#sassy-stark

[ayo-edebiri]

#Buck doesn't even need a clipboard to be a menace anymore

[meep-meep-richie]

# silly boyfriends

[stxar-pvnk]

Being around Tony stark can take a toll on you, some have to toughen up their skin to endure Tonys remarks, some just drift away from him, not wanting to deal with it.

But Peter?

No he's adapted.

Every snarky remark, and name Peter would be told, he just came back even stronger

"did you seriously forget to do your homework? Again? Don't you have enhanced..everything?"

"Mr stark, If we wanna talk irresponsible, let's talk about the time it seemingly crossed your mind to tell your loved ones you were dying because of the shrapnel in your chest." Peter snarked back

Tony stood frozen, his jaw dropped.

"well..fuck." Tony mumbled trying to contain l laughter at how sudden Peter came up with something like that.

Or another time.

"Peter, let me get you some new shoes." Tony pleaded

Peter sucked on his lollipop and squinted at Tony

"what? No why." Peter asked seemingly shocked

"because they're ratty. And old. And they look like they're gonna fall off or disintegrate at any given time." Tony answered crossing his arms

"why do you even keep them around?" The older one asked completely confused

"your ratty, old and likely to be on your death bed in a few years, why do we keep you around?" Peter snarked back raising an eyebrow.

Rhodey who was just passing through to grab some coffee was howling with laughter doubling over to clutch his stomach.

Sometimes it's not even directed at Tony.

"how do we even know we can trust the kid, he's unreliable" Sams eyes narrowed his voice harsh, but Steve nodded anyways

"I agree with Sam, recruiting a child would be very irresponsible."

Peter who was swinging on his chair, now paying attention in the meeting with the avengers turns to Steve and sam

"oh lord.." Tony muttered as rhodey tried to hide the smug, fond look on his face

"dude, you are 2 times my age, stop complaining and just admit that being an old man is getting to you, plus I can hear your knees snap like glow sticks when you crouch down. it's gross. Also who in this room has 1. A weird bird suit, and 2. Doesn't." Peter finished crossing his arms mirroring Tony. Alot.

"did I just get insulted by a toddler." Sam muttered

Peter is a sassy kid.

Peter is Tony's sassy kid.

[xenocorner]

FINALLY I got around to finishing the Tony sheet I started back in June :') The last two expressions sat gathering dust for 6 damn months lmao

[soliloquent-stark]

After Thanos, the Avengers consider creating a worldwide protection program that can dismantle threats in case of another absolute emergency.

Tony drafts an initial proposal and calls the system Synthetic Unified Intelligent Technology for Omnipresent Forensics, Analysis, Resistance, Monitoring, Obstruction, Response, and Advanced Robotic Operations for Unprepared Neutralization, Defense, Tactical Hazard Evaluation, Worldwide Observation, Reconnaissance, and Logging Data.

Steve doesn't care for the snark.

[emprcaesar]

jon hearing alliser thorne, othell, and bowen talking shit and conspiring against him while he’s taking a bath so he decides to stand up while he’s literally butt ass naked to say one of the most cunty lines he has. he couldn’t fucking help himself. he knew he had the opportunity to be a petty little bitch and took it. i don’t give a shit if rhaegar is his father that’s ned’s son.

what the fuck did ned say to cersei “your brother, or your lover?” YOOOOO CHILLLLL. one time cersei was proficiently gagged.

STARK MEN STAND ON MF BUISNESS!!!

[itsagentromanoff]

Loki: I so appreciate you boys coming when I call. That's what I like most about you Avengers. Obedient... and suicidally stupid. I like that, too.

Tony: We going to fight or make out, 'cause I'm getting some real mixed signals here.

