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So you can tell the hero's 'go hide', my sense of wonder's just a little tired.

Chapter Text


To say Peter was looking forward to meeting the rest of the Avengers was something of an understatement. He had his hands shoved between his knees in an attempt to stop fidgeting and cluing Mr Stark into just how keyed up he was.



He’d been waiting on a call for help, perhaps on a mission they’d needed an extra pair of hands for, but this was something else entirely. Mr Stark had somehow cleared it with May for him to stay at the Avengers Tower, THE Avengers Tower, for three weeks of his summer holidays. Passed it off as some in-house secret interning business and as much as May liked to say she disapproved of capitalism and Tony Stark in general, she was fully won over by him after a few phone calls and him daring to completely finish her date loaf. May’s not stupid, she knows it wouldn’t measure up even at a homeless shelter.



Now, he and Mr Stark were driving through the city with Peter’s suitcase in the trunk. He’d been to the tower a few times and worked with Mr Stark in his workshop, but he’d never been up to the communal floors. It was common knowledge the upper floors of the tower housed the Avengers team. Mr Stark had brushed him off when he’d first asked about them, and Peter couldn’t help but feel disappointed, like he’d been kept out of a secret, or last to be picked for a team in gym. He’d let it slide, not wanting to piss off Mr Stark and not wanting to risk him cancelling their sessions in the workshop, but Mr Stark brought it up himself two weeks ago in an abrupt way, well, even more abrupt than usual for him.


“The rest of the team are nagging me about a little spider they’re yet to meet. So pack some bags and I’ll clear it with Aunt hottie for you to stay a few weeks.” Tony had swivelled his chair back around to his desk and had Jarvis crank up the music again, leaving Peter to have a mini freak out at his own delegated worktable.



“You pack everything? Wait, stupid question, anything you’re missing we can just order in. Jarvis will find it.”

“Uh- I’m sure I’ve got all I’ll need Mr Stark, I double checked.” Just a little white lie, he might have unpacked and repacked his suitcase about twelve times, but Mr Stark didn’t have to know that. He’d brought his Avengers merchandise pyjamas after all as he’d actually been running low on ones that fit and weren’t getting threadbare.

They pulled up to the garage entrance for the tower and the panel on the side of the tower raised smoothly to welcome them in. Mr Stark smirked over at him as he ogled the pristine cars lined up in his obviously private collection.

“Damn kid, should’ve picked you up before this.” Mr Stark chuckled as he reversed the Audi into a space. Peter felt his cheeks turn pink.

“It’s fine, Mr Stark, I don’t mind the tube. Or swinging over, whatever. It’s fun. Fresh air, you know. Clears my head.” He brushed it off, babbling, judging by the roll of Mr Stark’s eyes.

They both got out of the car, Peter immediately distracted by the cars, so much so that Tony had the handle out on Peter’s suitcase and was pulling it to an elevator to the rear of the garage and he hadn’t noticed.

“C’mon kiddo, let’s get you settled in.” He called over his shoulder, making Peter startle.

“Sorry, coming!” He jogged over to the man’s side, sheepish, that suitcase wasn’t light. Mr Stark placed a hand on a discreet panel that scanned with a green laser. So cool. Peter was in heaven every time he came here. The doors opened and they stepped in.

“I can take it, sir.” He held out his hand for the case but Mr Stark gave him an odd look.

“What did I say about calling me ‘sir’?” He chastised Peter with a raised eyebrow. He didn’t hand over the suitcase.

“Oh, sorry sir- I mean-” Peter stumbled over his words causing Mr Stark to huff out a laugh.

“Damn kid, they’re not that bad, no need to be so edgy.”

He was right, and infuriatingly observant. Peter’s nerves were starting to creep up again. The Avengers were all upstairs waiting to meet him and while he thinks he’s firmly got Mr Stark’s approval, the others seem to be a little reserved from what he’s heard. Though, admittedly, that wasn’t all that much as Mr Stark didn’t talk often about them as when they were working, he became hyper-focused on what he was creating or fixing, or even Peter’s work on his Spider-tech. Peter really was so incredibly lucky.

