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The video cuts in to a simple scene. Tony and Peter are sitting on a bench, the sprawl of the penthouse workshop rolling out behind them. Tools are left out, a few projects abandoned on tables and shelves. There is something human about the image, like it’s a glimpse into a moment of intimacy.

Peter sits on Tony’s right. He’s wearing a Stark Industries sweatshirt and his hair is as curly as ever. Tony is wearing a plain gray t-shirt, a bizarre display of casualness that’s unusual for the public to see. He looks surprisingly at ease.

Peter pokes the older man in the arm. “We have to come up with an intro.”

“An intro?”

Yes , Mister Stark. An intro. Something we say, or do, at the beginning of every video. It’s branding.”

Tony looks at him wryly. “Well, we have to worry about branding.”

“You’re the worst.”

[cut]

“Hey guys! I’m Peter, and this is, uh-”

“Forget my name, squirt?”

“No! I just… don’t know whether to call you Mister Stark or Tony.”

Tony drops his head back and laughs.

[cut]

“Hey guys! This is, uh-”

“Peter,” Tony’s voice is amused, “they know who we are. You don’t have to introduce us.”

“Oh, right.”

[cut]

“Hey guys! We, uh, we know everyone is super interested in our relationship, and stuff-”

“Which is a little weird frankly-”

“So we thought we’d do a video to help you get to know us.”

Peter thought. This was Peter’s idea. I want that fact known.”

“You’re gonna love it.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Yes, you will.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Yes, you will.”

“No, I-”

[cut]

“So this is technically called the Newlywed Game.”

Tony groans. “Oh my god.

“But we’re not playing it like that, obviously!” Peter grins, and hands his mentor a mini whiteboard and Expo marker. “It’s just to see how well we know each other.”

Tony scoffs. “Easy.”

“Yeah?” Peter turns to look up at him with wide eyes. “I think I know you pretty well.”

Tony returns his smile, hand snaking up to ruffle his hair. “You sure do, kiddo. Now hit me with this first question. I can’t wait to win.”

“Who said anything about winning or losing?”

“It’s a game, Pete. There’s always a winner and a loser.”

“Maybe there isn’t in this game.”

“Sure. Now, what do I get when I kick your ass?”

Peter glares. “I didn’t think of a prize.”

“That’s fine. I’ve got one. Winner picks what we watch tonight.”

“Fine.” Peter picks up a folded piece of notebook paper. “But you’re not gonna win.”

“Sure I’m not.”

Peter twitches his nose briefly before continuing. “I got Miss Potts to choose all of the questions, so neither of us know what they are.” He turns to Tony. “I’ll read out a question, and then I’ll write down my answer, and you’ll write down what you think my answer will be, and we’ll see if they’re the same. Then, I’ll give you the questions and we’ll do one for you. Does that make sense?”

“It’s crystal clear, Pete.”

“Okay. Awesome.” Peter unfolds the paper and reads the first question. “What’s my favorite TV show to binge watch?”

Tony rolls his eyes and uncaps his Expo marker with a flash of confidence. “Too easy, kid.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

They both finish writing, and Tony flips his board around first.

“Right now, it’s Queer Eye. Last month, it was Fashion Runway.”

Peter flips his own board over to show Queer Eye written in lopsided script. “Yeah, okay. Showoff.”

“I like this game.” Tony plucks the sheet of questions from Peter’s hand. “My turn. What’s the one thing you do that drives me insane?”

Peter giggles. “Everything?”

“Yes, but be specific.”

Both of them write in silence for a few seconds. Once they’re both done, Peter turns his board around hesitantly. “Is it that I take my shoes off in the car? And I don’t put them back on until we’re, like, wherever it is we were driving to so you have to wait for me to put them back on and tie them and stuff?”

Tony flips his board. Leaving your shoes in the wheel well until we get to our destination.

“It’s exhausting! Why do you do that? I don’t mind if you take them off, but be proactive, Peter. Wait until we’re five minutes out and put them back on .”

