Chapter Text
“I hate William Shakespeare.”
Tony didn’t even look away from the screen he was fiddling with. “Well, he’s probably not too fond of you either.”
Peter huffed out a laugh under his breath, which was followed by the now familiar thud of his backpack hitting the ground (honestly, did the kid have bricks in there?); moments before Peter slid into the seat next to Tony at the workstation in the lab.
“Funny, Mr Stark,” Peter said, like he was trying really hard not to be amused by Tony’s retort.
Tony swallowed the instinctual panic that threatened to rise at the reminder that Peter turning up in the Tower’s lab after school on Wednesdays had not only had become a part of his weekly routine, but the highlight of Tony’s week.
Instead, he glanced over at Peter briefly and offered a faint grin, still typing away. “So, what great offence did the Bard commit against you?”
Peter heaved a long-suffering sigh. “We’re studying him in English this semester. And there’s this huge project at the end of it, that’s worth like, half our grade.”
“So, naturally, it’s Shakespeare’s fault,” Tony nodded sagely. “How dare he write a play what, six hundred years ago?”
Peter huffed again. “Mr Stark,” he almost whined.
Tony grinned more broadly then, just pleased that Peter was now comfortable enough around him to whine. Three months ago, that certainly hadn’t been the case.
“What play is it?”
“King Richard III.”
Tony nodded again. “Ah. ‘Now is the winter of our discount tents.’”
Peter glared at him scathingly, but his lips twitched. “That is not the quote,” he protested.
Tony squinted at him. “Are you sure?” he asked teasingly, and Peter rolled his eyes. “It sounds right.”
Peter bit the inside of his cheek, but that wasn’t enough to keep him from smiling. “You’re not funny.”
“That’s a horrible lie, Parker. May raised you better than that,” Tony scolded him, and Peter laughed before he could help himself.
Tony grinned in satisfaction at having made Peter laugh. “So, what’s this project, Underoos?”
“Just an essay,” Peter admitted with a heavy sigh. “But it’s like three thousand words. And I hate Richard III. It’s so boring.”
“It’s Shakespeare. It’s supposed to be boring.”
Peter looked to Tony, clearly affronted at the complete lack of sympathy he was getting from his mentor on this matter.
Tony chuckled. “You’ll be fine, kid. You’ve got this,” he said encouragingly.
That was what a good mentor did, right?
Peter smiled and they got to work. Wednesday was Peter’s favourite day of the week, getting to spend a whole afternoon in the lab with Tony. It made school so much more bearable to know he had something to do besides return to an empty apartment while May worked the nightshift at the hospital. Peter had promised his aunt he wouldn’t patrol on the evenings she worked nights, even though they both knew if something happened, Tony would be there. But still, Peter had promised her, and he kept his promises.
Dinner with Tony and Pepper every Wednesday evening had also become routine for Peter- Pepper had insisted on it once she’d discovered Peter would otherwise be eating dinner alone. Peter still rather felt like he was imposing on them, but Tony certainly had never protested against Pepper’s suggestion. They’d never made him feel unwelcome.
That night, Pepper entered the bedroom to find Tony lying in bed reading something on his StarkPad. That wasn’t as unusual a sight as one might expect, but Tony’s response when Pepper asked him what he was reading was definitely unusual.
“You’re reading Shakespeare?” she repeated incredulously. “Why?!”
Tony shrugged lightly. “The kid’s studying Richard III at school,” he replied as though that explained everything.
Although, to Pepper, it did.
“Right,” she nodded with a smile, climbing into bed beside him and reaching for a book of her own that sat on the nightstand.
Tony paused, looking over at her. “Right?” he repeated. “That’s your only comment?”
Pepper grinned. “Yes. I think it’s sweet that you’re taking an interest in what Peter’s doing at school.”
Tony wrinkled his nose but didn’t bother arguing that he wasn’t doing this to be ‘sweet’.
“It seems like the least I can do,” he muttered with another shrug and returned to his reading.
He’d promised May- and Pepper- that he’d be a “responsible, positive figure” in Peter’s life; and he didn’t want any of them- May, Pepper or Peter himself- to think that Tony was only around for Spider-Man reasons. Tony was in Peter Parker’s corner just as much as he was in Spider-Man’s corner.
