Chapter Text
“You ready for school?” Came Aunt May’s voice from the other side of Peter's bedroom door.
“...What?” Peter mumbled.
“You’ve gotta go in, like, a few minutes.” She warned him.
That woke him up. He jumped out of his bed, but got tangled in his sheets and fell in a heap of limbs on the ground with a shout, and a thud.
“Ow.” He groaned.
He must’ve slept through his damn alarms. He wasn’t too surprised, though. He stayed up super late the night before.
…When he stumbled upon a robbery on patrol.
“You okay?” May asked. Although she didn’t sound too concerned.
“Yeah,” He winced, “Fine.”
“‘Kay,”
Fuck. He was going to be late.
🕸
After throwing on a t-shirt and sweats, just barely brushing his teeth, and grabbing a bagel, he narrowly made the subway.
Thank god.
He had an algebra quiz today, and was not about to miss it.
🕸
When he finally got to school, he was exhausted. He was running off of barely four hours of sleep, a bagel, and a prayer.
But all of that seemed to ease when he saw Ned and MJ, waiting for him in their hallway. He went up to them and groaned melodramatically.
“I’m so tireeeeddd,”
They were offensively indifferent.
After a long moment of silence, Peter spoke again:
“...Don’t you guys care?”
“Nah, it’s probably your own fault.” MJ shrugged.
“Peter, I love you, man,” Ned started, “But she’s right. When did you go to sleep last night?”
Peter glared at him.
“Exactly,” Ned said triumphantly.
“I hate you both,” Peter mumbled into his hands. They didn’t really care, though.
🕸
He walked to his first class, history with Mr. Harrington.
It gave him the perfect, beautiful opportunity to take an hour-long nap.
After that, he felt much, much better.
Then was algebra.
He had a quiz on inequalities, of which he absolutely nailed.
He hadn’t gotten his grade on it back yet, but he just knew it. It was so easy, and he finished it in only a few minutes.
🕸
He made his way to the cafeteria and sat down with Ned and MJ at their usual table.
“Soooo,” Ned smirked, “What happened last night?”
“Ned.” Peter warned flatly.
“C’mon,”
Peter sighed.
“There was a robbery.”
Ned’s eyes widened, clearly excited for the details to come.
“You know that’s not a good thing, right?”
“Don’t even, I see how excited you get when you see robberies and emergencies on the news.”
“Fine,” Peter admitted, “It was nothing, just a bunch of idiots at a dollar store with a knife.”
“You didn’t get stabbed, did you?” Ned, suddenly concerned, felt obliged to ask.
“...No,”
“...You hesitated.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You totally did,” Ned protested, “Wait, you got stabbed?!” Ned asked hysterically.
“I did not get stabbed. The knife grazed me.” Peter rushed to correct him, “And keep your voice down.”
“You always downplay all your injuries. I do not trust your judgment.” Ned said, scrutinizing him, “Let me see,”
“What? No!” Peter said, “Plus, I already bandaged it.”
“Did you?” Ned asked dubiously.
“...No.”
“Ned’s right,” MJ finally spoke, lowering her book, “Full offense, dude, but you have zero self-preservation skills.”
“Hey!” Peter scoffed.
“Don’t even.”
“Whatever, it’s already mostly healed.” He shrugged, “It’ll be gone by the end of the day.”
“Fine, but if it gets infected, I’m telling May.” Ned gave up.
“You wouldn’t,”
“Oh, I would,” Ned assured him.
Peter knew Ned wouldn’t do that, and he was really just warning him.
MJ would, though; she probably wouldn’t even hesitate.
🕸
After lunch, the rest of the day passed pretty smoothly.
He had Spanish class, which was a breeze; he was practically fluent in Spanish at this point.
And lastly, he had Photography with MJ.
Which was essentially just an hour where they tried to take as many unflattering stealth shots of each other as they could. Peter kind of had an unfair advantage, what, with being able to stick to walls and having super-human reflexes.
That didn’t stop MJ from getting horrible pictures of him. Maybe she had reflexes, too.
Eventually, the bell rang, and Peter had to say goodbye to his friends.
He made his way to the subway, put his headphones on, and turned on his favourite playlist.
🕸
The subway only brought him so close to home, so he usually had to walk a good chunk of the way home.
He liked taking shortcuts through alleyways; they were quicker and, for the most part, safer. For the most part.
He cut through one of the usual alleyways when something caught his eye.
Sick! A practically brand new DVD player sitting right there in a heap near the dumpster.
He grabbed it, inspected it for any major problems, and when he noticed it was pretty much perfect, he took it home.
🕸
Peter was nearly home when he caught sight of a bright red, roughly vintage - but still mint-condition - Ferrari. He could’ve passed out. He could’ve cried. It was so beautiful. He barely restrained himself from taking a picture with it. He was so nervous to be close to it, though, because it probably cost more than any sum of money he could ever make in his entire life.
