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Being a Stark [Superfamily]

Chapter 6

Peter drops down the papers in the kitchen when he gets home.

It’s nothing too important, just administrative papers for school for his request at doing an internship; his hours for school, his papers to arrange transport there, and whatever else. Peter figures he might have a look at that later.

Aunt May isn’t home, running another shift at the hospital, once again working too hard to bring money on the table. It’s bothering Peter quite a lot, thinking how he’s got one sickeningly rich father who would be able to get them out of their troubles without any effort. The only problem is that said father has no idea he is Peter’s father.

Speaking of him, Peter quickly checks at his phone to see the time, finding that it’s almost three in the afternoon. His appointment with Mr. Stark is at five, meaning that he has two more hours to kill.

With the way he’s internally freaking out, this is the exact moment he would have taken to just go at Gwen’s place and chill out for a bit. Of course, he can’t go to her anymore, but Peter quickly remembers that he has friends now.

Well, sort of… he’s not really sure how to call them since he doesn’t really have much contact with them – or well, he mostly just ignores Wade’s request for a quicky after a battle in the future. In any way, he’s sure that he could go to the weird purple-haired girl he’s come to call ‘friend’ so quickly after meeting her. It’s quite strange.

He thinks over whether or not he should give her a call, but after a moment of thought he comes to the decision of just getting to her place. She’ll surely still be there.

Remembering that it had been raining when he returned home, Peter grabs his coat from the hanger before putting his backpack on. He quickly looks down to see if his suit isn’t showing under his shirt, and then he takes the papers back, puts them in the bag, and heads out of the door while still throwing it over his shoulder.

Having grabbed his skateboard, Peter throws it down on the ground none-too-gently before putting one foot on it. He knows it’s quite a little way before he’ll get there, but at least this way he’ll kill more time. In the case that Yaël wouldn’t be home, Peter would just continue walking towards Stark Industries and lose more time. At least this way he can clear his head some more.

Another coughing fit gets the better of him, and Peter groans in annoyance. He had been correct to think that almost drowning would leave him sick. One day after walking around with an extremely sour throat, Peter had caught a cold that kept him in bed for two more days. His nose had felt horrible while leaking all the time, and he couldn’t spend one minute without ending up coughing his lungs out. Even now, he’s still not feeling one hundred percent better, but he doesn’t want to postpone this.

Better to just get everything over with.

With each bird that Peter sees flying in the air, his mind immediately warns him that the Goblin has returned. As it turns out, having a cold means that his senses are all messed up, feeling danger whenever there isn’t any. Another cold chill passes him by, but nothing happens.

The Goblin… as it turns out, Falcon and War Machine failed to catch the guy, meaning that he’s still wandering around somewhere, doing who knows what! It’s no wonder Peter’s feeling so paranoid right now, since Harry – err, the Goblin – seems to have taken a special interest in getting Peter out of the picture.

How did Harry even escape? He thought they’d capture him that first time? He should have asked, but only thinks of it now…

With his hands in his pockets and his eyes looking down at the ground, Peter isn’t really aware of what’s happening in front of him, which is why he’s taken by surprise when he suddenly walks up against somebody.

“Watch out!” a low voice says angrily. Peter looks up, seeing a tall man standing there with his phone pressed against his ear. Said man is no-one other than Dr. Stephen Strange; Peter recognizes him from one of the pictures Aunt May showed him when the guy appeared in the newspaper for one of his miraculous saves. He doesn’t pay any further attention on Peter as he walks towards the hospital. Huh, Peter hadn’t even noticed he was here already.

He contemplates if he should get inside and pay Aunt May a visit, but eventually he decides not to do it. He shouldn’t disturb her while she’s working, especially if Strange is here today. That’s one of the surgeons Peter mostly likes to avoid, after all the stories Aunt May told about him.

No, better keep out of his way. Peter sighs and pushes his skateboard forward again. It feels good to just travel around like any ordinary teenage kid would do. Sure, it’s awesome being Spider-Man, but sometimes he misses being normal a bit.

After one hour of just walking (skateboarding?) around, Peter finds himself in front of the building that contains Yaël’s crappy apartment. Without hesitation, he takes the skateboard in hand and jumps up the stairs. The apartment is on the top floor, but Peter has no trouble getting to the top. With quick knocks on the door, Peter announces his presence.

What he doesn’t expect is for Captain America himself to open the door.

“Uh-,” Peter gets out, feeling the air escape his lungs. The man in front of him – Steve Rogers, Peter reminds himself, since he’s not in uniform right now – just chuckles as he leans against the door.

“I suspect you’re here for Yaël, aren’t you?” the man asks. Peter nods, unable to say anything. “You’re welcome to come inside. I’ll go wake her.”

Wake her? She’s still asleep? What the hell, it’s four in the afternoon!

