𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬? 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤.
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What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the-
“Can I come in?” Tony Stark asked. The fucking Tony Stark asked like it was some casual request.
Peter nodded, a squeak coming from his mouth instead of words.
Tony walked past him into the apartment. He looked smaller in person.
“You look smaller in person,” Peter said. As always, managing to find the absolute worst thing to say at any given time.
Tony raised a brow, “Seriously?”
“Sorry,” Peter said.
Tony made an unimpressed noise. He scanned the apartment with scrutinizing eyes.
Peter managed to form a single coherent thought, “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to talk about your incredibly impressive set of skills,” Tony said, emphasizing his words heavily.
Peter got the hint. Spider-Man. Even the most sneaky vigilante probably couldn’t evade Tony.
May stood up, wide awake as she said, “Tony Stark is in my living room.”
“Yep,” Peter said, “that’s what’s happening right now.”
Tony said, “I’m here to talk to Peter about an internship program we have running. He applied for it not too long ago and his resume is truly… something.”
May looked at Peter, “You never said anything about applying for an internship.”
“I-uh-well…” Peter fumbled to find a suitable lie.
Tony said, “It’s a very competitive program. He probably didn’t want to get your hopes up if he didn’t make the cut. But, he did so we don’t have to worry about it.”
“Is it protocol to personally meet the interns?” May asked.
Tony said, “Like I said, it’s very competitive.”
That seemed to assuage any concerns May had. They both excused themselves to discuss it privately in Peter’s bedroom.
-
The first thing Tony noticed about Peter’s bedroom was how much of a mess it was. The second thing was how many broken-down and refurbished electronics were just lying around.
Tony poked and prodded at a few of them. In particular, it was Spider-Man’s web formula that had intrigued him the most. If Peter had made it on his own, then he hadn’t been lying when he had said he was “hella good at chem.”
“Why are you really here?” Peter asked. He shifted his weight side to side as he watched Tony explore the room.
Tony asked, “Do I really need to tell you? I think it’s obvious.”
“I have no idea why you’re here,” Peter said. Tony could tell he was trying his damndest to say it emotionlessly, but his brown eyes made him an open book.
“Okay,” Tony explained, after a brief staring contest, “there are two reasons why I’m here.”
Peter looked confused. Clearly, he already knew Tony knew about Spider-Man. The texting thing was more likely the bigger mystery here.
Tony said, “Firstly, most importantly, you’re Spider-Man. That’s kind of a big deal. You’re out in the middle of Queens catching buses in midair.”
“I am most certainly not Spider-Man,” Peter said.
“You’re really gonna try that with me?” Tony asked, silently daring Peter to double down.
Peter relented, “So what if I am?”
“You’re a highschooler jumping around in glorified PJs and beating up criminals in the middle of dark alleyways.” Tony said, “Considering everything that’s going on, there’s a lot that could happen if you’re Spider-Man.”
Peter asked, “Like?”
“Like, Ross taking a keen interest in you and locking you up in the RAFT.” Tony said, “Or, someone - like the billions of enemies you’ve made by involving yourself in a million crime rings - tracking you down, finding your identity, and killing you or the people you love.”
Peter’s lips tightened as he folded his arms.
Tony said, “Listen, kid, I’m not gonna sugarcoat this for you. I didn’t have anyone telling me what would happen when I put on the armor. I just want you to know what will happen when you throw yourself into this. Because it’s not just your life you’re risking.”
Peter looked up at him with soft eyes. Tony sighed, he had never been good with kids.
“I understand what I’m doing.” Peter said, “I know the risk. But people need to know there’s someone out there for them.”
He huffed and fiddled with his sweater in a way that Tony found incredibly endearing.
Peter said, “What I’m trying to say is… the Avengers are heroes. And you guys are great! Don’t get me wrong, but… you guys are so far away from this-'' Peter demonstratively waved his hands around “-and people can count on you if aliens descend from the sky or if a computer tries to explode the Earth. But who’s here for the people when someone’s holding a gun to their forehead? Or when a crimelord is steadily gaining power and making the streets unsafe?
“The point is,” Peter sighed, “the people need to know there’s someone out there they can rely on now. When bad things are happening and you can do something about it, but you don’t… in my eyes, you’re just as complicit.”
Tony hesitated. What do you do when the kid you arrived to lecture is more mature than you?
“Alright,” Tony nodded, “seems like you’ve got it.”
Peter’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What now?” He asked, “Am I joining the Avengers or something?”
“God, no,” Tony laughed. He said, “You wouldn’t want to. We’re kind of in the middle of a legal battle.”
