Chapter Text
Peter rode back with the rest of his classmates on Tony’s personal jet (Not the Avengers’ quinjet, the one Tony owned personally, though missing the stripper poles, thank god). He didn’t really need to, what with him already being home and everything, but he also wasn’t really keen on the Academic Decathlon team being in a jet with Tony, Steve, Sam, and Natasha (the ones who’d volunteered to play protection detail for the teens) without Peter as a buffer. Or, without being there to make sure none of his classmates grilled any of the Avengers for embarrassing information on Peter. Or vice versa.
Also, he kinda felt bad for Mr. Harrington, and he imagined Mr. Harrington would get into more trouble with principal Morita if he returned missing a student, even if Mr. Harrington and Tony both explained that Peter didn’t need to go back to the school just to go home, because he was already home.
Peter needn’t have worried, at least not about the first issue. Almost as soon as the teens were loaded into the jet and had sat down, most of them started nodding off, and those not taking the opportunity to get in a post-trauma power nap, were whispering amongst themselves or playing on their phones, listening to music, etc. Even Ned nodded off, despite the fact that he was sitting right next to Sam. MJ sat with Natasha, making light conversation as she sketched, and Peter was happy to hear that most of their conversation revolved around travel and different cultures around the world (mostly of places Natasha had visited, though half the time she wouldn’t say why she’d been in Uzbekistan or Kiribati or Botswana or wherever), and hardly touched on Peter at all.
Thank God.
Steve took the empty seat next to Tony. Tony happened to be sitting at one of the only tables, across from Peter, who’d been switching between playing a puzzle game on his phone and eavesdropping, mostly between MJ and Natasha, but also listening in to any of his other teammate’s conversations if he happened to hear his name mentioned.
This put Steve right across from Peter, and Peter focused on him right away, drawing his attention away from Yasmin and Charles, who were both trying to come up with increasingly stupid ideas as for why Peter’s aunt would send him to live with the Avengers. They were currently torn between the idea that Peter’s aunt was a supervillain and she’d given Peter to the Avengers as a permanent hostage to show that she would try to reform, and the idea that Peter wasn’t actually a teenager, and was, in fact, a very human-like android Tony had built, and Peter had never had an aunt, it had all been a cover for the fact that Tony Stark was creating intelligent humanoid life.
Peter would have to remind himself to tell Tony about those later. The man could do with a good laugh.
Peter eyed Steve, who was himself eyeing Peter very seriously.
Peter grimaced. “Time for the talk?”
That jolted Tony away from his phone just a little. He raised his eyes first to Peter, and then turned his gaze to what Peter was looking at (Steve), and then nodded marginally, said, “Steve’s turn, then,” and fell back into his phone.
Steve turned to blink at Tony, and then turned back to Peter, with a slightly less serious, slightly more confused expression on his face.
“My turn?” Steve asked.
Peter nodded. “I assumed you were here to interrogate me about why I didn’t tell anyone I was coming on a field trip to the compound?”
Steve grimaced, just a little. “Well, I don’t know if I’d use the word ‘interrogate.’”
“That just means yes,” Peter said.
Steve thought a moment and then shrugged. “Ok, yes, I’d like to know.”
“Then it is your turn,” Peter said. “Tony’s already had his turn, Bucky and Bruce talked to me about it. Now it’s your turn.”
Steve shifted in his seat. “Well, if everyone else…” he started, and then trailed off awkwardly, looking suddenly a lot less sure about having this conversation.
Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t trust you guys,” Peter said.
“Then why?” Steve said. “I’m not upset, I just don’t understand.”
“You don’t sound not upset,” Peter said.
It was Steve’s turn to roll his eyes. “Fine, I’m trying to be not upset. But it, you know Peter, it kind of does seem like you didn’t trust us. Not,” he hurried to say, “that you’re obligated to trust us, but you have to admit, it does seem at least a little like you don’t trust us.”
Peter bit his lip. “Yeah, I’m starting to get that. I didn’t really,” he sighed, “I don’t think I really thought about what it would look like from your end? Like, I really just wanted no one to know I was part of this field trip.”
“Sure,” Steve said, like he didn’t really believe Peter at all. “Why?”
Peter looked up. He focused on the ceiling lights above the table, the tiny buttons with symbols that meant things like turn up the air flow or turn on the light or fasten seat belts, but looked like arcane imagery representing the whirlpools of time, and the sun stretched down into a staff, and a seat belt.
“You know how Tony flies me to school?” Peter said, and only then did he lower his eyes from the light and the symbols above his head and back to Steve.
“Yes,” Steve said. “Rhodey does as well sometimes.”
“And Thor, and once, Wanda,” Peter agreed. “And you know how I make sure he knows that no one can see me with Iron Man?”
Steve nodded, and then jumped ahead, because for all that he was brawn, people sometimes forgot he was brain as well. “So, this… lying… had to do with you not wanting anyone at school to know that you know… us.”
Peter nodded.
Steve tilted his head to the side like he was considering that. “But if you’d told us,” he said, “we would have known not to act familiar with you in front of your classmates.”