“Th-thank you, sir,” Peter mutters, unsure whether he should call him Cap or Mr. Rogers. Surely, Steve would be too bold of him. After receiving a nod from the man, Peter hurries inside and drops down his skateboard and bag. Then he shrugs off his coat, which is barely wet since it stopped raining ten minutes into his trip.

Mr. Rogers walks away from the living room, getting towards where Peter suspects is Yaël’s bedroom. Instead of getting inside, he knocks on the door a few times, almost loud enough to wake somebody in a coma. Peter just clears his throat and decides to take place on the couch.

Wow, he really wasn’t expecting this; Steve Rogers and Yaël? Together? He wouldn’t have expected it from the Captain, really. But then again, what does he know about the man?

“Yaël, get up!” Mr. Rogers calls out, knocking once more. When there’s still no answer, the man sighs and opens the door to get inside. Peter decides to look away, fishing out his cellphone. At first he thinks of checking his Facebook, but instead he decides to just start up a little game of Solitaire until they’re back.

After what can’t be less than a minute, Mr. Rogers is taking place on the couch in front of him, giving Peter a friendly smile. There’s noise coming from Yaël’s bedroom, meaning that she’s getting herself ready for the day… well, whatever’s left of it.

“So, what’s your name?” Mr. Rogers asks. Peter opens up his mouth to answer, but then another coughing fit takes control of him.

With trouble, he manages to stammer out his name. “Peter Parker, sir.”

Instead of being disgusted by Peter’s sick state, Mr. Rogers only holds out his hand towards Peter with a smile. Peter accepts the handshake.

“Steve Rogers,” the man simply says. “Just call me Steve.”

Yeah, okay. That’s going to be hard to remember. 'Mr. Rogers' just comes to naturally to him.

“So, what brings you here, Peter?”

Oh, they’re going for small talk while waiting for Yaël to get out of bed? What is she even still doing there? Post-coital nap? Oh crap, Peter really didn’t have to think about Captain America having sex with anybody, thank you very much!

“Uh, I have an appointment at Stark Industries in an hour, and thought I could just… kill time here for a while,” Peter shrugs. Steve’s eyes go wide upon the mention at Mr. Stark’s company.

“Really? What’s the meeting about? If I may ask, of course?” Typical Captain America, so friendly all the time. Peter just chuckles and shakes his head while looking at his hands.

“Nothing much, just a talk with Mr. Stark to get an internship at his company,” Peter says in a soft shrug. Steve then smiles at him.

“He will be glad to hear that. Don’t tell him I said this, but he really enjoys giving the younger generations the chance of learning. Though there’s a chance you won’t really see much of him, I’m afraid.”

“How so?” Peter asks, immediately afraid that his plan will be for nothing.

“There are interns, sure. But only a select few are allowed to work with Tony personally. He only takes the most promising students fully under his wings, I suppose,” Steve says, sounding a bit off while he talks. Then he sighs and offers Peter another smile. “But if you’re a smart kid, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about it.”

Crap, Peter knows he’s smart, but he doesn’t know if he’s smart enough to be working with Mr. Stark! No matter he’s got his own brain from the man, he’s never really been surrounded into the electrical engineering world like he has been. Mostly, everything Peter knows is self-taught.

“’Mornin’,” Yaël mutters while getting herself to her coffee machine. Peter gives the purple-haired girl a long look, raising his eyebrow at her while she grabs a mug from the counter.

“Uh, it’s past four in the afternoon?” Peter says. Yaël looks up in confusion, but then her eyes open up wide.

“Oh, crap! I knew I shouldn’t have partied with Wade last night,” she mutters. Steve chuckles, then. “How long have you been here, by the way?” she then asks the other man, who in turn shrugs in response.

“Somehow, Wade called me up and told me you needed an escort home. After I got you here, I made myself comfortable on the couch,” Steve says. Peter then rests his eyes back on the Captain sitting in front of him. So… the two didn’t have sex together? At least that’s a relief, somehow.

“You could have woken me,” Yaël mutters into her cup. After taking a large gulp, she turns back to Peter. “You have your interview, no?”

Peter nods, glad she does remember.

“When?”

“Uh, in forty minutes,” Peter says, looking down at his watch. Yaël’s eyebrows go up.

“So what’cha doin’ here?” she asks.

“Uh, wanted to hang, I suppose. Got a bit nervous,” Peter answers. She would know why he would be nervous, but he hopes she won’t bring the issue up. It’s not time for even Steve Rogers to know that Tony Stark has a son.

After taking another sip from her coffee, Yaël drops down the mug and dries her upper lip.

“You need me to join?”

Uh, that was not his intention at all. What would she even want to tag along for? Who knows how long the interview could last? She would end up bored as hell while waiting for him.

Somehow, it’s Steve who seems opposed to that idea. “Yaël,” he somehow warns her, and Yaël holds up her hands in a questioning stance. Then she rolls her eyes.