“I just- I want to make a good impression.” Peter kept his eyes fixed on the elevator doors in front of them as Jarvis moved them to wherever Mr Stark had asked him to. He must’ve missed him ask.

“Pete, they’ve wanted to meet you for a while now. You’ll win them over no matter what you do, so don’t stress it.” Mr Stark sounded so certain, but Peter still had days he wondered why Tony Stark made time for a Midtown student, whether Spiderman was the only reason a billionaire and all-round busy genius would spend even an ounce of time with him. Tony Stark had been his idol, not that he’d ever let that on. He’d never tell him about the box of Iron Man drawings in May’s wardrobe from when he was younger.

Peter watched the numbers on the display rise until the elevator stopped on the floor below Mr Stark’s penthouse suite.

“I hope you enjoy your stay, Master Parker.” JARVIS announced as the doors opened. The room was huge, way bigger than his and May’s whole apartment.

“Thanks JARVIS…” Peter dimly registered himself replying. The room was furnished in what Peter could only describe as an expensive budget. The open plan room had a grey sofa in a recessed area in front of a vast television on the wall, a games console (or five) under that, a relatively small kitchen area with some cereal boxes and tea and coffee making stuff. To the far right, there were two doors that Peter assumed led to a bedroom and bathroom.

“It’s got most of what you’ll want here, so if you don’t want to bother eating breakfast with the others then that’s up to you.” Mr Stark explained as he passed Peter to open one of the doors.

“You didn’t have to do this for me.” Peter protested weakly, this was too much, way too much. Mr Stark threw him a look over his shoulder and tugged Peter’s suitcase into the room. Peter wandered dumbly after him.

The bedroom had his eyes filling up before he’d even prepared himself. Fortunately, Mr Stark was facing ahead and missed Peter’s furious blinking. There was a double bed with Spiderman sheets, making him simultaneously blush and feel something warm in his chest. An expansive floor to ceiling wardrobe sat opposite the bed (Peter would never be able to fill it, even if he brought the rest of his clothes over) and a desk.

“So, yeah, its nothing much,” Mr Stark shrugged, glancing at Peter quickly.

“Nothing much? Mr Stark, this is… this is too much.” He finished quietly.

“Don’t be silly, this is a standard room. All Avengers -and future Avengers,” He added with a pointed look, “get their own rooms. Anyway, can’t have you sleeping on the couch, your aunt would kill me.” Mr Stark pushed the suitcase handle down with a flourish and gestured around the room. “Get yourself settled later on, best do some introductions and get that out of the way.” His smile looked a little strained, Peter must’ve seemed so ungrateful.

“Thank you, for the room. Rooms.” He added, following him back through his floor. His floor?! “Really, they’re amazing. Ned would be so jealous.” He grinned at the thought and Mr Stark seemed to relax a little. They got into the elevator together.

“Don’t mention it, kid. Seriously, it makes me feel weird. So don’t do that.” Mr Stark shivered dramatically, making Peter snort. “C’mon then J, let’s go see the others.”

Peter could feel his palms sweat as the elevator descended past what Mr Stark explained as the other Avenger’s floors. The common area was a floor below the ‘residential’ ones. He tried to discreetly brush his hands off on his jeans, certain he was about to give Captain America a soggy handshake.

The common area was spacious too, open plan was obviously a ‘thing’ amongst the wealthy, Peter was realising. To the left, there were a cluster of couches and arm chairs surrounding a television, switched on to the news. A large glass dining table, to seat eight, sat between the sofas and a breakfast bar, and behind the breakfast bar, to the right of the room was a kitchen, kitted out with what looked to be the most expensive set of appliances Peter had ever laid eyes on.

