#i’m torn between studying for my stupid spanish final

[mmaeeve]

daily dean quote #149/366:

“hey, shifty, what’s your problem?”

- season 7, episode 23, survival of the fittest

[shinobicyrus]

Hungry Like the Wulf

@logicalghost requested that their Christmas Truce gift be “Some content of Wulf and Danni together being pals.”Friend, you came to the right place. 

Dani spots the ghost-cops first, over a dozen of them flying in formation, armored in riot gear and faces hidden behind visors like the ghosts of police brutalities past. She steers clear, backing into some midnight shadows against a brick wall, but it’s not necessary. They’re completed focused on something else; calling out to each other, harassing and circling and firing beams from their nightsticks at something she can’t see. 

This all seems very familiar, somehow. 

Whatever, ecto-memory déjà vu is something Dani is used to at this point. She pulls out her phone from her pants - because jumpsuits don’t have pockets and Danny is stupid - to check the time. Sees not only is it late, but she has four unread messages from her clone-bro and six more from Jazz. Probably wondering where she is. 

Duh, making great decisions, obviously. 

Turning invisible and trailing them cautiously, Dani catches up to them near the warehouse district, because everything great at one in the morning always happens near a bunch of old warehouses. She hears the tail end of a scuffle as she approaches one building painted with tagger handles and ghost graffiti and peeks her head through the wall. 

There are definitely less riot-cop ghosts in here than she had spotted in the air- the smears of lightly glowing ectoplasm splattered on the floor and walls are pretty strong evidence what probably happened to them. 

Even with only half of them left, it’s still enough to dogpile on the single hulking shape on the floor. The dusty concrete floor is scratched with huge gouges and the thing is all muscles and fur, snarling and struggling to shake off the Ghost-Zone Five-O while they affix glowing, high-tech looking manacles to its wrists.  

It snaps out with a wolf-like muzzle full of sharp teeth, growling obscenities in an eerily familiar language that flips a switch in the back of Danielle’s head. Her lips move without her thinking.

“...Wulf?”

No one else in the warehouse seems to hear her, but the pointed ears of the werewolf-looking ghost (Wulf, why does she know his name is Wulf?) twitch before the ghost-cops shove his face into the ground. 

One ghost is semi-standing a few feet away overseeing the spectacle, shirtless except for the long, douchey red cape. He’s got an eyepatch and an even douchier goatee. There’s some kind of blaster belted on his hip, but he’s still just standing there watching the other ghosts do all the work, holding up a fist-sized cube that has a warbling, glowing aura coming off of it. 

“Walker’s gonna be glad to hear that this little toy ended up doing the job,” Eyepatch tosses it up and down lazily,, savoring the whole situation. “This new mayor’s got a lot more goin’ for him that the last duly-elected meatsuit.” 

“Mi eskapis iam antaŭe,” Wulf snarls into the ground. One of the cops prods the sparking end of its baton into his neck and he flitches. “Mi...mi povas fari ĝin denove.”

“Not this time, mutt,” Eyepatch gives the cube another toss. “So long as we’ve got this, you can’t use those claws of yours to cut through the fabric between dimensions and...and...”

About this time he notices that the cube never came down. 

“See, I thought this looked like one of dad’s evil doohickeys! Nice to see he’s making friends with someone besides his cat.”

Eyepatch whips around to find Dani floating visibly overhead, turning over the cube and studying at it closely. 

(Yep, definitely looks like a box-thingie. Hmm, yes, fascinating)

Eyepatch wastes a few seconds staring at Dani, then back at his empty hand still hanging expectantly open. “Wha- who- where did you- give that back!”

“But I’m looking at it.” She keeps fiddling with it like it’s a stubborn Rubik’s cube. “Is this twisty bit here important? This seems important.” 

“I don’t know where the black hells you came from,” Eyepatch raises a two-pronged blaster that charges up with a high-pitched whine. “But you have three seconds to turn over Walker’s property before I-”

Dani licks the cube.