“Sure, the guy somehow can’t stand me, but it’s not like I’ll run in to him, right? Besides, if he’s so butthurt about it, he can just kiss my-“

“Yaël!” Steve and Peter say at the same time, both with cheeks slightly colored red. Then Yaël closes her mouth, realizing where she was going with that line. Lowering her head, she holds up her hands again.

“Sorry, shouldn’t have said that,” she mutters. “But c’mon Steve, I can’t let Peter go there alone! Can’t you see how nervous he is?”

At that, Steve turns to look at him. Peter then, too, looks down at his own hands, realizing that he’s indeed trembling. Oh, crap… Quickly, he pulls his hands back and hides them in the pockets of his hoody. Steve then sighs, again.

“Fine, just… stay away from him, okay? I know it sounds kind of… mean from him, but I really think he can’t handle it right now.”

The Cap and Yaël look at each other a bit longer, and Peter just clears his throat and tries to keep his gaze everywhere but at the two of them. Then he bites his lips, getting his hands back out of his pockets to clap them together.

“Right, uh… Do you have a car, maybe?” Peter asks, trying to get the conversation to go forward. Yaël moves away from the counter after that, revealing that she is actually dressed to go outside, despite her hair looking the way it should look after waking up. Her hands come to rest on her hips while she stands next to him.

“Oh, I see how it is. Mr. Parker just wanted a ride, isn’t it?” she says, jokingly. Peter stammers, trying to counter that accusation but actually feeling far too nervous to even manage that. “Well, too bad for you; I don’t have a driver’s license, after all.”

“No way, I got mine before you?” Peter asks in confusion. That earns him a glare from the girl and another chuckle coming from Steve.

“Not like I needed a driver’s license in space,” she mutters. If Peter would have been drinking something, he would have spitted it back out right into Steve’s face upon that revelation. Space? What is she on about? Steve, too, looks surprised, though clearly not for the same reason Peter is. “Oh yeah, apparently I’m an alien from outer space. Who knew, right?”

Peter shouldn’t be too surprised about it, though. They’ve known there’s alien activity ever since the Chitauri attack back in 2012. Peter had been younger then, watching everything happening through the television with Uncle Ben and Aunt May next to him, holding him tightly as they watched Iron Man carry a nuclear bomb into space.

Wow, his father carried an actual nuke in space. Not many teenagers can say that shit, right?

“Hey, you don’t get to laugh, Capsicle! Best friends with Stark and you can’t even work a simple smartphone? The man would be ashamed!” With that, Yaël points towards the flip-phone lying on the table. Steve once again turns red in the face.

Right, maybe Peter should ask about the alien thing later. That’s probably for the best.

“Well, uh, we should probably get a cab now, then. Who knows how crowded the roads will be?” Peter suggests. Yaël nods and heads towards her own bag, fishing out her wallet and checking if she still has cash. Peter quickly notices there aren’t many cards in there.

“Alright, let’s go. Steve, you’re staying over tonight?” she asks. Steve hesitates.

“Do you need me to? I wouldn’t mind, but there’s still someone who needs me at the compound,” Steve says. Peter doesn’t need to guess to know who he’s talking about. As far as he can make out, Mr. Stark isn’t doing so well at the moment.

“No, it’s fine. You just go, lover-boy,” Yaël teases him, and much to Peter’s surprise, Cap actually blushes at that.

Huh, maybe it’s not about Mr. Stark? Maybe Cap actually has someone there who he wants to spend time with. He should ask Yaël, since she seems to know much about him.

The three of them walk out of the apartment in a good silence. Once outside, Steve takes his motorcycle – Peter remembers driving along with him a while back – and nods towards the two others.

“Alright, take care, you two. Peter, good luck. Don’t be too nervous, Tony’s not mean,” he says with a wink.

“Thank you, Steve,” Peter says, only remembering in time not to say ‘Mr. Rogers’. Then Steve starts driving again, leaving the two of them to wait for a cab. Peter casts a short look towards Yaël and snorts. “So, you’re hungover?”

“What?” Yaël asks, suddenly pulled away from whatever train of thought she was in. “Pffrt, no way! I’m fine.”

“And you’re an alien,” Peter adds to that, dryly.

“Yeah, apparently so. Though nobody wants to tell me where I’m from or how I got to be here,” Yaël complains. “It’s so frustrating, I can’t remember anything, and everybody who knows just simply refuses to say anything!”

Peter feels for her. He wishes he could help, but he can’t really do anything here. So he doesn’t answer. Nothing is said as they hold up their hands to stop a taxi, only to have it drive them by. There’s already somebody inside, Peter quickly notes. Better to just wait for the next one, then.

“Oh, crap. I remember, taxi-drivers are crazy here,” Yaël mutters. Peter snorts.