“The Sokovia Accords?”
Tony nodded, “Yep. And it’s been like pulling teeth. Between Ross and his minions and the Avenger’s neverending obstinance… Anyways, the point is the Avengers aren’t having the best time right now.”
Peter said, “That’s shitty.”
“The shittiest.” Tony said, “For now, Spider-Guy, I need you to lay low.”
“But-”
“I’m not asking you to go into an early retirement,” Tony cut in, “but with Ross riding my ass, it would be best if you stayed off of his radar in particular.”
Peter sighed, “Fine.”
“Now,” Tony said, “for the reason I actually wanted to meet you.”
Peter gave him a confused look, his brows furrowed and brown eyes analytical. He was trying to decipher if there was something he had missed, something he had forgotten.
Tony smiled, “You and I have been having a lot of incredibly enlightening conversations recently.”
“What?”
Tony raised his brows. Come on, Peter, you’re a smart kid, Tony thought, you can piece it together.
He could see the puzzle pieces falling in place in Peter’s mind. How everything aligned and made sense in crystal clarity all at once. He jumped up-
“Holy shit! It’s you! I texted you?” He yelled, before remembering his aunt was on the other side of the door. He whisper-yelled, “I texted you!”
“Crazy, right?” Tony said, “Out of all the people you could’ve accidentally texted, you texted me. When I first found out about your secret activities, I thought you might’ve done it on purpose. But, nope. It was chance. I don’t typically buy into all that karma, fate, and whatnot, but when the universe hits you in the face with a sign, it’s not usually smart to ignore it.”
Peter’s mouth was open in shock. He looked adorable like that. He had soft, pink, incredibly kissable lips.
Tony blinked hard as he said, “Also, there’s the Stark Internship Program. Or SIP, as I’ve officially unofficially dubbed it.”
“That’s real?” Peter asked.
Tony nodded, “Yep.”
“What about it?”
Tony asked, “Do you want to be my intern?”
“Will I get paid?”
Tony said, “Sure. How’s twenty-five an hour?”
“You pay your interns twenty-five an hour?” Peter asked. “What the hell do they do?”
Tony said, “Don’t know. Intern stuff, I would assume.”
The truth is, they don’t pay their interns twenty-five an hour. But he’d hope the money would entice Peter into accepting the position. Some may call that knowingly manipulating a disadvantaged teenager, but Tony calls it good bargaining.
“I’ll do it,” Peter said.
“Glad to know you’re on my team, Spider-Man,” Tony said.
-
“So how’d it go?” May asked the millisecond Tony was out of the apartment.
Peter said, “I got it.”
“Great!” May beamed, “Tell me all about it.”
Peter fumbled a bit, he had no idea what the hell he had agreed to. “It pays twenty-five an hour,” Peter offered.
May opened her mouth and considered for a moment. “They pay their interns twenty-five an hour?” She asked.
Peter’s lips straightened out, “He is a billionaire.”
She nodded with a smile, “Alright. Just let me know when you need to be there.”
“Of course, May,” Peter said.
He pulled out his phone.
peter: ned
peter: i have something very important to tell u
peter: u were right
tony: Kid. Read the contact before you send a message.
tony: Also, you can not tell anyone about this.
peter: how do u kno i was gonna tell him about u?
peter: what if i was gonna text him about FNAF
tony: What?
peter: do u also not know FNAF?
tony: What is it?
peter: on second thought,
peter: ur better off not knowing
tony: The point is, you can not tell anyone about the internship. Understood?
peter: Fine.
tony: Don’t take that tone with me.
peter: i don’t have a tone.
peter: i have to tell him i got a job at least
peter: it would be super sus if i started randomly getting money and leaving midday.
peter: some of the kids already think im a hooker.
tony: What?
peter: spider-man makes me do sus things like disappearing and what not
peter: anyways, some kids think its bc im a male escort.
tony: Jesus.
tony: Ok, Fine. Just don’t tell him anything specific. It’s important we leave as little of a paper trail as possible.
peter: texting is notoriously the best way to avoid a paper trail.
tony: I’ll take care of that part.
peter: r u going to go hacker mode?
tony: I guess.
Peter smiled.
Tony made a decent point, though. If Peter told Ned about the internship it would probably cause more problems. Ned was an amazing friend, but he was about as good as Peter was at keeping secrets. Which was a long-winded way of saying, they both sucked at keeping secrets.
Tony had been his hero since he was a kid. Peter was shocked at his own self-restraint. He felt like was going to explode when Tony entered his room
The thought of working alongside his actual hero made him feel like he was going insane.
