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"What can I say? It was either that or-" he flicked at the arc reactor on his chest, Peter hearing the faint reverb. "I figured since you had the real thing walking around...you'd get sick of seeing it in here, too." He trailed off, making a noise of indifference, his shoulders going up in a shrug.
˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚
"I just mean—I wouldn't, I don't get sick of seeing it, Mr. Stark. I'd love to have Iron Man's symbol in my room, just for me to see, y'know? Does that make sense?" Peter cringed at his own words but had stopped fidgeting. He looked back around the room before letting his gaze linger on the doorway where Tony was leaning.
The corner of Tony's lip was quirked up to show a lopsided smirk. His arms were now folded together at his chest, but not tightly, since Peter could still see the faint glow of the arc reactor in the center.
"I'll get it for ya, Pete. Framed, signed, the whole shabang."
˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚
Tony walked in with the little framed reactor. "Here you are, kid. One of a kind." He set it on the small work desk that was against the wall. "You can hang it, store it, throw it at a wall, whatever you want." He rubbed his finger under his nose and turned towards him. "Whatcha find in there?" he said a bit too all-knowingly and walked to the closet.
˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚
They stepped out, flicked the light, and closed the door. As Peter followed Tony back into the room, his eyes wide and fixated on the desk, where he admired the arc reactor.
His hands reached out to hold the frame, his fingers grazing the circular metal in the center of the frame. "Sick," he murmured under his breath, not quietly enough, judging by the snort behind him.
He knows it's not the real one, and as much as he does want to admire the real thing, it's still attached to the man behind him, so he doesn't know how it'd fare if he were to ask to poke and prod at it. But really, seeing this replica of it is just so damn cool.
The metal in the middle was a light blue, not a glowing LED, but a metallic shimmer. His fingers lingered on the middle, remembering how this lifesaving magnet could have gone out with the force of a shield.
With a gulp and shaky breath, Peter pulled his face a bit away from the frame to turn his body to face Tony.
"I-I can't thank you enough for this, Mr. Stark. It's awesome, really. Not cooler than the real thing, of course—that thing is an absolute marvel of technology—"
Peter knew he was blabbering, but couldn't really help it. He has made that very magnet the subject of his assignments so many times.
Tony huffed a quiet laugh. “Careful, kid, keep talking like that, and you’re gonna make my ego explode.”
Peter ducked his head, ears going pink. “S-Sorry, I just— it’s… important. To me. Especially that you’re…” He waved the frame a little, words knotting up. “Here."
Peter had no clue if that even made sense.
Tony’s mouth flattened, his joking manner dropping a notch. His gaze slid from Peter’s face to the replica in his hands, then down to the faint glow in the center of his own chest.
“Yeah, well,” he said, voice rough but steady. “Consider yourself lucky since I'm not going anywhere." A sniff. "Or unlucky, whatever you prefer."
Peter snorted, nodding while his fingers tightened around the frame. He felt very lucky.
He swallowed, but was he lucky enough to finally ask?
The question had been sitting on his tongue since Tony walked in with the gift—honestly, since the first time he’d seen the arc reactor in person. It clawed at him now, itching the way a half-finished equation did.
“Mr. Stark?”
Tony hummed, a hint of wariness, likely expecting more mushy "I'm glad you're here" talk. “Yeah?”
“Can I…” Peter’s mouth went dry. He stared at the blue ring in the frame, then forced himself to look up, only managing to meet Tony’s eyes for a heartbeat. “Can I see it? The real one. Like—up close. For science. I mean, not just for science, but mostly for science.”
He rushed on before Tony could answer. “You can totally say no, I get it, boundaries and everything, and it’s your chest, which is a sentence I realize sounds horrible out loud, and I’m probably making this super weird—sorry."
He took a not-so-very steady breath before continuing.
"I just always wondered how it looked, up close, I mean, and how it—how it fits. I promise I’m not trying to be creepy or anything, I just— it’s kind of the coolest piece of tech on the planet, and it’s literally keeping you alive and—”
“Breathe, Parker.”
