Chapter Text
Peter was pretty sure Tony’s lab was the nicest place in the world.
There was always something interesting to do; pieces of a dozen different projects were scattered all around and on top of each other, easy to find if you knew where to look. On the few occasions that Pepper ventured in, she called it a mess. Tony called it “organized chaos”. Peter sometimes felt like he was part of a secret club, as the only other person who had any idea how anything worked.
Tony always had music playing while they worked, and it was as much a part of the lab as the robots and the tools and the suits. The whole place smelled like metal and oil with just a whiff of expensive aftershave, and over everything was a faint but prevalent scent of burned. It reminded Peter of laughter, experiments gone wrong, experiments gone right, and DUM-E chasing them around with the fire extinguisher.
Besides all that, there were usually snacks. Sometimes pizza rolls.
But by far the nicest thing about Tony’s lab was Tony himself. Over time, the thrill of working with Tony freaking Stark had worn off, but it had been replaced with a sort of easy familiarity that Peter liked much better. Sometimes they babbled science at each other until they were both out of breath. Other times, they worked for hours with hardly a word said between them, but it didn’t make Peter’s heart race like other silences did.
On days when a project took longer than expected, Peter called home to say he’d be late, and they ordered pizza or Chinese to eat while they worked. Once, Tony had insisted on driving him home himself because: “Happy’s not gonna buy you ice cream even if it is named after you, kid”.
Today was a good day, because today was Friday, and Friday was Lab Day.
It would still be a pretty good day even without the lab, Peter amended to himself, just to be fair. The air was just starting to get cooler, with that whiff that said fall was coming, and even though Peter hated the cold, he liked fall. They had been allowed to listen to their music in study hall, and although Peter had forgotten his headphones, Yasmin turned hers up too loud, and he discovered that musical soundtracks could be, if not exactly his favorite, vaguely enjoyable at least. It was far less enjoyable to wait for the elevator at the Tower with the melancholy strains of “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” still wafting through his head. Then again, nobody was around, and the lobby had great acoustics, and FRIDAY would probably not show the video to Tony.
“The trUth is, I NEVER left you!” The elevator dinged. “All through my wild days, my mad existence,” Peter flung his arms wide and strode into the elevator with his eyes closed. “I kept my PROMIIIIII-“
He walked right into something solid, which let out a surprised “Oof!” and wrapped hands around his shoulders to push him off. His eyes flew open, and he found himself face to face with a bearded man he had never seen before.
“I’m so sorry!” he blurted, hastily backing toward the still-open door. “I’m really sorry, sir, I didn’t see you, cause I uh- had my eyes closed and... yeah, I’m just gonna- Bye!” He’d almost made it to the door, safe from any further awkwardness, and then with any luck he’d never have to see this man again.
“Weren’t you going somewhere, kid?”
“Oh.” It might be even more awkward to get on an elevator, crash into someone, and then immediately leave. “Yeah. Sorry.”
Peter stepped back inside, hit the right button, and stared straight ahead at the closing doors.
“So Evita?” said the stranger.
“What?” Peter squeaked.
“You were singing it.”
“Right.” Peter’s face felt hot. “Yeah.”
“You a theater person?”
“Not really.” Peter shoved his hands into his pockets and watched the floor numbers move. “Just somebody in my class. I forgot my headphones.”
“You should try it out sometime. You’ve got quite a flair for the dramatic.”
Peter’s face felt, if possible, even hotter. “Thanks.”
“Would it be too rude to ask what you’re doing here?” said the stranger.
“No.”
“So, you’re going to tell me?”
“Oh! Yeah, sorry. I’m an intern.”
The man’s reddish brown eyebrows furrowed. “You might be in the wrong place, kid. This is HQ.”
Peter’s stomach dropped nervously. He was never sure how much to tell SI employees to both keep them from getting suspicious and keep himself from getting kicked out before Tony even knew he was there. “I-I’m here to see Mr. Stark?”
The man chuckled. “Good luck with that. Even I’m lucky not to get chased out if I show my face near the boss’s lab.”
