasha seemed to pick up on the subtext behind the word as she gave another small shrug of her shoulders. "Nothing. Just checking up on you."

"Yeah, right," he scoffed as he stood up once more and reached over towards the now-empty glass, pouring himself another drink. "Save the spiel. You're just here to make sure your asses are still covered." He lifted the glass and gestured it in her direction.

"I'm multitasking."

Tony huffed, bringing the glass to his lips. "Yeah, you're great at that."

Natasha watched him swig down a gulp of the liquid, Tony purposefully avoiding looking at her so he didn't have to see whatever expression she was making at the action. After a moment of silence where Tony sat down on the corner of the desk and placed the glass next to him, Natasha removed her feet from the top of the table and leaned forward in her chair. "How are you?" she asked quietly.

"Aside from the large Ross-shaped tumor growing on the side of my head...pretty damn good I must say."

The woman stood up and began to mill about the room, glancing at files and papers strewn about the tables. "You getting enough sleep?" she asked, purposefully avoiding the man's gaze.

Tony tapped his fingers against the glass, familiar burn of annoyance flaring in his chest at the question. "Don't see what that has to do with anything," he muttered, narrowing his eyes at the assassin. Did she really think he didn't know what she was trying to do?

She gave a curt nod of her head, picking up one of the nearby files as she opened it up and began to flip through the pages, once again avoiding the man's gaze. "And you're still drinking-"

"Natasha!" Tony snapped, slamming the glass down onto the table, the woman stoically lifting up her head. "If you're just gonna stand there and criticize me like your little war criminal buddies love to do so fucking much, then there's the door," he growled.

The woman set the papers down and took a step closer. The man scoffed and turned his head away as the woman rested a hand on his shoulder. She didn't wanna say it hurt when she felt him tense underneath her fingers. But it did. "I'm just worried about you, Tony."

He lifted his eyes to meet hers for a moment before shrugging out of her grasp and standing up, walking past her. "Well don't be. I got plenty of people who are actually around for that, thanks," he said, grabbing the papers and files that Natasha had been looking at before, stacking them into piles on the conference table. He stopped moving for a second, eyes glaring down at the polished surface for a moment before he started back up again, tone slightly different.

"You'd better stay away from the tower next week. It'll look bad for me if Ross sees you in your pajamas strolling around the kitchen with a smoothie and bunny slippers." He said offhandedly, shrugging past the woman with files in hand, but Natasha noticed the hint of genuine concern lacing the words.

She let a small smile form on her face. "I'll be sure to take that into consideration."

Tony glanced back at her before huffing and continuing to put the files away into the cabinet. "Just...don't make things any more difficult for me than they already are. I know how much you guys love to do that so if you could resist the gleeful urges you must get...I'd appreciate it."

He closed up the cabinet door and plopped back into his chair with a loud sigh, twisting it around so that he could look at her once more. "Now, was that all or did you have any other annoying little topics you wanted to run by me?" he muttered.

With that, Natasha felt her stomach twist ever so slightly. It wasn't that she was nervous. Just that she knew this conversation could quickly take a turn for the worst with what she was about to bring up. Still, it needed to be said. She needed to know.

Tony noticed a slight shift in the woman's posture, her usual confident stance deflating ever so slightly. It was almost unnoticeable, as he was sure the woman wanted it to be. But the man was used to dealing with his micro-mannerisms enough to pick up on when others were doing the same thing. He felt his stomach twist slightly at that, but opted to settle it instead of just leaving the room entirely as he probably should have done.

"No, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about."

Hearing her put it into words, the man stared at her for a moment before letting out another sigh and lifting his hand, gesturing for her to continue.

The woman hesitated for just a moment before speaking up once again. "I wanted to talk to you about Spider-Man."

Instantly, Tony had to fight to keep his face passive, his fists quickly tightening their hold on the arms of his chair as a shiver ran up his spine. He was sure Natasha had picked up on the slight changes, but if she did, she didn't mention it. "What about him," he responded, noticing his tone was a bit colder than before.

Natasha leaned up on the corner of the conference table, arms stretched out beside her as her palms lay flat on the smooth surface. "I just wanted to see how much you actually know about him. I mean, I know you recruited him and all that, but that's as far as my information goes."

And that's how I like it. Tony thought to himself, having to physically bite his tongue to keep from spitting it in the assassin's face. He knew she'd already had an encounter with Spider-Man back in Germany. And he also knew she now liked to see Peter whenever they were both at the Tower. However, that didn't mean Tony was just going to open the door for her to sidle up next to both of them.

Tony knew Nat. He knew what she could do. And if she spent any more time around Spider-Man, then it wouldn't take long for her to figure out the secret between him and Peter; that they were one and the same. And if Peter found out that the reason she knew was cause Tony hadn't done enough to stop her...well, the billionaire wasn't about to let this backstabbing double-agent mess up what he was trying to accomplish here.

