"Where is that pizza?" Tony grumbled to himself as he poured himself another glass of Scotch. He had been working on his new flight stabilizers all day and was covered from head to toe in grease. Even the glass he'd been drinking Scotch out of was greasy. But now he was hunched over a set of schematics on his counter that he'd been going over again and again and again. The images were practically burned into his mind like a TV that'd been on for too long.

But still, he couldn't figure out what the hell was wrong with it. Somewhere along the lines his equation had been screwed up, but he couldn't figure out where. He'd spent the better part of the day fixing up the physical screw-up that had come from his mathematical one (the new stabilizers ended up throwing him into his ceiling, which was also why there were now scratches on his face and tears in his shirt). The propulsion was off, but Tony could have sworn that everything checked out just fine the previous night.

Of course... he'd also been drunk the previous night, so it was quite possible that his math hadn't been the best. Regardless, that mistake nearly gave him a concussion today, so he had to fix it. He just couldn't figure out which part was wrong.

Frustrated, Tony slammed his glass down and stomped away from the counter where the diagrams and blue prints were sprawled out, wet rings on them from where Tony'd set his glass, and oil splotches and grease smeared across them.

The Man of Iron himself was just about to walk into the back to take a shower when he heard the "ding" of his private elevator. The pizza was here. Thank God.

Tony turned back around to walk up to the elevator, but stopped in his tracks when he saw who was standing there. Some dork in a pizza-shaped hat wiggling his butt to the tune of a Taylor Swift song.

Suddenly Tony was rethinking the satellite radio idea.

Tony Stark took a few steps toward the boy, confused and a little disturbed, and crossed his arms. "Nice dance moves, Jackson," he said with a smirk, his voice loud enough to cut over the music. "Mute." The radio did as it was told and the sound cut out.

Tony let the boy finish up what he was doing and realize what was going on before he said anything else. With an entertained grin, Tony sighed, saying, "You're late."

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"Large Cheesy Cheese pizza... with extra cheese... did I get that right? Mr. Iron Stark.. Tony Man..Sir..."

Tony let the grin dance on his face for a moment as he stood there with arms crossed. Aww, poor kid. Starstruck. It happened to everyone; a late, pizza-delivering, average teenager wouldn't be any different.

"That's me, Rocket Science," he picked on Peter's stutter teasingly as he reached out to take the pizza box. Smiling, and stomach growling, he popped open the lid... and promptly frowned. The thing looked like it had gone through a cyclone. Half of the cheese was stuck to the lid of the box, pieces were flipped on top of the rest of the pizza, and the jalapenos off to the side were no longer off to the side.

Tony shut the lid, narrowing his eyes with an incredulous look at the awkward, gangly boy standing in front of him. "So... you're not very good at this pizza delivery thing, are you, Dominoes?" He chuckled regardless and moved to the counter where his equation was, giving the piece of paper a nasty look. He tossed the box onto the counter.

Tony turned back around, leaning back against the counter, and eyed the boy again. "So what's your name, Slick? You know I gotta report you." In reality, Tony wasn't going to report him. Even if he cared enough to do that, he didn't want the kid losing his job. He was too... well, vulnerable for that. If the elevator dancing was any indication at how dorky this kid was... God help him in the working world.

But Tony did want a name. If nothing more than to satiate his own curiosity.

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Peter Parker, huh? He recognized that name. Well, the Parker part anyway. Something about someone disappearing, he thought. Tony'd read the newspaper article so long ago that he couldn't remember what it had said by now. But it could have been about different Parkers, regardless.

He eyed the nerdy-looking young man and was about to respond when Peter interrupted him.

"And this is a mess."

Tony's eyebrows raised, confused about what Peter might be talking about, and glanced around the room. Pepper had just cleaned! But then he saw the boy stride over to the counter like he knew exactly what he was doing and stared at Tony's paperwork.


Suspicious and curious at the same time, the Man of Iron followed him over slowly and glanced over his shoulder. Yeah, it was a mess. Scribbles and eraser markings and attempted-to-erase-pen markings and coffee stains and booze stains and grease.... You could barely read what he'd written at all, but how would this kid know anything about it?

"A mess?" Tony repeated, eyeing him strangely, one eyebrow arched while the other was lowered. He couldn't be talking about Tony's actual equation, could he? "What, you know anything about propulsion theory? I can't figure out why my equation isn't working out." He blew up his bangs in frustration and swiped his glass of Scotch from the counter to take a swig again.

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Tony crossed his arms and tilted his head at Peter's joke. Okay, so he was no Jerry Seinfeld. Tony hoped the kid wasn't planning on a career in stand-up comedy. Don't quit your day job....

