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clowns-or-midgets-spn · 5 years ago

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I just posted my first (non series) one-shot. It’s called A Day In The Life and it’s a fun humor-filled glimpse in Peter’s life with The Avengers aided by the wonderful prompt from @snarky-drabbles https://archiveofourown.org/works/27243052

“Don’t be nice to Dum-E,” Tony Stark said seriously. “He tried to poison me again.”

Peter's face fell as the robot made a small, sad beeping sound.

“Awww, were you trying to help?" Peter asked, and the robot nodded. "Engine oil smoothie again?"

“Yes,” Tony Stark said darkly. “And I wasn’t paying attention, so I actually drank some.”

Peter stifled a laugh and addressed the robot. “I know you were doing your best. Don’t listen to him.”

“Like they ever do,” Tony Stark snorted.

Ned hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder then hurried his pace as Peter was getting away from him.

As excited as he was to be doing this, as hyped and inarticulate he’d gotten when Peter had said it was all arranged, he was freaking out in the bad way now.

They were supposed to be making a short film for media studies, and Peter had stumbled on the idea of doing a day in the life of Tony Stark. Sure, that was great on paper, and Ned had maybe peed a little when Peter said it was happening, but now they were on their way to Avengers Tower to spend a whole day with Tony Stark, and he wasn't sure his heart could take the strain. This was a feeling way beyond excitement or nerves—it was a heady combination of the two with an extra dose of how-the-hell-is-this-real spinning in him until he felt nauseous.

Peter, on the other hand, was acting like this was just a regular day. Sure, Ned knew he had his internship with Tony Stark, and he had his internship, which involved swinging around Queens in a suit designed by Tony Stark, but how was he not losing his mind? They were going to be in Avengers Tower, with Tony Stark for a whole day, or at least as long as it took to make the film.

Ned really didn’t think he was going to make it through the day without passing out.

They reached the sliding glass doors of the tower, and Peter strode through them without missing a step. Ned, on the other hand, hesitated and wiped a hand over his mouth in case there were still crumbs from the breakfast bagel he'd eaten on the way here. He thought there was probably enough chance of them—or him—getting kicked out before they made it past the lobby, even if he wasn't wearing half of his breakfast on his chin.

“Ned, come on, dude,” Peter called, looking back over his shoulder.

Ned took a breath, braced himself to be thrown out by security, and walked through the doors. The lobby he found himself in was vast. The floors were grey-veined marble on which the heels of the men and women walking around clicked. There was a polished wood reception desk behind which sat three women and a man with telephone headsets which they were talking into. In the center of them was a matronly looking woman with steel-grey hair pulled back in a bun. She had the look of someone that took her job seriously, and Ned thought he could see the cogs turning behind her eyes when she looked at him, processing his appearance and deciding which security officer to summon to kick him out.

“Hey, Juliet,” Peter called cheerfully.

The woman's professional manner dropped at once and became more of an overindulgent grandma as she fixed her eyes on Peter and said, “Peter dear, how are you? I’ve not seen you for two weeks! Where have you been?”

"We've been doing lab time at the compound," Peter said. "I missed you, though. How's Sophie and Richie?"

"Oh, they're fine," she said, beaming at him. "Richie is cutting a new tooth, but it's not getting him down, and Sophie is practicing for her Christmas dance recital at school." She clasped her hands to her chest. "I've got my son filming it, so I'll have him email you a copy."

Peter grinned. “That’d be great.”

Ned swallowed audibly as he looked at his best friend, or at least the person that looked like his best friend. There were stark differences, though. Peter Parker stumbled on words and went on tangents, and he never mentioned anything about dance recitals or anyone called Sophie or Richie. This Peter was confident and calm, totally at ease here.

Peter looked at him, and his smile fell. "Sorry, Ned. Juliet, this is my best friend, Ned. We're doing a school assignment with Mr. Stark today. Ned, this is Juliet. She's the boss of the front desk, and her grandkids are adorable. I met them at the company picnic this summer.”

Stark Industries had a company picnic? Peter went to a company picnic? How did Ned not know this? It was like Peter had this whole other life that he knew nothing about.

“Show him their picture, Juliet,” Peter encouraged.

The woman plucked a silver-framed photograph from her side of the counter and turned it to him. He saw a little girl with fiery red hair and a baby on her lap.

“They’re… uh, real cute, ma’am,” he said awkwardly.

Juliet touched a finger to the cheek of the image of her granddaughter and then placed the picture down and said, "Has Mr. Hogan arranged a security pass for your friend, Peter?"

"Yep," Peter chirped. "He's supposed to be meeting us here to hand it over and to get Ned's biometrics."

Juliet looked past Peter’s shoulder and said, “And here he comes.”