Peter fidgeted.
“That’s what I said,” Tony said, proving once again that he was a master of multitasking as he’d apparently been eavesdropping while he typed code into his StarkPhone’s keyboard.
Steve looked at Tony and then back at Peter.
“And I stand with the knowledge that if everyone knew I was coming, I could not guarantee someone wouldn’t accidentally slip and be just a tad too familiar, or come and harass me, thinking they were being slick, when really they wouldn’t be treating any other teen the same.”
“Someone…” Steve prompted.
“Someone like cough, Clint, cough,” Peter said, “or cough, cough, Wanda. Or Thor, cough-cough-cough.”
“You know you’re not supposed to say the word ‘cough,’ right?” Tony asked.
“They wouldn’t mean to do anything,” Peter continued, ignoring Tony, “but you can’t tell me they aren’t the type to try to do something, tease me or something, subtly. And that could very, very easily backfire.”
Steve tilted his head first one way, and then the other. “I will admit that that is a… possibility,” Steve said. And then he sighed. “But it would have backfired—”
“Because of the surprise meet-and-greet,” Peter said with a sigh of his own, “yeah, Tony told me.”
“Right,” Steve said. And then, after a pause, “You really have already had this conversation.”
“You’re welcome,” Tony said, not moving his eyes from his phone screen.
Peter stuck his tongue out at the man.
He then focused back on Steve. “It’s just, it’s kind of a big deal, you know? That I live with you guys, and I really don’t want people to think I’m a big deal. I want everyone at school to continue thinking I’m just Peter Parker, especially since—”
But no, Peter had to remind himself, they didn’t know about his little Spider issue either.
It occurred to him very suddenly, that from the outside, no matter the angle, it was looking more and more like maybe he didn’t trust them. If he did trust them… and he did. He absolutely did trust every single one of them. Well then, why hadn’t it ever occurred to him to tell them he was Spiderman? Tony knew, and Happy knew, May, Ned, and MJ knew. Even Pepper knew. He trusted Steve and the rest of the Avengers as much as he trusted Pepper and Happy at a minimum.
He should… he should tell them.
He’d tell them this.
Because no matter how much he’d kinda fucked up this field trip, this whole hiding-things fiasco, he really wanted them to know that he did. He did trust them.
He was going to tell them he was Spiderman.
He met Steve’s eyes with a fierce and confident grin, and was met with a hesitant smile and an, “Especially since, what?” from the man, who was obviously not a mind reader and was therefore still thinking about the field trip fiasco.
Peter blinked at him, opened his mouth to reveal to Steve that he was Spiderman, and then remembered that he was on a private jet with his entire decathlon team, and yeah, they might have been cowed into submission by Tony not to reveal that Peter was living with the Avengers, but there was no way they’d be silent if they heard that Peter was Spiderman.
That little revelation was going to have to wait. And maybe he should mention his decision to Tony, first? Run it by him a little, before making any more spur-of-the-moment decisions.
Peter bit his tongue, sighed, and tried to send his mind back to the thoughts it had been processing three minutes ago before the idea that he should reveal his alter ego to the Avengers filtered into his fool head.
“Especially since,” Peter started slowly, “uh, they now all believe I have an internship at Stark Industries?”
Steve’s head tipped to the side, just a little. “Was that something they didn’t believe before?” His tone was cool, neutral, but Peter heard the steel beneath it.
“I’m a high school student working with the richest man in the country, face-to-face, three-to-five evenings a week. I’m honestly surprised I didn’t have more classmates who thought I was fibbing for clout.”
Tony made a noise that sounded more like, “harrumph” than any word Peter had ever heard, and then said, “I still have half a mind to show that Flash boy a piece of my mind.”
“Physical violence is not the answer,” Peter said.
Steve, who used physical violence as the solution to any number of problems on a daily basis, and as a career, but who intrinsically wanted the world to be a more peaceful place, made a torn expression and then shrugged.
“Who said anything about physical violence,” Tony muttered.
“Please do not psychologically torment my classmates,” Peter said. “Haven’t they gone through enough today?”
“Sure,” Tony said, “I’ll just wait till he’s healed from today and—”
Steve thankfully cut him off with a lighthearted slap to the arm.
Any further plans Tony could make involving somehow verbally sparring with a teenager were thankfully put on hold as an announcement was made over the intercom to warn everyone that the jet was descending, and to put on their seatbelts.
Peter put on his seatbelt.
The jet, being a jet, had to land in the football field for the room alone, but Principal Morita was waiting on the grass below as the steps descended from the jet, as were the parents of all the Academic Decathlon members besides Peter.
Peter’s parent was currently globe-trotting and would need to be informed of today’s debacle with all possible haste. Otherwise, when she did eventually find out, she would probably riot.
Mr. Harrington descended first (the sacrifice he was making would never be forgotten), and everyone on the jet, and on the football field (and probably in the entire state of New York) heard Principal Morita’s aggrieved, “Mr. Harrington! What is going on!?”
“Well,” Mr. Harrington started, sounding much quieter and meeker than the principal.