He laid down, thoughts racing and mind exploring a myriad of possibilities. He couldn’t wait until he got to see Tony again.
-
“What are we going to do Mr. Stark?” Peter asked.
Tony huffed, “Call me Tony, kid.”
“But you’re my boss,” Peter said.
Tony had a tight hold on Peter as he guided him around the Avengers Compound. Peter’s heart was beating out of his chest, he hoped he looked more chill than he felt.
Tony said, “Yeah, I am. I’ll fire you if you keep calling me Mr. Stark.”
“I’ll make a note of it,” Peter said, “Mr. Stark.”
Tony side-eyed him, but didn’t retaliate. Peter considered that a win.
“Are we going to your lab?” Peter asked, practically vibrating out of his skin from excitement.
Tony said, “Yeah.”
“That’s so awesome,” Peter said with a toothy smile. He quickly remembered that he wanted to look chill. He forced himself to calm down, an impossible task when he was surrounded by so much cool shit.
“Yeah,” Tony said, “I figured you could be my new lab buddy. My old one sorta went AWOL and no one knows where he is so…”
“Oh,” Peter said with a frown. He was about to summon some words of encouragement when Tony spoke.
“That’s not important right now.” Tony said, “What’s important is getting you settled in.”
Peter walked into the lab. He had thought, with Tony being rich and all, the lab would’ve been clean and sterile. But just like every other mad scientist Peter had dealt with, Tony’s lab was an absolute mess. There were about fifteen safety hazards just within Peter’s immediate line of sight.
He loved it.
“This is amazing!” Peter said as he looked around.
Tony said, “Make yourself at home, kid.”
“Are those prototypes for the Iron Man suit?” Peter hopped toward it. Tony followed close behind.
“Yup.”
Peter’s attention was immediately grabbed by something else, “Are these prototypes for prosthetic limbs?” He began examining them, “Oh! These are really light weight. How did you find the right material? Most metals would be too heavy, but this doesn’t feel like plastic-” He stopped himself, “I’m sorry. I’m way too jumpy.”
“No, go ahead.” Tony said with a smile, “Being intelligent is nothing to be ashamed of.”
Peter, with permission from Tony, began bounding around the lab. His attention was grabbed by the millions of little things inside the workshop. Tony had about a dozen ongoing projects.
“You have like a dozen things you’re working on,” Peter said. “Not that that’s a bad thing or anything,” He added.
Tony said, “It helps to keep busy.”
“Yeah, I feel that,” Peter said.
Tony said, “You seem quite hyperactive. You got anything you’re working on?”
“Just trying to upgrade my suit and whatnot.” Peter said, “It’s mostly the webshooters that give me a hard way to go. Trying to make a proper container for the fluid is hard considering the webfluid is so sticky. I’m just tweaking around with it.”
Tony said, “Feel free to come here and work on it whenever you need to. Use whatever you have to.”
“Really?” Peter asked.
Tony said, “I can always get more. Which reminds me, if you ever have any parts you need just tell me. I’ll order some.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stark.” Peter said, “Really, I can’t thank you enough for all of this.”
Tony said, “You can thank me by not calling me Mr. Stark. Seriously, kid, it makes me feel ancient.”
“What do I call you then?” Peter asked, “Boss? Mister? Sir?”
Tony hesitated for a moment and Peter worried he had done something wrong. Tony looked uncomfortable, which was probably not the best thing to make your new employer feel.
Great job, Parker, Peter thought, always ruining everything with your shitty jokes and crude timing.
Tony coughed, “Look, just call me Tony. Definitely do not call me Sir.”
“Okay,” Peter said, “Sir.”
Tony groaned, “Jesus.”
“Sorry,” Peter squeaked, but his smile said otherwise.
Tony said, “I’m starting to get the sense I’ve made a mistake.”
“Don’t worry,” Peter said, voice assuring, “I promise to behave… sir.”
Tony’s lips tightened but he said nothing. Peter cringed with his eyes closed. He had always enjoyed dancing on people’s nerves, especially at the worst of times.
He didn’t even know why those titles bothered Tony so much. Sure, Mr. Stark might be too formal. But sir? Isn’t it just a form of respect? Peter was always taught to respect his superiors. Tony is certainly a superior, not just because he’s an Avenger either. Tony is his boss. It would be rude of Peter to disrespect his boss, right? And Peter was always taught that not addressing his superiors formally was rude.
Peter relented, “I’ll stop.”
Tony looked at him.
“I swear!” Peter said, “I’m done.”
Tony sighed, “Good. I think my heart might give out.”