Ned spun and saw Happy Hogan marching towards them, his face set in a glower. His black suit was immaculate, and Ned suddenly felt very grubby in his worn-down Nikes, ratty jeans, and a blue hoodie.

Peter, who was dressed almost identically to him, only he'd swapped the hoodie for a t-shirt with Yoda's face on it, looked perfectly comfortable. He greeted Happy with a wave and grin, which did not diminish when Happy crossed his arms over his chest and said, "You're late."

“We had to stop for breakfast,” Peter said.

Happy raised an eyebrow. “You kept me waiting.”

“Sorry, Happy,” Peter said. “I wanted to get something for you, too, though.” He slid his backpack off his shoulder, unzipped it, and took out a squishy package in a brown Starbucks takeout bag. “It’s a cronut.”

“What the hell is a cronut, why are Starbucks selling them, and why do you think I need one?”

“They’re like a croissant/donut hybrid, Starbucks are branching out, and I thought you’d like it since I know Mr. Stark’s banned the cafeteria staff from serving you anything too fun since your last cardiogram.”

Ned thought he saw a flash of fondness on Happy’s face, a slight softening of the eyes and a quirk of the lips, but it was quickly gone and replaced with a neutral mask as he snatched the bag out of Peter’s hands and said, “Thanks, kid. Now, let’s get this done so I can do my actual job instead of catering to the boss’ pet intern’s buddies.” He fixed his eyes on Ned. “You’re Ned Leeds?”

Ned nodded mutely, and then, when Peter elbowed him, licked his lips and said, “Yes, sir. That’s me.”

Happy took a device out of his pocket, which was the size of a phone but square. He tapped it then held it up in front of Ned’s face. He heard the click of a photo being taken, and then a red line of light slid over Ned’s face, making him gasp.

“It’s okay, Ned,” Peter said. “It’s just a retina scan. It’ll go on the security system to identify you through Friday.”

“Friday?” Ned asked.

Peter beamed. “Say hello, Friday,” he instructed.

"Hello, Peter," a disembodied voice replied. "And hello, Mr. Leeds. It's nice to meet you at last. I've heard a lot about you from Peter and Karen.”

Ned looked around, eyes roving for the source of the voice, and Happy grunted a laugh.

“You won’t find her, kid,” he said gruffly. “She’s the AI interface for the tower. She’s everywhere.”

“And nowhere,” Peter said with a wink. “Technically, she’s based in the mainframe, which is in the basement near the arc reactor, but that’s not really her. You’re all seeing, aren’t you, Friday?”

"I am indeed, Peter," she said. "And I think I should remind you that you told Boss you'd be here at eleven, and it's now eleven-fifteen."

Peter ran a hand through his hair. “Damn. Yeah. Uh… Has he noticed I’m not here yet?”

There was unmistakable amusement in her voice as she replied. “No. He is currently working on the Mark XLVIII Armor. He will undoubtedly notice soon, though."

“We’ll be right there,” Peter said.

“One minute,” Happy said, then addressed Ned. “Kid, give me your digits.”

Ned stared at him blankly. “You mean my phone number?” That was some kind of old-fashioned way of asking, right? He was sure he’d seen it in a movie once.

Happy rolled his eyes, then grabbed Ned’s hand and waggled it. “Digits, kid!”

He pressed Ned's fingers one by one onto the device in his hand, then dropped his hand and said, "Okay, you're good." He rooted in his pocket and pulled out a badge that looked like a credit card attached to a lanyard. "This is only valid today, and it'll give you access to the lobby and the cafeteria," he said. "You want to go anywhere else, you'll need the boss or Peter."

“Oh, okay. Thanks.”

Ned took the card and examined it. It was emblazoned with the Stark Industries logo, his name, and a large number ten.”

"You're basic clearance," Happy explained. "The kid here's level one, so he can get you anywhere you want to go, but…" he crossed his arms over his chest. "No making a nuisance of yourself. Serious business happens here, and we've got top security guests on the penthouse."

Peter grinned. “We have? Awesome!”

Happy's lips quirked with that smile again, which was quickly wiped away. "We have. Same goes for you, kid. I know they all think you're great, but don't be a pain. It's bad enough that you've got the boss playing starlet for your little home movie.”

“It’s not a home movie, Happy,” Peter said. “It’s a school assignment, and Mr. Stark said it was okay.”

Again, there was the small smile, and then Peter and Ned were being propelled towards the elevators with Happy’s hands gripping the backs of their collars. He planted them in front of the elevator at the very end, the one with a black panel beside the button, and said, “Go on. Get out of my hair.”

Peter placed his hand on the panel, a light swiped over his palm, and then the voice Ned now knew was Friday said, “Peter Parker, security clearance level one, identified. Where would you like to go, Peter?”