[robynnnn311]

“M’lord,” Janos Slynt reminded him. “You’ll address me—“

“i’ll go, my lord. But you are making a mistake, my lord. You are sending the wrong man, my lord. Just the sight of me is going to anger Mance. My lord would have a better chance of reaching if he sent—“

[ironspidersblog]

Peak Tony stark sass is the court case scene in iron man 2. That thumbs up and kiss single-handedly tripled the worlds sass supply I tell you

[lilislegacy]

hear me out

grown up percy jackson ≈ tony stark

i’m pretty sure that i am not the first person to say this. but it’s the way that they’re both sarcastic and witty, even in dangerous situations (no percy is not self obsessed or entitled like him lol)

also i’ve decided to use gifs instead of words to explain the similarities

[dipperscavern]

@cdragons & i were having some thoughts about secondincommand!reader.. specifically how she’d react to robb breaking his oath with the freys. believe it or not, they’re in love with each other. i don’t make the rules (yes i do)

tags — (@ghostinvenus)

secondincommand!reader who is the glue that holds the war camp together & keeps it running smoothly

secondincommand!reader who isn’t the strongest person out there, but don’t let that fool you. you’re often seen dragging 6’0+, 200lb northmen by the ear — giving them a scolding that would make tywin lannister look like a kitten

most problems are laid at your feet, not that robb doesn’t do anything, but the chain of command makes them be brought to you first. you have a knack for fixing things, and sarcasm runs through your veins where blood should be. you has nothing, if not the audacity

tough as nails, and fears only the gods, all the northmen call you doe. they say you’re the long lost daughter of stannis baratheon, stubborn as a mule, you’ll break before you bend.

so one can imagine how happy you are when you find out the king in the north broke his oath and married a nurse.

you give robb the absolute cold shoulder when you hear the rumors are true. robb and talisa stroll through the camp on their horses, and when you see them, you just stand there. theon glances at your stiffness, before you turn around and just walk away.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

robb thought he was going crazy.

you had always been said to hold the camp & northmen together, and now, with you not on his side — he’s finding out how true that really is.

you haven’t spoken to him since he left & returned with talisa, abandoning his oath with the freys. if he asked you a question during a meeting, you’d answer the lord closest to you, as if he had asked you that, instead of robb. you had even resorted to speaking to him through theon, who found it hilarious.

“C’mon, Doe- you have to speak to me sooner or later.”

he’s this close to begging at this point. you merely turn to theon.

“Theon, do you hear that? It sounds like.. it sounds like a fucking idiot.”

theon nods. “Been a lot of those lately. Think it’s seasonal.”

robb runs his hands down his face as they both walk out, and eventually he confides in talisa about it. after all, she is his wife. she approaches you after a meeting, while you’re gathering her things to leave.

“I’m sorry if you’re unhappy with me, I’m only trying to do my best.”

you don’t miss a beat. “You’ve only put all our lives in jeopardy and half-way ensured we lose the war. Why should I be unhappy with you?”

she’s surprised by your boldness. talisa swallows thickly. “Feel how you will about me, Robb is your king. You should speak with him soon.”

you turn around, looking at her, brows pinched in faux empathy.

“I’m sorry- I don’t speak with southerners. Gives me the chills.”

“I’ve been in the North for many moons.”

“How interesting.” you finish gathering your stuff, walking out of the tent with lord karstark trailing beside you. he leans over to rub your shoulders.

“I can feel ya’ shiverin, child.” you both laugh, walking on.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

your silence was eventually replaced by nonsense, and robb considered letting the lannisters march in here and put him out of his misery.

you had taken to speaking the language of old valyria, for all robb could guess. and the men around him could be none the wiser, theon included.

“Karstark, you’ll lead the vanguard. And Doe, you’ll command the archers.”

“Mememememeh..” you said, rolling your eyes. theon nodded.

“Agreed.”

he thought someone would stop you eventually, but no, he failed to recognize these men adored you. their little doe, a spitfire who could demand their lives & they’d fall on their swords.

“Stew good, Doe?” he asked, walking by the campfire you sat at.

