Bananas

“You get behind me,” Peter countered, shoving himself in front of Tony.

Tony was having none of that. “I said get behind me!”

“I said you get behind me! You’re the one who’s retired!”

“And you’re the one who’s prepubescent!”

“I’m not prepubescent, stop being so dramatic! I can handle myself and you need to get behind me!”

“Fuck, kid, just—”

“No!”

“You listen here—”

“Your kid?” Steve asked. “What’s Morgan up to?”

Tony haphazardly shoved a screwdriver into the mechanism, barely paying the conversation any mind. “Oh, no, not Morgan. My other one.”

Steve furrowed his brow. “Your other one… Gerald?”

“Huh?”

“The alpaca?”

“What about him?”

“Your other kid. The alpaca.”

Tony shook his head. “Did you just call Peter— I am so incredibly confused right now.”

“Peter? Who’s that?”

“Shit,” Tony muttered frantically, looking up at Steve for the first time. “Uh, Peter? The alpaca. That’s Peter.”

“The alpaca’s name is Peter? I thought it was Gerald.”

“Uh, yeah. Morgan changed it. She’s always evolving, that punk.”

“Oh,” said Steve. “So what’s going on with Peter?”

Tony offers a solution. He decides to be extra and purchases a whole ass apartment for Peter to pretend is his home. So Peter has to take four of his classmates to an apartment he’s never been in and pretend he lives there when the entire thing is barely decorated and when they ask him for supplies like scissors or a pen or a piece of paper, he just rummages through empty drawers and panics. By the end of it, all of the group members are convinced that Peter is an NPC and they’re living in a simulation.

Can you imagine the shenanigans?

Peter’s still a shy bean to his face, so he doesn’t mention that yes, he actually does listen to the voicemails in fear of Peter stopping.

And then one day Tony slips up and mentions something that Peter told him in a voicemail and Peter is completely mortified. You mean his mentor actually listens to them? He’s heard Peter regale his most embarrassing school stories and gush about his childhood crush on Thor? He thinks his life is over until Tony panics and tells him that receiving the voicemails is one of the best parts of his day. Peter stares at him like a lost puppy and Tony shies away from the feelings and everything’s as awkward as usual.

But that night, a voicemail comes in, and it’s no different than any of the others. Peter yammers like his heart depends on it, and Tony can’t help but feel that it’s an acknowledgement of the fact that yeah, they may have a difficult time talking to one another in person, but they both care, and maybe if they keep trying, they can make this father-son thing work.

“Yeah, kid? Like what you see?” Tony grinned.

Peter stuttered, his eyes so wide they might pop out. “Yes—I—it’s just—this car is worth more than me.”

Tony frowned. He grabbed the kid by the shoulders and forced him to meet his eyes. “Nothing is worth more than you, kid.”

Peter’s cheeks blushed a deep cherry red. He stared at Tony, dumbfounded. “Th-thanks, Mr. Stark.”

Tony cleared his throat, averting his gaze and leaving Peter with an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Yes, well. Cars decrease in value. Children are an investment, or whatever.”

“My phone’s broken. I dropped it.”

“Pete, that thing is practically indestructible. It would take dropping it fifty stories to even scratch—”

“I did.”

“What?”

“I did. I dropped it. From the top of the Empire State Building.”

“It’s completely different!”

“This relationship feels very one-sided.”

Peter sighed, resigned to his fate, and grinned. “Maybe we should see a therapist.”

Tony: Hey, don’t call me that. It’s disrespectful.

Peter: Mr. Stark—

Tony: Damnit, that’s worse! Use your manners, kid.

Peter: Are we really doing this in front of my English class?

Tony: I want to hear you say it.

Peter: Fine. Dad—