“All the way up to eighty-five, please, Friday,” Peter said. “We’re going to Mr. Stark’s lab.”

The doors slid open, and Peter stepped inside.

Ned looked around the lobby again then followed him in. He was pretty sure he was about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime with his best friend, and from what he had seen so far, he thought he was going to learn a lot about Peter, too.

Like who he was when he walked through the glass door of Avengers Tower.

When the elevator doors opened, Peter led them along a hall to another door with a security panel which Peter placed his hand on. The light ran across his palm, and then the door clicked open. Ned's ears were immediately assaulted by blaring music, which he didn't recognize but knew it was old.

Peter pushed open the door and entered, and the volume of the music lowered to a more manageable level.

"Thanks, Friday,” Peter said, then raised his voice a little. “Hey, Mr. Stark.”

Tony Stark, Iron Man himself, was standing right in front of Ned. His hair was tousled, and there was a black smudge of oil on his cheek. At first, he looked vague, staring between Peter and Ned, who shifted from foot to foot and wished he'd gone to the bathroom before he left as he suddenly felt very close to peeing from nerves.

“Are you late?” he asked Peter.

“Nope,” Peter said guilelessly. “I said I’d be here at eleven-twenty, and”—he pointed at the digital clock on the wall—“we’re right on time.”

Tony Stark narrowed his eyes and said, “I call bullshit. You said eleven, I’m sure.”

Unabashed, Peter said, "Okay, yeah, we're a little late, but we needed breakfast since I didn't think you'd want us passing out from low blood sugar. And I remembered what you said about Happy's cardiogram, so I stopped at Starbucks to get him a fruit salad pot for breakfast so he wasn't tempted to go out and get something unhealthy to snack on.”

Tony Stark narrowed his eyes. “Friday, what did the kid get Happy?”

“A fruit salad pot,” the AI reported. “He seems to be enjoying it.”

Ned’s mouth dropped open. Tony Stark’s own AI was lying to him for Peter. How the hell had he managed that? Ned was sure a genius like Tony Stark would program it for absolute honesty to him.

Tony Stark nodded, and his lips quirked into a smile. "Good job, Underoos. Now, you going to introduce me to your playdate?"

Peter's eyes snapped to Ned again, and he said, "Yeah. Sorry. Ned, this is Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark, this is my best friend, Ned."

“Nice to meet you, Ted,” Tony Stark said.

“Ned,” Peter corrected.

Tony Stark waved a hand. "Sure, that, too. Now, you got everything you need for this video thing? I'm giving you one day to do it, then your time is up. I spend enough of my life with cameras pointing at me already, thanks, so I'm not giving you more."

“Yeah, we’re ready,” Peter said. He strode forward and dumped his backpack on the worktable in front of Tony Stark and unzipped it.

"Oh no, you don't," Tony Stark said. "You're not turning my space into your chaotic dumping ground. Use your own table."

Peter nodded, grinned, and carried his bag over to another large table which was dotted with tools, only some of which Ned knew the use of, scraps of metal and what Ned thought was a web shooter in the making.

Peter had his own space in Tony Stark's workshop. He had his own tools? This was crazy. Why had Peter never told him this? He just said Tony Stark taught him stuff on his internship, and they worked on his suit. This was bigger than that. It was like Peter was a part of his team, with his own place to work.

From the corner were soft beeping sounds, and Peter's head snapped around, and a wide smile spread across his face. "Hey!”

He ran into the corner where there were two robots with hydraulic arms which seemed to be making the sound. One of them tapped a claw on Peter’s shoulder, and Ned moved closer to see. The one touching Peter had an ugly scarf wrapped around what Ned would call its neck, made from red and yellow wool. The other was wearing a dunce cap.

“Hey guys,” Peter said happily. “How are you doing?”

In answer, there were more beeps, and the claw plucked at the sleeve of Peter's t-shirt.

“Uh… Peter…” Ned said, his confusion making its home in his voice.

“This is U,” Peter said, patting the arm of the closest robot, the one wearing the scarf, and then pointed at the one wearing the dunce cap and said, “And this is Dum-E. Mr. Stark built them. They help him with his inventions.”

Tony Stark snorted. “They also screw up and try to extinguish non-existent fires.”

Peter laughed and tugged on the scarf the robot was wearing. “Looking good, man. Is it new?”

The arm bobbed up and down in a nod.

“And what happened to you, buddy?” Peter asked the other bot. “You having a bad day?”

“Don’t be nice to Dum-E,” Tony Stark said seriously. “He tried to poison me again.”

Peter's face fell as the robot made a small, sad beeping sound.