It tastes like metal, ozone, and that buzzy weird taste she’s come to associate with ectoplasm. Like someone put formaldehyde and grave dirt in a blender with old lime jello. Blegh.

The arm holding up the blaster wavers, then lowers as the ghost gapes at her. “Did you- did you just-”

“I licked it it’s mine now,” Dani tells him. “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

“That’s NOT a ru-” He grinds his teeth. With a snap of his fingers, the entire posse of ghost-cops rush off of fully chained-up Wulf and flank Eyepatch in a loose cordon. Shields up and batons all pointed at Dani like a firing squad. “I don’t know who you think you are, interfering wi-”

“Dani Phantom.”

“-official poli- wait what?”

“Dani Phantom,” she repeats. “You asked who I am. That’s me.”

“You’re not Danny Phantom.”

“Uh, yeah I am. Look!” She points at the symbol on her hoodie. “See! I have the ‘D’! And I am clearly talking about the logo, not my chest, for the record.” 

“You’re not Danny Phantom! We’ve all met Danny Phantom and he’s a-”

“Oh yeah, he’s like my...cousin? Twin brother? We’re related, but it’s like, really complicated.”

A few of the cop-ghosts lift up their helmet visors and exchange puzzled looks. 

“You’re both named Danny Phantom?” One of them speaks up.

Eypatch spins around to face him, furious. “Shut up, Gerald!”

Dani says to Gerland, “Yeah, but I’m Dani with an ‘i’.” 

“That must get really confusing,” the same ghost-cop nods sympathetically. 

“Thank you, yeah it really is! Everyone else is like, ‘oh we can just call you ‘elle’ and yeah Danny had the name first but I still don’t see why I have to change my-”

Eyepatch lifts up his blast and fires, making the upper body of the ghost-cop that spoke up disappear in a rush of ruby energy. What’s left of his lower half loses all consistently and melts into a puddle on the floor. 

“Fraternizing with lawbreakers is. Against. The. RULES!” Eyepatch roars at the puddle. The other cops float back a few nervous feet. 

Dani’s gasps. “Gerald, no! He was like, my best friend and everything! What the hell, dude?”

“Now imagine what I’m going to do to you, you little punk.” He levels the blaster up at her again. “If you don’t that box over right the fu-”

“Kay.” Dani tosses the cube at him. He actually drops his gun, fumbling with both hands before he finally gets a solid enough hold on it.

“Uh...right. That’s...good.” He looks down at the cube at his hands as if he can’t quite believe that it’s actually there. “Well...don’t think this means we’re going to be lenient on you, especially since you just gave up your only bargaining chip! Heh.”

He chuckles with a grin of crooked teeth and nasty promises. The rest of his crew join in, if a bit more nervously. 

Dani flaps her hand. “Meh, it’s okay, I didn’t really need it anyway. I just needed to district you for a bit while the other-me got Wulf outta those chains.”

Eyepatch and the ghost-cops stop laughing.

“....come again.”

“Saluton.” 

Warily, they all turn in unison and see Wulf, free and towering over them, teeth bared. Peeking over his shoulder is another Danielle, who waves at them. 

Wulf growls out in stilted English: “Run.”

The ghost-cops all scatter in different directions, leaving Eyepatch rooted to the spot, still holding the cube. 

Ever-so slowly, Eyepatch lifts up the cube up to Wulf, who plucks it delicately out of his hand with two claws and crushes it in his massive paw. 

“I think I’ll just...uh....” Eyepatch cocks his thumb over his shoulder. “I think I’ll just go...now...?”

Wulf’s grimace turns into a grin. “Lasu min helpi vin.”

With one paw, he grabs Eyepatch by the throat and lifts him clear off the ground. The other paw reaches out and slashes at the empty air next to them. 