Tony’s tone was more tired than annoyed, but not unkind. Peter shut his mouth with an audible click and sucked in a breath as he’d just surfaced from a dive off a one-hundred-story building.
He had sounded like when he had first picked him up for Germany.
Tony watched him for a moment, then exhaled through his nose, like he was running numbers only he could see. The easy banter didn’t disappear, exactly—it just shifted, edged with something more careful.
“You wanna see the arc reactor,” Tony said slowly, checking. “Not the collectible, the actual hardware.”
Peter nodded, throat tight. “Yeah. Just once, if it’s okay. I won’t touch it or anything unless you say I can. Promise.”
Tony’s hand hovered over his own chest, thumb brushing the edge of the housing through his shirt. He’d let surgeons, bots, and even enemies in fights get close a handful of times.
He's only ever asked his soon-to-be wife, and she said, "Don't ever make me do anything like that ever again!" afterward, so maybe not the best moment.
Letting the kid gawk at it like a science fair project was… new territory.
But it was Peter. And Peter already knew too much not to understand what he was looking at. Besides, he asked.
It's not like the kid was a random fan off the street.
“Alright,” Tony said at last, the word coming out on a sigh that sounded like giving in. “C’mere—er, maybe don't tell your Aunt, capiche?”
He did not want to explain this little ordeal to her over the phone, or worse, in person.
Peter’s heart jumped. He set the frame down on the desk with both hands, like it was made of glass, then shuffled closer until he stood in front of Tony. From here, the glow was brighter, haloing faintly through the fabric.
Tony hooked a finger in the collar of his shirt and tugged it down just enough to expose the edge of the round metal housing beneath. “Ground rules,” he said, because of course there were rules. It only made sense with something as delicate as this.
“You look, you don’t poke unless I say so. You listen when I tell you to stop. And especially no planning to use me as an experiment for a science fair.”
Peter let out a shaky laugh. “Y-Yes, sir.”
Tony studied him for another beat, then seemed to make up his mind.
“Alright, kid. Sit. You topple into me while I’ve got open tech in my chest, I’m revoking lab privileges for a month.”
Peter blinked. That's fair enough, but did Mr. Stark really see him as that jittery? "Right. Yeah. Sitting. Got it.”
He perched on the edge of the mattress, hands knotted together to keep from reaching automatically. Tony stepped closer, close enough that Peter could feel a faint wash of warmth, like standing near a space heater.
“Okay,” Tony muttered, mostly to himself. He tugged his T-shirt up and over his head in one quick motion, tossing it on the bed, revealing one of the specially made tank tops that let his core poke through.
The arc reactor’s glow filled the space between them, pale and steady. The metal ring looked both impossibly high-tech and brutally simple—ports, screws, the faint pattern of scar tissue underneath the shirt radiating outward.
Peter’s breath hitched. He’d seen schematics, diagrams, and grainy footage from news clips. None of it compares to this.
“Whoa,” he whispered.
Tony’s mouth twitched. “That's the official Parker scientific review?”
Peter didn’t even rise to the bait.
His eyes were fixed on the device, tracing every line and seam. “It’s… incredible,” he said, the word falling out before he could filter it.
“The integration, the power routing, the way your body’s adapted around it—this is, like, three different branches of engineering being forced to work in a group project but actually nailing it.”
Tony went very still. For a second, something unguarded crossed his face—before switching to a more trained smirk.
“Yeah, well,” he said easily. “It keeps the lights on.”
Peter’s fingers twitched in his lap, halfway between wanting to reach out and not daring to move. He forced them to stay put.
Man, he wishes he had something to do with his hands, write notes, shine a light at it, just something.
“You still wanna check it out?” Tony asked, softer, but there was a thread of exasperated fondness there too. He likely read how eager Peter's hands seemed.
“Properly supervised, like a lab demo.”
Peter’s head snapped up. “Can I really?”