“Where are they all J?” Mr Stark asked the room. Before JARVIS could even answer, a messy, dirty-brown head of hair popped up from the sofa.

“He’s here?” The guy blinked blearily between him and Mr Stark.

“Kid, that’s Barton.” Mr Stark rolled his eyes as the man scrambled onto his knees on the sofa before swinging himself over the back, landing unexpectedly light on his feet. He grinned and held out his hand which Peter shook quickly, trying not to beam like an idiot.

“Hi! Peter, that’s me.”

“Clint, aka Hawkeye. Don’t call me Barton, just ignore Stark, he’s a terrible influence.” Mr Stark just scoffed.

“Kid,” He said instead, looking pointedly at Peter’s hand that was still enthusiastically shaking Clint’s. Wow. Well done Parker. Clint just grinned even more as Peter shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “Right, I think that’s enough of Barton.” Mr Stark’s hand reached out to pull him away from Clint, much to Peter’s confusion.

“Uh, nice to meet you sir.” He said quickly as he was steered back towards the elevator. They didn’t get far though as the doors opened and out stepped Captain America, actual Captain America, full uniform sans cowl. Holy shit, his shield was on his arm and glinted from the streams of light coming through the expansive floor to ceiling windows. Mr Stark’s hand tightened briefly, breaking him out of his nerd freak-out.

“You must be Peter,” The Captain said, stepping forwards to shake his hand. His still sweaty hand.

“H-Hi, sir, Mr Captain.”

“Steve. Just Steve is fine.” Steve corrected him. He ran over what he’d said and internally cringed, but what the hell, he’s just met Captain America, anyone would make a social faux pas.

“I didn’t hear about any mission.” Mr Stark questioned Steve, which gave Peter some time to regain his equilibrium.

“Just a SHIELD recon in Atlanta. Nat’s grabbing a shower, but she’ll be down soon.” He said, glancing at Peter. “JARVIS told me you’d arrived so I wanted to meet you first.”

“Well, Barton beat you to it.” Mr Stark sounded a bit smug, but Steve didn’t appear to notice.

“Technically, you beat us all to it.” Steve said, raising an eyebrow at Mr Stark. The man gave a tight smile in return and his fingers twitched on Peter’s shoulder. Peter wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but there was an undercurrent of something here.

“Sir, I have a call from Miss Potts.” JARVIS announced.

Mr Stark glanced apologetically at Peter.

“Sorry kid, I really gotta take this.” He let go of Peter’s shoulder to pull his phone from his pocket. “Route it through, J. Kid, tell JARVIS what you want to watch, he’ll override the others for you.” He said, gesturing towards the television as he turned to duck out of the room into the elevator, leaving Peter stood in front of Captain America with Clint still grinning behind him. He just knew he was.

“So, you settled in?” Steve looked kind of awkward and less sure of himself now that Mr Stark was gone.

“Uh, my stuff’s in my room, but I haven’t unpacked yet. We came straight here.”

“What’s your room like?” Clint asked. Steve gestured for him to sit on the sofa and took an armchair nearby, while Clint joined Peter on the other end of the sofa.

“Really nice. Like, better than what you’d imagine in a five-star hotel.” Peter shook his head, overwhelmed. “It’s too much really. I don’t need all that.”

Steve chuckled, “I don’t think you get a say in what Tony does with his money.” Steve rolled his eyes and Clint snorted.

“Yeah, the guy’s emotionally deficient, so it’s his way of making friends.”

Peter glanced sharply at Clint but bit his tongue. Mr Stark wasn’t like that, but he’d just met them. It was hardly a good idea to piss off Hawkeye and Captain America, and he certainly didn’t want to come across as a petulant child, which he’d undoubtedly sound like if he went off defending Tony Stark. He’d heard it enough already from MJ when Flash started in on the man.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it, he was saved from that topic of conversation by the entrance of Black Widow. Who possibly looked as unthreatening as she could be, completely throwing Peter for a moment as she padded across the room with a bowl of cereal she’d made behind them in the kitchen without a sound.

