Sliding Doors ⧨ Peter Parker

6 | Dressing The Part

Y/N

_

"Peter Parker?"

I blinked, the name sounding familiar. Then again, it wasn't a very unordinary name. Tony closed out of the screen, pressing his fingers against the table.

"Yeah, him," he said, "look, y/n, we've got to win this kid over."

"Honestly, I feel like I'm not the one who can do that," I explained, "I'm not as cool as you and definitely not as convincing."

He sighed, crossing his arms in disbelief. Don't get me wrong, I really wanted to impress him, but I wasn't qualified for any of the stuff he was throwing at me. Winning over a guy? I'm an engineer! Not Liz Allen, for god's sake.

"So you're scared," Tony said, "that's what it is?"

"I'm just not completely confident in my ability to-"

"You think that because you're a kid from Queens, you don't have the power that a Stark does?"

I didn't say anything, expecting him to cut me off again. Surprisingly the question wasn't rhetorical, and he waited for my answer.

"Yeah," I mumbled, "logically, just because of your name, Stark, you can do whatever you want! Skip lines at a restaurant, get a dinner date with whatever person you want, and just do things no ordinary person can do!"

I felt like I went a little overboard in explaining myself, and I regretted using the 'dinner date' portion of that section. Maybe I regretted the whole sentence? I wasn't sure... The man seemed to mull it over, rocking back and forth from his spot.

"Fine," he concluded, "you're absolutely right."

I nodded, a little pleased with myself. Tony himself just admitted I was absolutely right! Who else on this earth can say that honestly about themselves?

"Congrats," he continued, "you're a Stark now. Is that good enough?"

"W-what?!"

"As of right now, figuratively, you're me. No, you're a smaller version of me, maybe a gnome, but you're a Stark."

"I don't understand-"

"Wrong," he said, "a Stark always understands. Even when you don't, you pretend to."

"Okay, okay, wait-" I fumbled, "you want me to basically channel my inner you?"

"Anyone who works for me, represents my trade. And you do, work for me right?"

"Yes?"

"Stop. say that again."

"Y-yes."

"Don't stutter. Don't ask surprised. Find the meaning in every word."

"Yes."

"Good," he smiled, "now we're getting somewhere. Repeat after me, I knew that."

"I knew that..."

"You knew that?" Tony said sarcastically, "you sound like you don't even know how to speak. Say it again, I knew that."

"I knew that."

"Imagine someone told you your shoes were untied. You can either tie your shoe, or make it a new fashion trend. Take your pick."

"Fashion trend."

"Then channel that in every word."

"I knew that."

The man nodded his head, a proud glint in his eye. Somehow I felt reborn through this very moment; like a new version of myself had been pulled out from inside me. I grinned, maybe a little proud of myself too.

"Next step, you have to dress the part," he frowned, pointing at my t-shirt, "there's two kinds of geniuses in this word. Those who try to show it off, and those who don't have to. That shirt is trying to show off."

"I thought it was cute?"

"You thought it was what? Sorry, that sounded like you were asking questions again."

"I thought it was cute."

"Oh, well then, the shirt is cute. But you're a Stark now, so you have to dress like it. What's your closet look like?"

"What I'm wearing right now."

"Friday, get Potts down here."

"Calling Pepper Potts."

"Perfect," he said, spitting out his gum, "when you walk into Peter Parker's house, what statement are you making?"

"I'm from Stark Industries, join the team."

"Now you're getting the hang of it," he beamed, "you just might win him over now."

"Yeah," I smirked, "I will."

Pepper, the woman who had helped me yesterday, pushed open the glass doors, a clipboard in her hand.

"What do you need, Tony?" She asked, sighing.

"A new set of clothes," he said, pointing at me, "for the kid."

Pepper looked at me, a soft smile appearing on her face. She seemed interested in helping me change my look, and gestured for me to follow her.

"What look are you going for?" she asked me, turning back towards the door.

I hesitated for a second, glancing at the man next to me. He nodded, crossing his arms again.

"Genius, playboy," I said, "billionaire, philanthropist."