Tony remembered all too well what it felt like to have no one in your corner as a teenager, and he didn’t want Peter to feel that way- in or out of the suit. He’d screwed up back in October. He knew that. He wasn’t going to do that again. Tony had never really had anyone to take an interest in what he was learning about at school. Howard had only ever been interested in his grades, and although his mother and Jarvis might have asked, Tony remembered their eyes glazing over if he answered in any great detail.
“That sounds nice, dear,” had been his mother’s usual answer.
Tony wanted to be able to offer more than “that’s nice” to Peter.
The next week Wednesday over dinner, Pepper asked Peter how school was going.
“It’s mostly ok,” Peter shrugged. “English still sucks though.”
Pepper chuckled. “Tony mentioned something about that. Richard III, right? Big essay?”
Peter nodded. “Yeah. Something about how the language affects the fortunes of the characters,” he sighed, making a face.
“The language?” Pepper asked.
“Yeah. Like, if someone is well spoken, is that a sign of intelligence or cunning?” Peter explained.
“Can’t it be both?” Tony asked, pushing away his empty plate. “Richard’s manipulative as hell, but he’s not an idiot either.”
Peter cocked his head slightly, his brow creasing in thought. “Huh.”
“Richard spends the whole play using words to make everyone, including the audience, feel sorry for him,” Tony pointed out. “Until he gets the crown. Isn’t that what his whole speech in the beginning is about? ‘Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time into this breathing world, scarce half made up’. Trying to get sympathy for his hunched back?”
Peter’s eyes were slightly wide. “That makes way more sense than anything my English teacher has said all week,” he said finally.
Tony snorted. “That doesn’t say much about the quality of your English teacher, Underoos.”
Peter grinned faintly. “You know Richard III?”
Tony uttered a half-hearted “Meh.”
Pepper looked at Peter significantly as Tony got up and began to gather their empty plates.
“He read it after you were here last week.”
Peter stilled, trying not to gape too visibly at Tony. “You did?”
Tony shrugged nonchalantly. “I learned thermonuclear astrophysics in a night. You think I can’t read a five act play in two minutes?”
Pepper rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t two minutes,” she reassured Peter, like that made a difference.
Peter numbly got to his feet to help clear the table, his throat tight. Pepper reached out and squeezed his arm lightly, as though she knew what he was thinking. As per routine, the three of them cleared the table together and then Tony started to do the dishes, Peter stepping over to dry while Pepper sat on a bar stool at the kitchen counter, watching them in faint amusement.
“You read the whole play?” Peter blurted out as he stood beside Tony.
“Nah, just every other scene.”
Tony nudged Peter lightly in the side with his elbow as the sink filled. “Of course I read the whole play. Figured if you’re going to be stressing about this play for the next few weeks, I should know what you’re stressing about.”
Peter didn’t know what to say, but a warmth was spreading through his whole body from head to toe. Tony had read Richard III because he was studying it at school. Peter knew that if he said too much about it, Tony would brush him off and get uncomfortable.
“It still sucks though,” he said instead, trying to make sure he sounded casual.
Tony snorted faintly. “It’s just history,” he reassured him. “If you get your head around the War of the Roses, it all makes sense.”
Peter wrinkled his nose. “All my teacher said was that it was between the Yorks and the Lancasters. He tried to explain the family tree, but it was really confusing.”
Tony shook his head slightly. “This should be easy for you. It’s no less confusing than Game of Thrones… with less incest… I think.”
Peter laughed at that. Tony gave him a quick recap of the War of the Roses as they did the dishes, mostly explaining just how Richard had claim to the throne, which was the part that confused Peter the most. And it made so much more sense being explained by Tony than it did by his English teacher.
“How do you know all this stuff?” Peter asked him, admittedly impressed.
Sure, Tony was a genius. Everyone knew that. But Peter didn’t think that extended to European history. Unless Tony had read a lot more than Richard III in the past week.
“I actually didn’t mind history in school,” Tony admitted. “Some of it sticks, I guess.”
“That’s cool,” Peter said quietly.
When he left that night, Peter was tempted to hug Tony. To thank him for what he’d done. But he didn’t. He wasn’t sure if they were there yet. That attempted hug in the car after Germany still made him cringe to think about it.