But he never got any further, because right behind Mr. Harrington was Tony.
“Principal Morita,” Tony said, in his best glad-handing tone, “so good to meet you in person. I’m glad you were able to get all the parents out here on such short notice.”
“Of course we’d come,” a parent spoke up. “They said our babies were attacked by a supervillain.”
“Mooom!” Yasmin complained as the students started to trickle off the jet as well. “We’re not babies. And we weren’t attacked.”
“Technically,” Tony said to the amassed parents and teachers, “it wasn’t a super-villain. Just a normal, run-of-the-mill face-stealing, bomb-toting baddie.”
“Not helping, Tony,” Natasha said as she exited the plane.
Tony shrugged.
It didn’t take long for everyone to exit the vehicle, and then most of the parents were busy with greeting their children and demanding they explain what exactly happened during the field trip. In detail.
Hopefully they’d all remember to leave Peter’s housing situation out of it.
Peter stepped up between Tony and Natasha, facing a ruddy-faced Principal Morita and a pale Mr. Harrington.
(Steve and Sam were making the rounds among the parents, introducing themselves, and trying to create a sense of safety amongst the students).
“Mr. Stark,” Principal Morita said, like he’d only just barely held himself back from saying something much more derogatory instead, “I demand an explanation. I understand,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “to a degree, that you could not predict what happened at your facility, and that you took care of the problem as quickly as you Avengers could, but the fact that you did not return my students to safety immediately afterward, is untenable.”
“I thought I explained myself perfectly well over the phone,” Tony said, unbothered.
“If by ‘explained’ you mean ‘shot down any disagreements’ then yes,” Principal Morita bit out.
“Oh good,” Tony said, “then we’re on the same page.”
Mr. Morita fumed.
“He means well,” Natasha said to the principal, in a tone that was meant to sound sympathetic, but which sounded, to anyone who knew Natasha, like she was laughing at him.
“Tony,” Peter said quietly, trying to draw the man’s attention, but somehow drew the attention of not just Tony but Mr. Morita, Mr. Harrington, and Natasha as well. He ducked his head a little at being under his Principal’s gaze in less-than-perfect circumstances, but continued talking anyway. “He’s just concerned,” he said. When all Tony did was blink at him, Peter tried a different tactic. “Imagine if I’d gone on a field trip with my Decathlon team to the Baxter building, and the building had gotten attacked, and after the problem had been dealt with, instead of sending us back to school, Reed Richards had given us a tour of his bowling alley and then mocked my principal.”
Tony straightened up. “I am not like Reed Richards,” he said, enraged. “Of course you were safe at the compound. I wouldn’t trust Richards to iron his own socks.”
Peter rolled his eyes.
Natasha made a humming noise that was her PR-approved way of cackling. “A rich scientist who lives in a building with other supers?” she asked. “I don’t know, I can see the resemblance.”
It was Tony’s turn to fume.
Peter turned to Mr. Morita. “We’re sorry,” he said, “Tony just wanted to make sure our last memories of the day weren’t of panic and fear for our lives. It was very nice, really.”
Mr. Morita blinked down at Peter. He lost his angry expression when looking at Peter, which was, Peter had to admit, a relief. “Parker, right?”
Peter nodded.
“You’re a very smart young man,” the Principal said.
“Damn skippy he is,” Tony said proudly.
Mr. Morita frowned at Tony and then back down at Peter. “And you speak for Mr. Stark because…”
“I work for him,” Peter said, which was a truth, if not necessarily the one Principal Morita was asking for.
“Uh-huh,” Mr. Morita said.
Natasha did that non-laughing laugh-hum thing again.
“He’s my intern,” Tony said with a sigh. “Has been my intern for years. Hell, Teach, if I knew the kid’s class, or decathlon team, or whatever wanted a tour of any of my buildings I would have made it happen like that.” He snapped his fingers. “But, between you and me,” he leaned forward a little to imitate familiarity, making the crushed armor at his shoulder groan uncomfortably, “he has an issue with asking for things.”
“I do not,” Peter said hotly. “I just— it wouldn’t have been fair!”
Tony sighed, fondly, and then gestured to Peter as if to say, See?
“We’re off topic,” Mr. Morita said, running a hand down his face. “What you did today was unacceptable, Mr. Stark. And you, Roger,” he said, turning on Mr. Harrington, but Tony cut him off.
“Oh give him a break, Morita,” he said. “I may have talked you into it over the phone, but at the time you did agree with me, right?”
It looked like Mr. Morita had just bitten into a lemon, but he nodded.
“And really,” Tony said, “if you think about it, I actually got everyone here quicker than if they’d left when we called you. If, after that call, everyone had piled back into that bus the kids would still be on the road. With my jet we could afford a little detour, couldn’t we?”
Mr. Morita grimaced. “I don’t like it. These kids’ safety is my first concern at all times.”
“And they were safe,” Tony said. “Even when the Chameleon was attacking, they were never, not for even a second, in any danger at all. In fact, besides the initial scare, if I remember correctly, they spent most of the attack watching a movie in a veritable bunker of safety.”