“Awww, were you trying to help?" Peter asked, and the robot nodded. "Engine oil smoothie again?"

“Yes,” Tony Stark said darkly. “And I wasn’t paying attention, so I actually drank some.”

Peter stifled a laugh and addressed the robot. “I know you were doing your best. Don’t listen to him.”

“Like they ever do,” Tony Stark snorted.

“Uh, Peter,” Ned said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Why is that robot wearing an ugly scarf?”

Tony Stark clearly had keen hearing as he spun around and said, “Ugly? That is not the word for that scarf, Ted.”

“No, of course, I mean… Uh…” The color drained from his face, and he began to gape like a fish. Tony Stark was correcting him. This was a nightmare and a blessing at once.

“Relax, kid,” Tony Stark said. “We’ve only got the basic med team here during the day shift, and they might not be able to get here fast enough if you had a stress-induced heart attack. The full crew does the nightshift for when Underoos is patrolling so they can deal with his occasional stab or bullet wounds.”

Peter’s head snapped around, breaking the conversation he’d been having with the bot, and said, “It happened once, Mr. Stark, and it wasn’t really a stab wound. It wasn’t a knife.”

“No,” Tony Stark agreed. “It was an iron bar that impaled you in the kidney.”

"You got stabbed!" Ned squawked. "How did I not know that? I'm your guy in the chair. I should be informed."

“You’re his what?” Tony Stark asked, a gleam in his eye.

Peter held up a finger. “He’s my guy in the chair, who would have saved me crashing a plane if Happy had been listening. Ned is a vital part of my life as Spider-Man.”

Tony Stark narrowed his eyes but nodded and said, “Point conceded.” He turned his gaze on Ned. "And yes, he was stabbed with an iron bar by some supercharged gremlin thing. And that's nothing compared to the time he was shot in the gut and got septic because he tried to pull the bullet out himself with tweezers."

Ned gaped at Peter, who waved a hand and said, "He's making it sound way worse than it was. I was fine, really."

“And you didn’t tell me because?”

Tony Stark moved to them and clapped a hand on Ned’s shoulder, making his breath catch and his vision blur because Iron Man was touching him, actually touching him with his superhero hand. Ned was collecting superhero DNA right now, and he wasn't sure how long he would stay conscious with that knowledge and weight on his shoulder.

"Probably because he didn't want you to share my nightmares, Ted," Tony Stark said, then smirked. "And because you apparently believe him when he says he's got stomach flu so can't come to school while he’s recovering.”

“It’s Ned, Mr. Stark," Peter scolded.

Ned licked his dry lips and, as the hand fell from his shoulder, remembered how to breathe. “Ted is fine. They sound really similar.”

Peter scowled, and Tony Stark winked at him then said, "And my point, before we got off track, was that it is a hideous scarf, not an ugly one, but you can’t say it outside this room as its creator is sensitive about his knitting and we all appreciate how hard he’s trying.”

Peter grinned and nodded. “He’s not wrong.”

“Now, get the camera set up, Ted, while Underoos makes nice with his bot buddies. I got the Hulkbuster armor out to show you since I thought that would be most impressive for all your little kindergarten friends.”

“We’re seniors, Mr. Stark,” Peter said.

Tony Stark waved a hand. “Sure you are, kid.”

Ned hurried to Peter’s desk, set down his own bag, feeling suddenly bereft as if it had been a security blanket, and took the video camera out of Peter’s bag.

“Okay, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “I want to get some footage of you working at first, then we’ll ask you some questions.”

Tony Stark nodded, “Sure, kid, whatever gets you the gold stars and extra apple slices at break.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Sure, thanks.”

Ned and Peter fiddled with the camera settings for a moment, then Ned lifted it and pointed it at Tony Stark, who had picked up a screwdriver and twisted a screw on the knee of the massive armor. "This okay?" he asked.

“Yes,” Peter said, “But try not to talk to us while we’re filming unless we’re doing the interview. This footage is going to have a voiceover as we talk about who you are and what you do.”

Tony Stark huffed a laugh. “Yeah, because no one in your school will know who I am already. This is going to be ground-breaking stuff.”

“Your ego is showing, Mr. Stark,” Peter muttered.

Tony Stark’s head snapped up. “What was that?”

“I said this angle is great,” Peter said innocently. “We’re going to start filming now.”

Tony Stark glared at him a moment then muttered, "Little asshole," as the bots beeped in rapid succession, which Ned thought sounded a lot like laughter.

Ned pressed record and steadied the camera on Tony Stark as he fiddled with the screw and pulled up a hologram above the armor. He seemed to become lost in what he was doing, his brow furrowed and, seemingly oblivious to Ned and the camera, he said, “Over here, Underoos. I want you to look at this spot. Do you think we can increase the torque to get the speed of motion up? Bruce is pretty damn fast when he’s gone full-on green guy, and I’d like to get the jump on him.”

