#pleae forgive my typos

[losingmymindtonight]

Duuuuude, your Rich Bitch fic sounds amazing, like I'm a sucker for those gala-Peter-is-overwelmed-and-out-of-his-element-needs-guidance/protection-and/or-embarrasses-himself kind of fics, but your whole thing sounds like such a fresh and new take on the popular trope, it's very interesting!! Therefore.... My next question IS: what about the "Pick up 5 + 1" - what's that about???

It was going to be “5 Times Tony Picked Peter Up And The 1 Time Peter Returned The Favor,” or something like that. If I remember correctly, my plan was to explore different connotations of the phrase “pick up.” For example, you can pick someone up emotionally, you can pick them up from a party, you can physically pick them up and carry them, etc. The +1 was going to be having Peter use his super-strength to save Tony’s life in an emergency. I couldn’t find the outline, which is buried in one of my notebooks, but that was essentially the idea.

And, since I’m probably never going to finish this (I think there’s already a fic that’s basically has this title, and that’s why I abandoned it) but since I did actually write about 1000 words of a first chapter/section, I’ll just slap it here for y’all to semi-enjoy.

–

Tony got the first text from Peter at the glorious time of 1:58 am.

He was, of course, not asleep. He was sitting at the kitchen island, munching on a post-midnight snack, but still. The principle remained.

The Kid: s o sThe Kid: im gnna call uThe Kid: plz say noThe Kid: then pick me upThe Kid: plz

He snorted, typing out his response with one hand while bringing his sandwich back up to his mouth with the other.

TS: got you

The Kid: ur the bestThe Kid: u’ll be on speakerphoneThe Kid: so… be cool be cool

A second later, his phone lit up with Peter’s contact picture. He let it ring a few times to give the impression that he was caught off guard, then answered it.

“What’s up, Pete?”

“Hey, Mister Stark.” To an untrained ear, Peter’s voice was as normal as could be. But Tony knew the kid well enough to detect the barest trace of discomfort. Wherever he was, he really didn’t want to be there. “I, uh, I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“I know I’m supposed to be at the Tower by 2:30,” that wasn’t true, but he went along with it anyway, “but my friends and I really wanna go to get some food, so can I stay out later or do I really need to come back now?”

“No, Parker.” He made his voice sharp and stern, putting on the perfect show of over-strict-parent that he’d learned from Howard Stark himself. “I gave you a curfew, and I expect you to stick to it. No exceptions.”

He heard muffled voice in the background: obviously Peter’s friends trying to convince him to beg.

“Please, Mister Stark?”

“I said no, Peter.” He stood, and waved to F.R.I.D.A.Y. to shut down the lights as he headed for the elevator. “I’m coming to get you. Where are you?”

“Mister Stark.” Despite the over-exaggerated whine, he could sense the relief in Peter’s voice. “Please?”

“Don’t argue. You’re coming home.” He wandered out into the garage and lazily picked on of his older Audis. It was dark, and late, and he didn’t really feel like putting on too much of a show. “Now, are you going to give me an address, or do I have to track your phone?”

Peter groaned. Tony could swear he could hear him stomping his feet in the background. In all honesty, he was impressed by his dedication to the act. “Fine.”

The kid rattled off an address. F.R.I.D.A.Y. calculated that it would take him about 20 minutes to arrive, taking into account current traffic condition. He conveyed that back to Peter, then hung up.

As it turned out, the address Peter gave him was to a bodega on a random street corner on the westernmost side of Queens. He was loitering there with his friends, a little unsteady on his feet and cheeks flushed under the streetlight. A quick survey of group told Tony that these were not Peter’s usual crowd. No MJ or Ned in sight.

Plus, MJ and Ned would’ve never let the kid get tipsy. He hadn’t been able to hear it through the phone, but he could see it now. He felt a flash of annoyance at the kid for galivanting around the city whilst intoxicated in the early hours of the morning, but pushed it down. He’d done much worse, at Peter’s age, and he hadn’t had superpowers to back him up.

He rolled down his window and glared, trying to force as much parental anger into it as possible. “Peter Parker, get your ass in the car this instant.”

“Mister Stark,” one of the kids asked, staggering significantly more than Peter. Where Peter was just dipping his toe into the ocean of drunkenness, this kid was clearly trashed. “Are you sure that Peter can’t stay?”

“Absolutely positive.” He turned his attention back to Peter. “Come on, Parker. We have a lot to discuss.”

Peter waved a morose goodbye to his friends and stalked towards the car, yanking open the passenger side door, flinging himself into the seat, and slamming it shut behind him.

The kid pulled his seatbelt over himself, fumbling with it for a few seconds before Tony reached over and latched it for him, then slouched into the window with a huff.

“I’m saying something really rude to you right now,” the kid snapped.

He put the car in drive, checked his mirror, then floored it while flickering an artificially disapproving look in Peter’s direction. “And I’m telling you that if you speak to me like that again, you’re grounded.”

They turned off on a different block, Peter’s friends disappearing around the bend.

Peter let out a laugh, false tension melting away. He pulled away from the window and shot Tony a lopsided thumbs up. “You’re the best at that.”

“At what?”

“At pretending to be pissed.”

He shot a sidelong glance at Peter, briefly considered stringing him along and pretending to actually be mad, then discarded it in favor of matching his smile. “Yeah, well, you’re not too bad yourself. Even if you are drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“No,” he agreed. “Although I’d love to know how much you had to drink to get there.”

“Oh, my god, Tony,” Peter said, seeming to take Tony’s easy demeanor and running with it. “So much. Like, a scary amount.”

He shot him a sidelong glace, just on the edge of disproving. The kid still shrank underneath it. “Not exactly my favorite thing you’ve ever told me.”

Peter winced. “Am I, uh, am I in trouble?”

“No,” he sighed. “It’s alright. We’ve all been there. Just, uh, just maybe don’t drink on street corners at 2:00 am, yeah? Just for my poor heart’s sake.”

“We didn’t drink on the street corner.”

“You’re not helping yourself.”

“I’m just telling you the truth!”

“Yeah, y’know what? Sometimes I kinda wish that you’d do a little less of that.”

“C’mon, don’t say that. I’m a model child.” Peter went quiet for a second, then nudged his arm from across the center console, tone dipping into something much more sincere. “Thanks for getting me, Mister Stark. Honestly, I was pretty bored.”

He smiled, eyes still fixed on the road, but watching the kid stare at him in his peripheral.

“Anytime, kid. I’m way cheaper than an Uber, anyway.”

“And much nicer,” Peter added.

He laughed. “Oh, I’d better be.”

#pleae forgive my typos #irondad #tony & peter #tony stark #peter parker #losingmymindtonight writes #oh!!! #I realize I forgot to thank you for saying such nice things about the other 5+1!!! #so thank you!!!! #I have lots of ideas but v little time :) #rip me