It reminds Dani of a green screen, like he’d ripped away a piece of the fake background and revealed another world beneath it. Through the jagged hole Dani can see the writhing black expanse of the Ghost Zone, but no place she’s ever seen before. Skeletal trees of jagged crystal fractals, pits of crackling ectoplasmic fire, and somewhere- echoing distantly but still incredibly loud- a hungry roar shakes the rusted guts of the warehouse all the way down to Dani’s ribcage. 

“Waitwaitwaitwheredoesthatportallead-AGGHHH!”

Wulf throws him through. The air snags and the hole seal itself up with a little pop of air, cutting off Eyepatch’s scream instantly. 

“THAT WAS FOR GERALD!” both Danis roar simultaneously.

The warehouse is suddenly very quiet. Wulf’s heavy panting echoes very loudly on hollow concrete. His hoodie is filthy and torn in places and his hackles are raised. 

“Hey man, you okay?” Dani asks. 

“Yeah, you were kind of in a bad way,” her duplicate adds. 

Wulf steadies his breathing. “Mi estas...mi estos bone.”

“Really?” Dani says skeptically. “’Cause you do not look okay.”

He stands up a little straighter, ears perking with interest. “Vi...komprenas min?”

The duplicate Dani (Dupli? Dupli-Dani? Yeah! Dupli-Dani) shrugs. “I mean...more or less? We know a couple of languages including Spanish or Portuguese.” 

“So we can get the gist of it,” Dani finishes. 

Seeing Wulf’s head dart confused between two different Danis, she floats up to her duplicate and holds out a fist. “Nice work on the chains, Dani.”

“Thanks, Dani!” Dupli-Dani returns the fist bump. “You weren’t so bad of a distraction.”

“Aw, shucks, now you’re making us blush.”

“You know we can’t resist making cute girls blush,” Dupli-Dani winks. 

“Mi tre konfuzas nun,” Wulf confesses. 

“Sorry,” they say in unison. Both Danis glow, and then Dupli-Dani’s form wavers like a reflection on water and shifts back into Danielle’s body. “Sorry about that, just unlocked that little trick last week and it takes some getting used to. Is it weird that I always end up hitting on myself when I do that? No reason, asking for a friend.”

Wulf is suddenly in her face- she’s floating only a few feet off the ground, and she almost recoils at such something so huge and toothy in her personal space, but starts giggling when his noises starts sniffling all over her. 

“Ahhh! Hahahaha, quit it!” She giggles and squirms when his cold wet nose snuffles over her bare midriff. 

“Oh! So-ry,” He rears back, brow scrunching adorably up in confusion. “Amiko Danny?”

“Uh...sorta?”

“Vi odoras kiel li, sed vi estas...malsama.”

“It’s a long story, but...you can call me Danielle, if it helps?” 

He thinks about it for a few moments, then shakes his big, furry head. “Ne, vi estas Amiko Dani.”

“Aw, I heard the ‘i’ in there. Thanks big guy.” She rubs the back of her head and looks helplessly around the warehouse. “So uh...were you like...doing anything tonight before the Green Meanies tried to throw you in the slammer?”

“Ne vere,” He shrugs. “Eble vi povas diri al mi vian tre longan rakonto?”

“I’d...I’d like that? Yeah! You hungry?”

Even someone without any understanding of Esperanto couldn’t misinterpret the sudden lolling tongue. “Ĉiam.“

Wulf glances nervously up and down the street. This late there aren’t even buses or a stray car going down the road. Nothing but the traditional creatures of the night: ghostwolves, half-ghosts, goths, and service industry workers on the skeleton shift. 

The shop window next to them was dark. Wulf adjusts his baseball cap in the reflection of the glass. “Ĉi tio estas stulta.” 

“Is not.” Thinking it would be unfair that he’d be the only visible ghost in the place, Dani stayed in her ghost form as well. When she stood next to him, she could see both of their eyes glowing back at them in the window. 

“Ĝi ne funkcios.”

“It’ll totally work, trust me.”

“Bone. Sed estos via kulpo, se ili panikos.”