Peter bounced over to him and said, “Hmm, maybe. Have you tried increasing the pressure on the hip joint?”

“No. Hmm… That could work.”

They fell into conversation about details of the armor that Ned, a genius himself, was lost in, and he focused on keeping the camera steady and getting them both in the shot.

This film wasn't going to be quite what they'd planned to make, but Ned thought using this as a chance to show Flash and the rest of their doubting classmates that Peter's internship was a real thing, that he was on a level with Tony Stark when it came to this stuff, was going to be way better than what they'd planned to make.

xXx

Ned had been filming for thirty minutes, and marveling at his best friend for even longer, when the door slid open behind him. He spun around, pointing the camera at a pretty woman with strawberry blonde hair, wearing a neat pantsuit and a knobbly scarf similar to the one the bot was wearing, except this was black and green.

“Oh… uh… hi,” he said when she stopped just inside the door and raised an eyebrow. “I’m Ned.”

The woman’s face transformed into a smile. “Of course! Peter’s told me so much about you. I’m Pepper Potts.”

She looked between Ned and the camera, which he only now realized was still filming. He hit the button to stop the recording and lowered it. She approached the table where Tony Stark and Peter were bent over the armor and talking in clipped sentences, which seemed to be some kind of shorthand. She cleared her throat, and when that failed to interrupt them, she tugged on their collars until they were both upright and turning to see who was bothering them.

Their reactions were synchronized and equal in intensity. Peter beamed and said, "Hey, Pepper. Nice scarf," and Tony held up a hand and said, "Nope, no way. I know that look, Pepper, and it's my day off. I told you I was doing the home movie thing with Peter today. I don't care who wants to speak to me, what you need signed, or what alien threat is touching down in Central Park; it's my day off."

She raised an eyebrow. "First of all, hello, Peter. How are you, sweetie?"

"I'm great. We're doing some fine-tuning on the Mark XLVIII. We're working with the theory that if we can displace some of the power from the upper body, which is mainly reliant on hydraulics anyway, we can increase the speed of movement for the lower body, which means Mr. Stark would be faster than The Hulk so could pin him down sooner, minimizing collateral damage.”

She listened to his rambling with a fond smile and then said, “That’s great, honey,” patted his cheek, and fixed her eyes on Tony Stark. “Second, when you put me in charge of the company, you put me in charge of when things happen, so if I have stuff for you to sign now, you’ll sign it, mister.”

Tony Stark glowered. “Do you have something for me to sign?”

“No. And no, there’s no one wanting to talk to you, either. I cleared your schedule so you and Peter could have this day together.” She drew a deep breath and raised her voice. “And finally, there is no alien threat descending on Central Park, but you and I both know that you and Peter would be there already if there was. Don’t act like Iron Man is some chore, Tony, when you and I both know that if I had my way—”

She stopped, and Tony Stark rose to his feet and pressed his lips to her. Peter looked away, humming and rubbing the back of his neck as the chaste kiss deepened, leaving Ned standing frozen, staring at them. It wasn't that he liked watching couples making out—he wasn't a creeper—but this was Tony Stark—Iron Man—getting his ass handed to him by Pepper Potts, who MJ had informed them was a feminist icon and general badass. It was like seeing two rare birds at once; at least that was what his grandfather would say since he was really into ornithology and used birds to reference pretty much everything in life.

“Okay, Ned,” Peter said, suddenly in his face, blocking his view of the kissing icons, for which he was grateful, and tugging on his arm. “Let’s go get something to eat. They’ll be going back and forth like this for a while.”

“They do this a lot?” Ned asked, not sure if he meant the reaming or the kissing.

Peter rolled his eyes as he pulled open the door and led Ned down the hall to the elevator. "The kissing? Yeah. It's getting worse the closer we get to the wedding. And Pepper giving Tony hell, yeah, they're always like that." He grinned.

They stepped into an elevator, and Peter instructed Friday to take them up to the eighty-ninth floor then planted a hand on Ned's shoulder and said, "Okay, Dude, we're going to see some people now, friends, and I need you to do something for me."

Ned nodded eagerly. “Sure, man, anything, you know that.”

Peter grinned. “I need you to remember to breathe.”

Puzzled, Ned opened his mouth to ask what he meant, but then the elevator doors were sliding open, and Peter was leading him into a vast room. There were couches and chairs set facing a huge TV, a kitchen area with a massive table, the biggest fridge Ned had ever seen, and a stove that had ten burners—he counted. As impressive as this room was, as much as his mom would kill to get to cook in the kitchen and his dad would want to watch the game on the monster TV, it was the people in the room that made his breath gust out of him and his brain forget how to replace it with new.