He watched Peter curiously as the boy looked over the paper, turning it and tilting it, squinting his eyes and wrinkling his nose. What was he trying to do? Tony's handwriting couldn't be that bad! Maybe he was just fooling around. Well. Tony didn't have time for any more jokes. He sighed, and unfolded his arms. He reached out, about to take away the paper when Peter pointed to a section of his equation and spoke.

“I know enough about propulsion theory to know your equation's wrong. Well, not wrong-wrong, just… missing, missing..” Parker trailed off and started scribbling. “If you wanna get your best bang for your buck, you need that.”

Tony paused. A strange look of curiosity, suspicion, and entertainment all mixed together was on his face. His brown eyes glanced down to the sheet, fully expecting some stupid drawing or rude message to be scrawled across it in payment for Tony's threat to end his job, but instead the Man of Iron saw blue pen marking out his red pen and the entire equation re-written.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Is this for the Iron Man suit?”

Tony looked up at the kid again, though this time his raised eyebrow and half-smirk gave Parker the answer he obviously already knew. Instead of replying, Tony snatched the paper off of the counter and held it up. His eyes followed the equation, all the way up to his mistake. Huh. So he'd forgotten his exponent. Welp, maybe the kid was right after all. Don't drink and derive.

He lowered the paper, narrowing his eyes suspiciously on Peter for a moment, then raised the paper up again. The formula was right. It was perfect. No more slamming into concrete walls... or the ceiling for Iron Man! But... how did... how could a kid know this? What was he, fourteen? Delivering pizzas for a living when he had that kind of brain? This was base-8 math and in-depth propulsion theory, here! It wasn't any Algebra II class he could take at a local college. Tony was pretty sure that even Harvard didn't teach this stuff.

"...I’ve got another delivery, so. Erm. Enjoy the food and I hope the thrusters work out better this time.”

Tony tuned back into what Parker was saying just in time to hear the end of his sentence. He tossed the paper back onto the counter and crossed his arms again. "No, you don't." Tony said, walking past Peter to swipe his phone off of the counter. He turned to face Parker and dialed the number to Joe's Pizza.

"Give me Joe. Yeah, that's right. No- I don't care about your specials." Stark rolled his eyes.

"Joe. Yeah, this is Stark. Yes, I know. Yes, I am very glad that your wife enjoyed the tour, too- yes... no, Joe. I've got a bone to pick with you." He was looking at Peter as he spoke. "I'm standing here with Peter Parker, your delivery kid. He got here late and the pizza's a mess."

There was shouting on the other end of the phone, but Tony's carefully placed emotionless mask hid the grin beneath it. "I agree. He is definitely not pizza-delivery material." He nodded. "Yes. He absolutely shouldn't be working for you anymore...... No, no need to refund anything but I will tell you that your next delivery is going to be late.... Why? Well because Parker doesn't work for you anymore as of right now. Yes, that's correct, Papa John. I want Dominoes here out of your business. Never to see it again. Pizza delivery just isn't where his talents lie."

There was a pause as Joe tried to figure out what Tony meant by that. Tony filled in the silence.

"That's right, Joe Schmo. Parker works for me now. Get yourself a new delivery guy." He closed the phone. Raising his chin and letting out a small sigh, he shrugged and motioned to Peter with his free hand. "Paid internship. I want you working for Stark Industries tomorrow. I could use you on my team. Work out the particulars with Pepper Potts. So." He paused again, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, "What do you say, Einstein?"

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Well, he had to admit, that little over-reaction hadn't been what Tony'd been expecting. A thank-you, maybe. A hug? Sure. Buckling knees and falling down to worship him? Well, maybe that was a stretch....

But. Did that kid just say no? To Tony Stark? Nobody said no to Tony Stark! Where did he get off?!

Tony's eyebrows furrowed and he glanced behind him... only to see the news story of how he gave a lap dance to that old lady. Wait. Aunt May? Oh shit. That was Peter's aunt?!

Not a good day....

"Kid, wait! Hold up!" Tony jogged to the elevator, grabbing it just as the doors were closing, and pushed them open again. "Pete, I don't think you understand what I'm offering you. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Stark Industries is the number one Fortune 500 company right now." He didn't add that Wayne Industries was fighting for that title because... well, Peter didn't need to know that.

"You get all the perks of being an employee, only we schedule your work around school. Cuz... you know, that's important and stuff." He raised his hand and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. This was weird. He wasn't used to serious conversations like this, especially not with a kid.

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