He made a point of rubbing his arm and placing his hand on his chest. It wasn’t a secret that his experience with terrorists had given him some heart problems. The shrapnel in his chest had affected him in countless ways.
Peter knew Tony was overexaggerating a little, but he couldn’t help but feel bad. Not too bad, though.
“Alright, old man,” Peter said, “try not to collapse on me before I’ve gotten my check.”
Tony said, “I’ll collapse out of spite if you keep it up.”
“At least put me in your will first,” Peter said.
Tony said, “To Peter, I leave one penny as a sign of my gratitude.”
“I’m honored,” said Peter as he pulled out one of the webshooters from his backpack.
Tony watched closely.
Peter’s webshooters and web formula were his pride and joy.
When he first got his spider powers he hadn’t known how to get in and out of danger easily. Making webs and swinging was the obvious solution, in his opinion. How would it look if Spider-Man was just hitching a ride on the subway?
“Did you make the webs?” Tony asked.
Peter said, “I did.”
“Very impressive.” Tony said, “I’ve been trying to figure out how you managed to keep the tensile strength on such a large scale while being such a fine material.”
Peter smiled, “A good scientist never reveals his secrets.”
“I think it’s magicians who don’t reveal their secrets, kid.” Tony said, “If anything, scientists tend to be the most keen to share their secrets.”
Peter blew a raspberry, “Math is so much cooler than magic, anyway.”
Tony laughed. He looked over Peter’s shoulder to look at the webshooters.
Tony’s warm body was incredibly close to Peter’s. Peter’s senses were immediately overwhelmed by the onslaught of what he could only describe as Tony. The sharp smell of cologne and aftershave and black coffee. Tony, who ran hot, glowing like a fire and igniting Peter’s body into a bright flush.
The webshooters were laid on the table. Peter forced himself to look like he was as interested in them as Tony was.
“You’re right, though,” Tony said.
Peter jumped, “Huh?”
“About making a suitable cartridge.” Tony explained, “I’d imagine making a cartridge to contain such a strong and sticky material would be a tough nut to crack.”
Peter agreed hastily, “Yeah. It works now. But just because something works doesn’t mean-”
“-you can’t make it better,” Tony finished for him.
Peter swallowed. He watched Tony pick up his invention and examine it like it was the most impressively confounding thing in the whole world.
“This is incredibly impressive, Peter.”
Tony’s tan hands held the webshooter, nimble fingers gently ghosting over the delicate features. Peter’s mouth suddenly felt very dry. He realized then just how complicated this might become if he didn’t get a fucking grip on himself.
Peter coughed, “Thank you.”
“Look at that,” Tony hummed, but it was mostly to himself. He set the webshooter on the table, “You’ve got quite the mind there, Pete.”
When did it get so fucking hot in here? Peter thought. He took the webshooter and held it close to himself.
Tony ventured over to the opposite side of the lab. Peter hesitated for a moment, feeling so small and uncertain, before he followed Tony.
“You look like a lost puppy,” Tony snorted.
Peter said, “You look like an asshole.”
He gasped and covered his mouth when he realized what he’d said.
“Sorry,” he said, opening his mouth and floundering, “I, uh, I… It just slipped out-”
Tony laughed, “It’s fine, kid. I’m not a believer in corporal punishment.”
“What’s that?”
“Hitting kids,” Tony said succinctly.
Peter said, “Oh, like spanking?”
“Yep.”
“I could get into that,” Peter said, before covering his face in self-hatred. How does he always say the worst thing possible? It has to be a medical condition, at this point.
Tony shook his head and made a noise Peter couldn’t decipher.
“Just remember to have a safeword,” Tony said.
Peter nodded, he felt like he was on fire, “I’ll do that.”
“Right,” Tony coughed, “this has been sufficiently awkward. Do you… you know where everything is right? I don’t have to walk you around anymore?”
Peter said, “I’ve got it.”
“Okay, there’s one more thing I have to give you before you go,” Tony said.
Peter watched Tony pluck a box out from a drawer. Tony handed it to him.
Peter took the box into his eager hands. He opened it and a StarkPhone stared at him. He gaped like a fish, confused. Was this a gift for him? Why?
“Turn it on,” Tony instructed.
Peter obeyed. It was state-of-the-art tech that Peter had only seen in sleek commercials.
“Is this for me?” Peter asked.
Tony said, “No, give it back.”
Peter was about to do as told when Tony laughed.
“I’m fucking with you, kid.” Tony said, “It’s yours.”
Peter said, “This is too much. I mean you’re already paying me so much and, to be honest, I have no idea what I’m doing. I can’t accept this.”