Captain America was sitting on the couch, his brow furrowed with concentration as he fumbled with a ball of yarn and two knitting needles. Beside him was a man Ned knew best from the news' courtroom footage of his trial and subsequent pardon for the crimes of the Winter Soldier—Sergeant James Barnes. Opposite them was a woman with red hair in a messy bun who Ned knew was the Black Widow—though the Black Widow never wore yoga pants and strappy tops on the TV. To top off the moment of insanity was the Doctor Bruce Banner, who was sliding cookies from a baking trap into a plate.

They all looked around as Peter called a greeting and introduced Ned, and so they had front seat views to the moment Ned’s legs, denied oxygen too long by Ned’s empty lungs, gave way, and his butt hit the carpet with a thump.

“Ned!” Peter cried, kneeling beside him. “Are you okay?”

Ned nodded, and then his brain kicked in and remembered how to breathe. Wonderful air flooded his lungs, his blood saturated with oxygen, and the ringing in his ears disappeared.

“You okay, kid?” Doctor Banner asked, coming to kneel beside them.

Ned nodded. “Yes, Doctor Banner, Sir, I just…”

Sergeant Barnes, who had got to his feet when Ned fell, narrowed his eyes and said, “You forgot to breathe.”

Cheeks blazing with embarrassment, Ned nodded and muttered. “Yes, sir.”

Peter helped him to his feet, and Doctor Banner guided him to a seat at the table with a hand on his elbow—more superhero DNA, this was the best day ever.

“I’ll get you some juice,” Peter said, patting Ned’s shoulder and going to the fridge, rooting in it and calling, “Hey, who drank all the orange juice?”

“I did,” the Black Widow called in reply. “Is that a problem?”

Peter turned around and fixed his eyes on her. “A problem? No, I guess not, but it’s kinda mean, Nat.”

She smirked. “I’ll run out and buy you some more if you want.”

Peter waved a hand. "It's okay. The orange was for me. Ned prefers apple." He poured a glass and brought it back to give to Ned with a knowing, "Drink up." It was as if he knew Ned's head was swimming, and he really needed the boost of sugar since his body was burning through it with the adrenaline caused by being in the same room as his heroes.

Ned took a sip and then froze as Doctor Banner picked his free hand up and pressed his fingers to his wrist. Yeah, Doctor Bruce Banner was taking his pulse. That was a thing that was happening.

How was Peter so calm with all this going on? Why wasn’t he freaking out?”

"It's fast but strong," Doctor Banner said, then patted Ned's shoulder. "You just sit quietly for a few minutes.” He turned away and addressed Peter. “If you’re out of juice, you can have some of my chocolate milk.”

“Thanks, Bruce,” Peter said happily, then darted to the fridge to get his drink.

Ned stared at him in awe. Peter called Doctor Banner Bruce. Like he was just a person. Like they didn’t spend whole afternoons geeking out when they chose him to be the subject of their most accomplished scientist of the century essay in junior year.

What was Peter's life here, and how did Ned not know this?

And did Doctor Banner really drink chocolate milk?

He watched Peter pour himself a glass, drain it, and then pour another as The Black Widow wiped away his chocolate milk mustache with a fond smile.

Ned became aware of eyes on him, and he looked around. Captain Rogers was frowning at the yarn in his hands again, but his friend, Sergeant Barnes, was staring at Ned. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand on end, and his heart sped. If Doctor Banner checked it again, he was going to be very concerned. Ned was concerned. His heart was hammering against his ribs so hard that Ned almost expected to see it move the front of his hoodie.

He knew the Winter Soldier was dangerous and had done all kinds of awful things, but that was when he was under the control of Hydra, at least that was what his defense team said in court. He was supposed to be an American hero, really, like Captain America.

Ned thought that might be true, but he also thought Mr. Barnes was looking at him now with a view to causing some serious pain if he put a toe out of line.

“Uh, Peter,” he squeaked.

Peter stopped trying to brush the Black Widow's hands away as she messed with his hair, and his eyebrows rose, which made Ned sure his very real panic was showing. Peter looked between Ned and Mr. Barnes, who was still examining Ned, and a small frown appeared on his brows.

“Bucky, quit it,” he said, in the same tone Ned’s mom used when she caught him sneaking snacks out of the fridge before dinner. “Ned’s not a threat.”

Sergeant Barnes’ eyes moved from Ned to Peter and narrowed. “Are you sure?”

Peter huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure. He’s my best friend. We go to school together and have for years. He is in no way a threat.”