Peter allowed himself a moment to gloat internally, but he tried not to let it show. He fidgeted with the zipper of his jacket.
“I’m on my way to make an attempt, too,” said the stranger. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t eat you.”
“Thanks.”
The man smiled warmly. “Least I can do for a kid your age. I”m Quentin, by the way.” He stuck out his hand. “Quentin Beck.”
“Peter Parker.” Peter shook the hand that was offered. “Nice to meet you.”
The elevator doors opened to the lab, where Tony was pacing back and forth in front of a screen with a piece of burnt-looking metal in his hand. He didn’t look up until Beck opened the door for Peter.
“Hey Pete,” he said with a smile that immediately turned to a scowl. “Beck.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Not now.”
“But it’s about-“
“Not now,” said Tony, turning back to Peter. “You’ll want to call your aunt; we’re on the edge of a breakthrough and I don’t want you to miss it.”
Glowing with importance, Peter scurried to his spot at the workbench.
“It’s about my-“ Beck tried again.
“Bonus is still on the table. That’s it.” Tony patted Peter on the shoulder as he cruised past. “Good day?”
“Yeah. I can wait if you guys need to talk.”
“Nope. We have things to do.” Tony pointed to the elevator. “Out.”
Beck opened his mouth, shut it again, and gave Peter a strange look before retreating.
“Was he bothering you?” Tony asked.
“No?” said Peter. “He just wanted to talk about musicals.”
“If he ever does bother you, let me know.”
There was something more going on here than a pesky employee, Peter was almost sure. “He seemed really nice. What’s his deal?”
“He’s crazy, that’s his deal.” Tony set down a pair of pliers with a little more force than was probably necessary. “He’s mad about the name I gave something he developed, even though it was never in his contract that he got to name anything, and now he’s insisting I give the entire project back to him to do what he wants with. While keeping the money I paid him for it. And asking for more. He’s just-“
Tony took a breath. “Sorry, you didn’t need to hear all that.” He patted the pliers and touched Peter’s shoulder again, just lightly, as if to reassure them both that they weren’t the target of his annoyance.
“I crashed into him singing Don’t Cry for Me Argentina,” said Peter, suddenly remembering and hoping to lighten the mood with something Tony would laugh at.
Tony made a noise somewhere between a snort and the sound a llama might make if someone told it a really funny joke. “I’m sorry, you what?”
“I had it stuck in my head and I wasn’t looking when I got on the elevator,” said Peter with mostly-feigned embarrassment. “It’s really this girl at school’s fault; she had her music too loud.”
“I’m going to ignore your friend’s highly unusual taste, is that why he wanted to talk musicals?”
“Yeah.”
“What a weirdo.” Tony was smiling agin, and Peter felt accomplished.
“Me or him?”
“Yes.”
“Gee, thanks Mr. Stark.”
“Always my pleasure.” Tony clapped his hands. “Now to work! Look alive, DUM-E!”
~
The next Friday, Beck greeted him with a cheery wave in the lobby like he’d been waiting for him. “Peter-the-intern! Do you take requests? I’ve always liked Les Mis.”
Peter’s face went a little warm. He hadn’t exactly wanted to see him again, and especially not so soon.
“I’m messing with you,” Beck chuckled and punched him in the arm. “It’s only fair, though; you were holding out on me last week.”
“Y-yeah?” Peter wondered how long he’d have to fake it before he figured out what Beck was talking about.
“Here you are, waltzing into Stark’s personal lab- practically on a first-name basis- and you just let me worry about how to keep him from throwing you out a window.” Beck only sounded fake-mad, and he was still laughing, but Peter felt bad anyway.
“Sorry.”
“You apologize too much, you know that?”
“Yeah.” He couldn’t help it. “Sorry.”
“There it is again. Well, go on,” Beck waved him toward the elevator. “And whatever spell you’ve put the boss under, I wouldn’t mind learning.”
“Thanks.” That was a stupid response, but Peter didn’t know what else to say. The elevator dinged, and he made his escape.
Beck was there the next week, too, and the next. As time went by, he became almost as much a fixture of the tower as FRIDAY was; he was always there, never doing much of anything, seemingly just waiting to say hello.