He still couldn’t really get his head around what Tony had done though. When he was home, he collapsed onto the couch and messaged Ned.
Peter: You’ll never guess what happened.
Ned replied almost instantly.
Ned: OMG, what?? Did you get to meet more Avengers??? A new suit??
Peter rolled his eyes faintly as he typed back.
Peter: Nothing like that. I was talking to Mr Stark and Miss Potts about school and everything. Mr Stark read Richard III because I told him we’re studying it in English.
He watched as the bubbles appeared to show that Ned was typing. Then they disappeared, flickered back on for a moment, and then disappeared again. It was almost five minutes before Ned’s next message came through. When it did, it was in the group chat between him, Peter and MJ.
Ned: Sorry, I had to move this here because my head exploded. Tony Stark read RICHARD III just because we’re studying it at school???
Peter chuckled as he read the message.
Peter: Yeah. Like it’s a completely normal thing to do.
MJ: Why?
Peter: He said that if I was going to be stressing about this dumb essay for the next few weeks, he should know what I’m talking about.
Ned: Geez. My parents couldn’t tell you what I’m studying at school if there was a gun to their head. Although, granted the daily conversation in my house is them saying “how was school?” and me saying “Fine.”
MJ: Same. My mom thinks I have many classes on “stuff” because that’s my response to “what did you learn about today?”
Peter: That doesn’t fly with May. She wants details.
MJ: And Stark?
Peter wrinkled his nose thoughtfully, considering his words before typing.
Peter: I mean, he asks me how school is… I guess I’m just used to giving details now? He doesn’t seem to mind…
Ned: Dude, he read SHAKESPEARE for you. VOLUNTARILY. He def doesn’t mind.
The warm feeling was back, warming Peter from head to toe.
Peter: He actually seems to know it pretty well. We were talking about it over dinner, and it made WAY more sense than anything Mr Hooper’s said in class about it.
MJ: Please don’t launch into a ‘Tony Stark is the greatest genius in the universe’ rant right now. It’s too late for this shit, Parker. I’m tired. We have school tomorrow.
Peter: Ha. Ha.
Ned: It’s not a rant, MJ. It’s a FACT.
Peter grinned, contributing an appropriate gif to the thread in support of Ned’s message. In turn, MJ sent a gif of someone rolling their eyes.
Peter: Honestly, though. It was really nice of him to read the play, right? He didn’t have to do that.
MJ: I hate to admit it, but yeah, it’s pretty decent of him to take an actual interest in your education. I’m going to have to give him props where props are due.
Ned: I mean, we already KNOW he likes you. He lets you stay for dinner every week so you’re not eating alone. But this is still really awesome.
Peter had to agree. It was awesome. He could have argued that the dinner invite came from Pepper, not Tony. But that was really just semantics at this point, wasn’t it?
The next morning as he got ready for school, he told May what Tony had done. She stared at him nonplussed, her eyes slightly bleary after a long night of work.
“Stark read Shakespeare?” she asked, a note of incredulity in her voice that Peter really couldn’t fault her for.
“Yeah.”
“Because you’re studying it at school?”
“Uh huh.”
May took off her glasses to rub at her eyes tiredly. “Ok,” she said finally. “I’m impressed.”
Peter grinned. May hadn’t exactly been Tony’s biggest fan since she thought he was working Peter to death in his “internship” and even less so after she found out he was funding Peter’s crime-fighting alter-ego. She liked Pepper though.
May shook her head faintly. “Tony Stark read Richard III just because you’re studying it,” she repeated, as though she couldn’t quite believe what she was saying.
“And not even to help you with this essay? Just because?”
Peter nodded, beaming. “Yeah. But we were talking about it last night. He explained the War of Roses to me, and it was actually interesting.”
May smirked at him. “Pete. Honey. Sweets. My darling nephew. You’d find it interesting if Tony explained to you how grass grows.”
Peter’s cheeks warmed, unable to deny it. “He just made it all make sense,” he elaborated. “Mr Hooper doesn’t.”
May studied his face for a moment longer and then sighed. “Well, I guess that’s something. You’d better get moving, sweets. You’ll be late.”
Peter nodded and hurried off to his room to find his shoes. When he returned to the living room, he almost walked right into May.
“Whoa.”