If she did that, then she could practically kiss their "friendship" goodbye.

Of course, Tony being the suave little shit-eater that he was didn't let any of this show on his face as he simply twisted and turned in his swivel chair, hands folding over his lap. "Why the sudden interest?" he asked, eyes zeroing in on Natasha's face, ready to pick up on whatever micro-expressions she displayed.

The woman seemed to think about it for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. "No particular reason. I've just seen him swinging around the city sometimes. Wanted to know a little more about him."

Yeah, right. Tony scoffed to himself, quickly feeling that biting resentment for the woman beginning to bubble back into place. "Yeah, well that ain't happening this time. I know you like to have all your little ducks in a row when it comes to smuggling information out of unsuspecting victims but you aren't getting anything here, alright?"

"Do you know his identity?"

"I - are you even paying attention to me, Nat?! I said no. I'm not telling you anything!"

The women put on a small smile, raising her hands up innocently as she smirked at him. Tony clenched his fists at the look. "Alright, alright. If you don't wanna share anything with me, I get it."

However placating the words were intended to be, Tony didn't pick up on any of it. He knew that tone. He knew the meaning behind her words. He knew her. He knew what she was gonna try and do and he couldn't let that happen. So with that, the man slowly lifted himself out of the chair and took a steadying breath, pointing a shaky finger in her direction.

"Natasha...I know what you're thinking and you better stop right this fucking second. Don't you even think about looking into him, alright. It's none of your business," he growled out at her.

At that, Natasha's eyes narrowed and her arms folded over her chest. "I think you made it our business when you recruited him to fight in Germany." She shook her head and let out a small scoff." I already know the identities of all the other supers in this city. Why should he be any different? Just cause he's like, your little personal plaything at the moment? Your newest obsession?"

She slapped her arms down in exasperation. "Besides, what the harm of me knowing more anyway? As I said, I already know the identities of the other Supers around and I haven't sent out any kill hits on them yet," she smirked, hoping the look would mask the feelings of hurt that bubbled in her chest at what the man was insinuating. Did he really think she was going to hurt Spider-Man?

However, Tony wasn't about to budge. Not on this. Not with Peter.

"Nat...listen to me. You cannot go looking into him, alright?"

"Why not?" she grunted, Tony realizing she wouldn't let it go unless he gave her an actual reason.

He balled up his hands and pressed them to his forehead. "Y-you...you just...you just can't alright?!" He shook his head and dropped his hands back onto his hips, sucking in a breath as he tried to find a way to explain himself. But just what was he supposed to say? Hey, sorry Nat. I can't tell you about this because I promised Spider-Man that I'd protect this secret of his at all costs and I really, really need this kid to trust me for a whole other set of reasons that I won't tell you cause If I'm being honest, I really don't trust you and doubt I ever will again!

That last thought made him pause for just a second. Did he really believe that? Is that really what he thought? He lifted his gaze and stared back at the woman, Nat seeming to notice the slight change in his eyes as her hardened expression softened ever so slightly as she sighed, lowering her gaze to the ground.

She seemed just as tired of the fighting as he did.

Tony glanced away, eyes narrowing in thought. He didn't know what was going to happen with Nat. To be honest, he didn't know what was going to happen with any of the others, or if he even wanted anything to happen. Still...there was a small part of him that enjoyed seeing the woman, that missed stumbling into the kitchen at 3 in the morning only to have her sitting there too, both victims of early morning insomnia. He missed sitting with her in the silence, neither asking the other if they wanted to talk about it. They never did.

His mind drifted back to when Natasha had first reappeared in the lab a few weeks ago, her words from before ringing out in his ears. "I know it will take a while. I know it'll be hard. But...I hope with time...you'll be able to forgive me."

He lifted his gaze back over to her, Nat meeting his stare as well. For a moment, neither of them said anything, eyes scanning each other's faces for any hints as to what they were thinking. Finally, Tony approached.

"Listen, you wanted me to trust you, right?" he started slowly, voice softer than before. "Then do this for me now."

Nat opened her mouth, only for Tony to cut her off with a shake of his head. "Look, I can't explain all of this to you right now, alright? It's just...this guy, Spider-Man...if any more people find out who he is...it isn't like other secret identities. He's not just wearing the mask to separate superhero from normal life. This is a matter of life or death."

"Oh, come on Tony-"

"I'm serious," he stressed, reaching out to grasp onto the woman's shoulders. For a moment, he expected her to rip out of his grasp and knee him in the gut, only for her to widen her eyes and stand rigid. "Listen, Natasha...please. Please don't look into him. Don't try to figure out who he is, don't even wonder who he is. I'm being serious here. This isn't for me. This isn't some little power trip I'm making here. This is for him. This is for his protection." He stared back at her, hoping his desperation was evident enough to get through to her.

