~Iron Family~

Elderly Guard Dog

A/N: Last author's note with changes, I promise. :3

Instead of 15 going on 16, Peter is 14 going on 15.

Sorry for the confusion, I decided to change it to give everyone some more time together before IW and everything. I already went through past chapters and made the adjustments. Last time I'll make changes halfway through the book, I promise.

***

Either Peter was going mad, or the appliances were disappearing off the face of the Earth.

Peter had scanned the area where the mixer should have fallen from Mr. Stark's grasp and searched for hours, but hadn't found anything. It was as if the appliances had tracked him down and tried to attack him, but then changed their minds and went back into hiding. Maybe they thought he was too good for them.

Although that's what Peter would like to think, he seriously doubted that was what was going on. He would just have to wait it out and see.

For the entire day, practically the whole of Queens was crime-free. Nothing escaped Peter's watch, as he had nothing better to do but scout for crime. He would dash over to an alley at the slightest movement of a shadow, take down anyone who took longer than usual to unlock their car (he was usually wrong on those ones).

It was the most fun he'd had in a long time.

When his phone's alarm went off at 2:45, reminding him about the kids getting off from school, he almost swung into a flagpole. How did it get so late?

He threw his clothes back on and walked back to the Wagner's house. Since he didn't have a key yet (as the Wagners had failed to realize), Peter knocked on the front door, his knuckles scraping on the chipped red wood. The curtains by the windows twitched and Peter caught a glimpse of Miranda's scowling face.

"Where were you?" Miranda wailed as soon as the door flew open. "You had me worried sick. Well, not enough to call the police, obviously, but you had me worried enough to the point where I seriously considered texting Bernard."

She ushered him inside and locked the door behind him.

"Uh...I was at the library... reading," Peter said slowly. Miranda scoffed.

"I don't care where you were, you didn't tell me. What if I needed you? What if something happened?"

You never need me and nothing ever happens around here, Peter wanted to retort.

"I know you're new here, Paul, but this isn't how we operate," she huffed, throwing herself down on the couch.

"Sorry, ma'am," Peter sighed. "I'll try not to let it happen again. Oh, um...Mrs. Wagner?"

"Hmm?" 

"I, uh, I'm meeting my friend at his house around four. Do I have permission to hang out there for a little while?"

She tore her gaze away from the TV and wrinkled her nose at him. "No, of course not."

"What?" Peter spluttered. "But--why? I haven't seen my friend in months! He invited me for my birthday today, so I--"

Miranda swiped her polished nails through the air in a silencing motion. "And I'm sorry, birthday boy, but you aren't going anywhere tonight. You need to stay home."

"Why?"

"Because! I don't know! Talk to Bernard about it!"

Peter scowled at the floor and slunk into the kitchen. Yeah, sure--Bernard would talk about it over a wooden spoon and a belt.