“Midnight breakfast or a coffee shop full of panicking goths. I’m fine with either one.”

She walks across the street towards the diner, completely undisguised save the her spare hoodie covering her noticeable costume. 

Perfect. No one will suspect at thing. 

Wulf sighs loudly before following her. 

They elected to take the long route there, Dani flying along Wulf while he loped on all fours across rooftops. She doesn’t think he can actually fly, which is weird because the only other ghost she’s met that doesn’t is Sidney, and he claims it’s because he gets vertigo when he floats.

Still, at least Wulf has the claw-portal thing. That’s pretty cool. 

At the door, Wulf hunches low, ears flat against his head while he wrings his giant paw-hands nervously. 

“Relax, Duran-Druan,” Dani reaches up and pats his arm. “I have it on good authority that freaking out over a ghost is an instant loss in goth-cred. It’ll be fine.”

He only nods quietly and hunches lower, trying to appear as small as possible. 

The diner is exactly like she remembers: skulls everywhere, memorabilia of vintage movie monsters, some occult imagery that would make Sam’s mom faint, a wall turned into a crowded collage of dozens of punk-rockers from unknown local bands to Violent Pacifist and Dumpty Humpty.

“Hi there!” Dani walks up to a bored looking waitress whose dark mascara is hiding the tired bags under her eyes pretty well. She’s cute, all piercings, short pink hair, and a skirt that is mostly impractical buckles. 

“Hey,” she returns, bored and sleep deprived. 

“Can we get a table for three, please?”

“Three? But there’s only tw-” she freezes, finally noticing the seven foot tall shaggy wolfman ghost behind what she’d probably originally assumed to be a white-haired goth girl.

Dani smiles pleasantly at her, fully aware that her eyes are glowy ghostly bright. “I think he counts as two on his own, yanno?”

Wulf waves at her shyly. 

“Uh. Right. Yeah. Sure.” She actually recovers admirably, blinking a few extra times at Wulf like she’s trying to reset her eyes before gathering up two menus. “This way, please.”

She leads them through the diner, past couples, trios, and small booths of various goths, punks, the occasional emo, and a few ghost-groupies in Ember merchandise. 

Most look at Wulf for no more than few seconds before returning to their black coffees, phones, and conversations. 

Dani elbows Wulf and stage-whispers. “Told ya.”

The waitress sits them down at a corner table next to a rainbow flag that’s decorated with spooky bats. It’s a bit of work with the tail, but Wulf manages to situate himself on the study metal chair without any problems. 

“Can I uh...start you off with anything?” She asks. 

“Kafo, bonvolu.” 

“Two coffees, please,” Dani translates.

“Got it,” her black sneakers make next to no sound as she goes to fetch the pot.

“Bone, vi estis korekta,” Wulf admits. He looks around all the diner, tail thumping against the legs of his chair as he takes in the atmosphere. ”Ĉu vi multe venas ĉi tien?”

“Yep, come here all the time after patrol. It used to be just goths but after a while it kinda became this...safe-spot for anyone that was out late at night that needed someplace safe. Plus, the coffee’s not bad.”

As if to prove her point, the waitress returns with a fresh pot and fills their cups to the brim. 

“Dankon, sinjorino.” Wulf says, still reading the menu. The menu looks cartoonishly small in his paws.

“No prob. You two want anything to eat?” 

Dani looks up from her menu. “Oven still on?” 

“‘course.”

“I’ll have the Black Dahlia.”

“Tri...’March of Pigs,’” Wulf manages.

“You want three whole-” She looks at him again. “Uh, sure yeah, okay. Take about half an hour.”

“That works,” Danny hands back her menu. Wulf carefully does the same.

The waitress (the name tag on her chest says Abigail, Danielle finally notices) hesitates a moment at the sight of Wulf’s claws, but just as carefully takes the menu and says, “Just holler if you need anything,” before she leaves again.

Neither Dani or Wulf say anything. Somewhere, old speakers static out deceptively cheery Voltaire songs to serenade the witching-hour crowd with.