She was wearing sweats, had her hair up in a bun and climbed into another armchair, keeping her eyes on Peter as she settled in.

“Little spider.” She sent him a small smile and he grinned.

“Not so little.” He disagreed, wrinkling his nose, making the others chuckle. Clint started flicking through the channels.

“I’m going to get washed up and start on lunch.” Steve announced and rose from his seat. “It was nice to meet you Peter, I hope you enjoy your stay here.”

“Yeah, thanks Si- Steve.” He corrected, feeling his ears turn pink.

Steve left and Peter allowed himself to relax back into the sofa, surreptitiously glancing to Natasha and Clint every now and then, not quite believing he was in Avengers Tower common room watching Spongebob Squarepants. Natasha and Clint made small conversation between themselves and Peter pretended not to be fascinated. They talked vaguely about a few missions that were apparently quite hilarious, but Peter missed the obvious inside jokes. He found out that Bruce Banner was away for a few days on a science conference, arranged and paid for by Mr Stark and Thor had left New York to spend time with his girlfriend who lived in Norway.

“Kid, grab me a beer from the fridge. Nothing with some whacko name, they’re Thor’s.” Clint asked him and Peter jumped up quickly.

“Yeah, sure.” He grabbed a bottle of Budweiser from the fridge door and handed it over the back of the sofa to Clint. “Here you go.”

“Get us some chips too, I’m starving, Steve’s taking forever to get ready.” He said, popping open the lid and taking a swig. “There’s dips in the fridge somewhere too.”

“Okay.” Peter turned to go back to the kitchen but came face to face with Mr Stark who looked pretty pissed off.

“Get your own damn food, Katniss.” He snapped at Clint who sat up quickly, looking a bit sheepish. Natasha just turned to stare at them all. “I leave him for five seconds and you’re using him like a servant.”

“It’s alright, it was just some snacks Mr Stark.” Peter shrugged, not overly bothered by Clint bossing him. Mr Stark’s pinched expression worried him though.

“Says the guy who’s still got him calling you ‘Mr’.” Clint retorted, voice snide. Mr Stark opened his mouth to answer Clint, but Peter send him a pleading look.

“He can call me whatever, I’ve told him that.” Was all Mr Stark said. He turned away from Peter and went over to the kitchen where he pressed buttons on what looked like an incredibly sophisticated coffee machine.

Steve turned up at that point, making everyone settle back down on the sofas, Mr Stark with a cup of coffee in hand. He sat between Clint and Peter on the sofa, luckily it was large enough they weren’t cramped. Peter couldn’t help but notice the many other empty seats around them though.

It turned out that Captain America could seriously cook. They all sat around the large dining table, Peter next to Mr Stark on the long side. Steve, Natasha, then Clint opposite them. The seat on Mr Stark’s left remained empty. The chatter wasn’t anything thrilling so he tuned out a bit, focusing on making his taco, but every now and then Mr Stark would mention his school or include him, which was nice.

“Do you like art?” Steve addressed him, making him hurriedly swallow.

“Sure, it’s alright, though we don’t really cover it as a main topic. Science school.” He shrugged. Steve frowned a little. “Um, do you?” He asked. Mr Stark refilled Peter’s orange juice without a word and Peter caught Natasha’s smirk.

“Sketching mainly, though I do like working with charcoal.” Steve admitted, nodding.

“Are you any good though?” Peter asked, making Mr Stark snort and Clint laugh loudly. “Sorry! I didn’t mean-“ He hurriedly tried to explain himself, feeling his face flame.

“It’s alright son, I mean, I think so.” He gave Peter a small smile, “I’ve been told so, anyway. It’s just a little hobby really, keeps me entertained between missions.”

“What do you do in your spare time, Peter?” Natasha asked before carefully biting into her taco.