“Ehmemememeh..” you said, shaking your head. the men sat around you only nodded, murmurs of agreement to each other spilling from their lips.

and when you did start talking to robb again (in the common tongue), he almost wished for the silence to return. no he didn’t.

“Glad you’ve started speaking with me again.”

“Tell me, how much speaking will we be doing if Walder Frey decides to behead us?”

he opens his mouth to speak, but you raise a hand.

“If I die because His Grace, King Robb, saw a bit of arse & his cock forgot the oath he swore, I am going to kill you.”

he thought the northern lords were going to burst a blood vessel with how hard they tried to hold in their laughter. in the end, their efforts did not prevail.

[headcanonthings]

Tony: Don’t touch anything. Peter: Yes, sir! Tony: Don’t call me sir. Peter: Yes, ma’am!

[bellabrady]

incorrect 911 quotes part idk

[mymelodymia]

The chaotic duo

Summary: you and your dad are the most chaotic due ever.

Warnings: tony being evil, y/n getting revenge 😈,

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

The ENTIRE team had become aware that you both were chaotic, but oh, my, goodness you too together? Jeez, I dont think the universe could handle it.

It had become a regular occurrence to see you being chased by tony, for reference, they had just seen you running for your life, screaming through the tower, and once you ran out of the room, they'd see tony run in like,

"Which way she go?" A few of them were on tonys team and pointed straight to your direction, and some pointed in the opposite direction. Eventually tony gave up and guessed, and he got lucky I guess 🤷‍♀️

Then he'd just run into another room and they'd just hear a shrill screech, then see tony walking in heading straight back to where he came from with you over his shoulder.

You kicking and hitting him in a attempt to free yourself, this did nothing. You screaming various protests against this act of evilness 😡

"We can talk about this!"

"No we cant."

"YES WE CAN!!"

He walked into an empty room before plopping you on the couch, he began to smile evilly, you knew what was coming at this point (T^T)

"Noo!" You could barely get this plead out before he began tickling you. You started to laugh uncontrollably, kicking your feet and squirming to try and get out of his iron grip (pun so, fucking, intended)

"NOOOHOHOHOHHO! DAAAHHAHHADD!!"

"STOOAAHAHHAHAHPP!"

"Stop what, this?" He said as he reached for your underarms, causing your laughter to go silent for a moment. After a few more minutes of this torture, he let you go. The whole team was still sitting in the next room over, listening in horror, trying to withhold their own laughter.

"That poor kid." Clint spoke up, causing everyone to break out into a fit of laughter

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

That night, you walked into your bathroom and remembered, you still had temporary green hair dye fron last years halloween from when you dressed up as Beetlejuice.

You decided that this was your chance to get some revenge 😈

so, you grabbed the hair dye and slowly creeped into your fathers bedroom, made your way over to his king sized bed, and unscrewed the lid.

You dumped a large clump into the palm of your hand, when it made contact with his head It made a small 'plop' sound, which made you freeze for a few moments before returning to your dirty-work.

Using both hands this time, you spread it around on his scalp, and luckily he was a very heavy sleeper, so this didn't even make him stirr.

Once you finished this part of revenge, you walked across the large bedroom and got a sticky note and wrote the words 'revenge mother-fricker' and stuck it on his forehead

You could only get one side of his head covered in the dye givin that he was laying on his side. Now you just had to wait till morning.

+•°+*°•+

The morning after you did this you were sitting at the table, gobbling down on some cereal. Then tony walked in, half of his hair dyed green, and the sticky note still on his forehead.

you immediately started giggling, which turned into laughing. Almost choking on your cereal, which you had to calm down to get it to slide down your throat.

"Okay, now i know who did it" tony said trying to withhold the smile that perched upon his lips.

"I think it was obvious from the start-" nat said crossing her arms on her chest, being cut of by you falling out of your chair, holding your hand on your mouth as an attempt to stop the laughter.

"Thats literally worse then yesterday and no one is even near her" clint whispered to nat.