“Eh, most of them are alright. You just need to be lucky,” he shrugs. Just as he finishes his sentence, a taxi comes to a screeching halt in front of them, revealing none other than freaking Wade inside. Sigh, this guy is going to keep on popping up from everywhere, is he?

“How did you even know we needed a cab?” Yaël asks in confusion as she steps inside.

“I didn’t! I got someone chasing after me, but I saw you two holding out your hands like idiots so I figured you could use the drive. Come, come and follow me into my absolutely safe adventure. If you’re lucky, you might get to see an angry mutated wolverine, but don’t worry, he’s almost harmless!”

Peter rolls his eyes. He has no intention getting into that car. They’ll only end up dead, one way or another. That, or worse; he could miss his interview at Stark’s.

Oh, okay, Hermione! Maybe he should get his priorities straight here for a second.

“C’mon, we’re losing time,” Yaël says, pulling Peter inside the car. “We need to get to Stark Industries.”

Once they’re inside, Peter quickly straps on the seatbelt, preparing himself for the craziest ride of his life. When he looks next to him, he can notice a figure appearing from around the corner.

Crap, that’s Wolverine!

“So, you’re finally talking to your daddy? Sounds amazing!” Wade says, unworried about it all. Without warning, he starts up the car and starts driving. In the first five seconds, he already manages to break five traffic laws. He’s going to fast, sometimes ends up driving on the left side of the road, and doesn’t let passengers cross the road. He’s gotten through three red lights, smashed a hot dog stand, and ended up having five police-cars behind him. It takes them twenty freaking minutes to get there, due to Wade wanting to get the cops off his track.

“You crazy son of a-,” Peter mutters the moment they’re only minutes away from Stark industries, hands onto his stomach as he prepares himself to lose all the contents. Before he can finish his sentence, a loud scream is heard coming from Wade, and then the sound of some sort of blade. When Peter looks up, he sees one of Wolverine’s claws through the roof of the car, two of them buried deep into Wade’s skull.

Ah, well, at least for an hour people will be rid of the annoying Deadpool, Peter figures. But that doesn’t remove the fact that, right now, nobody’s driving.

“Crap!” Peter shouts. Quickly he scrambles towards to front seat, leaning to the left to grab the steering wheel in an attempt to avoid driving people over. Why did we even get in this car?

“Peter, watch out!” Yaël suddenly shouts, pointing towards something on the road. When Peter looks up, he realizes too late that there’s an old lady crossing the road. The only way of avoiding her is to crash the car, meaning that they could end up wounded. Peter really doesn’t want to end up at the interview all bloody.

With one hand removed from the steering wheel, Peter lifts Wade’s leg to get his foot off the accelerator, only to move it back onto the brake. Then he breaks open the windows, and starts shooting web around like crazy.

Maybe they don’t need to crash, after all. For a moment, he had actually forgotten that he’s Spider-man.

It hurts a lot, having to stop the car in such a short amount of time. His muscles strain from the pressure, and Peter ends up gritting his teeth as he slowly feels the webs slipping from his hands.

“Shit!” Peter shouts, releasing everything when he realizes he won’t be in time at all. With a sharp movement, Peter tugs at the steering wheel, making the car turn with loud, screeching wheels. The figure that is Wolverine literally flies off the roof, landing onto the street, while the car seems to lose its contact with the ground.

“Hold tight, we’re gonna crash!” Peter warns Yaël, who nods at him and holds herself tightly to whatever she can grab. Peter, with his quick reflexes, still manages to put on his seatbelt as they’re flying in the air. Through his window, Peter can see how they’re right above the old lady, who seems unbothered about it all.

The moment they touch down, glass seems to come from everywhere. Peter feels it cutting into his skin, leaving marks into places they shouldn’t be. There’s noise everywhere as the car slides forward, the roof scraping onto the asphalt, creating sparks everywhere.

It must be minutes when the car finally stops moving. With a groan, both Peter and Yaël start to remove themselves from their seats. While the two of them still have powers, they’re still vulnerable as any other person, meaning that trying to move still hurts like hell.

There are people surrounding the wreck that was once their car, looking worried and taking pictures. Some of them seem to be making phone calls, while others finally decide to help Peter and Yaël out of the wreck.

“Thanks,” Peter breathes out, ending up in another coughing fit due to the sudden excitement. Then he looks up, eyes going wide.

Huh, they’re standing right in front of Stark Industries… The universe must be shitting with him here.

“Go to the interview! I’ll see you in the lobby after I get Wade out of there!” Yaël tells him. Peter nods, but before he can run off, the girl reaches out for him to make him look as presentable again as possible. “Your suit is showing,” she also warns him as she buttons his collar back up.

“Thanks,” Peter says, grateful that she corrected that part. Then after another nod, Peter runs away through the crowd, making his way to the entrance of Stark tower. He’s probably the only one getting inside, while everybody’s running out to check and see what’s going on in the streets. Slightly out of breath and feeling like he’s about ready to just fall down, Peter runs towards the reception, where he’s not surprised to see this Lincoln again.