He eventually tore his eyes off the vehicle and made his way inside his building.
He lived in an old apartment building that was far too expensive for the state it was in. It had some black mold, maybe some mildew in the lobby, some silverfish, and the occasional cockroach. It was so old that if any sort of fire broke out, the building would probably be screwed. The elevators had not been inspected in a concerningly long time. It didn’t really bother him, though. He’d lived in this apartment for basically his whole life.
He moved in after his parents died when he was six. He hardly remembers his life before this apartment. Late home-cooked dinners with May and Ben, watching old action movies Ben was obsessed with, or sitcoms with May. Christmas, birthdays, first days of school. It was home.
The elevator dinged, and he reached into his back pocket, fishing for his keys, as he made his way to their apartment. He usually had to jimmy the door a little to unlock it, given its age and the rust.
“Hey, May,” He said after opening the door, dropping the DVD player on the table, and his school bag onto the floor.
“Hey,” She responded, “How was school today?” She asked as he made his way into the kitchen.
“It was okay,” He shrugged, “There’s this crazy car parked outside-” He cut himself off as he laid eyes upon the most expensive living being on earth; Tony fricking Stark.
Tony Stark was lounging on his couch, having a conversation with his aunt.
What the fuck.
He took his headphones off, in hopes of killing whatever strange hallucination his brain was displaying, but when it proved unsuccessful, he realised that this was very much real.
“Oh, Mr. Parker.” Tony surmised.
Peter’s brain short-circuited.
“What are you doing- Hey, um, I’m Peter.” He so violently stammered out.
“Tony.” The man introduced himself, as if that was necessary.
“What-what are you, what are you doing here?” He stuttered.
“It’s about time we met,” Mr. Stark said, “You’ve been getting my emails, right?”
Then it dawned on him.
The internship.
The internship he’d signed up for months ago. The one he had no shot at actually getting accepted for. The one that he almost forgot about.
God damn it. He’d been waiting for a response for so long with no prevail that he’d just given up.
“...No, sorry,” He admitted, “I haven’t checked lately.” Which was the truth. He felt so guilty that he technically ghosted the Tony Stark. Would he go to hell for that? “What were they regarding?”
He had to be sure.
“The internship.” Tony said, “Remember when you applied, what, a few months back? I accepted it.”
Peter’s breath caught, because no fucking way.
He got accepted.
He actually got accepted.
“You never told me anything about that.” May said, almost a little hurt, and guilt panged in Peter’s chest, “What’s up with that?”
“It was a long shot, I really didn’t think I’d actually get in.”
“Well, you did,” Tony chimed in, “You lied about your age, but you have a very impressive record; straight A’s, full-ride scholarship to one of the most prestigious schools in the state, won first place in the academic decathlon… I didn’t really have much of a choice.”
Embarrassment dusted the boy’s cheeks, hearing Tony Stark rave about how smart he was.
“You what?” Aunt May said flatly, and all of Peter’s previous joy was replaced by the sudden urge to hide behind the wall.
“You lied about your age? To Mr. Stark? Peter, what the hell?”
“It wasn’t a lie!” He floundered, trying to come up with an excuse, “It was a… Uh, a future truth!”
“...a ‘future truth’?” May raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
Tony stood off to the side, mouth slightly agape, trying to find anything to say, but Peter beat him to it.
“Is the internship….” Peter almost felt guilty asking, “Does the internship have any… Money, involved?”
Money has always been tight for them, but even more so now that Ben died. Peter tried to eat less and use less electricity and water, just enough that May wouldn’t notice.
“Yeah, we pay our interns pretty well, I mean,” Tony gestured to himself, “Look who you’re talking to.” He smiled before barreling on, “And I know you signed up to become a general intern for our scientific and technological programs, but your record was too impressive, I took the liberty of making you my intern.”
It felt like Peter was going into cardiac arrest.
“What, you mean like, I’m going to be… Your personal intern?” Peter was bewildered.
“Yep, help out in my lab, get me coffee, whatnot. The scientists in the S&E labs were a little upset, but nothing they could really do about it. Perks of being the boss, you know?”
Peter couldn’t respond. He was still stuck replaying the words ‘making you my intern’ over and over again in his head.
“I’ll have Happy pick you up every weekday, if that works with you.”
“He can’t, he has school.”
“Right, I knew there was a reason why we didn’t hire high school students.” Tony sighed, “How about after school? That work?”
Peter looked to May, searching for a wary, disapproving, or even upset look, but she just smiled at him. He smiled back. So big.
“Yes, that works, Mr. Stark.”
“Great, looking forward to working with you, kid.” The man said, offering his hand.
“Uh, yes, me too, Mr. Stark.” He smiled nervously and shook his hand.
Tony turned on his heel and beelined for the door, before looking over his shoulder.
“And kid?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Call me Tony,”
“Of course, Mr. Stark.” He smiled at him.
And with that, the man left.
Peter’s life was never going to be the same again.