"Please...do this for me."

Natasha couldn't say anything for a moment. All she could do was stare back into the man's eyes, which nearly oozed their silent plea. Her heart beat erratically in her chest, the only grounding feel being the grip Tony had on her shoulders. Not painfully tight, but present nonetheless.

Honestly, her reasons for wanting to know more about Spider-Man hadn't been what she'd told Tony as he'd most likely figured out. In actuality, the only reason she wanted to know more about the kid was to observe. And not observe Spider-Man. She wanted to observe Tony.

From the second he'd told her to stay away from him, Natasha had known the Super obviously meant something to the billionaire. Now, what that was, she'd been unsure. After all, was he really just looking out for the kid or was he still just angry at her?

She wanted to know what the kid meant to him. She wanted to know just how important this hero was to Tony. How much the billionaire would do for him. She needed to know just how much of a close eye she'd need to keep on this kid. After all, if he really meant a lot to the billionaire, then she couldn't exactly just let him roam around the city going after thugs and criminals without checking up on him.

But now, seeing just how desperate he looked, just how scared he'd become at the prospect of her using her skills to find out who he was. If she were being honest with herself, it only made her more curious as to who this mystery super was behind the mask. Not just anyone could get Tony Stark to care about them this much. After all, the only other people Tony was this protective over was Pepper, Rhodey and Happy. And maybe that new intern of his.

But Natasha couldn't question the look in the man's eyes, in his face. He obviously wasn't doing this just to fuck with her. He genuinely cared about this...Spider-Man. So that meant she did too.

And that was enough for her.

"Really means that much to you?" It wasn't really a question, but she let it hang out there nonetheless.

Tony stared back at her, dropping his hands. "You have no idea."

The billionaire watched as she sighed and took a step back. "Fine...but I can't say I'll be able to control the others if they get any suspicions."

He shrugged. "That's fine. You're really the one one who might be able to undo the precautions I've already taken to hide his identity," he murmured, thinking back to all the firewalls and viruses he'd created in order to protect any and all information about either Peter Parker or Spider-Man on his servers.

"You flatter me."

Tony scoffed at that and turned away, moving to sit on top of the desk once again, resting his elbows on the tops of his knees as he glanced over at Natasha, suddenly feeling much more tired than before if such a thing were possible. "You'd better get out of here. It won't be safe to hang around for the next couple of days," he murmured.

Natasha couldn't help but smile a bit as she noticed the gentle tones in the man's voice, no malice or snark present. "Yeah, yeah," she said, waving her hand in the air dismissively. "I got it." She brushed the hair out of her face and made her way over towards the door, hand gripping the frame as she turned back around. "I'll see you, Tony." She called before walking out into the hallway, a full-blown smile making its way onto her lips as she heard the man's response, low and quiet.

"...sure."

Tony stared after the woman for a moment before sighing and running his hands down his face, letting out a load and tiresome groan as he leaned back and laid down on the surface of his desk, papers fluttering to the ground at the movement, but he didn't really care. God, he was so tired. His talk with Ross had already drained him of whatever energy reserves he'd stored up and Nat had basically siphoned off whatever extra he'd had.

However, no matter how tired he felt, the man knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. He'd crawl into bed, stare up at the ceiling and end up in the lab after ten minutes, wasting the rest of the night away tinkering on useless inventions. Still, the thought of working alone in the cold lab for the next few hours made his stomach churn again. He couldn't tell why. Usually, tinkering was the best for his insomnia, but today he didn't seem...in the mood for it.

Still, that left him with the rest of the night to fill with...something. Something to keep his mind busy and occupied.

He blew out a breath and turned his head, glancing over at the clock on the wall. It only took a moment to trace the two hands and read the time, the man blinking up at the ticking mechanism before he slowly lifted himself back into a sitting position. He narrowed his eyes at the clock before lifting his head. "Hey, Fri...today's Saturday, right?"

"That is correct, boss. Saturday, the 16th."

Tony said nothing, staring at the clock for a moment longer before a smirk began to spread across his face. Quickly forming up a plan in his head, the man hopped off the desk and grabbed his suit jacket hanging off one of the backs of the chairs, exiting the room and entering the common room next door, where Rhodey, Pepper and Happy were all sitting and talking quietly, each munching on different-colored Popsicles.

Tony walked over and plucked the extra Rhodey was holding out of his hands, discarding of the wrapper before popping it into his mouth. The others glanced over at him and cocked their heads at the mischievous expression morphing onto his face.

This wasn't good.