Right, the guy that gave Peter his number.

“Holy shit, what happened to you?” the guy asks, mouth having fallen open.

“Uh, that’s a long story,” Peter says, trying to wave the question away. “I’m here to see Mr. Stark?”

Lincoln raises his eyebrow at him, but before he can pick up the phone to place the call, the elevator dings open, revealing no-one other than Tony Stark himself.

As it turns out, even Mr. Stark has gotten curious as to what the ruckus has been outside of his tower. Still neatly in the suit (not the Iron Man suit, though), the billionaire starts walking towards the exits until he sees Peter standing there, looking the way he does with cuts and bruises all over his face.

“Don’t tell me you were in that crash?” Mr. Stark asks. Peter just chuckles lightly, despite not really feeling happy about it.

“Cab-drivers are crazy, these days,” is all Peter says. Mr. Stark just gives him a long look before sighing and nodding back towards the elevator. Peter nods as well, straightening his shirt a bit and throwing Lincoln a nervous glance. The guy holds his thumbs up.

Okay, so the guy might be interested in ways Peter isn’t, but he’s still an okay-dude. Maybe they should hang out, though strictly only as friends, of course.

There’s an awkward silence the moment the elevator-door closes in front of them. Mr. Stark pushes the second-to-last-highest button on the pad to get towards his office, but doesn’t start to speak at all. Peter is aware that the man is looking at him curiously, taking in his messy look.

After a deep intake of breath, something is finally said.

“You should have those cuts cleaned,” Mr. Stark says. Peter nods nervously. When the elevator dings, the doors slide open and Peter is brought into the familiar hallway that leads to Mr. Stark’s office. This time, the assistant isn’t sitting at her desk in the front.

Mr. Stark points towards his chair, and Peter swallows before nodding. Then he sits down on his assigned seat, remembering how comfortable the chair had been last time, too. This is certainly a chair he could get used to, he figures.

“So, it seems you’ve made your mind about the direction you were wanting to go?” Mr. Stark asks while he, too, sits himself down on his chair. Then he leans his chin onto his hands, while his elbows are resting on the desk. Peter simply nods again, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“Yes, sir,” he then says, figuring he should at least try to talk a little. He notices Mr. Stark look straight at him, seeming worried. When Peter tries to look away, he suddenly notices something on the man’s right hand.

Oh, this must be why he wasn’t at the last Goblin-fight. Mr. Stark has his fingers bandaged together. In one way or another, he must probably have broken them. Letting him stay behind surely must have been Cap’s idea, then.

Mr. Stark just stares at him for a little while longer, but then he lets out a breath and just shakes his head.

“Okay, kid, I can’t stand this sight any longer,” he says, and then he lowers his healthy hand back on the desk. “FRIDAY, can you call up Mrs. Terrence? Tell her to bring some antiseptic and bandages for multiple cut-wounds.”

“Alright, sir,” a voice says, seeming to come from the ceiling. Peter has heard of FRIDAY, so he’s not too worried about the sudden appearance of the voice.

“Thank you,” Mr. Stark returns, before shaking his head. Peter bites his lip a bit harder, trying to look everywhere but at the man in front of him – his father, his mind feels obliged to remind himself. “Now, let’s get started.”

Mr. Stark asks questions. A lot of them, mostly about hypothetical situations and how Peter would act in them. Somewhere in the beginning of the interview, the woman called Rosaly Terrence starts cleaning up his wounds while the two keep on talking. After ten minutes, she leaves again.

Sometimes Mr. Stark asks him tricky questions, but so far Peter doesn’t seem to fall for them. When Peter is asked if he has a portfolio, the boy swallows before shrugging.

“I suppose I only have one thing worth mentioning,” he says before he can think better of it. But the moment the words are out of his mouth, Mr. Stark’s interests are peaked. It’s too late. Quickly, Peter clears his throat and looks back down at his wrist. Without trying to be too obvious about it, he takes off the web-shooters while reaching for his bag.

Then, after pretending to be searching for a few seconds, Peter pulls out the two watch-like creations and holds them out to Mr. Stark.

“And what is this?” the man asks curiously, taking the two things in his hands and observing them deeply.

“Uh, they’re recreations of Spider-Man’s web-shooters,” Peter says nervously. “I was kind of interested in how they worked, so I figured out a way to make them myself. Of course, I don’t have much use for them since I’m not super athletic and all and I can’t crawl on walls or whatever…”

Okay, he should stop rambling.

“How do they work?” Mr Stark asks, putting one of the watches around his wrist while giving it another short look. Then, without giving Peter the chance to answer, he holds out his hand and presses the right button that shoots a few short bursts of webs.