One day, though, Beck didn’t greet him with his usual cheerful wave, but with a serious expression that made Peter feel like he’d tipped his chair back too far. Something was wrong. Tony had gotten fed up and didn’t want to see him anymore, or something terrible had happened and he was dying, and it was probably Peter’s fault on some way that he didn’t know yet.
“Hey Peter, I hate to ask you this, but I need a favor,” said Beck.
Was that it? Then again, the favor was probably for Peter to stop being so annoying and weird or something like that. “Sure.”
“I had this project, you see.” Beck put a hand on Peter’s shoulder and led him toward the window. “Not really a project, more like my life’s work, the best thing I ever created, and Stark took it and gave it a stupid name. I know it sounds petty, but it’s really important to me.”
Peter had completely forgotten about that.
“I usually wouldn’t ask a kid for anything like this, but since you’ve got Stark wrapped around your finger like you do, do you think you could put in a word for me?”
“Um,” said Peter intelligently.
“Just a little word,” Beck pleaded wrapping an arm just tight enough around Peter’s shoulders to keep him from stepping away. “Not anything that would get you in trouble.”
“I-“ Peter couldn’t think straight with his heart speeding up in discomfort. “What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing big, nothing specific, just mention something, say you overheard, something about thinking it’s unfair. He’ll listen to you.”
“Didn’t you make the thing for Stark Industries, though?” said Peter in a small voice.
“That doesn’t give him the right.” There was a hint of a snarl in Beck’s voice. and he squeezed Peter’s shoulder a little too tightly.
“I mean... kinda.”
“You don’t get it either, do you?” Beck released Peter, who quickly stepped out of his reach. “Nobody ever does. My life’s work stolen from me, and nobody cares.”
“Mr. Stark didn’t steal-“
“I don’t care about the money.” Beck glared an acid hole in the floor. “He took it, that’s the important thing.” He sighed, and all the anger went out of his face to be replaced by sadness. “Here I thought I was a little more important to you than the guy who you bumped into in the elevator that time.”
“You are!” Peter exclaimed instantly. “I’ll- I’ll ask him, if you really want me to.”
“Peter, you’re a lifesaver.” Beck laid a hand on his shoulder again. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
Peter hurried to the elevator and down to the safety of Tony’s lab. He inhaled deeply when the familiar smell of metal and grease and burned mixed with Tony’s aftershave met his nose.
“Hey kid,” said Tony with a brief glance in his general direction. “School okay?”
“Yeah.” Peter hoped his voice didn’t sound too nervous. “Yeah, it was good.”
“I need to finish this up. How are your web fluid supplies?”
“Low,” said Peter. “I’ll make more.” He set his backpack down as quietly as he could and tiptoed to find the supplies.
“You’re acting weird,” said Tony without looking up.
“O-oh?” Peter cleared his throat. “No, I’m not.”
“Mm-hm.”
“I’m not!”
“You’re sneaking around; it’s weird.” Tony put down what he was working on. Peter barely remembered his dad, but he was pretty sure that was the most dad look anyone had ever given him. “You gonna tell me?”
“Well...”
“Well?” Tony mimicked.
“Mr. Beck kinda wanted me to ask you something.”
“Oh good lord.” Tony clapped a hand to his forehead. “Is he messing with you? Cause I can-“
“No no, it’s fine!” said Peter hurriedly. “He’s cool. He just wanted me to talk to you about the thing he made and say you were unfair about giving it a dumb name or something, which I don’t really think, but I didn’t want to say no, and I didn’t want to lie, so now I told you and I’m done.” He took a breath.
Tony just looked at him for a long moment before he spoke. “You wanna know the whole deal?”
“Sure?”
“This could take a while.” Peter took the cue to sit down, and Tony continued. “Beck developed a highly sophisticated drone-based projection system, able to create hyper-realistic simulations, perfect for desensitization therapy, reframing traumatic memories, that sort of thing. Really good stuff. I called it Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing, BARF for short, and he didn’t like that.”
Peter almost giggled despite himself.
