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“Welcome back, Peter. I see you’ve arrived earlier than your usual time this week,” FRIDAY greets with a somehow sentient manner.
Peter smiles and glances up towards the ceiling of the SI faculty elevator, chiming, “Hey, FRI! May said Mr. Stark wanted me over a day early this week, and that’s kind of ominous, so I came over here straight after school just to make sure everything’s okay, because what if-“
“Kid, I know I programmed FRIDAY to handle virtually anything, but I don’t even think she can comprehend whatever you were just rambling about.”
Peter startled, his widened eyes immediately meeting Tony’s amused expression.
“What, you didn’t even notice the elevator stopped? C’mon, Underoos, I thought you were supposed to have heightened senses... or, what is it that you call it? Your ‘Spider Sense’?” Tony remarks.
Huffing, Peter crosses his arms and shoots an unamused look at Tony. The latter only smirks back, so Peter justifies, “It only senses danger, Mr. Stark. You’re not ‘danger’. Plus, I was just trying to tell FRIDAY why I’m here a day early, and-“
“And, you’re still standing in the elevator, Peter.”
Peter’s speech stops short, his gesticulated movements pausing, and it is clear to Tony that he is only just realizing that he has yet to step out of the elevator car. “Oh, um, yeah, I’ll just... hi,” the teen formally greets, finally crossing the car’s threshold and standing adjacent to Tony.
The elder only chuckles, wrapping his arm around Peter’s shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze. “Hi to you, too, kiddo,” he replies.
Keeping his arm in place, Tony leads Peter into the Compound’s living area, and settles them both onto the couch.
Peter, although reveling in sitting comfortably next to the man he views as a father-figure, wriggles his way out from under Tony’s arm to peer at him questioningly. “So, um, Mr. Stark, why exactly am I here a day early?” Before the man in question has a chance to answer, Peter hurriedly explains, “Not that I don’t love being here! It’s actually what I look forward to doing after school and over the weekends- well, aside from being Spider-Man. I just wasn’t expecting May to tell me you wanted me over earlier than usual, and I was worried that maybe-“
“Hey, hey, kid, nothing’s wrong,” Tony placates, reaching out his hand to rub Peter’s shoulder. “I just wanted some extra time with you, alright? You hardly show your face here anymore because of those decathalon practices, and I’ll be away for a few days next week for a conference, so I needed some time with my spider-kid. That okay with you?”
Peter gaped at Tony for less than a second before nodding frantically, his head bobbing up and down so fast that Tony feared the kid would give himself whiplash. “Yeah, that- that’s okay with me, Mr. Stark.”
“Good. Now, weren’t you telling me about a movie you wanted to see but didn’t get a chance to see in theaters?” Tony asks, wrapping his arm back around Peter’s shoulders and pulling him to his side.
He felt Peter nod against his chest, the boy’s slightly-untamed curls brushing against his chin.
“Yeah, it’s called Ready Player One. Ned saw it and spent all of fourth period raving about it, but I just never got the chance to see it,” Peter explained.
“Well, then that’s what we’re watching,” Tony stated, ruffling Peter’s hair. The man smiled to himself as the boy sighed in content at the affectionate action. “FRIDAY, play Ready Player One.”
“On it, Boss,” FRIDAY affirmed.
The movie’s end credits began rolling, and Tony rubbed his hand up and down Peter’s arm to garner the teen’s attention. “Hey, Pete, what are you feeling for dinner? I’m craving pizza, but we can get whatever you want.”
Peter took a deep, contented inhale, not bothering to move from his position of resting his head on Tony’s chest. “‘M kind of tired,” he mumbled, pushing himself further into Tony.
“Yeah? You want to take a quick power-nap while we wait for the pizza to get here?”
“Mhm,” Peter sighed, letting his eyes flutter closed.
“Alright,” Tony started, patting the kid’s arm before going to reach for his phone.
Peter made a noise of protest, lethargically reaching out to stop Tony’s movements. “No, stay,” he murmured, idly and futilely pulling at the man’s sleeve for his arm to resume its prior position.
Tony nodded, sitting back and savoring the moment between himself and the boy he viewed as his son. His hand innately brushed Peter’s hair from his forehead, continuing the gesture as the boy’s breathing evened. He realized the pizza could wait, and allowed himself to relax into the couch, his hand never straying from combing through Peter’s hair.