“Kid,” Tony said, “seriously take the damn phone. You’d be doing me a favor. It’s a prototype, not released to the public yet, it would actually help me out if you used it and gave feedback.”
Peter said, “I really can’t thank you enough for this.”
“Well, I can’t have my intern walking around with an Android, can I?” Tony said with a smile.
The shining StarkPhone laid on Peter’s desk that night as Peter did his nightly ritual of throwing his day clothes to the floor and collapsing into bed. Peter looked over at it and hummed.
What a lucky life he had. Maybe things were finally turning around for him.
-
Tony worked away in his lab until morning. He had another surprise present he was planning on giving his little spider. But he wanted to make sure it was perfect before giving it over.
He could feel the familiar twitching in his fingers. The restlessness that took over. He knew how bad this could get if he didn’t nip it in the bud, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.
Peter’s in highschool, for Christ’s sake. He’s just about three decades younger than Tony is. Fuck.
Tony should stop it now. Should turn his back and leave Peter in peace.
But when has Tony ever done what he should?
His self-restraint was a thin piece of yarn fraying at the edges, ready to snap at the right provocation.
Blue and red fabric slipped through his fingers. Embedded circuitry and tech stared back at him. Long lines of code flew past his eyes, but he couldn’t stop. Not until he was done. He couldn’t stop working, because what would he do if he didn’t?
Tony’s phone taunted him. The screen screamed his name and begged him to just send Peter one text. Because, realistically, how bad could one text be? Pretty damn bad, in Tony’s experience.
Everything in Tony’s life lately made him want to die. The Avengers, the Sokovia Accords, business meetings, and all the reminders of his broken past. Everything about it made him want to take a long dirt nap.
Peter with dotted freckles, so faint you’d only notice them if you stared at him for hours, and a sugary demeanor. It made Tony want to die less.
In Tony’s most recent therapy session - yes, he actually went at the behest of that damn kid. Don’t judge him - Dr. Steinfield had told him it isn’t a bad thing to need support from other people. She said that humans were born to be social, and that Tony needing to lean on other people wasn’t a bad thing.
So… texting Peter couldn’t be a bad thing?
Tony: I’m making something special for you
Peter: bruh
Peter: ur paying me and got me a new phone
Peter: what else could there be????
Tony: It’s a surprise.
Peter: is it a robodog?
Tony: No.
Peter: then i dont want it
Tony: That’s too bad.
Tony: How’s the phone treating you?
Peter: its amazing!!! I love it so much mr stark sir boss
Tony: You’re a brat.
Peter: u luv it
Tony: I do.
Tony smiled. He got high off of Peter; his adoration, his compliments, his laughter, his smartass comments. Peter was addictive - every damn thing he did made Tony’s brain explode with dopamine.
Peter: there is a problem
Peter: not w the phone
Peter: theres this guy at school and he fucking hates me. like he picks on me all the time. anyways, he noticed i have a new phone and started a rumor i stole it.
A bully. Tony actually had quite a few of those when he was Peter’s age. People really hate it when you’re smarter than them.
How could someone like Peter have a bully, though? Peter was so sweet. He had doe eyes and pink lips and smelled like laundry fresh out of the dryer, even though Tony suspected Peter didn’t wash his clothes regularly.
Tony was, admittedly, a dickhead when he was younger. Fresh-faced and incredibly arrogant. He thought he was invincible. In a lot of ways, he was.
None of that mattered right now, though.
Tony: Who is this kid?
Peter: it doesnt matter
Tony: It matters to me.
I’ll kill him, Tony thought with frightening clarity.
Peter: his name is eugene but everyone calls him flash
Tony: Wow.
Tony: Alright. I’ll take care of it.
Peter: ???
Peter: wdym take care of it??
Peter: omg ur not gonna kill him r u
Tony: No.
Tony: Do you want me to?
Peter: BRUH
Tony: That was a joke. I was joking.
Peter: what if these messages get subpoenaed? what then?
Tony: Then I hope the jury has a good sense of humor.
Tony caught it, the way his lips curled upward whenever a message came through. God, this is so fucked. He knows it’s fucked. So why can’t he stop? Peter’s made of sugar, spice, and everything nice. Tony wanted a taste of him so bad. Metaphorically, of course.
Right.
Tony: When are you free next? I think I might be in need of an intern.
Peter: really???
Peter: omg yes!!!
Peter: im free whenever you need me
Oh shit.
Tony’s fucked. That innocent message granted all of Tony’s worst wishes.
He should tell the kid to run. To run as far and as fast away from him as possible. Instead he responds.
Tony: Glad I can count on you.
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