“Do..” Wulf starts awkwardly. “Vi diris ke vi havas longan rakonto-”

“I’m a clone.”

Wulf’s mouth snaps shut.

Dani noisily sips her coffee. 

Thing is, Danny, Sam, and Tuck already knew. Danny had told Jazz, Valerie had found out in the worse way possible, and when the time came to finally out himself - and her- to Maddie and Jack, he’d done most of the talking while she sat next to him on the couch, squeezing Jazz’s hand hard.

She’s never actually said it. Especially not the ‘C’ word. 

“I mean, I know I said it was a long story and it definitely is but when you boil it down that’s sort of the major part. We call each other ‘cousins’ to make it less weird but technically Danny’s more like my twin brother and the guy who made me was evil and couldn’t decide whether to throw me away or dissect me for evil science and it’s not like I can like, go to a therapist or a non-Jazz professional about this 'cause I think being the unwanted byproduct of an evil plot to replace a deranged billionaire’s teenaged archnemesis because I was a girl and had health problems from botched cloning techniques might have given me a few...issues.”

Wulf never once takes his eyes off of her. He blinks at her slow, gaze steady and pupil-less, but strangely not at all unnerving. His big wolf ears are perked and attentive. 

“Also I can’t be 100% sure but I think I’m gay.”

Holding up the coffee cup with precise, dainty care in his claw, Wulf took a polite sip with a big, slooping green tongue, then set it down with a clink. 

Finally, clearing his throat, Wulf says, slow and heavily accented: “That iz ruff, buddy.” 

Dani stares at him. 

He nods at her sagely, a giant, furry philosopher wearing a filthy hoodie and a stolen ‘Axion Labs’ baseball cap. Then, with a twinkle in his eyes, he grins at her. 

Dani can’t hold it in anymore and bursts out laughing, keeling over and slapping the table as her sides start to ache. 

When Abigail comes back to their table with two trays loaded with food, she’s even more confused than she had been before.    

[littlelovelyspiderling]

Could you write a fic where Peter's really stressed out and Tony tickles him to make him relax? :3

Um…YES PLEASE!! Thanks so much for the prompt!

Breaking Point

Peter’s got too much on his plate but won’t accept any help. This does not sit well with Tony Stark.

word count: 1,800 (they keep getting shorter whoops)

One way or another, the kid always had something to stress about.

School, friends, finances, crime-fighting—there was never a moment in Peter Parker’s life when he felt like he could just breathe. There were too many things to do in such a short amount of time that required all of his attention to get right. It would be overwhelming for anyone, but for a teenager? It was the end of the world.

Nonetheless, the kid handled it all so well. Too well, in fact. He maintained such a plucky and positive attitude on such a consistent basis, people often forgot what he was dealing with. How could someone so happy be drowning beneath the weight of the world? He had a knack for hiding his struggles and tucking the stress somewhere deep inside himself where no one else could see. He’d gotten so good at it, even those closest to him would sometimes go blind to his troubles. Even Tony Stark.

So Stark had learned to be more vigilant. Peter did, in fact, have a breaking point. And when he finally hit it, when the tiniest signs of anxiety finally slipped through his defenses, Tony knew that meant the kid needed his help. Badly.

Today was one of those occasions. It started with Peter declining his offer to help him on a project in the lab. Peter always wanted to help him in his lab. Then, when Tony tried to hand him a bag of gummy worms, he claimed he wasn’t hungry. Peter was always hungry. Something was up. He never once tried to start or hold a conversation, which were some of his greatest skills. The kid just sat at the desk by the window, facing the wall, jotting down page after page of notes with maddening speed. After an hour of silent scribbling, Stark caved and strolled over to him.

“What’cha up to, kid?” he inquired, sipping his coffee.

Peter glanced up in surprise, as if he’d just snapped him out of a trance. Then his gaze returned to the desk, hardening a little.