May barely acknowledged their near collision. “Peter, you know just because I’m not reading Shakespeare, that doesn’t mean I’m not interested in what you’re studying at school, right?”
Peter blinked in confusion, chuckling weakly. “I know, May,” he reassured her. “You take heaps of interest. Sometimes too much interest if that makes you feel better.”
May rolled her eyes but nodded, looking satisfied. “Ok, then. Have a good day at school. I’ll see you this afternoon,” she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek.
Peter flashed her a smile as he headed for the door. “See you, May. Love you!”
“Love you too,” May called after him faintly, heading for bed.
Peter survived the remainder of his study of Richard III; completing his essay and handing it in with no shortage of relief that with any luck, he’d never have to think of the play ever again.
The Friday Mr Hooper handed back their graded papers, Peter accepted his with trepidation, although he was pretty sure that he’d at least passed. But it still sent a shock through him to see the bright red A inked in the top right-hand corner. English wasn’t his worst subject, but it definitely wasn’t his best either. Peter was usually a solid B to B-minus when it came to English.
“Well done, Mr Parker,” Mr Hooper said to him at the end of class as Peter passed him. “I was very impressed with your paper. Did you get a tutor?”
Peter faltered for a moment. “Something like that,” he admitted.
Mr Hooper nodded and smiled. “Keep it up,” he praised him.
Peter smiled and left the classroom to meet Ned and MJ. “How’d you guys do?”
“B-minus,” Ned sighed in relief. “Mom said I had to at least scrape into the B range if I want the new Star Wars Lego set for my birthday. Hopefully this is enough.”
“A plus,” MJ shrugged nonchalantly. Her usual standard for English then. “You?”
Peter grinned as he presented them with his paper with a small flourish.
“No way!” Ned exclaimed enthusiastically, knowing how Peter felt about English. “Dude. Is that just from Mr Stark helping you?”
“He didn’t help me with the paper,” Peter corrected him. “We just talked it through a lot.”
Even MJ looked impressed. “At least if he ever needs a career change, it looks like he’d be a decent teacher.”
Peter set his jaw. “He’d be the best teacher,” he said loyally. He knew that without question. Wasn’t that essentially what Tony did every single week? Teach him stuff?
MJ rolled her eyes at him. “Yes, I know. He’s the best at everything. Nerd,” she muttered and headed off towards their next class, Ned excitedly rambling about how cool it would be to have Tony Stark as a teacher as he and Peter followed her.
Peter sent May a picture of the paper when he had a moment, and she replied over lunch.
May: That’s amazing, sweets! Well done. Thai to celebrate tonight? Have you told Tony yet?
That gave Peter pause, and he frowned faintly.
Peter: Thanks. Yes to Thai. And should I?
May: Yes! Isn’t that why he read the damn play? Because he knew you were stressing over this paper? I’m sure he’d be thrilled to know how well you did.
Peter was still frowning at his phone, a little surprised by May’s suggestion. Oddly, Tony reading Richard III seemed to have warmed her to Tony more than anything else, and Peter wasn’t quite used to it yet.
Peter: Ok, I will. See you tonight.
Peter went to forward the photo on to Tony, but then hesitated. He had Tony’s number now- no more going through Happy- but he was still kind of reluctant to use it if it wasn’t an emergency. He’d happily reply to Tony if he texted first, but Peter rarely initiated the conversation. He didn’t want to bug Tony too much.
He went patrolling for an hour or two after school that afternoon, which was fairly uneventful. When he returned to the alley where his backpack was stashed though, he paused before changing out of the suit. It wouldn’t take him long to get to the Tower…
Making an impulsive decision, he pulled the mask he’d just removed back over his face.
“Hey, Karen. Um, can you tell me if Mr Stark is home?”
“Do you need assistance, Peter?”
“No,” Peter said hastily. “No, I’m fine. I just... wanted to show him something.”
God. he’d have to come up with a less lame way of phrasing that to Tony when he saw him.
Karen paused for what felt like a long moment. “Mr Stark is currently in the penthouse of the Tower. Should I alert him that you’re approaching?”
Peter wrinkled his nose, fairly sure that would only make Tony suspicious he was injured in some way. “No, it’s ok. Thanks, Karen.”