Mr. Stark laughs as he presses the button once more, though a little longer. This time, there’s a longer string of the web, and before it flies away Mr. Stark grabs a hold of it. The web is attached to the wall, so Mr. Stark gives it a good pull to check if it would break.

That thing can carry my weight without trouble, of course that won’t break, Peter thinks to himself, but keeping his mouth shut wisely.

“Pretty impressive, Mr. Parker,” Mr. Stark says, pulling the bracelet off again before handing it back to Peter. “How long did it take you to make these?”

“Eh, about a day,” Peter shrugs. It had been a long day, of course, but lots and lots of experimenting surely makes the time move faster. Peter had been enjoying himself in trying out formula after formula to recreate a perfect and sturdy web.

“A day, huh?” Mr. Stark watches how Peter puts the shooters back into his bag before leaning forward on his desk a bit. “Anything else you’ve created?”

“Uh,” Peter gets out, thinking back of what he’s made in the past. “I made an automatic lock on my door that I can control with my computer?” he tries, but then he tries to search a bit further. “My Uncle and I, we used to fix up his car a few times. Or I upgraded a friend’s computer once after it kept on crashing.”

Okay, now he’s really searching for it. He understands that the man before him build his first robot when he was even younger than Peter now is, so this all probably doesn’t sound impressive at all.

“One time I added boosters to my skateboard to go faster. I ended up breaking my arm,” Peter finishes, looking back down at his hands after that.

Mr. Stark gives him another long look before standing up. Then he motions for Peter to do the same. Peter obeys, quickly following his father towards a door Peter hadn’t noticed before. The room inside of it is dark, but once Mr. Stark starts up the lights, Peter can see exactly where he is.

This is the room where Mr. Stark keeps all of his armors.

“Holy cow,” Peter mutters, taking in the multiple armors standing on display behind glass, lights shining on them.

“Follow me,” Mr. Stark instructs once again. Peter sees how the man is slowly making his way towards his work bench, where something that looks an awful lot like the Iron man gauntlet is lying on the wooden table. “Now, Mr. Parker. Last time I was on the field, my repulsor failed and I missed a shot. I’ve already looked at the problem, but haven’t taken care of it yet.” With that, Mr. Stark holds up his wounded hand and just shrugs.

Peter can already feel what’s coming for him.

“What I want to ask of you is to take a good look at the gauntlet to figure out what exactly is wrong with it.”

Peter’s eyes open up wide, looking back up at the man that is his father, standing in front of him. He doesn’t know if he can do what Mr. Stark is expecting of him; he has no idea how repulsor energy works, after all. Sure, he’s able to get a grasp on any technology he comes across with if he puts a bit of effort in it, but in a matter of minutes? Peter’s not sure he can manage that…

“Just take your time, Peter. You can even sit down, take a look at the documents. When you’ve found it, just come back to me and we’ll look it over,” Mr. Stark says, putting his healthy hand on Peter’s shoulder and squeezing it shortly before starting to walk out of the room to give Peter a bit of privacy.

Crap, and Yaël is waiting outside for me… But, Peter’s sure she’ll understand. It’s about getting to know his father, after all. This was all her idea to begin with.

So, with that, Peter gives the gauntlet a first look.

“Uh, might have to remove the metal plates first,” Peter mutters to himself, but giving it a long look, he figures he doesn’t really have any idea how to do that. Maybe he needs to randomly press buttons? But then again, Mr. Stark did say that the thing didn’t work anymore, so it might not open up at all.

“Do you need any assistance, Mr. Parker?” the voice of FRIDAY suddenly calls out, and in his surprise Peter drops the gauntlet back on the ground and almost jumps off his seat. Oh, right, it’s the AI that always helps Mr. Stark around.

“Uh, I’m just wondering how I’ll get to open this thing,” Peter mutters, taking the gauntlet from the floor to see if there’s any damage. Of course, Mr. Stark wouldn’t invent crap, so that drop wouldn’t leave a dent in the metal.

“Underneath the wrist, there’s a hidden lever. You’ll need to push it, and then pull it,” Friday explains calmly. Peter shudders a bit at the idea that, even though she sounds extremely human, she’s still a program designed by Mr. Stark.

Following her explanations, Peter finds the lever and does as she told him. Almost immediately, the gauntlet opens up, revealing the complicated structure underneath it. Peter shakes his head, wondering how he’ll ever figure this out.

“Is there anything else I need to know to figure this out?” Peter asks. FRIDAY stays quiet, probably instructed by Mr. Stark not to help any further. Peter then just sighs and takes another look at the gauntlet.

Should he…? He knows he wants to try it, but what if Mr. Stark comes in and sees him?

Ah, what the hell? Without further hesitation, Peter puts his hand into the open space inside the gauntlet, surprised when it closes again around him, fitting him perfectly somehow. As Peter moves around with it, he realizes that it sits very comfortable, as well. There’s nothing poking him in the skin, or making it difficult to move his fingers. It’s almost as if he’s not wearing anything at all.