“Pirates of the Caribbean,” Peter said. “We didn’t get to finish it.”
“Of course,” Natasha said, “that would be your complaint.”
Peter frowned at her because no, that hadn’t been a complaint. Vision was going to make them all watch it again soon enough anyway. But, hell, it wasn’t like Peter could say that in front of his Principal. Not without having to explain himself, which he was loath to do.
Mr. Morita’s anger toned down several notches. “Ok,” he said, “but I’m not answering for the decisions either of you made today,” he swung his gaze between Tony and Mr. Harrington, “and I can guarantee that the parents are not going to be happy.”
“They seem happy enough to me,” Tony said mildly.
Mr. Morita and Mr. Harrington both swung their heads around to find Steve and Sam holding court, surrounded by all of the parents and students, answering questions and posing for the occasional photo.
Mr. Morita sighed. “Is it always that simple for you lot?” he asked, sounding suddenly tired. “You just whip out Captain America and the problem disappears?”
“It’s not quite that simple,” Natasha said. “Sure, Steve’s existence helps a lot, but I know a few of the parents who look quite content at the moment will change their tune sooner or later, and Tony here will have to deal with the fall out from that.”
“Not me personally,” Tony said, “I hire people to deal with that sort of thing for me.”
“But yes,” Natasha said, “if you want instant gratification concerning the American public’s anger and upset, putting Steve in front of them will sort it out quickly and thoroughly.”
Mr. Morita narrowed his eyes slightly. “Could I… borrow him?”
Tony hummed. “We’ll have to ask Mr. Red-White-and-Blue himself, but if it’ll make you stop yelling at us, I’m sure something can be arranged.”
“I assume you want him for something work related,” Natasha said, “and not for any personal reasons.”
“Kinky,” Tony said, because he was an ass.
“Tony!” Peter exclaimed.
Mr. Morita glared at Tony.
“Please, Principal Morita,” Peter said, “ignore him. He needs medical attention and—”
“A gag, probably,” Natasha said.
Tony opened his mouth, and Peter slapped his hand over it.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Parker,” Mr. Morita said, “I’d never let my judgment of you be colored by the fact that you have an internship with such an uncouth and aggravating man.”
“Aggravating!” Tony said. “I understand uncouth, but aggravating?”
“Thank you,” Peter said.
He shuffled. He didn’t really want to hear whatever other thing Tony and Mr. Morita were going to snap at each other. He looked at Natasha, who looked pleased enough at watching the trash can fire that was the conversation between Peter’s principal and Peter’s guardian-slash-employer. He hoped leaving her with them was a good plan, and wouldn’t result in more aggravation.
“I’m going to go return this to Ned,” Peter said, plucking at his neon hoodie. “I’ll be right back.” And then scurried off before anyone could say anything.
He found Ned boxed in by his moms standing by MJ, who was taking her father’s helicopter parenting with aplomb.
“Peter!” Ned said happily as Peter approached.
“Hey Ned,” Peter said, he nodded to each of his moms. “Mrs and Mrs Leeds.”
“Peter,” Mrs. Leeds said, “how many times have I said this? Please call me Jeanie.”
“Yes, Peter,” Mrs. Leeds said, “you’re over at our house enough. Say it with me, Peter. April Leeds.”
Peter grimaced. “Uh, hi Mrs. Jeanie. Mrs. April.”
Ned snickered into his hands.
Mrs. Leeds sighed. “Alright, Peter. I guess that’s better than nothing.”
“Don’t call me Mrs. Jeanie,” Mrs. Leeds said in a gruff voice. “That was my mother’s name. Please, call me Jeanie.”
“Ugh,” Ned complained. “Mom jokes.”
“Don’t you mom-joke me, young man,” Mrs. Jeanie said, and descended to give Ned a huge bear-hug.
“Mooom!” Ned complained.
“Wow, Leeds,” MJ said, not moving away from the protective arm of her father, “real mature.”
“Michelle,” Mr. Jones chided lightly.
MJ turned to stick her tongue out at her father and he rolled his eyes at her fondly.
Peter glanced over his shoulder to find that the crowd surrounding Steve and Sam (which he was now a part of) had decreased in size quite a bit as parents and students started to leave, and that past the crowd, Tony and Mr. Morita hadn’t actually started a fist-fight yet, but by Natasha’s amused posture, it wouldn’t be too long now before someone started something.
“I can’t stick around,” Peter said to MJ and Ned, and to their parents. “I just wanted to return your hoodie before you head out.”
“I thought I recognized that,” Mrs. April said.
“It’s very… bright,” Mr. Jones offered.
Mrs. Jeanie laughed.
Peter pulled the oversized garment off of himself, straightening the shirt he was wearing beneath it as he did so, and handed the bundled-up jacket off to Ned.
Ned took it and tucked it under his arm.
“Aww,” MJ said in mock complaint. “Is that it? I thought you were really going to strip, there, Parker.”
“Michelle!” Mr. Jones hissed, sounding slightly more scandalized.
Peter just rolled his eyes.