“Just outlining my speech for tomorrow. And studying for a midterm. And, uh, writing an essay for Spanish.”

Tony whistled. “Sounds like a lot.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. Just gotta crank through it. High school, y’know?” He plastered on a smile, but Stark saw right through it. The kid’s hand was trembling from writing so feverishly. He examined the pile of textbooks and crushed-up paper wads overcrowding the tabletop.

“Is this all due tomorrow?” Stark asked. Peter visibly winced.

“Um, yeah. I meant to work on it over the entire week, but I just didn’t have time.” He swallowed, scratching the back of his neck. His shoulders hunched around his notebook. “But it’s really no big deal. It’s my own fault, anyway. I’ll get it done.”

Tony felt a sad tug in his chest. He exhaled softly and placed his hand on Peter’s back. “You know you can ask me if you need help, kid. School stuff, hero stuff, anything. I’m always here for you.”

Peter stared up at him and hinted a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Stark. Really. But I’m good.”

With that, he went back to work. The kid was awfully good at deflection. Tony sighed, feeling useless, and stepped away. He wondered if doing what he said and leaving Peter be was really the best way he could help.

Then he watched him—from the lab, on the screen showing the feed from one of the ceiling cameras—and knew that wasn’t true. Once Stark left the room, his front dissolved, and the kid was in shambles. He kept dropping his face into his hands and pulling at his hair. He wrote down two words then immediately balled up the page three times in a row. Tony could practically see the stress waves radiating off him. He was not good. He needed help.

So, puffing out his chest, he ascended the stairs and stomped back up to him, grabbing on to his shoulder.

“Kid, come on. This is stupid. You’re a wreck.”

Peter flinched in surprise, blinking at the frowning Avenger, then dropped his head back on the table, huffing impatiently. “Mr. Stark, please,” he murmured, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. Let me help.”

“I don’t need help,” he grumbled. “I need to be left alone so I can focus.”

“You don’t have to do this all on your own,” Tony insisted. “Why do you think the Avengers work as a team?”

“The Avengers don’t have to do homework,” he mumbled, pillowing his head in his arms. He leaned over the desk and hid his face. “Just please go away.”

With just one hand on his shoulder, Stark could feel how stiff he was. He was like a tiny, teenager-shaped volcano on the verge of eruption. The kid needed to relax, and he needed to realize that accepting help when one needed it wasn’t shameful. He pulled his hand back, then observed the way Peter was sitting and ignoring him. He was being both stubborn and unguarded, an unwise combination, which gave Tony an idea.

He didn’t know if it would work, but now he was too curious not to try. Wordlessly, Stark lunged at him from behind, wiggling five fingers into both sides of Peter’s belly.

The response was immediate and hysterical. The kid shot upright with a squeal, slamming both his hands against the table in attempt to guard himself. His voice jumped several octaves higher than usual.

“Ahaha! Mr. Stahark! Whahat are you dohohing?” He grappled at his fingers, giggling like crazy. Tony grinned.

“All you had to do was accept my help. But no, Spidey had to be Mr. Tough Guy, didn’t he?” He kneaded one hand into his ribs and the other into his armpit, making Peter shriek.

“Ehehehaha! S-stohohahap it!” He tried to squirm out of his grip, but the armrests were blocking him, and Stark’s tickly fingers jumped to every new spot his movements exposed. It was like he knew exactly where he was wriggling to next, and what areas that left open for him to tickle. For someone who was rarely physically affectionate with anyone besides Pepper, Tony’s sudden display of teasingly playful behavior was unexpected. Not to mention evil; Peter could barely breathe, he was laughing so hard. He twitched and screeched, torn between guarding himself and grabbing for Stark’s hands. Trying to do both at the same time was very ineffective.

“Here I am, trying so hard to be a good mentor.” Tony squeezed his sides and scribbled all over his belly, eliciting squeaky giggles from the kid’s lips. “But how am I supposed to do that when all you want to do is be a sad, angry grouch sitting alone in the corner? Uh-uh. Not on my watch, bud. This is what you get.”