Sergeant Barnes seemed to accept that as he nodded and then smiled. The difference the smile made was huge. He seemed suddenly kind and friendly, eager even as he said, "Book club later, Pete?"

Peter looked genuinely remorseful as he shook his head. “I can’t today, sorry. I’ve got to finish this project for school. We’re filming Mr. Stark for a day. We came up to get a snack and to give him a Pepper a moment alone. I’ll come over tomorrow, though, and we can talk about chapter ten.”

Sergeant Barnes nodded seriously, as if that was a binding agreement, and then relaxed back in his seat.

"Snacks!" Doctor Banner said, going to the counter and then delivering the plate of cookies to Ned and Peter, who had joined him. The Black Widow came to them, boosted herself up onto the table, crossed her legs, and grabbed a cookie.

Peter took one then nudged Ned until he did the same. He took a bite of the still-warm cookie and grinned. "It's really good."

“That’s because Bruce made them,” the Black Widow informed him. “He’s the best at desserts. If you want the savory stuff, you’ve got to talk to Steve or Bucky.” She gestured over her shoulder to where Captain America was knitting with little skill and occasional huffs of annoyance.

“Peter, why is Captain America knitting?” he whispered.

Peter laughed softly. “It’s a self-care thing. We, all of us, deal with nightmares after some of the things we've done, so Sam, our resident shrink, set us up with therapy tools. Mine is my photography, Bucky's is book club, Natasha's is—"

She cleared her throat and cut a hand across her mouth.

“Natasha’s is confidential,” Peter went on with a nod. “Point is, we’ve all got something, and Steve’s is knitting. He’s making us all scarves since his sweater attempts were…”

“Disastrous,” Sergeant Barnes said with a nod. “Yep.”

Ned’s mind was reeling. This was crazy. He wondered if he was the only civilian to see this side of the superheroes. The Hulk baked cookies and drank chocolate milk, Captain America knitted sweaters, Iron Man scolded his robots and put dunce caps and scarves on them. And this was Peter’s life. He was perfectly happy here with them, relaxed; it was like they were more than his friends, like family.

The Black Widow looked between Ned and Captain America and grinned, then whistled around her fingers and said, “Rogers! Report!”

Captain America jolted as if shocked, dropped his yarn and jumped to his feet, and said, “What’s wrong?”

Peter laughed, and Natasha smirked. "Peter's brought a friend for us to meet."

“This is Ned, Steve,” Peter supplied. “Ned, this is—”

“Captain America. You’re…” Ned drew a shaky breath. “Wow.”

Captain America was the hero to him. He’d been raised on the comics and stories of him. Sure, Iron Man was great, and Ned knew Peter idolized him since he was a kid, but Captain America was the one that Ned had admired most. He'd gone from scrawny and weak to buff and fast, which was cool, and then he’d gone behind enemy lines to save his friend and four-hundred others without backup. That was hardcore superhero stuff. He was the first avenger.

“Nice to meet you, Ned,” Captain America said, coming to him and holding out a hand.

Ned stared at it a moment too long, his mind reeling, and then shook it, hoping his palm wasn’t too sweaty because he was really nervous.

Captain America pumped his hand up and down twice, gave it a small squeeze, then dropped it and said, “So, Ned, what do you do?”

“I… uh… I like computers,” Ned said.

Captain America frowned slightly. “I don’t know much about them, but that sounds great. Any friend of Peter’s is a friend of mine.” His eyes widened as if struck with an idea. “Hey, Ned, do you want a scarf?”

Ned’s mouth dropped open, and he forgot how to close it. Captain America was offering him a scarf. He was going to knit him one. Sure, the fact Captain America apparently liked knitting was insane, but the thought that Ned might get something made for him was amazing.

“I’d love a scarf, sir,” he said. “That’d be great.”

Captain America nodded, grinned, then went to the corner where there was a bag of balls of yarn, which he began to pluck out one by one and say, "Green? Or yellow? Or would you like one with Spider-Man colors like Peter's?" His eyes flickered to Peter. "Where is your scarf, Peter?"

“I lent it to Aunt May,” Peter said with a small smile. “She was getting cold going to work for the night shift.”

Captain America beamed. “That’s kind of you. I’ll make her one, too, when I’ve finished your friend’s. So, Ned, colors?”

“Anything would be fine,” Ned said a little shakily; he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the fact he was having a conversation with his hero.

Captain America pulled out two balls of yarn, new knitting needles, then went back to the couch and got to work.

“Tell us a little about yourself, Ned,” Doctor Banner said. “What do you like to do with computers?”

“Uh… everything, really. I like programming best, but I’m pretty good at hacking, too.”

Peter laughed. “Ned hacked my suit and unlocked all the features Mr. Stark had blocked off. He’s a genius!”