“Now, I wonder what makes you tick,” Peter mutters, turning back around to look at the desk. There he sees some sort of round device, with wires lying in the direction where the gauntlet had been. Huh, that must be the power source, right? Peter finds the lever again and opens up the gauntlet once more before taking the blueprints of the gauntlet that Mr. Stark left behind for him. What better way to find out how the thing ticks?

Peter compares everything he sees on the pieces of paper with whatever he finds in the gauntlet. Every little screw – not that there are many – or cable inside, he searches through it all to find anything that might indicate that there’s something wrong. But even with the limited knowledge he has on electrical engineering, Peter quickly comes to find that there’s nothing wrong with it, really.

“So, if it isn’t the gauntlet, maybe it’s the power source?” Peter mutters again to himself, looking back at the round thing on the table that Peter suspects is what brought the power. It reminds him a bit of the round thing Iron Man has in the middle of his chest. It doesn’t take long for him to put two and two together, then.

Gently, Peter attaches the cables to where they’re supposed to be connected, waiting for some sort of spark or whatever, but glad to see there’s nothing starting to burn. Then Peter takes a deep breath and takes the round device in his hand.

“Now where are your blueprints?” Peter mutters out loud, hoping that the question will cause for FRIDAY to help him out again. When there doesn’t come any answer, Peter just shrugs and starts going through different drawers to see if he finds anything.

Once he gets to a folder with ‘Miniature Arc Reactor’ written on it, Peter finds something familiar in the name. He picks out the folder, takes a look at the papers, and eventually finds some documents that explain to him a bit better what this device is.

It is some sort of battery, Peter finds. It works on complete clean energy, and it’s almost limitless. Though, clearly, something is not alright with it, since the thing isn’t glowing at all the way it’s supposed to. Finding himself a screw, Peter starts to loosen the top plate to have a look at what’s inside.

It takes another half hour for him to work on it. He feels sorry for Yaël, who’s still waiting for him downstairs. He’ll make it up to her, that he swears to himself. Eventually, after a lot of sweat and swearing, Peter manages to fix something together on the Arc Reactor. In any way, it starts glowing again in that bright blue color, meaning that at least he did something right.

Peter then opens up the gauntlet again, putting his hand inside and holding his arm up. Then, with his left hand, Peter searches a bit for the switch on the arc reactor, suddenly hearing that familiar sound of the repulsor loading.

Crap, time to turn it off again! Peter tries to dial the switch back down, but it seems like he’s too late. Quickly turning to somewhere there isn’t any glass, a blast of energy escapes from the gauntlet, hitting the wall with a loud noise. From the sudden shock, Peter is once again thrown from his seat, finding himself on the floor again, looking up to find dust filling the room.

Okay… He made a hole in the wall… He can probably kiss that internship goodbye now.

It’s almost comical how Mr. Stark suddenly appears at the doorway, looking at Peter lying on the ground with his arm still raised to the destruction he accidentally caused with an eyebrow raised up high. He stays quiet for a moment, scratching the back of his head while biting his lip, while Peter just prepares himself to be thrown out of the building any second now.

“Well, I didn’t expect you to actually fix it,” Mr. Stark suddenly says, laughing a bit before walking back towards Peter and holding out his hand. “Now, get up. I want to see what you’ve done with it.”

“Bu-but Mr. Stark! Your wall! I’m so sorry!” Peter stammers out the moment he’s back on his feet. Mr. Stark then just flips the comment away, scoffing at the thought. He nods back towards his office and leaving the place of destruction behind.

“FRIDAY, call the cleaning crew,” Mr. Stark says. The AI affirms, and after that, Mr. Stark points back at the chair Peter had been sitting on. Unaware that he’s still holding the gauntlet and the arc reactor, Peter sits down and bites his lip some more.

Crap crap crap crap!

“Show me that thing,” Mr. Stark says, pointing towards the gauntlet and the arc reactor. Peter obeys and hands it to him, dropping it back down on the desk and fidgeting his fingers together the moment they were freed from the mechanical glove.

Mr. Stark observes the gauntlet at first, but then nods.

“You didn’t change anything here, right?”

Peter shakes his head. Mr. Stark then puts the gauntlet down and reaches for the reactor instead.

“I must say, I only expected you would come to me to say that there was something wrong with the arc reactor. I’m surprised you actually managed to fix it,” Mr. Stark says, sounding impressed. Peter feels his face flush red, but he tries not to let it show too much.

“Actually, it was a lot less complicated than it looked,” Peter says, trying not to make too much of a big deal out of it. Mr. Stark raises another eyebrow and then puts the reactor down again.

