~Iron Family~

Slime Gun

Peter Parker took about five seconds to respond to his email that morning. The next day, Tony was anxiously awaiting his arrival. Even though Peter didn't have school yet, Tony's kids did, plus he had to work, so he would be coming later in the afternoon.

He kept checking his watch, willing the little seconds-hand to tick faster. It was trudging along at snail speed, dragging the day on and on.

Finally, at ten till six, FRIDAY alerted Tony that Peter had walked in and was now on his way up to the lab. Tony started to fretfully tidy up what he hadn't earlier, when he'd obsessively cleaned the place.

The doors slid open and Peter nervously knocked on the edge of the frame.

"Mr. Stark...?"

"Hey, kid!" Tony called, setting down a wrench and looking over from his little corner of the workshop. "What's up?"

"Oh, um," Peter hesitantly walked inside, nervously smoothing down his hair. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Tony arched an eyebrow. "I don't think a new foster family counts as nothing."

Peter became instantly uneasy. He shifted from foot to foot and tugged on the collar of his plaid button-down shirt that was a few sizes too big for him.

"I, ah--yeah. I--I guess it's good."

Tony could tell Peter didn't want to talk, so he decided to drop it. He picked up one of his repulsors he had been playing with and handed it to Peter.

"You ever seen one of these up close?"

Peter nervously took it in his hands and stared at it. "Of--of course. Not in person, but I've studied them in books and museums--this is a repulsor for your Mark 47 armor."

"Impressive," Tony nodded. "Sit over there," he gestured to a stool he had put across the desk from him.

"Whatcha wanna work on?" Tony asked, scratching his nose. "Cause I don't really have a plan."

"Oh. Um." Peter nervously looked over his shoulder and back. "Could...could we make a slime gun for Morgan?"

"What? No way. That's a stupid idea, she'll be getting that everywhere. She's four, I can't trust her with something like that."

"Oh. Okay. Sorry." Peter hung his head and Tony felt a sudden stab of guilt.

"Hey, uh, that was awfully nice of you to suggest we do something for Maguna. We can build it anyway and keep it under lock and key; she can use it in the shooting range or something."

"Okay!" Peter's exhausted face broke into a grin.

Tony swiped his arm across the desk, sending the junk clattering to the floor. He put a marker cap between his teeth and began to doodle a design plan on a piece of paper, giving Peter a pen so he could add to the design as well.

In a few minutes, they had what looked like a kindergarten rendering of blueprints. But it had been fun to do it with Peter--adding little side notes, glitter, and goofy faces. His other work friends never let him do this.

He gathered most of their supplies and dumped it onto the table with a sigh.

"So, Peter," he said as they began their work, "how've you been?"

"Good," Peter answered quietly as he grabbed a screwdriver from Tony's box.

"'Good?' Tell me a bit more! What's been going on?"

"Well..." Peter pursed his lips and sighed through his nose. "My friend Ned that I haven't seen since the apartment--I mean, the crash--threw me a little birthday party yesterday."