He pressed the Popsicle into the side of his cheek, picking his sunglasses out of his suit pocket before perching them onto his face. "You guys wanna stretch your legs?"

They each shared confused looks as Tony grinned.

"I know a place..."

 

---

 

Saturday - April 16, 2016

Upper East Side - Lake Hill Convention Center

07:24 p.m.

"Which of the following was NOT a major trade route for the African slave exports between 1500 and 1800?"

DING!

"Midtown Tech?"

"South Africa"

"Correct."

Grins were passed around the table as Abe retracted his hand from the button, winking back at his teammates.

For the past hour and a half, both Midtown and George St Luke has been going back and forth, three completed rounds of questions with the fourth and final coming to a close. In the crowd, Peter could make out May sitting on the edge of her seat, biting her nails like she usually did whenever she was nervous and nobody was around to slap her hand away. She looked more nervous than Peter was, to be honest.

Michelle glared over at the others from her seat at the front of the table, the team quickly falling back into their poised positions as more and more questions were thrown their way, the clock before them slowly winding down.

"The Greek historian who offered valuable insights about Africans in the Nile region's diets was?"

DING!

"George St. Luke?"

"Herodotus"

"Correct."

"The German author of Philosophy of History that served as a source of Western fantasies about Africa was?"

DING!

"Midtown Tech?"

"George Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel"

"Correct."

"Scenes of violent death dissolve into landscape in the 1993-94 animated drawings of?"

DING

"George St. Luke?"

"Nam June Paik"

"Incorrect. Midtown Tech?

"William Kentridge"

"Correct"

Peter couldn't help but grin as Charles pumped his fist underneath the table, Ned and Sally grinning right along with him right as time was called. All fourteen competitors lifted their heads at the noise, eyes drifting over to the Officiator as she adjusted the microphone attached to the podium in front of her. Adjusting her glasses she leaned closer. "That concludes the fourth portion of the free-response questions. With Midtown leading by five points."

Grins and silent whoops were passed throughout the table as Michelle readied to stand and walk up to the podium, assuming that meant the competition was finished, as it usually was. Four rounds of free-response was the traditional format.

However, all seven of the Midtown students shared confused looks as the woman continued. "However, the judges have elected to add one final portion to the competition this year," she started, confused murmurings drifting throughout all of the students now, including those backstage. The Midtown students glanced towards the curtains where Mr. Harrington was standing, the man's face now considerably paler than before.

Nice to see the confidence was there.

"For this final round, which is worth twenty points, teams will choose one of their own players to represent the entire group. The two players chosen, one from each team, will come up and receive the question. They will not be able to receive any help or hints from their teammates, otherwise ending in an immediate disqualification. Whoever answers the question first and correctly will win." She lifted the glasses from her face and placed them down onto the podium. "Any questions?"

Peter glanced around at his teammates, who were all doing the same. What the heck was this all about? They hadn't been prepared for this.

The woman nodded. "Very well. The question you'll be answering will be centered around..." she trailed off, gesturing towards the curtain behind her as it lifted up, revealing two blank whiteboards positioned behind each of the team tables. "...mathematics. Choose your player wisely, for you will not be able to switch afterward. You have two minutes to discuss and choose. Clock starts now."

Instantly, Peter reared back in his seat as all of his teammates crowded and leaned towards him. "You gotta do this, Pete!" Sally basically crowed, their noses almost touching.

"What?" he nearly shouted, heart leaping into his throat.

"Yeah, man. You're dominating the Algebra and Calculus questions!" Ned beamed, rising up from his chair. "You're perfect for this!" The others nodded along as they pushed in closer.

"I...I-I.."

"Aw, man. We are so gonna win this thing!" Abe cheered.

Charles grinned and nudged Peter with his shoulder. "Yeah, it's practically in the bag, now. We're gonna have to make room for that big fat trophy!"

The teen felt his heart-rate beginning to quicken as all of their eyes seemed to bore into him. He rose up from his own chair as well and raised his hands in a placating manner. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Cindy is just as good at math as I am! Ned too!" he tried, only for the others to groan and shake their heads in response, including Cindy and Ned.

"Please! I'm not nearly as good as you. You're like, on a whole other level, Pete!" The girl scoffed, Ned nodding along as he stepped closer. "Besides, you know I'm more of a computer/physics kind-of guy. But you're knowledge of this crap is way more extensive than mine. Unless that question was specifically physics-based, I'd be lost up there and you know it! All of us would!"

"One minute."

Peter grimaced and took another step back, the others continuing to crowd him nevertheless. "I don't know guys. I mean...what if I mess this up? I might-" he started, only to yelp as he felt something whack him upside the head.