"Thats, hahAA..thats what you get"

"How is it....oh" he said when he remembered his little scheme from yesterday 😳

+•°+*°•+

You guys also had your cute moments, for reference. Right now you and the whole team was watching tangled together in the living room

You had drifted off on your fathers chest, your hand just under his arc reactor, his hand on your back, the other on your forearm (that wasn't on his chest) rubbing it with his thumb.

You loved moments like this, it gave you a feeling of peace after a long day of dealing with his and your sassyness.

Tony also fell asleep about halfway through the film, the two of you resting in each others warmth.

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

A/N: HAHAHA! You think I'd finally make a fic with no lovey dovey stuff? Nope! HAHAA-

Tags

@animealways // @white-wolf-buckaroo // @tonystark-au // @yummyangy // @zebralover

[buddiedaydreamer911]

here’s what i think will happen after this:

buck is going to leave chris’ room defeated, since chris will still be mad at buck. buck will make his way to the kitchen where eddie is and pout about it and eddie will laugh and his sarcastic side will return.

“well at least he can’t run away again if we’re both still here.”

[aindyghosh]

Fix Me Up (IronDad fic)

Peter hated formalities.

No, that was too mild a word to describe his feelings on the topic. Peter despised formalities.

Detested them. Abhorred. Loathed. And any other synonym that Oxford had come up with to date that he’d be able to remember as soon as Peter’s mind returned to the right track.

As it was, Peter’s brain felt all jumbled and disoriented, as if he were in a daze, because the morning sniffles he’d dismissed as a reaction to the accumulated dust in his room were, in reality, a case of severe cold due to the weather fluctuations that New Yorkers were experiencing and thus, very much not insignificant.

The last time Peter had fallen ill was three years ago before a visit to OsCorp had juiced him up on a — what would probably be perceived as ‘freakish’ — spider-serum (well, it was more of a spider-bite than a full-fledged serum, but that was what he called it, anyway) that turned his vision into a ten out of ten, dialled his senses to an eleven, and for the initial few months, made him stick to pretty much every surface available. No, that wasn’t a double entendre of any kind. It had been a real issue, thank you very much, until he had hauled control of it into his own hands.

Now one might ask, how did his sickness tie into his hatred for formalities?

Well, it was like this: Peter was sick, all he wanted to do at the moment was go home, politely refuse Aunt May’s chicken broth that was more likely to send him to the ER than to make him feel any better, allow sleep to treat him like he was dead until he was ready to return to the land of the living, and the fever, with any luck, would subside by the time he woke up again.

He didn’t think these were, in any manner, unreasonable demands.

Yet, his school acted as though he’d broken into Nexus and stolen the nuclear codes that he could access on Mr Stark’s servers.

Not that he’d ever say that to anyone because it would be incriminating Mr Stark, even though he was around eighty-three per cent sure it was one of those open secrets that everybody knew but pretended they didn’t. Adults were so complicated.

Regardless, coming back to the point, Aunt May was unreachable over the phone, which Peter had already suspected would be the case because she had a very important meeting with some angel investors who had expressed interest in the latest venture that her NGO was trying to set up for victims of domestic abuse.

Peter had said that to both Mr Harrington and Principal Morita, and had practically begged to be permitted to leave because anybody with a functional pair of eyes could see that he wasn’t faking an illness for the fun of it (Principal Morita had blanched at the hundred-and-three-degree temperature the thermometer had displayed; apparently, the spider-serum had increased his body’s tolerance to the extent where he didn’t keel over while burning up, but still, it would’ve been nice to not fall sick at all).

They had denied his request, of course. Formalities. See why he despised them?

With Peter being miserable in the infirmary and Aunt May not answering her calls, the natural next step in the administrative process was to either call the second emergency contact tagged to his name or the hospital.

Peter had put his foot down when Mr Harrison had tried to make noise in favour of the latter choice. Whether it was his uncharacteristic blunt protest or the pitiful murmur he had exhaled for being too exhausted to attempt anything else, Principal Morita had, though begrudgingly, relented.