“Then how is it that even the best scientists that have been working for Stark Industries can’t recreate this device even with the blueprints?” he asks. Peter’s mouth falls open, any attempt to answer that gone as the breath escapes from his lungs.

Surely, the Arc Reactor can’t be that complicated? Sur, Peter has limited knowledge on how the thing works, but given a bit of time he managed to find some sort of beginning to base himself on. Besides, the technology is there, right? It can’t be that impossible to find out?

Just face it, Peter. You know it’s because you’re actually a Stark, a voice inside his head says. Peter bites his lips closely together to keep his mouth shut.

“You can go downstairs and get yourself a badge. If you give me your school-hours, my assistant will work out some sort of schedule for you to be here, which I’ll send to you through mail. On the first day, you will be given the tour, but after that you’re expected to start working alongside the other creators.”

Mr. Stark keeps on talking while he starts to fill in some documents.

“You ready, FRIDAY?”

“I have put it all in the database, sir,” FRIDAY answers. Mr. Stark nods and then hands Peter his papers.

“Now give me your school schedule.”

Peter picks up his bag to put the papers away. After that, he fishes out the copy of his schedule that he made in the library earlier. He gives it a short look before handing it to Mr. Stark. The man doesn’t take it from him, instead pointing towards the desk in a motion that he should just put it there.

Then another piece of paper comes out of the printer. Mr. Stark takes it out, gives it a quick once-over before shoving it back towards Peter.

“Don’t lose this, it indicates that you have clearance to the top floors. Just hand this to the receptionist downstairs and he’ll make sure your badge is changed accordingly.” Peter then thinks back of Lincoln downstairs.

“That’ll be all, Mr. Parker,” Mr. Stark then says. Peter nods shortly before pulling all his stuff back together. The papers he can’t lose he keeps in his hands, with the idea of getting all of this in order with the receptionist downstairs.

“Th-thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, bowing his head a bit while he shows his gratitude. Mr. Stark just gives him a long look before standing up. Then he holds out his hand for Peter to shake, which he does.

“Stop being so nervous, I’m not going to eat you,” Mr. Stark then says, jokingly. Peter laughs quickly before nodding again.

“I’m looking forward to be working here,” he admits, silently a bit proud that he made the cut. Though he has no idea if he made that cut. Is he ever going to work alongside Mr. Stark this upcoming internship?

“We’ll see each other soon,” Mr. Stark says. When somebody knocks on the door, the man lets go of Peter’s hand and takes a step back. “Yes?”

In comes Mr. Stark’s new assistant – Peter has failed to get her name before. She’s a tall, blonde woman, dressed in a tight black skirt and a loose white top. When Peter takes a look at her heels, he wonders if that could even be comfortable to stand in.

“Mr. Stark, Mr. Rogers is here, said he wanted to talk with you,” the woman says, keeping her hand on the door-handle. Mr. Stark nods and waves at her that she can go, which she does without another word. Quickly after that, the door opens again, revealing none other than Steve Rogers.

Well, that must be Peter’s cue to leave, right? He holds the bag on his shoulder a bit tighter before clearing his throat.

“Alright, I must be going now,” Peter says, but he notices quickly that he’s lost the attention of Mr. Stark, who looks at Steve with what looks like an angry expression.

“What are you doing here, Rogers?” Mr. Stark asks, sounding bitter. Peter figures he’ll just have to walk out without getting a goodbye. It’s fine, it’s not like he’d expected Mr. Stark to be the most respectful man in the world.

“There’s something we need to discuss, Tony,” Steve says, holding up a small black box in his hands, which looks a lot like a medication-container to Peter. When he notices Peter slowly walking away, the super soldier gives him a wide smile. “Ah, you’re still here? How did it go?”

Peter doesn’t speak, only holds out his thumb to say it went well, and then he waves at them quickly. Once again, there’s no response from Mr. Stark, who seems to be getting more annoyed by Cap’s presence.

At least the two men wait to speak until Peter’s out of the door. When Peter sees that the assistant is not nearby, Peter decides to wait for a little moment. He knows it’s not his place, but he finds himself mighty curious.

“You forgot your box – AGAIN,” Peter hears Cap say.

“Maybe there’s a reason for that?”

“Which is?”

“Maybe I don’t need them?”

“Tony, you know you’re not alright. That’s why you agreed to get help again. If your doctor tells you to take meds, you should-“

“I should what, Rogers? Be dependent of pills again? Because of a stupid setback?”

“A major depression is not a stupid setback, Tony!”

Peter wants to hear more, but he startles when he hears footsteps coming up behind him. Quickly he pulls away from the door, trying to pretend like he hasn’t been listening in at the two men. The woman doesn’t even look up when Peter walks by.

It’s probably best he doesn’t hear what’s said next. With grim thought, Peter looks back down at his clock, finding that he’s been up here for at least an hour and half. He should get moving.

Besides, he’s got stuff that needs to be done.

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