Tony nodded once. “I'll guide your hand. Like training wheels." He winked, making Peter huff. Ever since he found that protocol in his suit, the words annoyed him. He wasn't a baby.
Tony continued, "You follow my lead, you stop if I say stop. Deal?”
Peter’s throat felt too tight to talk, so he just nodded hard.
Tony extended his right hand, palm up. Peter slid his own into it, hoping he wouldn't stick to him. Tony’s other hand came up, guiding their joined grip toward the arc reactor.
Peter’s pulse picked up, but it wasn’t the panicky kind—it was the same buzz he got before a really good lab day.
Up close, he could hear the faint, steady whirr coming from Tony’s chest, like a tiny engine idling.
Tony caught the way Peter tilted his head, listening. “You can hear it?” he asked.
Peter nodded. “Yeah. It’s… kind of loud, actually. For me, I mean. Spider hearing and all that.” He waved a hand nonchalantly. Tony knew of that power already.
“Great,” Tony said dryly, but not because of Peter's hearing. “Add ‘walking white noise machine’ to my list of features.”
His mouth still twitched, more amused than anything.
He shifted his stance slightly so Peter had a clearer view, then continued. “Alright, look here first.”
He tapped the outer ring. “This is the housing. Structural support, interface ports, keeps all that fun stuff where it belongs and not, you know, rattling around in my ribcage. This breaks, I have more than just a bad day.”
Peter leaned in, careful to keep his fingers exactly where Tony had placed them, just on the outside.
“The alloy mix,” he said, squinting. “It’s not straight titanium, right? The way it reflects—I’ve seen screenshots from, uh, unofficial breakdown videos online, and it never looked quite right.”
Tony gave him a sideways look. “You’ve been watching bootleg arc-reactor conspiracy videos?”
Peter flushed. “It was on as background noise.”
“Uh-huh. Anyway, you’re right,” Tony went on, like they were just talking shop in the lab. He tapped a different point on the ring. “Layered composite. Titanium, what used to be palladium, and a couple of things that don’t technically exist yet as far as the patent office is concerned. Haven't bothered to name it."
Peter blanched, he invented some of the material?? Holy shit.
Tony glanced at Peter’s hands, which seemed to still be itching to prod further, that or write notes as if this were a scientific lecture. A proper intern, really.
“You can touch the inner housing now. Just the ring, no poking inside yet.”
Peter hesitated only a second before he adjusted his fingertips lightly against the metal ring where Tony had indicated. It was cool, solid, humming faintly under his touch.
“Whoa,” Peter breathed. “I can feel the vibration. It’s like… when you stand on top of the F train and feel it before you hear it, but smaller.”
He must be that good of a mentor if the kid's analogies were better than his.
“Glad my heart is comparable to New York public transit,” Tony said. “Here—”
He shifted Peter’s hand a little, guiding just his fingers this time instead of their whole hands together. “These seams are access points. I pull this section, and I can swap or tweak components without cracking the whole thing open.”
Peter’s gaze tracked every motion. “Like modular circuitry,” he said. “You built it so you can service it in pieces, not all at once.”
“Gold star for the nerd,” Tony said. There was obvious approval under the sarcasm. “Now, this inside ring—don’t touch that, you’ll annoy the sensors, and I’ll start getting alerts about ‘foreign object intrusion,’ and nobody wants that."
Peter pulled his fingers back a millimeter. “Right. Don't annoy the life support. Got it.”
Tony used his thumb to indicate the glowing center. “Core’s there. Power generation, containment, the usual. Think of it like a very, very grumpy hamster wheel. Does not like being interrupted.”
Peter’s eyes shone. “The flux modulation—you’re using a variation on what you published after Stuttgart, aren’t you? The energy signature in those footage clips, it always looked a little off from the first Mark models.”
Tony blinked at him. Wasn't the kid like ten when Loki attacked? Unless he researched the attack in Stuttgart when he was older?