That had stripped them down to one option. The second emergency contact. And that was where the root of all his problems laid.

Even when he had been one of the sickliest children, Peter’s file had been empty of a secondary contact since Uncle Ben’s demise because, besides Aunt May, he hadn’t had any such person in his life. But two years ago, his Aunt May had applied to add one.

Tony S.

It had been Mr Stark’s idea after their initial application had been rejected because “there is no way Tony Stark is your emergency contact, Peter; such kind of pranks will not be tolerated!”

As insistent as Ms. Banks was on not being taken for a fool, she hadn’t batted an eyelid when Peter had submitted the revised application with the name tweaked from “Tony Stark” to “Tony S”. At the time, like in one of those really old movies, Mr Stark’s “People are gullible, Peter! They think they know and understand everything when they barely see a quarter of the full picture,” had echoed through his head like a voiceover.

But he was digressing. The point he was trying to make was that despite the fact his school hadn’t, and still didn’t, believe that he had an internship — which wasn’t even a lie — with Stark Industries, much less that Mr Stark would ever agree to be his secondary contact (if Peter was being honest, he too found it ridiculous and surreal sometimes that Mr Stark had been listed as one of his emergency contacts), he hadn’t imagined that Principal Morita and Mr Harrington would stammer say an outright “no” to the man’s very face.

Peter watched, perched on the uncomfortable bed that threatened to make a germaphobe out of him, as Mr Stark’s face underwent a long series of varied emotions until it began oscillating between intrigued amusement and concerned frustration.

“I am his secondary emergency contact,” Mr Stark stressed for the third time. “You saw the papers! They have May’s signature! Why, on God’s holy green earth—” ( Ooh, the fancy curses were coming out now. When Mr Stark started saying things like “God” and “holy”, the best course of action was to run.) “—would I want to compromise your records? Do I look like a kidnapper?” Principal Morita failed to reply within a satisfactory period because Mr Stark pinched the bridge of his nose for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. Someone was developing a new anxious tic. “Why would I want to kidnap a student, Principal Morita?”

“We don’t think you’re trying to kidnap him, per se,” Mr Harrison swiftly cut in, seeing as Principal Morita seemed more interested in mimicking a fish and flailing his hands like an octopus. “But surely, you must see why we’d be, um, sceptical about allowing Peter to go with you?”

“No, actually, I don’t.”

Mr Harrington waved his hands in vague gestures, not unlike Principal Morita but he resembled more of an orangutan. “You are Tony Stark.”

“I’m aware, but thanks for the reminder.” Mr Stark deadpanned, his flat features compensating for the raw vulnerability in his eyes as he kept shooting Peter worried glances. “Look, this argument is entirely pointless.” You tell ‘em, Mr Stark! “I have a sick child to take care of—” He wasn’t a child! He was an almost-adult! That was a thing! “—and he can do with some treatment that is not in this horrible room. Is this what you call an infirmary? You know what, it doesn’t matter! I will need Peter to come with me pronto.”

Principal Morita stood up taller as if something in Mr Stark’s speech had vindicated him. “That is what a kidnapper would say.”

“No, a mugger would say that while robbing somebody. Go on, accuse me of petty theft as well while you’re at it.”

Principal Morita stuttered something out, but whether that was in response to Mr Stark’s utterly unimpressed face or Mr Harrison elbowing him in the rib, Peter wasn’t sure.

The ongoing conversation gradually morphed into unintelligible white noise, overwhelming while being muffled at the same time, like being pulled out of the water after a long time under, the sound of waves rushing ringing in one’s ears and deafening them to their surroundings but unable to mitigate the imposing presence of the people around.

“M’st’r St’k?” After a short second, his brain-addled self wondered if he’d managed to get the words out in the world or if they had died a premature death on his tongue.

“Peter?”