The others quieted down as he turned to face MJ, his face scrunching up in slight indignation as he reached up to rub at the back of his head. "Shut up, nerd. You haven't got a single question wrong all day. You're doing this." she muttered, walking up.

"But-"

She leaned in closer, the others quickly taking a step back out of slight fear. "Your. Doing. This." She said, leaving little room for arguments. Peter felt any and all retorts die in his throat as he let out a small sigh, practically feeling his back bump up against the metaphorical corner he was being pushed into.

Perhaps MJ saw the look of resigned distress crossing the boy's face, for she let out a small breath and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're gonna be fine. You're one of the strongest players on this team. Just do what you've been doing all day up there and we shouldn't have any problems."

Peter lifted his eyes to look at her, taking in a breath as he let a small smile spread onto his face.

"But you'd better win this thing or I'm gonna kill you."

With that, she shoved him hard towards the podium, the teen tripping slightly over the force and slightly over the words. That wasn't very reassuring.

Still, when MJ said you were gonna do something, there wasn't really any way to get out of it. Swallowing what could have possibly been bile, Peter stole another glance back towards the table, most of his teammates giving him thumbs up (MJ threw him a middle finger), before gulping and walking slowly towards the podium.

It wasn't that Peter wasn't used to his teammates relying on him. After all, they'd been relying on his all day. They relied on him for every meet, every tournament. He knew they trusted him, and for the most part, he was alright with them.

But this...this was a whole other ballpark. Before, Peter had been relying on them just as much as they'd been relying on him. It was a shared burden, a passable load. It was a team, after all. This...this put everything on him. No backup, no crutches, no assistance, just him. It was as if his team wasn't even there.

No, actually that would have been better. At least if his team wasn't there, he wouldn't have to worry about letting anybody else down. But now...

HE stole another glance towards his teammates, who were still grinning wide from ear to ear.

Now he had to win this. Not for him, but for them. And the thought of letting them down only made the bile return.

"Time is up. Would the two chosen contestants please make their way towards the podium."

Swallow it. Swallow it now! Quickly gulping down the acidic grossness, Peter took another breath and walked over, glancing over at the other kid. It was a girl with short brown hair tied back into a ponytail and thick round glasses perched on the tip of her nose. She was taller than Peter, her green Decathlon jacket bunching up around her elbows.

The low murmuring that had been passing through the crowd during the two-minute deliberation quickly quieted down as the Officiator spoke once more. If the two of you would please make your way over towards your boards, please. There you will find a marker for you to do whatever work you deem necessary."

She paused for a moment to let them both make their way over before continuing. "Also by your sides, you should see a stand with another buzzer on top. When you think you've figured out the answer, buzz in. Whoever buzzes in first with the correct answer wins for their team," she said once again, as if she hadn't just explained the rules five minutes ago.

"If the two of you are ready..."

The girl from St Luke gave a firm nod of her head, Peter saying nothing as he continued to stare at the clean white surface of the board, mind seeming to run at a million miles per minute as he milled through all the possible questions they could ask.

He took another breath, forcing himself to stop as he narrowed his eyes and tightened his fists.

This wasn't training. This wasn't fighting or working or even socializing. This was math. Numbers. He knew numbers. He knew how to work numbers. This was what he did. This was what he'd been doing all his life. This was where he thrived, where he found his element, where he was comfortable. This was the one thing he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, he could do.

(We aren't working meaning you aren't of use to me...)

This was there he proved his father wrong.

Charles was right. This thing was in the bag.

"Midtown Tech?"

"I'm ready."

The woman nodded. "Alright. The final challenge of the night begins now." And with that plus the press of a button, the auditorium projector screen lit up with the image of an equation.

F(x) =  -1^(x2) X ln[1 /(1 + t^2) dt]

SOLVE FOR F(x)

In the back of his head, Peter could head his teammates groaning, whispering about how they hadn't gone over math like that or that a question like this wasn't fair or that nobody could get this or something like that. In all honesty, despite his hearing, Peter didn't really absorb any of it. His eyes were simply glued to the projector screen.

Across from him, the St Luke girl had paled, taking one look at the equation before glancing back at her teammates with a look of panic, which was mirrored in her group as well. She turned back around and stared at the whiteboard before her, shaky hand reaching out for the marker as she began to write the problem out on the board.

As she worked on breaking down the problem, Peter still hadn't moved. He hadn't walked towards the board. He hadn't written anything down. Heck, he hadn't even picked up his marker.

A minute passed of him simply staring up at the equation. A low murmur began to drift through the crowd, people leaning over to ask their neighbors either about the problem, about who they thought was going to win, or about why the boy wasn't even moving.

MJ narrowed her eyes as she stared over at Peter, ignoring her teammates as they spoke.

"Uh...why isn't he moving?"

"I don't know. Maybe he just doesn't know how to set it up."