“Mihihister Stahahahark!” Peter laughed, throwing his head back. “Plehehehease!” He tried going limp, arching his spine, hoping to melt to the floor and escape his hold. Unfortunately, Tony caught on to his scheme, and he wrapped his arms around his midsection, pinning him against the back of the chair. The motion hiked Peter’s shirt up his torso, which he wasn’t fast enough to fix. So, while Stark’s arms trapped him in place, his fingers curled around his sides and drilled mercilessly into his bare stomach. The unbearable tickling sensation sent shocks through his body. Peter fell to pieces.

“AHAHAHAHA! W-WAHAHAHAHAIT! NOHOHOHAHAHA!” Tears pricked in his eyes as he kicked and squirmed and laughed helplessly. The kid was a lot more sensitive than Tony had anticipated. He wondered if May ever used it against him when he acted this way around her. His giggling was so cute and childlike—and a welcome break from the past hour of muffled grumbling and tense silence. He knew Peter was strong enough to break out of his grip. Either he was too scared of accidentally hurting him, or he was too busy laughing his ass off to remember. Whatever the case, it was amusing to watch the superhero crumble beneath his wiggly-tickly tummy attack.

“Are you going to let me help you now?” Stark asked, skittering his nails across the kid’s ticklish skin. Peter bucked and kicked, squealing with laughter. He was too far from the desk to use it for any sort of leverage.

“Y-YEHEHEHES! YEHEHEHEHES! PLEHEHEHEHEASE!” He was going to explode if he didn’t stop.

“Good,” Stark said. “So what do you need help with?” He continued to tickle him, clawing at his belly in circular motions, waiting for an answer.

“W-whahat? I c-cahahan’t—AHAHAHAHA! OHOKAHAY!” His face burned with laughter and embarrassment. “MY SPEEHEEHEECH! I NEEHEED HEHEHELP WIHIHITH MY SPEEHEEHEEHEECH!”

Tony brightened. “Ah, your speech? Great!” With one last pinch to his ribs, he finally let the poor kid go. Peter slumped in his seat, hugging himself around the middle, gasping for breath and giggling weakly.

Stark pulled up a chair beside him, chuckling at the redness in his cheeks and the continuos stream of wheezy laughter bubbling from his lips. “So, what’s your speech about?” he asked, clicking a pen with his thumb.

Peter laughed softly, his head resting against the back of the chair and his eyes closed. “Eheh…oho my gohosh,” he groaned. “W-why dihid you…dohoho thahat…”

“Because you were being a little punk,” he said, tweaking his side. Peter flinched with a yelp. “You weren’t going to let me help you, and you weren’t going to stop marinating in your own stress. I had to improvise.” He grabbed the notebook from the table as Peter giggled helplessly. “Now, speech topic. Either lay it on me, or I’ll have Rhodey pin you to the floor and Dum-E tickle you until you pee yourself.”

Peter winced uneasily. “Okay, heh, okay. Ihit’s…it’s abohoat…endorphins…”

Stark scooted himself and the kid up to the desk, slipping on his favorite pair of high-tech sunglasses. “Perfect! Where should we start?”

Together, they finished all of his work before nine. He even had time to deliver a few practice speeches so Stark could offer him some pointers. For someone so beyond him in knowledge, Tony did a good job of letting him think through the problems he encountered on his own, never once giving up and just flat-out telling him what he thought should be done. Whenever Peter got stuck, he made sure only to nudge him towards possible solutions. If it wasn’t so belittling toward his capabilities, Peter thought he’d make a great college professor.

When they were done, Peter left with a small smile on his face. He was a little rattled from the afternoon, but also grateful. He hoped Stark wouldn’t resort to those measures every time he got a bit anxious. At the same time, if faced with a similar situation of stress and uncertainty in the future, Peter had a feeling it was in his best interest to ask for help from those who cared about him.