Mrs Jeanie looked around the slowly emptying field. “Are you still waiting for your Aunt, Peter?”
“Uhhh,” Peter said, awkwardly.
Ned ruffled the back of his head and told Peter, “I uh, never mentioned it to them?”
“Mentioned what?” Mrs. April said.
Peter bit his lip and then said, “Um, Mrs. Leeds—”
Mrs. Leeds cleared her throat.
“Sorry, Mrs. April?” Peter corrected himself. “My Aunt’s on a, um, vacation?”
“Oh!” Mrs. April said. “That’s nice. But who have you been staying with?”
MJ laughed.
“Uh,” Peter said, and then very, very awkwardly pointed behind him.”
Mrs Jeanie narrowed her eyes. “Are you… Peter, are you pointing at Captain America?”
Peter looked over his shoulder, and yes, his aim had been a little off. Still technically true, though.
“Yes,” Peter said.
Mrs Jeanie’s eyebrows met her hairline.
“How?” Mrs. April demanded.
“You’ve got to be joking,” Mr. Jones said.
“Not joking,” Peter said. “I, uh, Ned told you I intern at Stark Industries?”
The Mrs. Leeds nodded.
“So, I more specifically intern for Tony, uh, Stark, himself. And when Aunt May won a trip abroad, we thought we’d ask Tony if I could stay with him while she was gone.”
“You thought you’d ask your employer?” Mrs. April asked.
“And he said yes?” Mr. Jones demanded.
“Peter,” Mrs. Jeanie said, “you know you could have stayed with us for a few weeks, right?”
“Uh, yeah,” Peter said, though to be honest, he hadn’t even considered staying with the Leedses. Tony had just been the first person May and Peter had thought of, and he’d said yes, so… “But, we didn’t really want to put you out? And, it would have been for more than a few weeks.”
“Uh huh,” Mrs. Jeanie said drily.
“How long have you been living with Iron Man and Captain America?” Mrs. April asked.
“And all of the Avengers,” Ned added unhelpfully.
“Since,” Peter said slowly, “the beginning of the school year?”
“What?” Mr. Jones asked, agog. His eyes turned to the heroes standing some ways behind Peter. “You’ve been living with them?”
Peter shrugged.
“How did that even happen?” Mrs. Jeanie asked.
Peter was getting kind of tired of everyone asking that. “I worked for Tony, and when I needed a place to stay my Aunt and I thought of him, asked him, and he said yes.”
“Tony Stark is housing one of his interns for a whole school year,” Mrs. Jeanie said like she couldn’t quite believe it.
“Yeah,” Peter said decisively.
Jeanie and April both looked at him.
“Alright,” Mrs. April said. “I may try and get your Aunt to explain herself when she returns home but,” she shrugged.
“Sure,” Peter said.
“Peter!” Tony’s voice called out, and Peter turned to see that the only other people left in the field were Mr. Harrington, Principal Morita, Natasha, Steve, Sam, and Tony.
“Coming!” he called back, and then turned back around to face Ned and MJ and their respective parents. “Sorry,” he said, “I’ve got to go.” He shrugged and then smirked a little mischievously. “Parents, amirite?”
“Hah,” MJ said. “Next time I see Stark I’m telling him you called him your parent.”
Peter stuck his tongue out at her, and she grinned.
“See you Monday?” Ned asked.
Peter nodded.
“Peter!” It was Sam this time. “We’re going home!”
Peter sighed.
“Oh,” MJ said in faux surprise. “I thought you just meant Stark when you said ‘parents’ but you meant the whole lot of them, didn’t you?”
Peter scowled as Ned howled in laughter.
“Peter!” Natasha snapped warningly.
“I’m coming!” Peter called back. In his normal voice he said to the Leedses and the Joneses, “Sorry but I’ve got to jet!”
“Nice pun,” Ned commended.
Peter hadn’t meant to pun, but smiled now as he got… his own joke, apparently.
“Nice seeing you again Mrs. Leeds and Mrs. Leeds,” he turned his head, “Mr. Jones. See you on Monday Ned, MJ.”
“Bye loser,” MJ said with a soft smile and a little wave.
“Yeah,” Ned said, waving with more vigor. “Bye loser!”
Peter rolled his eyes, but gave his own wave and then jogged back to the little group next to the jet’s stairs that consisted of four roommates/superheroes and two school teachers.
(One of Peter’s least favorite combinations)
“Much better,” Natasha said as he skidded to a stop, once again between her and Tony. She plucked at the sleeve of the t-shirt he’d had on beneath Ned’s hoodie. It read in large font “You Matter,” and then in smaller font, “Unless you Multiply Yourself by the Speed of Light Squared… Then You Energy.”
Tony had picked it up for him at a conference in Topeka a few months previous and it was his current favorite novelty science t-shirt.
Peter looked down at himself. “What, you don’t think my complexion matches neon green?”
“No one’s complexion matches neon green,” Sam said. “It’s a crime against humanity. Also, I can’t believe I didn’t even see you in the gym! Peter! How did I not even notice it was you!”