“Well, Spidermanning really.” Peter shrugged. “What with school, it’s sort of the only time I get to go out.”

“You’re not on any sports teams?” Clint asked, leaning back in his chair, another beer in his hand.

“I wasn’t very good before, so I can’t really shoot a basketball from the other end of the court and score. It’d be pretty suspicious.”

“He’s on the Academic Decathlon team.” Mr Stark gave him a small grin. “Best in the group.”

“So you’re a smart-ass like Stark?” Clint rolled his eyes jokingly, at least that’s how Peter thought it was until Natasha elbowed him.

“Barton’s just jealous cause he has no education at all.” Mr Stark said, draining the last of his coffee.

“Hey, come on guys.” Steve said, sending a disapproving look around the table.




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Mr Stark had to leave for the afternoon for some work at SI, so Peter excused himself to unpack his case. He closed the bedroom door and sat on the bed, taking in the room properly. There was a bookshelf and Peter’s enhanced eyesight picked up the science and math texts, though there were a few fiction books and comics amongst them.

“Is there anything you wish to change, Master Parker?” JARVIS’ voice startled him out of his thoughts of Mr Stark out shopping for these things. Well, it wouldn’t have been like that would it have? He’d probably gotten Miss Potts or JARVIS to pick some things out.

“No, JARVIS, it’s really great.” He spotted a small framed picture on the desk in the corner. It was Peter holding his internship certificate with Tony, each of them giving the other bunny ears. Not the official one that went out in the SI bulletins. “Thanks, JARVIS. For setting this all up.” He smiled gratefully up at the ceiling.

“While the sentiment is appreciated, I was not the one to stock your room. Sir is the one responsible.” JARVIS even sounded a little… proud?

“Mr Stark did this himself?” He asked, sceptical. He really could not picture Mr Stark out buying Spiderman sheets, the thought made him giggle madly for a second.

“I may have expediated shipping, but Sir is indeed responsible for the belongings within your floor. I…” JARVIS seemed to wait for a moment and if he were human Peter would say he hesitated. “… certainly am not responsible for the contents of your wardrobe.”

“What?” Peter stared at the doors with a sense of dread. He flung himself forwards off the end of the bed and yanked the sliding door. Sure enough, in true Tony Stark style, he’d kitted out the whole wardrobe. Peter numbly ran his hands over the clothes hung up. Suit jackets, shirts, t-shirts with puns only Peter and Mr Stark seemed to find funny, suit trousers, jeans. In the shelves to the side, Peter spotted folded up hoodies, pyjamas, socks and to his embarrassment, underwear. Holy. Shit. Holy shit. This stuff wasn’t cheap knockoff’s either, he’d spotted a few memorable logos, Nike, Under Armour, Ralph Lauren. Hell, that was a Tom Ford suit! He tugged the door closed and backed away to sit on the end of the bed.

“JARVIS, this is crazy.” He muttered, his pulse racing. “I can’t accept this, Clint was right, he can’t just buy...”

“Sir has many idiosyncrasies.” JARVIS said. “But being generous is not one of them.”

“I don’t even want to know how much this cost.” Peter moaned. Mr Stark was going to have to take all this back, there was no way he could accept. “Where is he? I need to tell him to take it back.”

“I was led to believe that you were rather intelligent, Master Parker. I may have to re-evaluate my parameters for concluding such a thing.”

“Okay, wow. Throwing shade are we?” Peter looked up, bemused. “JARVIS, this is… this is just too much. Don’t you see? I don’t need all this, I’ve got clothes.”

“Which are showing signs of wear or no longer fit. Last week you wore a pair of jeans that I believe are termed ‘ankle biters’ to Sir’s workshop.”

“It’s not his job, it’s May’s.” Peter argued, stubborn.