He swiftly swung to an alley a few blocks from the Tower, quickly changing and walking the rest of the way. Which seemed like a great plan until he was in the elevator. What if Tony was busy? What if he didn’t want Peter dropping by unannounced? It was far too late to change his mind though.
FRIDAY must have informed Tony he was there, because Tony met him at the elevator doors when they opened. He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, so it didn’t look as though Peter had interrupted anything important.
“Hey, kid. You ok?” he greeted him, frowning.
Peter grinned knowingly. “I’m fine,” he promised. “I just wanted to show you something.”
Tony raised an eyebrow slightly, then nodded Peter forward. “How’d patrol go?” he asked, heading for the kitchen while Peter followed in his wake.
“Pretty good. No dramas,” Peter shrugged, his shoulders easing a little.
“Rescue any cats today?” Tony asked, his eyes twinkling as he opened the fridge.
Peter sighed. Tony was blatantly amused by Peter’s habit of rescuing cats during patrols. Well, “habit” was the wrong word. It just happened quite a bit.
“Mr Stark,” he complained. “Will you let that go?”
“Sure, when it stops being funny,” Tony grinned at him, tossing Peter a bottle of water.
“Which means never,” said a new voice dryly, and Peter turned in surprise to see Colonel Rhodes sitting on the couch.
They’d met before (not counting Germany), back in December when Colonel Rhodes had stopped by to see Tony one day when Peter was in the lab with him. But Peter still didn’t know him very well.
“Hi, Peter,” the Colonel greeted him, flashing him a grin.
“Hi,” Peter replied, a little awkwardly, fidgeting with the water bottle.
Tony rolled his eyes faintly as he prodded Peter over towards the couch. “So, what’s your thing, Spiderling?”
Peter blinked, setting the water bottle down on the coffee table. “Oh, right.”
As he sat down on the couch, he swung his backpack off his shoulder, rummaging through it.
“We got our English papers back today,” he explained to Tony.
Understanding flashed across Tony’s face. “And? How’d you go?”
Peter dug out his folded-up paper and handed it to Tony, his leg beginning to jiggle as Tony accepted it from him. Rhodey’s eyebrow shot up, which Peter barely noticed, too busy watching Tony open the paper. Peter’s hands twisted the cuffs of his hoodie almost unconsciously, his throat going uncomfortably dry. God, maybe he should have just texted Tony after all.
But then Tony’s face broke into a grin as he read the paper and he looked at Peter, his eyes crinkling faintly in the corners.
“Awesome job, Underoos,” he praised him. “I knew you’d crush it.”
Peter’s face warmed. “Thanks, Mr Stark,” he said embarrassedly, lowering his gaze faintly.
“What is it?” Rhodey asked.
Tony’s chin was raised proudly as he handed the paper to Rhodey. “Paper on Richard III.”
“Oh, Shakespeare,” Rhodey nodded as he looked over the paper. “Man, I hated studying Shakespeare.”
Peter grinned faintly. “Me too,” he offered. “Well, usually. But Mr Stark made it all make sense.”
Rhodey’s eyes widened slightly as his gaze flickered between Tony and Peter. “Tony helped you with your English paper? On Shakespeare?” Rhodey asked.
“I didn’t help,” Tony protested. “We just talked about the play so the kid understood it.”
“Since when are you a Shakespeare expert? On Richard III of all things?” Rhodey demanded.
Tony shrugged nonchalantly. “I know everything, platypus. Why do you still question this?”
Peter couldn’t help but chuckle as Rhodey rolled his eyes.
“I should get home before May finishes work,” he said.
Rhodey handed Peter back his paper. “Congrats on the grade,” he said.
Peter smiled. “Thanks.”
Tony walked him to the elevator, nudging his side lightly with his elbow. “Nice work, kid,” he said.
Peter’s mind immediately flashed back to a moment almost six years ago when Tony had said those same words to him.
“I can tell Pep, right?”
Peter chuckled again, lowering his gaze to stare at the floor. “Yeah,” he agreed. “You can tell her.”
Tony nodded in satisfaction. “Good. I’ll see you on Wednesday, yeah?”
Peter nodded happily. “Yep. See ya, Mr Stark.”
Tony offered him a brief but warm smile as the elevator doors closed.