"He could still write it down or something. Maybe that'll give him something."

"Cut him some slack. None of us could figure that thing out. At least not as fast as they're expecting us to."

"Quiet." Michelle hissed at that, the other quickly quieting as they glanced over at her before moving their eyes back over to Peter.

The girl for George St. Luke continued to write across her board, which was filling up with squiggles, lines, dashes, numbers, and just about anything and everything she could think of. As she moved farther and farther down the board, her numbers seemed to get more and more precise.

The Officiator glanced between the two students with a confused frown and a furrowed brow. Was she missing something here?

St. Luke's girl stopped writing, stepping back from the board with a scrunched face, pressing her hand to her cheek in thought as she stared at her work, shaking her head in confusion.

Peter still hasn't moved.

"Midtown Tech?" The woman called, wondering if the boy simply was stumped. She glanced over towards the boy's teammates, who were all shrugging their shoulders, sans MJ and Ned.

"Do you forfeit the question?"

The teen still didn't respond. He didn't even turn around to look at her. She turned back towards St. Luke who was still staring dumbfounded at the messy board. The woman adjusted her glasses once more. "I need an answer, teams."

The young girl let out a groan as she slapped her hands against her thighs and turned around with a disgruntled look of disappointment. "I don't k-"

"F(x) = du/dx = 2x[1/(1+x^4)]"

The auditorium fell silent as every wide eye turned towards Peter, who was now looking towards the Officiator for confirmation.

MJ smirked. Ned snickered under his breath.

The woman at the podium stared at the boy blinking up at her before glancing down at the card in her hands before adjusting her glasses and shakily clearing her throat. "T-that is correct," she breathed, a loud murmur rushing through the audience and over Peter's teammates as they leaned forward to hear her next words.

"Midtown Tech wins!"

Roars roared through the crowd as they rose up from their seats to give applause. Peter barely had any time to turn around before he was being barreled over by his teammates, who practically dog-piled him as they screamed in his ear and howled in joy. Despite the fact that he was acutely aware of each and every touch, Peter couldn't help the smile that spread onto his face as his friends squished their cheeks against his and laughed in his ears.

With a grunt and a reminder to restrain his strength, the teen pushed them off of him before lifting his head and noticing MJ off to the side, arms folded across her chest as she smirked down at them. Charles and Abe grinned at each other before reaching up and each grabbing onto one of her hands, dragging her down to the ground with them.

Her eyes widened slightly before she found herself crumpling on the ground with her teammates as they wrapped their arms around her and all but forced her into their dogpile. Peter couldn't help but giggle at the look of constipation making its way onto her face as she tried not to smile. Behind him, he could hear Flash running up and down the stage, holding the trophy up above his head in celebration.

The others couldn't even get mad, they were so happy.

Shoulders shaking with chuckles, Peter craned his neck to scan the crowd, eyes falling on May as she stood from her seat and waved at him. Seeing as how his arms were being pinned down by the bodies of his teammates, the teen could do little more than smile back at her.

It seemed to be enough as she gave him a thumbs-up, her face falling slightly as she gestured towards the back door. Peter gave a nod of his head and a reassuring smile. May had already taken enough time out of her night shift to be here. He couldn't take up any more of her time.

After a few more minutes of trying and failing to calm his classmates down, the team shook hands with the Officiator and the other team, took pictures, and made their way offstage, all smiles and laughs.

"Dude, that stunt you pulled is going down in the history books as the greatest feat of all time!" Ned practically gushed, spinning around on his heel to face his friend.

Charles laughed and pressed a hand to his forehead. "You didn't even write anything down, man! You're like superhuman or something!"

"And that lady's face when you just blurted out the answer. Right after she asked about forfeit? Priceless!" Cindy howled, eyes scrunching as she wiped away a mock tear, Peter nudging her with his shoulder as the others all smiled.

Peter yelped, however as he felt a hand slap his head once more, rolling his eyes as Michelle came into view, trophy in hand after having wrangled it out of Flash's. "Yeah, yeah. Let's not get too excited here. After all, now that we've won this thing, people are gonna be expecting big things from us. So now we gotta start prepping for next year's match cause I am not losing."

Ned placed a hand on her shoulder. "Aw, come on, MJ. We just won Regionals! I think we can afford to take a break."

"Ned right, MJ." Mr. Harrington called, walking over with a grin. "You guys really worked yourselves out there. Peter, that was incredible, kid. Great job out there. But you kids more than deserve a break after all that," the man said as he patted Sally and Ned on the shoulders.

Out past the curtains leading back to the main hall, loud voices and laughs could be heard behind the curtains, the teens groaning ever so slightly at the noises. "Man, my parents are never gonna let me get out of here, we'll be taking so many pictures," Cindy muttered, Abe nodding along with her. "I know right. They're gonna call all of my relatives over this."

