Chapter Text
The last thing Peter expected while working on his research proposal to study antimicrobial biomaterials on a Friday night at 11:30pm is a knock at the door. He sits up at his desk and whirls around, blinking his computer strained eyes towards his apartment door. He briefly thinks about the possibility of being robbed, but quickly remembers who he is and walks to the door.
Figuring it’s just one of his neighbors coming to complain about some nonexistent noise Peter is making, he opens it with his eyes half lidded and definitely wearing just his boxers and a t-shirt.
It isn’t a neighbor.
Peter’s heart nearly jumps out of his chest as he stares into the eyes of none other than Tony Stark, standing outside his apartment door in a rumpled three-piece two-button Tom Ford suit. He feels his eyes widen and his mouth fall open.
“Mr– Mr. Stark! What– what are you… can I help you?” Peter stutters.
Mr. Stark quickly looks him up and down and then holds up a hand. “No no. I will be doing the talking.”
“Um.” Peter mutters as Mr. Stark pushes past him into his apartment.
“So, Dr. Parker. Looks like you’re having a pretty fun Friday night, hm?” He says, glancing around at Peter’s mess of papers and open textbooks all over his desk and kitchen table.
Peter stares in awe at the man who has just entered his apartment and hopes that it isn’t a dream or possibly a hallucination caused by exhaustion. He feels immediately embarrassed about his disaster of an apartment. “I–um. Well I’m–”
Mr. Stark cuts him off, holding up his hand again. “Nope. I talk, remember?”
Peter furrows his eyebrows a little. He is still reeling from this unexpected situation and honestly doesn’t think he could form a full sentence anyway, so he lets the man talk.
“You no doubt know why I’m here.” Mr. Stark stares at him, raising his eyebrows in question.
Peter stares back, thinking that he absolutely has no idea why such a famous and important man would want to speak to Peter.
“You can answer that.” Mr. Stark says, smirking a little.
“I’m– I’m not really sure.” Peter mutters.
Mr. Stark begins pacing around the room, glancing around and studying Peter’s belongings. “Hm. I think you do. Unless I have the wrong Dr. Peter Parker, PhD, that lives in the Boston area, originally from Queens, and Midtown Science Alum? Now a Professor of Materials Science and Engineering at MIT? No?”
Mr. Stark isn’t looking at him, and instead is studying the laundry basket full of clothes that Peter half-hazardly set onto his coffee table this afternoon. Peter is staring at him though, and he can’t find words. He’s still deciding if he should be worried or flattered.
Before Peter can speak, he watches as Mr. Stark reaches his hand down to the bottom of Peter’s laundry basket and pulls out something red, blue, and very stretchy. Peter's eyes widen as he begins to panic. No no no nononono–
“Well, what do we have here?” Mr. Stark says with another smirk.
Peter rushes over and pulls his suit away from Mr. Stark’s grasp, and tosses it somewhere behind himself.
“That’s not– that’s nothing! Why are you– what are you doing!?” Peter says frantically.
Mr. Stark just laughs, and Peter feels himself scowling. What on Earth is going on and why is there a billionaire in his apartment going through his stuff.
To his credit, said billionaire apologizes. “I’m sorry,” he says, still chuckling a little. “But please, do tell me if I have the correct Peter Parker, also known as Spider-Man? Because I think I do.”
Peter, like the horrible liar he is, looks anywhere but at Mr. Stark and says, “Um. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, really?” Stark says, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head a little. “So that was just a red and blue onesie you wear to sleep?”
Peter scoffs, and crosses his arms. He turns and walks away from Mr. Stark towards the discarded garment. “It’s not a onesie.”
Mr. Stark chuckles and watches Peter’s movements as he picks up his suit from the floor. “I designed it and made it myself,” Peter tells him.
“Oh, I know that you did. That’s why I don’t doubt that it’s one of the most perfectly engineered pieces of material on the planet.”
Peter was not expecting such a sincere compliment. “I–”
For the third time, Stark raises his hand to Peter. “Please. You think I don’t know that you’re not just Spider-Man? You’re one of the most extraordinary engineers of our time. I read all of your work in one night. Last night, actually. It’s great stuff.”
Mr. Stark says this so casually as if it didn’t just rock Peter’s entire world. The weight that a compliment like this holds coming from a man like him knocks the breath out of Peter. He suddenly feels like he could die happy.
“But, unfortunately, that isn’t why I’m here. I needed to find Spider-Man. And I think I found him. Right?”
Peter stares at him, and lets out a huff as he gives in. No use in arguing with the smartest man in the world.
“Yes, I am Spider-Man.”
Mr. Stark looks at him from across the room, and seems to be processing Peter’s words. He nods quickly, mostly to himself. “Good. Great.”
Peter watches with his arms crossed as Mr. Stark steps a little closer to him, moving his hands around as he speaks. “Listen, this is probably a little weird on my part. I’m just really good at finding out information. I–”
It’s Peter’s turn to cut him off. “But why are you here, Mr. Stark?”
Mr. Stark freezes, and is silent for a moment. For the first time since pushing his way into Peter’s apartment, he looks nervous. He crosses his hands in front of him, squeezing his left wrist tightly with his right hand.
“I need your help.” Stark stares right into his eyes, full of earnestness.
Peter clears his throat. He questions again if he’s hallucinating, and wants to ask how the heck Spider-Man could help Iron Man. Instead he says, “With what?”
“Well, it’s a long story. I’m assuming you’ve seen the news?”
Peter has. What’s happening between the Avengers right now is not pretty, and he isn’t surprised that Mr. Stark seems anxious. Peter suddenly notices the circle of a black eye under Mr. Stark’s right eye, and he hurts for what he’s been through.
“Yes. It’s awful. I–” Peter clears his throat again. “I would have signed the Accords. If I could.”
Mr. Stark smiles slightly, and shrugs. “It would’ve been nice to have you on our side at the time. But I understand why you’ve kept things…under-wraps, I guess.”
“You do?” Peter asks. “I mean– um, thank you.”
“Of course I do. Especially now. Hell, I almost kept my identity a secret. I probably wouldn’t have been as good at hiding it as you are though.”
“Well, you do like to show off.” Peter says, smirking.
Stark chuckles brightly, his eyes lighting up a bit. “I do indeed.”
They’re quiet for a moment, both smiling. Peter suddenly feels like Mr. Stark understands him more than anyone he’s ever met.
“So,” Peter says awkwardly. “How can I help?”
“You ever been to Germany?”