Ned grinned, bolstered by Peter’s enthusiasm and admiration. “Yeah, that was pretty tough. He had a hardcore firewall to get through, but I managed it.”

“It was pretty tough?” a voice said behind them.

Ned spun so fast he fell off his chair, landing on his butt for the second time with a loud, "Oof." He blinked up at Tony Stark, who was looking down at him with a carefully neutral face but a gleam in his eyes.

Ned thought he looked dangerous.

“You’re the one that hacked my suit…. Ted?”

Ned licked his lips. “Uh… yes, sir.”

"Mr. Stark, he didn't want to," Peter said, rushing to his defense. "I made him do it."

Tony Stark held up a hand and said, “Zip it, Underoos.” He fixed his eyes on Ned and said, “How long did it take you?”

“Uh… a few minutes.”

His eyes widened a little, then a small smile quirked his lips. “It took you a few minutes to hack through my tech, my firewall, and unlock the features I knew Peter wasn’t ready for?”

Ned gulped and winced. “Yes, sir.”

“Hmm…”

Ned thought he could see anger building behind Mr. Stark’s mask, and he squeezed his eyes shut and flinched away. A strong hand gripped his wrist and yanked him to his feet. He still didn’t open his eyes, not until a callused hand tapped his cheek and an amused voice said, “Breathe, kid, and look at me.” Ned forced himself to obey, meeting Tony's Stark's eye and waiting for the explosion. Instead of an explosion, though, Tony Stark smiled, showing his teeth in the way Ned had seen in magazines over the years, some of which made it into Peter's scrapbook, and said, "So, kid, you got much free time?"

"Oh. I, uh, I mean have school, and I'm in band, and I'm on the decathlon team, so not much, but—”

Tony Stark held up a hand. "You want an internship with my tech department?"

Ned's heart skipped, and he mouthed wordlessly.

“Speak!” Tony Stark instructed.

“Yes,” Ned squeaked. “I’d like that a lot, Mr. Iron Man, Sir.”

Peter grinned and clapped Ned on the shoulder. “Awesome. We get to do this together.”

“You can do some together," Tony Stark said. "I'm not having this place turn into daycare. Ted will have his assigned mentor, and you'll have me. You don't get to drag more of your little friends here in hopes of them getting a job."

“A job?” Ned said weakly. “I thought it was an internship. You don’t pay interns.”

“You don’t,” Tony Stark agreed. “And you two don’t tell anyone else that you’re getting anything more than experience from it, understand?”

Ned nodded. “I understand.”

Peter clapped Ned on the shoulder and said, “We don’t get paid, though we have an all you can eat option in the cafeteria, but Mr. Stark pays for our college through the September Foundation.”

Ned gaped. He knew his parents were worried about paying for his college, and he’d applied for scholarships, but if this was for real, he could afford to go out of state the way he wanted. He could apply to the places he really wanted to study instead of where he thought his parents could afford.

“You thought much about college?” Tony Stark asked.

“Uh, a little, yeah.”

“MIT on your radar?” he asked. “That’s where Underoos is going.”

“It’s where I might be going, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “I’ve got heard back yet.”

Tony Stark ruffled Peter’s hair and said, “Kid, with your brains and my letter of recommendation, they’d be nuts not to accept you.” He turned back to Ned. “I want you here after school two days a week, with Peter, and you can come to the compound for weekends. Give me a month to get a report from your mentor on what you’re coming up with, and I’ll see about writing you a recommendation, too.”

“I… uh… huh… Ya…” Ned sputtered inarticulately, totally overwhelmed, and Peter placed his hand on his shoulder and said, “That’s Ned for, thank you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony Stark nodded and ran a hand through hair. “Now, kids, you going to get this filming thing done. I’ve been informed by my fiancé that I’m booked solid tomorrow with wedding prep, so you’ve got today with me and no more.”

Peter nodded eagerly and said, “Shall we go back to the lab. We need to do the interview portion now, and then maybe some domestic scenes.”

“Domestic? Think who you’re talking to, kid. I don’t do domestic?”

Peter snorted, and Ned looked around the room. The Black Widow was dunking cookies in Peter’s chocolate milk, Doctor Banner was wiping down the counters, Sergeant Barnes was reading on the couch with his feet kicked up on the coffee table, and Captain America was knitting.

Maybe Tony Stark was the exception, but Ned didn't think there was much more domestic than this. And Peter was a part of it. These people were his family.

Ned had come here to see a day in the life of Tony Stark, but he thought he’d seen more of his best friend’s life than his, and now, with this internship, he was being given a small part of it.

This was the best assignment ever.

#irondad #irondad and spiderson #fanfic #snark #humor #the avengers #mcu spiderman #mcu iron man #iron man

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