Chapter Twelve

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~Ten Years Later~

Peter fishes the pair of keys out of his backpack, awkwardly shifting to try to keep his bag on his one shoulder while balancing the DVD player he had found in the dumpster on his way home from school. He pushes open the front door to their apartment, waving a quick hello to his neighbor sitting outside her front door across the hallway. He never learned her name, but she seems nice enough.

He shuts the door behind him, dropping his keys and the DVD player onto the dining room table and tossing his bag down against the wall. He pulls one of his earbuds out and calls out a greeting to his aunt.

"How was school?" she says from behind the wall to the living room as Peter passes through their mini kitchen. Peter can tell how strained her voice sounds without even seeing her face.

"It was fine," he replies, tucking his cracked iPod into his pocket and turning the corner. "There's this crazy car parked outside-"

He freezes upon seeing who else is in living room.

Tony Stark. Iron Man. The man Peter had seen on TV while growing up. The famous billionaire.

In his living room, sitting on his couch, talking to his aunt.

"Oh, Mister Parker," he greets easily, though there's a hint of pain that flickers behind his bruised eyes. Peter opts to ignore it. It's not his problem.

"What- What are you- Hey, I- I- I'm, um, I'm Peter," he stutters nervously, pulling out his other earbud and letting them dangle around his neck. He scuffs his pair of ratty sneakers against the hardwood floor, ignoring the warning look from his aunt at the nervous ticks. It's not his fault. How is he supposed to react to a superhero billionaire being in his apartment?

"Tony," he replies swiftly, waving the piece of dessert vaguely in his hand in some form of greeting. He offers a piece of smile, one that doesn't reach his eyes in any way, one that amplifies the pain behind his eyes. Peter doesn't know why he can catch it so easily. He shouldn't know this man's mannerisms.

"What- What are you doing here?" the teenager asks, swallowing thickly to try to hide his nerves. He shouldn't be this nervous, but he can't help it. He's always nervous meeting new people. Especially celebrities apparently.

"It's about time we met," Tony says. Peter ignores the small crack in Tony's voice. Maybe Tony's nervous meeting new people too... If Tony won't point out Peter's nerves, Peter won't point out his. It's only fair.

May offers a smile to Peter, one that tells him to calm down, but the nerves continue running high.

"I, um, I- Aren't you a little bit- a little busy, you know, to be meeting with me?" Peter asks. He scuffs his shoes some more on the ground and then shifts so he can fiddle with the hem of his sweater instead. He doesn't want to have to clean his scuff marks off his shoes and floor again. It's been a while since he's stuttered this bad. He's been getting better at controlling his nerves.

"I'm never too busy to-" Tony suddenly cuts himself off and takes a bite of the food. "This is really good walnut date loaf, May. Thank you."

May smiles, almost blushing under Tony's gaze. Peter can't help seeing the warning look in her face, he's learned all of her facial expressions. He's just never seen her use it towards anyone but him.

"Could we have a few minutes?" Tony asks, gesturing back to Peter almost absentmindedly as he keeps his attention focused on May who nods.

Peter nods as well, leading the way to his bedroom. He wishes he had listened to May's advice and cleaned up the night before, but he was busy studying for his algebra test. He regrets it now that he's leading a billionaire into the mess. Peter refuses to apologize for it though.

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