“Hated it, you should have seen his face. Anyway,” Tony continued. “I told him my company, my name, but of course he didn’t care, and then he came to me with a whole new plan to weaponize the thing. I said no, and that was when he started saying I stole it and demanding to have it back like you saw.” Tony shook his head. “Crazy, like I said. Don’t let him bully you, and if he tries, you get me.”
“Okay.” Peter smiled a little bit at the idea of Tony showing up to verbally throw down with anyone for him. “What should I tell him you said?”
“Don’t tell him anything. This is between me and him, and we’re about to have words.”
“Okay.”
“Good,” said Tony, standing up and brushing his hands together. “All better?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Mr. Stark.” Peter stopped when a guilty thought occurred to him. “You’re not gonna fire him, right? He’s just being dumb.”
“Call me paranoid, but I’d rather let him cool off,” said Tony. “I have a history of almost getting murdered over business decisions, which I would like not to continue.” He turned casually back to his work.
“Wait a minute.” Peter got up to chase after him. “You think he might...”
“Jeez kid, loosen up!” Tony laughed. “Like I said, paranoid.”
Peter relaxed and went back to mixing web fluid with only a tiny seed of anxiety resting in his mind.
~
The next week, Beck was waiting for him again.
“Boss figured us out, huh?” he said, draping an arm conspiratorially around Peter’s shoulders.
“Yeah.” Peter hoped he sounded apologetic enough.
“That’s okay, it was a long shot anyway.” Beck chuckled. “He gave me quite the earful, though, something about using kids for selfish gain, which is a little rich coming from him, if you ask me.”
“Heh.” Peter squirmed. “Speaking of asking you, I forgot my headphones again, and Yasmin had this song that went like-“
“Think about it,” Beck plowed ahead. “What’s he got you working on all the time? Projects? Did you ever stop and think about who they’re actually benefiting?”
“Uh...”
“If you want to get what’s yours, you’re going to have to take it.”
“I’m not sure...” Peter looked toward the elevator, but no help came from it.
“You’ve got it easy, too,” said Beck. “You have access to the lab, for hours at a time, with Stark, working with him. You could get into all kinds of things, figure out his access codes, anything you want!”
“Yeah.” Peter laughed uncomfortably and ducked out from under the heavy arm. “Look, Mr. Beck, I should really go.”
“Just think about it.”
“What?”
“You deserve to get what’s yours, Peter.”
“I’m good.”
“You sure? I could help you.”
Peter’s heart beat fast, and he rounded on Beck more fiercely than he intended to. “Mr. Stark’s not stealing anything from me- or you, and that’s just... wrong.”
“Whoa, easy there.” Beck raised his hands in surrender. “Just trying to look out for you.”
“I can look out for myself,” Peter snapped.
“Fair enough. Hey, I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything.”
“It’s fine.” Peter was already headed for the elevator.
It was a relief to be back in the lab with Tony. It was even more of a relief when Beck was nowhere to be seen the next week, although Peter felt bad admitting that. At the same time, he almost wished Beck would be there before he left so he could apologize for snapping at him. He wasn’t, but Peter told himself that was probably for the best, all things considered.
But the next week, who should be waiting in the lobby but the man himself, smiling kindly like nothing had happened.
“Hey Peter,” he said, moving to hug him but changing it to a hand on the shoulder at the last second. “Sorry if I weirded you out the other day. I really didn’t mean anything by it.”
Peter felt even worse. “It’s okay,” he mumbled. “Sorry I got mad at you.”
“No offense, but you’re about as scary as a cupcake when you’re mad.”
“Yeah...” Peter laughed a little.
“So we good?”
“We’re good.”
“Great.” Beck lowered his voice. “Technically, I’m not supposed to be here, Stark’s orders. He thinks I’m bothering you or something.”
“I’m sor-“
“Nope, you apologize too much as it is. That’s on him.” Beck gave him a mischievous smile. “He’ll forget all about it soon, you watch.”
“Don’t get yourself in trouble,” said Peter.
“Ah, kid,” said Beck fondly. “You’re too pure for your own good.”