“That’s the power of the neon green hoodie,” Peter said. “It can disguise anybody. It’s just that powerful.”
“I’ll make a note to pick up one myself,” Steve said. “Now, I think it’s time to get back home.” He looked at Tony. “Maybe help your mentor out of his suit.”
“Not the whole thing,” Tony complained. “It’s just a few parts.”
“They’re stuck on you, Tony,” Steve said tiredly. “And you probably need medical.”
“I’m fine,” Tony insisted.
Steve looked at Peter.
Why was this always Peter’s job?
“Oh good,” Peter said, “you finally got that medical degree!”
“Uh,” Tony said.
Peter raised his eyebrows in faux surprise. “Wait, you didn’t get a medical degree? Then don’t you think a medical professional should take a look at you after we get the pieces of the suit off of you? What if they caused you some damage?”
“I’m fine,” Tony insisted.
“I’m sure,” Peter said, “but don’t you think you should at least get it checked out? What if you get an infection? Again?”
Tony sighed. “Fine. But they’re just going to tell me I’m fine.”
“Then it’ll be a quick trip,” Peter said. “No loss there.”
Tony narrowed his eyes at Peter. “I see what you’re doing.”
“I’m sure you do,” Peter said, “and you’re going to let me get away with it. Otherwise, if May finds out that you’re not taking care of yourself…”
“You wouldn’t sic your aunt on me!” Tony said, sounding a little unsure.
Peter raised an eyebrow.
“Fine,” Tony said.
“Good,” Peter said.
“Finally,” Steve said.
“This happens every time,” Natasha told Mr. Morita and Mr. Harrington.
“I can believe it,” Mr. Morita said, glaring at Tony.
“Hey,” Peter said, “did you get the Steve thing worked out?”
“What Steve thing?” Steve asked.
Peter glanced at Steve, and then at Tony, and finally at Principal Morita who looked, if anything, a little embarrassed.
“Yeah,” Peter said, “Principal Morita saw how well you handled those parents and wondered if he could borrow you for something. I figured, dealing with the school board or something.”
“That… was exactly it, actually,” Mr. Morita said. “We’re having some funding issues, and it’d help if I could have someone next to me who the board wouldn’t want to… well… disappoint.”
“If you wanted funding,” Tony started, “why didn’t you just say so?” he reached into his pocket to pull out a wallet.
“Wait,” Steve said, “Morita?”
Mr. Morita shifted his gaze a little. “Uh, yeah.”
“I thought you looked familiar,” Steve said, “but didn’t want to say anything in case I was wrong. Do you happen to be related to Jim Morita?”
“Grandpa Jim,” Mr. Morita confirmed.
Steve smiled, wider than he usually showed to strangers. “I fought with him in the war. He was in the Howling Commandos with me and Bucky.”
“I know,” Mr. Morita said awkwardly, but at least returned Steve’s smile.
“Just let me know when and where to show up,” Steve told him. “I can even wear the suit, if you want. Anything for a relative of Jim’s.”
Mr. Morita’s smile stayed awkward, but he nodded. “Thanks.”
“Let’s go,” Natasha said, nodded to Mr. Harrington and Mr. Morita, and boarded the jet.
“Bye Mr. Morita,” Peter said, as Tony followed Natasha, and Sam followed Tony. “Bye Mr. Harrington.”
“Bye, Peter,” Mr. Harrington, “see you Monday.”
“See you Monday,” Peter agreed.
“Don’t forget to study for Decathlon finals!”
Peter sighed, “Yes, Mr. Harrington.” And then he escaped into the jet, Steve not that far after him.
“Well, that was nice,” Natasha said mildly, as she strapped herself into an empty seat across from Tony.
“Which part?” Sam asked. “The Chameleon? Meeting Peter’s class? Being interrogated by a high school principal?”
“Yes,” Natasha agreed, baring her teeth.
“What’s with high school principals?” Tony asked. “I’ve been out of school for decades and yet I still can’t help but feel like a rebellious teenager standing in front of one.”
“Weren’t you, like, twelve when you graduated high school?” Sam asked.
“Fourteen,” Natasha corrected.
“Natasha, please,” Tony said, “what have we said about memorizing our personal history and breaking it out during casual conversation?”
Natasha turned wide, guileless eyes on him and shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Hah,” Tony said.
“Let’s just go,” Steve said. “I could do with some dinner. And somebody,” he nodded at Tony, “needs to go to the infirmary.”
“Boo,” Tony said.
“I’m on it,” Peter said.
“Thank you, Peter,” Steve said.
“Everyone always gangs up on me,” Tony complained.
“It’s one of our many talents,” Natasha said, and then condescendingly patted Tony’s shoulder at the jet started its take-off procedures.
“Practice makes perfect,” Peter agreed.
Sam went in for a high-five that Peter returned with alacrity.
Tony just scoffed, and pulled his phone back out to play with while he pretended to ignore them.
True to his word, Tao sent the photos he’d taken during the tour to Tony and Pepper no more than thirty-six hours after he left the compound. Included weren’t just the pictures from the end of the day, but pictures of the tour as well. Once again Peter was made aware of the fact that his plan to never tell the Avengers he was coming to the compound nor retroactively make them aware of his being there, was foolish.