“You did a comparative energy-signature analysis from just news footage?”
Peter shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “I was bored one summer.” It's partly true. What better way to mourn the death of his uncle while trying to get used to his powers than by doing random research and saving the city?
“Right. Remind me never to underestimate your definition of ‘bored.’” Tony huffed, but it sounded more impressed than anything.
“Okay, here’s the fun part.”
He reached for a small latch at the side of the housing, hesitated, then shot Peter a quick look. “Still good?”
Peter nodded quickly. “If you’re okay, I’m okay.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t make it weird,” Tony muttered, more out of habit than discomfort. He flipped the latch and eased a slim panel open, revealing a glimpse of the inner workings—a tighter ring of intricately arranged copper components.
The hum grew just a fraction clearer, and Peter’s head tilted again, listening.
“It changes pitch when you open it,” he said softly. “Just a little.”
“Regulating load,” Tony said. “It compensates. Like you, when you start climbing a wall too fast, and your brain tells your legs to chill.”
“That’s… really cool,” Peter said, grinning now. The nerves had mostly settled into a state of pure awe. “Can I—?” He caught himself. “Where is it safe?”
Tony pointed to a section just beside the open panel. “Here. Side support. You’ll feel a stronger vibration, but don’t push, just rest your fingers.”
Peter obeyed, laying his fingertips where Tony indicated. The buzz under his skin was stronger here, a tiny, controlled thunder.
He adjusted his grip a hair, trying to follow the curve of the housing—
Tony jerked with a sharp, surprised noise, one shoulder twitching. His hand shot out on reflex, catching Peter’s wrist and pulling it back a couple of centimeters.
“Easy, jitterbug,” he said, exhaling a breath that sounded more startled than hurt. His mouth twisted. “That spot’s… weird. Not painful, just—be easy on the hardware.”
Peter’s eyes went wide. “S-Sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to— I thought you said this part was okay, I wasn’t trying to—”
“Hey.” Tony’s grip loosened immediately, thumb giving Peter’s wrist a quick, reassuring squeeze before he let go. “Relax. I’m fine. You just hit a ‘do not poke’ zone."
He lifted his smartwatch and showed it to Peter. "See? Paranoid sensors and nerve endings are having a party. No actual harm done.”
His vitals were perfectly stable, just a few sensor notifications that Tony easily swiped away on the watch.
Peter swallowed hard, nodding. “Right. No… tickling the life support. Got it.”
Tony huffed, "Tickling? Who said that?" More amused now, he nudged Peter's shoulder. "I'm not ticklish, I'll have you know."
He continued their little study, "Now, here—” he guided Peter’s fingers a little farther along the ring, to a safer patch. “Side support. You’ll feel a stronger vibration there, but just rest your fingers. No wandering.”
Peter let his fingertips settle where Tony directed this time, keeping them very still. The buzz under his skin was stronger here, a tiny, controlled thunder.
“I can hear it better through my fingers,” he murmured. “It’s… steady. Like a metronome.”
Tony studied his face for a second, something easing in his shoulders. “That’s the idea, kid. Steady is good, which means I get to keep yelling at you about your lab safety for a few more years.”
Peter let out a small, breathy laugh. “I like the sound of that. The yelling part. I mean, not the yelling—just, uh. You being around to do it.”
“Nice save,” Tony said. He nudged Peter’s hand back gently and closed the panel with a soft click, the hum smoothing out again. “Alright, Parker. There was your crash course. You keep the framed version; I’ll hang on to the original.”
Peter pulled his hands back to his lap, still smiling. “Deal,” he said. “Thanks for the… demo. It’s, um, way better than the bootleg videos.”
“Obviously,” Tony sniffed. He reached over and flicked the frame on the desk with one finger. “Now, go put that somewhere it won’t fall on your head in the middle of the night.”
Peter huffed a laugh and carefully picked up the frame again, his heart still light from the simple, steady hum of the man's heart, which he could still hear echoing in his ears.
He had a room to tour.