Maybe he had. “I d’n’t f’el sss...g’d, M-St’k—”

💖

Peter blinked. And frowned when his view refused to stop swaying between pitch black and black with spots of red and green in it.

It was another moment before he realised his eyes were still closed.

Oops.

When his eyes fluttered open, it wasn’t to Midtown High’s infirmary that left much to be desired, but to a clean white ceiling with a familiar huge and fancy circle of light decorating the middle which his brain placed right away.

The Avengers Compound’s MedBay.

He had a love-hate relationship with this corner of the compound, in that his body loved to end up here, at least, once a week while he had to actively hold himself back from cursing like a pirate anytime someone so much as mentioned the wing.

“FRIDAY?” He asked in a tone that even his brain thought suited an eighty-year-old, weary of the world, than a teenage kid with superpowers. No, not superpowers. That made him sound narcissistic and ostentatious. Spidey-powers. There, much better. “How long was I out this time?”

“You missed both lunch and dinner, if that answers your question,” came the reply from the person who was very much not FRIDAY.

“Mr Stark!” He attempted to sit up to no avail, Mr Stark’s firm grip on his shoulders gently pushing him back on the bed. Peter might have been stronger but Mr Stark was much more stubborn and a lot less prone to listening.

“How’re you feeling, kid?”

“Fine, actually, y’know, given everything.” He was no longer burning up, his skin didn’t crawl, the pounding in his head had subsided, and nothing felt jammed up his nose. All in all, he felt much more in control of himself. At least, the spider-serum worked fast.

“Good, because I need to yell at you and I’d prefer to do that while you’re not being miserable in your own body.”

“Oh, come on, Mr Stark! I didn’t even do anything this time!”

“Yeah?” The man’s eyes narrowed at him in that manner where, historically, it meant he had yet to decide whether to be angry with him or let himself show his amusement at his antics. Usually, the latter won out after a few minutes of forced yelling which was more to help keep up his façade of a responsible adult than anything else. Here’s to hoping! “Then was it your clone who assured your Aunt May in the morning that you were okay and, in fact, healthy enough to attend school?”

Had Peter been sitting, he would have bowed his head or looked away. Since he was currently laid out helpless on the bed as Mr Stark hovered over him like a concerned parent mentor, bowing his head wasn't on the table and looking away could be considered impolite. Mr Stark didn’t take kindly to rudeness and Peter was in no mood to be tickled.

“Sorry, Mr Stark.” Apologising? Now that came much more naturally to him. Mr Stark said it was a problem. Peter wasn’t so sure.

“What are you sorry for?”

That sounded like a trick question. Peter eyed the other man with carefully concealed suspicion. “For falling sick?”

Mr Stark sighed in that exasperated way that was typically followed up with something either deeply profound or extremely heartfelt, and in both cases, Peter would be left speechless and a tiny smidge teary-eyed.

“Don’t be sorry for falling sick, Peter! How would you feel if I apologised for getting hurt on a mission?”

Peter shrugged. “Good, actually, because then it would mean you’ll try not to throw yourself in the active line of gunfire when the next fight comes along.” After a moment, he added, “And maybe a tiny bit worried if you said the word ‘sorry’.”

“Pot, kettle, Underoos.” Mr Stark rolled his eyes. “And stop distracting me from the real issue here.”

“There’s no real issue, Mr Stark—”

“You should have told May that you had a fever, Pete.” He didn’t have a fever in the morning! “She was so scared when she saw the missed calls. She almost hitched a ride with Karen.”

“She hates Karen.” Peter’s mumble was barely audible, but somehow Mr Stark heard it.

“I know. I talked her down from blowing her dinner invitation with the investors. She’ll be here in another—” He spared a glance at his expensive wristwatch. “—fifteen minutes or so.”

“Thanks, Mr Stark! I didn’t mean to cause any problems—”

“You didn’t,” Mr Stark said, his voice soft. “We just worry, Pete. You’d know when you reach our age and have to look after a hyperenergetic kid who can’t seem to keep out of trouble.”