He was in so many of the photos.
He hadn’t even realized Tao had had his camera pointed at Peter’s face, but when Tony called him over to his computer in the lab to look through the photos he’d just been emailed, Peter could see that he was everywhere. There he was in the pop-up museum making faces at Ned and MJ, there he was, turning to talk to his friends in the gym, there he was eating his lunch, cross-legged in the Dying Room.
“Are you going to send these all to Mr. Harrington?” Peter asked as he watched the screen flip through the photos, prompted by Tony’s hand swiping through the air. “Or are you going to send them to each student?”
Tony shrugged. “I’ll let Pepper decide what’s best.”
When he got to the photos in the bowling alley his swiping sped up.
“Can I get a copy of all these?” Peter asked.
“Sure,” Tony said. “Hard copy? Digital? Scrapbook?”
“Digital’s fine,” Peter said as Tony swiped past a picture of Flash with Thor.
“Scrapbook it is,” Tony said.
“Ha ha,” Peter said, “You’re hilarious.”
Tony turned from the screen just long enough to grin at him.
Finally they got to the photos Peter had taken with the Avengers, and Tony stopped.
It was… it was a nice photo.
Peter felt his lips pull up into a smile without his conscious decision.
He was in the center of the photo, wearing Ned’s (truly horrid) lurid green hoodie, and absolutely beaming.
He didn’t remember beaming like that when Tao was taking the photo, but he must have been.
Tony was on his one side, arm slung around Peter’s shoulder, and Rhodey was beside him. Steve was on Peter’s other side, Natasha next to him, and Clint next to her. Bucky, Sam, and Bruce were standing behind Steve, Peter, and Tony, and Bucky was giving Peter bunny years with this metal hand. Thor was behind Clint and Natasha, his arms raised, his hammer held aloft, and Wanda and Vision were floating behind Bucky and Sam. And all of them… all of them were grinning. They all looked tired and way too casual, dressed in a mix of PJs, sweats, casual clothes and dirty uniforms, but not a single one of them looked anything less than happy.
None of them had looked nearly this happy in the other photos Tao had taken.
“Hmmm,” Tony said. “I think I like this one. I’m sending it to your aunt.”
“Tony!” Peter complained.
“And I’m having this blown up, printed, and framed. I’m thinking thirty by forty, right over the tv in the living room. So we can all see your face whenever we sit down to movie night.”
“Tony!” Peter said again. He wasn’t sure why. Complaining about Tony to Tony never helped anything.
“You’re right,” Tony said. “It’d make a better wall mural anyway.”
Peter scoffed, and when he didn’t say anything Tony turned to him with a grin.
“You’ve got to admit it looks good though.”
“Yeah,” Peter said softly, and then shaking off the pleased, sentimental mood he’d fallen into, said, “They all look good, really. It’s a shame that Joel was actually the Chameleon during the tour. The photos would have done well with whatever article he was supposed to have written.”
“Actually,” Tony said, “we talked Tao into trying to write the piece himself.”
Peter looked at Tony with surprise. “And he’s going to do it?”
Tony shrugged. “He said he’d try. There won’t be any repercussions if he can’t do it, but hey, we thought it was worth a try. He does work with journalists, and he was there.” Tony shrugged. “Plus, with the whole shitshow with the Chameleon, people will probably read it even if the writing’s crap. But, I’m betting Tao is going to do a pretty good job.”
Peter nodded and then laughed. “He’s going to have to leave something out,” he said. “Too much happened to get it all.”
“He’ll probably gloss over watching a disney movie in a sixteen-year-old’s bedroom with a hoard of teenagers,” Tony said.
“Thank goodness,” Peter said. “Still, I’m kind of excited to see his take on the— the everything.”
“You just want to see your picture in vogue,” Tony teased.
“It’s not even vogue though,” Peter said. “Or, was it? I can’t remember what magazine, newspaper, thing Pepper said she chose.”
Tony shrugged. “They’ll send us an issue. We’ll figure it out then.”
Peter hummed, and then reached past Tony to swipe at the image on the screen. It merely turned to the next picture, one of Peter and the Avengers making silly faces, the one where Peter had stuck out his tongue and given the camera the peace sign. Beside him, Tony was making an identical face, also flashing a peace sign.
Which explained at least why Ned had laughed at him. (Still a traitor.)
“I’m thinking,” Peter said quietly, “of telling everyone that I’m, you know…”
“An arachnid?” Tony offered, even though they were alone in the lab.
Peter nodded.
Tony turned his chair fully to face Peter and then moved back slightly so he could see all of Peter at once. “What made you decide that?”
Peter shrugged and looked down at his feet. “I don’t know.” His eyes slid up, to the photo on Tony’s monitor. “Just, remember when Steve was talking to me on the plane?”
“About you omitting that you were coming on the field trip,” Tony said, “yeah, I remember. I remember you and I having that same conversation earlier in the day as well.”