The others began to gripe about similar issues, Peter nodding along with a couple of chuckles here and there as he heard of some extents parents were willing to go to boast about their children to others.

The teen stole a small glance over towards the curtain, where anxious friends and family waited to greet their kids. Peter felt his smile fall slightly at that, knowing he'd have nobody to go to once they walked outside. Then again, that was usually the case with these meets so he couldn't say he wasn't used to it by now.

He turned back towards the others, only to notice Flash's eyes on him. And from the look on the bully's face, he'd seen Peter's expression. The boy smirked at him and placed a hand on his hip. "What's the matter, Parker? Sad your little buddy Tony Stark isn't here to congratulate you?" he asked, though the usual levels of spite and malice seemed to have been dialed back ever so slightly, seeing as how the boy was still pumped over their win to be too much of an ass.

Peter rolled his eyes and glanced away, the others scrunching up their noses, about to tell the boy off for trying to put a damper on their celebrating, only for a new voice to beat them to it.

"Seems reasonable. I mean, I assume anyone who knows me gets depressed when I'm not around to brighten up their lives." All seven kids plus teacher turned to stare as Tony Stark strode over, removing his sunglasses from his face as he rested his hands inside the pockets of his suit pants. He also had a...Popsicle stick in his mouth?

"Or is that just Happy?" he asked, glancing behind him at the other three who followed, including Colonel Rhodes, Pepper Potts, and Happy Hogan, the latter throwing his boss an unamused look.

Peter felt as though his eyes were about to pop out of his skull as he stared, mouth agape. "M...M-M...Mr...Ssss...St-st..." He stuttered, seeming to literally puff smoke from his ears as his brain caught fire. The billionaire couldn't help but smirk at the boy's reaction as he placed his sunglasses on the perch of the teen's nose, pushing them up into place as Peter's face remained slack.

"Nice job up there, kiddo. Gotta say, your ability to leave people speechless almost rivaled mine for a second. Just for a second, though mind you," he smirked, patting the teen on the shoulder as he took out the Popsicle stick and flicked it onto the ground. "But I knew I hired you for a reason."

Pepper reached forward and pinched the boy's cheek. "Peter you were amazing out there, sweetie," she gushed while Rhodey clapped him on the back. "Very impressive, little man."

The other students had yet to say anything, all of them holding expressions that matched Peter's to a tee, except MJ of course. The girl simply stared at the man with a bored look, rolling her eyes at her teammates' reactions.

Flash blinked up at him before raising up a shaky finger and pointing it in his direction. "You're Tony Stark."

Tony raised a brow at the boy and felt a humored huff fall from his lips, Rhodes scoffing behind him while Pepper and Happy continued to check over their shoulders, seemingly scanning for anybody with a camera out.

"That I am, child I don't know nor care to find out about," he replied, MJ finally giving some sort of response as she smirked.

"You're Tony Stark."

The man shook his head and lifted his head towards Mr. Harrington. "Hey, teach. You don't mind if I take Pete here off your hands right?"

The teacher hesitated for a moment before shaking himself out of his stupor and letting out a nervous chuckle. "No...o-of course not, Mr. Stark...sir."

"Great." With that, he latched onto Peter's wrist and began to guide the teen farther away from the still speechless group. Glancing back, Peter gestured for both MJ and Ned to follow him, the former having to push the latter forward, seeing as how the boy had yet to speak or move. Or breathe probably if his red face gave any indication.

"That was Tony Stark!"

Peter tried to block out the sounds of his classmates practically vibrating behind him as he reached up and removed the sunglasses from his face, turning up to face the billionaire. "W...w-what are you doing here?" he breathed, blinking up with wide eyes.

The man scoffed and accepted the glasses back. "Well I don't know if you've ever done this before but when you invite someone somewhere, chances are high that they're gonna show up."

Behind the man, Peter could see Pepper and Rhodey smiling at him, Happy continuing to gruffly keep watch for paparazzi hounds. The teen let out a small breath as he felt his face scrunch slightly. "Well, I get that. It's just...I...I didn't think you'd actually come."

"Why? Think I got better things to do?"

"Well...yeah."

The man waved a hand dismissively. "Please, I live for these things. Every Saturday night you'll see me scouring the streets of New York desperately searching for any Decathlon tournaments to pop into."

Peter scoffed and shook his head, reaching a hand up to rub at the back of his neck as a lopsided grin made its way onto his face. "I mean it. Why would you waste time on something like this when you obviously have more important things to deal with?"

Tony paused for a minute before smiling and bopping Peter gently on the head with the folded up sunglasses. "Cause you wanted me to, kiddo."