“My purpose is to ensure Sir’s health to the best of my ability, mentally and physically.” JARVIS explained, what that had to do with Peter’s new clothes, he had no idea. “From previous incidents, I have come to the conclusion that Sir does not appreciate his gifts being returned. Also, judging from previous incidents of gift-giving, you, Master Parker, are fortunate there is not a sixteen foot plush rabbit on your bed. Clothes, relatively speaking, are rather harmless.”

Now Peter was lost. “Huh?”

“Accept the gift or you will upset Sir and I will not be held responsible for technological mishaps around your floor, Master Parker.”

Peter laughed, a little wary.

“Fine.”

 

Peter ate breakfast in his own rooms the next morning after asking JARVIS where Mr Stark was and JARVIS informing him that ‘Sir is currently catching up on some REM sleep, it would be unwise to disturb him during this luxury he affords himself fortnightly.’

He didn’t fancy joining the others in the kitchen during their morning routines, not without Mr Stark there anyway. Which was ridiculous really, he knew that, but Mr Stark being there would help him relax a bit. The others were still a little intimidating. Well, not intimidating, he just wanted to prove himself as a mature and capable possible addition to the Avengers. Bumbling around with his breakfast cereal and bedhead really didn’t give that impression.

He’d finished his cereal and was watching Good Morning America slouched in his Avengers pyjamas, (his own from his apartment, he refused to open the wardrobe again), when to his mortification, JARVIS announced he had a visitor.

“What’s the plan today then?” Mr Stark called as he strode out of the elevator, just seconds after JARVIS spoke up. He was wearing black sweatpants, a loose t-shirt, and socks with no shoes.

“Sorry! I’m not dressed yet.” Peter apologised, jumping up. Mr Stark looked down at himself and then back up at Peter.

“Nor me. Who cares about that?” He wiggled his toes into the carpet, grinning.

“… Obviously not you.” Peter sighed, sitting back down onto the sofa. Mr Stark came over to the back of the sofa and actually rolled over the back onto Peter.

“Oh my god!” Peter whined, laughing as he tried to push the guy’s legs over his head and onto his lap instead of digging into his back, squished behind him. With a bit of wriggling, Mr Stark had his feet in Peter’s lap and his head on the arm of the sofa, frowning at the television.

“This is a load of bollocks.”

Peter snorted. “Yeah, but there’s not much else on, its eight a.m. on a weekday.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not a load of bollocks.”

“Shouldn’t you be working?” Peter said, not dignifying Mr Stark’s whinging with an answer on his program choices. Mr Stark huffed, offended.

“I do not work nine to five, kid. Perks of being me.” He added with a grin. “I work when I want.”

“Okay… so what is the plan today?” Peter asked. “I can watch tv if you’re busy with stuff, I know you agreed to having me here, but I don’t need a babysitter.” He didn’t want to be a burden to the man, he was always busy. There was no reply so Peter glanced at him. He was facing the tv, a wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“I know you don’t need a babysitter. I just thought-” Mr Stark shrugged but it got a little lost in the couch cushions. “Whatever, nevermind.”

“Could we work on the exploding webs?” Peter ventured. Sometimes Mr Stark had trouble asking people to stick around and it made Peter at once infuriated and unhappy when he noticed.

“Okay, if you want.” His face transformed as he gave Peter a smile that wrinkled his eyes. He sounded like a kid, like they didn’t work in the ‘shop every week already. Peter just rolled his eyes, it was remarkably easy to be with Mr Stark.

Peter changed into his usual workshop clothes, old worn jeans and a loose t-shirt, and Mr Stark went on down ahead of him. Before they both realised, they’d been down for hours, munched on a few sandwiches Mr Stark surfaced from the ‘shop to fetch for them, then jumped back into their work.

Mr Stark was working on the synthetic spider-glide parts that affixed underneath the suit’s arms while Peter was mixing a compound that would explode on impact. Not suitable for swinging, but great for targets of the villain kind. He’d set up his station underneath an extraction vent as it was particularly noxious, the fumes already making him a little dizzy. He just needed to add the final few drops of solution and it should be done. He reached towards the dropper he’d set down earlier but clipped the bottle he’d leaned over, tipping it over the desk.