“That’s right, Peter!” FRIDAY chimed in. “Boss nearly went into a panic attack at the thought of you being hurt.”

Mr Stark immediately hushed his AI, but FRIDAY made even her silence seem...smug.

“I didn’t.” Mr Stark was convincing nobody. He was such a mother-hen.

Peter shook his head with a small smile. “This won’t happen again, Mr Stark, I promise.”

“Yes. Please remember, we’re all here for you, okay?” The man squeezed his hand. His touch was warm and assuring, and it grounded Peter.

“I didn’t expect a few sneezes to turn into a fever. I’d thought the serum had taken care of that.”

“Me too. I have talked with Bruce. If you are fine with him taking a couple of samples, he’s agreed to look into it.”

“Sure.” A year ago, he’d have been uncomfortable at the prospect of Doctor Bruce Banner wasting his precious time on something as insignificant as Peter’s blood tests. But Mr Stark had beaten the so-called “self-deprecation” out with his snarky retorts and sassy eye-rolls, and Doctor Banner had, after returning from “the garbage planet” (not his words), become something of a second mentor to him.

Also, this was for science. Doctor Banner was always interested in analysing the dos and don’ts and powers and the side effects of the spider-serum.

“Boss, Forehead of Security is pulling up into the driveway with Mrs Parker as we speak.”

“Oh, goody! She can take over the yelling now. FRI, order some pizza!”

“On it!”

“Mr Stark!” Peter called for the man with a tone of voice that, to unsuspecting people, might have sounded whiny, but really, it wasn’t. “Save me!”

“Nope! You deserve it!”

“I promise I won’t do it again!”

“FRI, remind the young lad of the last time he’d said the same thing, please.”

“Three weeks ago, on the twenty-ninth of March, at 8:14 in the evening, Peter Parker had promised not to hide anything from Tony Stark and May Parker ever again post a two-hour surgery for failing to alert anybody after getting shot while stopping a bank robbery.”

Peter resisted the urge to pout. “FRIDAY! You didn’t have to recount in such detail.”

“I am not programmed to recite half-information, Peter.” She was trolling him. He could feel it in his bones.

“Hah!” Mr Stark crowed. “I am so proud of you, baby girl.”

“Boss, I have done some research and I have arrived at a conclusion.”

Peter’s heart hammered at the declaration. What now?

“Oh? Let’s hear it, then!”

“I have looked into various published papers on human behaviour and the possible environmental factors that may have an impact on it, and I have deduced that Peter Parker’s tendency to hide his injuries and downplay his struggles are identical to your documented traits.”

It took a visible minute for Mr Stark to realise what transpired, and when he did, he let out an outraged screech that would have put a whole colony of bats to shame. 

Peter sucked in his cheeks.

“Are you implying I’m a bad influence on the kid, FRIDAY?”

“No, I’m saying that you and Peter are in the same boat, and both of you panic when the other gets hurt yet none of you do anything to set an example for the other, and since you, Boss, can be argued to be the adult in this relationship—” She bravely ignored Mr Stark’s squeak of protest, and pressed on, “the responsibility of not being a hypocrite, unfortunately, falls on you.” FRIDAY finished with a flourish. Peter could hear the flourish.

A beat of silence.

“That’s it! I’m donating you to City College. How dare you insinuate that I’m a responsible adult. I hate being responsible!”

And that was the point where Peter absolutely and hilariously lost it.

He was soon joined by Mr Stark, who was more giggling than guffawing like Peter. When the titters and the chortles were on the verge of subsiding, FRIDAY played an audio recording of a woman cackling as a representation of her own emotions, and the riot powered up again.

That was, of course, until the door to his room — yes, he had been in the MedBay a sufficient number of times for Mr Stark to designate a room specially for him — was pushed open and a harried May rushed in only to be greeted by the sight of Peter and Tony all but rolling over the floor laughing.

Peter’s ears rang with her screaming for days after that.