Peter waved that away with a motion of his hand. “I know. But with Steve, he was saying, he was explaining about how it kinda sorta seemed like I don’t trust them. You. All of you.”
“Still sounds exactly the same as the conversation you and I had,” Tony said.
Peter groaned. “Yeah, to a point. But when he was talking, I was thinking that of course I trust all of you. Of course I do. Only, in this instance it kinda didn’t look like I did. And I realized that there was another instance where it seems like I don’t trust them.”
“Ah,” Tony said.
“Yeah,” Peter said. “And it’s not like I’m keeping being Spiderman from them because I don’t trust them. I trust them.”
“I know you do,” Tony said, and put a hand on Peter’s shoulder.
“But it doesn’t look like it, when you look at it, and it doesn’t feel like it, when you think about it,” Peter said, making perhaps less sense than he’d intended.
“You know they wouldn’t judge you for that, right?” Tony asked. “It’s a different situation. Keeping your identity as a hero a secret is different than not telling your roommates that your class is touring your home.”
“Not my whole class,” Peter said, “just my Academic Decathlon team.”
“Semantics,” Tony said.
“And yes,” Peter said, “I know. But it’s not— look.” he let out a sigh. “I’m not choosing to tell them now because I think they’ll be upset with me, or tell me I don’t trust them, when they do eventually find out. I want to tell them because, well, because I do trust them, and I— Or, yeah. That’s kind of it. I just— I trust them.”
Tony smiled at Peter. “Sounds like a good reason to me.”
Peter nodded, not even trying to keep his bubbly smile off his face.
Tony checked his watch. “Want to go now? Most everyone should be in the living room.”
The thought of going, right now, and admitting to everyone that he was Spiderman made his heart pick up speed.
“Uh,” he said, and Tony grinned at him.
“Need some more time?” Tony asked.
“Yes, definitely,” Peter agreed. “And I want to tell Aunt May and get her advice, and you know, tell her about the field trip too…”
“You haven't told her about that yet?” Tony asked.
Peter shook his head jerkily. “Not really sure how.”
“There’s not a wrong way of telling someone something like that,” Tony said. And then he frowned. “Or well, there probably is, if sitcoms have taught me anything. But as long as you don’t fold in any lies about having an affair or admit you actually have an evil twin you should be fine. Just tell her the truth, and don’t try so hard to protect her feelings or her peace of mind that you end up hurting her or you in the long run.”
Peter bit his lip.
“You’ll be fine,” Tony said. “But really, the longer you wait the harder it’s going to be.”
“You’re probably right,” Peter said.
“I am right,” Tony said, “I’m always right.”
Peter fidgeted.
“You want to go tell her now?” Tony asked.
“I should,” Peter said.
“Well then, off you go,” Tony said, and made a shooing motion with his hand.
Released, Peter started off towards the door to the lab and then stopped part way. “Don’t forget to send me those pictures,” he said.
“Yeah yeah,” Tony said, “I’ll make a scrapbook like I promised.”
“Digital copies, Tony,” Peter said, and then made it almost to the door before turning back again. This time he didn’t say anything right away.
“You want me to come with you to talk to May,” Tony said.
Peter released a sigh. “Is that stupid?”
“No,” Tony said. “I mean, your aunt can be scary. She scares me on a regular basis. But, once you explain what happened, and you answer her questions, I’m sure she’ll be fine. And she might even give you good advice on admitting your Arachni-Identity to everybody.”
“You’re right,” Peter said, and then didn’t move. “It’ll be fine,” he said.
Tony rose from his seat, cracked his back, and started towards Peter and the door.
“You’ll come help anyway?” Peter asked, slightly surprised. He shouldn’t need help talking to his aunt (though she was going to scream so much— oh was she ever going to scream). He knew she was on his side, and for any yelling she might do, it’d always be on his behalf, and she’d always help him with whatever he asked. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous just thinking about trying to explain it all to her over a poor skype connection.
(If she was here in person it would be different. If she was in hugging-distance he wouldn’t have been able to wait this long in the first place).
But Tony didn’t tell Peter that he’d be fine just talking to Aunt May, or tell him to calm down, he just said, “Of course, Peter. All you have to do is ask.”
Which, once Tony said it, seemed obvious.
“Even if your aunt scares the bejezus out of me,” Tony said.
Peter laughed. “She’s not that scary.”
“Uh huh,” Tony said, “You’re not the one looking after her favorite nephew.”
“Only nephew,” Peter corrected.
“Point stands,” Tony said. “But whatever. As long as I don’t let you die or fail English I should be fine. Even if you did lie about not going on a field trip that ended up with a villain gate crashing. At least that’s not on me. This time.”
“Thanks,” Peter said sarcastically. “You make me feel so much better.”
“You’re very welcome,” Tony said, making a theatrical bow. “That’s always my aim.”
And as they walked, getting closer to a video call with Aunt May that Tony was doing a bang up job at distracting Peter from thinking about, Peter considered that as dramatic and theatrical a tone as Tony’s words had been said in, they were really nothing but the complete and utter truth.