“Shit!” He jumped back from the desk, reaching for the neutralising agent behind on another bench and unstopping it quickly.

“Kid, not that one!” Mr Stark shouted, coming across the workshop faster than Peter believed possible, just as Peter tipped the neutralising agent on the concoction. It fizzled and he registered Mr Stark’s arm grab his own and yank him sideways away from the bench, putting himself between Peter and the desk.

The explosion forced them off their feet and they hit the floor with a thud, sirens wailing above them from the ceiling. Peter groaned and grabbed onto the weight on top of him.

“Oh god, Mr Stark? Sir?!” The man groaned and rolled off him, blinking blearily.

“Whoah, that was some good potion.”

“I’m so sorry!” He spluttered, but man was already getting up and hauled Peter to his feet, quickly checking him over.

“You good?”

“Yeah.” Peter’s brain was slowly catching up to what had happened. “Why did you do that? You- You could have been hurt!” He glared at Mr Stark, a surge of adrenaline fuelling his boldness.

“Hey, I’m not, nobody is.” He held up his hands placatingly and Peter took a step back, looking at them both, Peter had barely a scratch, but Mr Stark’s shirt was singed in parts and the work bench behind had a chunk missing.

“I’m so sorry, I thought that would have neutralised the reaction… it should have neutralised it.” Peter babbled, trying to make sense of what he’d done wrong.

“Yeah, it normally would have, but you’ve not got the solution in a plastic container. The bench however, has a coating that’ll react with your little compound. My fault, I should’ve warned you.” Mr Stark gritted his teeth at that, filling Peter with guilt.

To make things worse, Steve appeared in the room, eyes alert, wearing a blue button-down shirt and slacks.

“What happened?” He demanded, rushing over. He took in the melted work bench and the state of Mr Stark’s shirt and seemed to get more pissed off the longer he looked. Oh god, Peter was done for. Captain America was either going to lay him out or he’d be forever branded incompetent in his eyes.

“My fault.” Mr Stark shrugged. “No big deal, just made a smidge of a miscalculation.” Peter blinked at Mr Stark incredulously.

Steve raised his eyes to Mr Stark’s and Peter could feel the tension in the room rise a few notches.

“Why are you running dangerous experiments when you’re responsible for a child down here?” He seethed and Peter would have normally had something to say about the ‘child’ remark, but hey, trying to be an adult here.

“He’s more than competent to deal with some experiments, Cap. That’s called science. Thought you’d be familiar enough with the concept.” Mr Stark hissed back.

“It’s irresponsible, reckless and ridiculously dangerous!” Steve countered, taking a step into Mr Stark’s space. “You’re supposed to be in charge of things here. Not blowing things up around kids and setting off alarms throughout the tower.”

“The alarms went off because it was near a vent.” Mr Stark stood his ground, even with Steve a good six inches taller. “Also, Jarvis would’ve routed any fumes outside, not around the whole tower, he’s not stupid.”

“This is exactly the type of stupid selfishness you’re known for.” Steve said with an air of finality. He stepped back from Mr Stark and gave him such a look of disappointment that Peter finally opened his mouth.

“Sir-“

Mr Stark cut him off. “Leave it kid, I’m used to the Cap lecture.” He gave Peter a wry smile, ignoring Steve as he shook his head and left.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Peter whispered, feeling a little shaken. Things could have gotten ugly had they come to blows. What was even going on where the leaders of the Avengers so easily came at each other’s throats?

Mr Stark just shrugged and set them both back to work. They cleaned up in silence, Peter keeping a close eye on Mr Stark’s strained expression. That really hadn’t been fair, he should’ve just taken the blame and let Steve take it out on him, not Mr Stark.