Peter’s in stitches. He covers his face as he laughs, sleeves of his oversized sweatshirt falling over his hands. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

[cut]

“If I went to an animal shelter,” Peter uncaps his Expo marker, “would I go to the dogs or the cats first?”

Tony doesn’t even bother writing on the board. “That’s a trick question. You’d find a way to go to both simultaneously.”

“That’s… true.”

“Of course it is. I told you I’d win, Peter.”

[cut]

“Hey Peter,” Tony smirks, “what high school did I go to?”

“Oh! I know this. I know that I know this…” Peter twists his marker in his hands. “It’s that creepy boarding school in New Hampshire, right? It’s super famous.”

“It’s not creepy.”

All boarding schools are creepy, Mister Stark.” Peter writes slowly. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Have at it, kiddo.”

Philip Exeter (?)

“That’s… so impressively close that I’m giving it to you.” Tony looks genuinely surprised. “Philips Exeter Academy. And you’re right, it’s in New Hampshire. How the hell did you know that?”

“I wrote a report on you for school once.”

“You wrote a what on me-?”

[cut]

“Have I ever had a pet?”

It took Tony all of two seconds to write his answer and flip the board.

Yes. Two fish. Flippy and Solo.

“How did you know that?”

“You must have mentioned it at some point.”

“And you remembered ?”

“‘Course I did.”

[cut]

“What’s the last movie I saw and hated?”

“The Emoji Movie. We watched it together and you complained the whole way through.”

“Because it’s an awful movie, Peter.”

“I wasn’t disagreeing, Mister Stark. I was just giving context.”

[cut]

“What position do I sleep in?”

“What position don’t you sleep in?”

“You’re supposed to write your answer on the board, Mister Stark!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Do you want me to write out every single bizarre contortion I’ve ever seen you sleep in, then? Give me another marker, kid. This one’ll dry out before we’re halfway through.”

“This is a form of child abuse.”

“Just keep telling yourself that, squirt.”

[cut]

Tony snorts, then covers his mouth with the palm of his hand. “What’s my favorite thing about you?”

“Wait,” Peter fiddles with his board, “so I’m guess your favorite thing about me?”

“Yep.”

“Personality-wise or like, a physical feature?”

Tony writes a single word with a flourish. “Personality.”

After a long moment of contemplation, Peter unveils his answer. “You like that I’m smart?”

“Nope.” Tony turns his board. Passionate.

Peter scrunches up his face. “Passionate?”

“You get excited about everything.” The corner of Tony’s mouth tugs up as he shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve never seen you do anything without passion. It’s adorable.”

“I’m not adorable.”

Tony arches his eyebrows. “Okay, kid.”

“I’m not!”

[cut]

“Okay,” Peter doesn’t even glance at the paper as he takes it right out of Tony’s hands, “what are my favorite things about you? Same rules.”

Tony shifts in his seat, a pinched look on his face. “Nope. Already did that one. Pick a new question.”

“Fine.” Peter scans the list, then smiles triumphantly. “Fill in the blank. My favorite thing that you do is...?”

Tony blinks at his blank board for a long time. Finally, he hastily scrawls something and flips it. “Is it when I play with your hair?”

“Oh, I do love that.” Peter grins shyly. “But, nope.”

His own answer is written in huge letters, taking up the entirety of the board’s space. Exist.

Tony’s face twitches as he fights a smile. “Cute, Peter. I just vomited in my mouth.”

“You loved it.”

Tony just shrugs.

[cut]

“So, uh,” Peter glances to Tony, then back at the camera, “we tied.”

“So I guess its a compromise movie night then, huh?”

“Those are the best, though!” Peter smiles. “Anyway, thanks for watching! We’re probably gonna do some more videos like this on our channel, so you can subscribe to it you want to see more of… this.”

“And what is this, exactly?”

“Us, doing… stuff.”

“Put that on a business card, Pete. It’s the slogan of the century.”

“That can be our tagline.”

“Please don’t make that our tagline.”

Peter turns to the camera with a cheeky grin. “Like and subscribe for more of us, doing… stuff.”

Tony groans, loud and obnoxious. “Dear god.”