Peter opened his mouth to say something, only for the words to die in his throat as a smile formed on his face. Tony smiled back, only to blink rapidly and clear his throat, roughly patting Peter's shoulders as he averted his gaze and stared at the two other teens behind his intern. "So, you gonna introduce me to your little nerd friends, kid?"

Pepper and Rhodey rolled their eyes at the not-so-great cover-up.

Peter straightened up at that and turned to stare at his friends. "R-right, right. Mr. Stark, this is M-"

"I can introduce myself thank you very much, Loser," the girl muttered, taking a step forward. "It's Michelle. Michelle Jones."

Tony nodded. "So you're MJ."

"To some people."

He smirked. "Well nice to meet you, Michelle," he said as he extended his hand. The girl stared down at it with an unimpressed face before lifting her eyes to throw him a look. Alright then...

The billionaire moved to face the other boy, only to grunt as he felt two sweaty hands clasp onto his own, his arm practically being ripped out of its socket as the chubby boy shook his arm up and down. "Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod! Mr. Stark, it is so great to meet you. Peter's told me all about you and I can't believe I'm actually standing here looking at you, talking at you, shaking your hand and everything. I mean it is a dream come true for me I've been waiting for this moment to come ever since Peter told me about you and its everything I dreamed of and more and I just, I can't, I mean I-"

It took both Peter and MJ wrapping their arms around Ned's waist and tugging with all their might to get him to unhook himself from the billionaire's hand, Tony staring with wide eyes as the three teens stepped back, Ned's face red and beaming as the boy grinned. "I can't feel my legs!"

Peter groaned while MJ scoffed in disgust, the former turning back to his boss. "S-sorry about him. He's...well...he's not used to being approached by people like...well, by people like you."

Tony took a breath, shaking his now sore hand as he gripped his wrist. "Uh...no problem. I'll just...have to be prepared next time I see your little friend. Ted, was it?"

"Oh my god! He remembered my name!"

"That's not even - you know what?" Michelle muttered, releasing her hold on the large boy and watching as he crumpled to the ground by her feet.

Tony and Peter watched them before they both shook their heads, the billionaire turning back to the boy. "Anyway, I don't know about you but watching you kick some nerdy butt has made me crave some nutrients. So...ice cream?"

"Now?"

"Either that or next winter. My schedule's pretty booked."

Peter grinned before the smile faltered, his eyes moving towards Pepper and Rhodey. "But...but I thought we were supposed to be lying low. You know, the pictures?"

Rhodey shrugged his shoulders. "We figured the last place the paparazzi would be looking is some random Decathlon tournament so our bets were pretty safe here."

"And out there?"

Pepper shrugged. "Drive-thru."

"Oh."

Tony turned back towards the others. "You kids wanna join us?"

Ned's eyes grew even wider at that, if such a thing were possible. "Mom...waiting...me...go..."

"He'll take a rain check." Peter translated, placing a hand on Ned's shoulder before forcefully spinning the teen and pushing him back over towards the other teammates. Michelle shrugged her shoulders. "I gotta go make sure those idiots don't burn down a taco stand or something while they're celebrating."

Peter grimaced slightly at that. "Right. The others. Listen...you think they'll mind if I go off and-"

"Peter." She held up two hands. "Getting stale grimy tacos from a stand that could double as a mobile garbage dump...or ice cream with a billionaire." She let a smirk fall onto her face as she patted him on the shoulder. "I think they'll understand."

He smiled at her. "Thanks, MJ." He called as she turned away, getting a middle finger in response. He only chuckled at the sight, Tony, Pepper, and Rhodey cocking a brow and tilting their heads at the gesture before the billionaire shrugged his shoulders. Teenagers.

Rhodey glanced behind him at the curtain that blocked off the backstage area fro the main hall. "Now, as lovely as it would be going through the sea of sweaty dads and sob-happy moms waiting for us behind those curtains, you know if there's a back entrance to this place?" he asked, Happy already having left to go and get the car ready.

Peter grinned at that and motioned for them to follow him.

A few minutes later had the four of them dashing through the rusted metal door leading to the alley behind the convention center, Peter jumping over the railing while the others took a more human approach and climbed down the few stairs leading to the ground, a sleek black car pulling up right as they landed. Jumping into the car, Pepper, Tony and Peter climbed into the back while Happy and Rhodey took the front.

"Where to?" The driver called from the front.

Tony looked down and glanced at Peter, the teen giving him the brightest smile he'd ever seen, Tony chest expanding in a strange way at the sight. He couldn't resist the smile that grew onto his own face as he patted the teen's shoulder and turned back towards the front.

"Happy, find the crappiest ice cream place around here."

Peter perked at that. "I know a place where Ned once found a thumb in his bowl."

"Perfect!"