Metamorphosis - An Irondad Fanfic

Chapter 8 - We're Goin' on a Trip

*Behold my artistic talents (note the heavy sarcasm) ALSO I'M ALIIIVEEEE*

Peter Parker could not BE more excited for today. His body buzzed with energy since Monday morning when his science class found out they'd be going on an all-day field trip on Friday. At first, Peter frowned at the news. He had a history test on Friday he couldn't miss. If he did, he was pretty sure all the crammed history knowledge he packed into his neurons would be gone by the retake date. But then Mrs. Clems told them where they were going. 

Avengers Tower. Home to Stark Industries and the Earth's protectors. 

Yeah, there was no calming him down after that. Screw history, he was about to step foot ONTO history marble floors.

Peter couldn't sleep through the nights, instead choosing to "patrol" Queens for criminals or hooligans. He kept under the radar, fleeing once the police were on their way and humming as he swung to his next perch location. He imagined countless scenarios where somehow he met Tony fucking STARK and got immediately hired as a top scientist and could talk to BRUCE FUCKING BANNER every day and maybe get a lecture from CAPTAIN FUCKING AMERICA and-

Ok, Peter was fanboying just a little too hard. But he couldn't help it! This was the day of his dreams. He'd already talked Aunt May's ear off, and he was absolutely sure Ned was next—or whatever unfortunate soul sat next to him on the bus. 

Sitting criss-cross on his bed, the morning sun not even lighting the skyscrapers yet, Peter stared at the red numbers on his alarm clock. May made him promise last night that he would at least attempt some sleep, and wait until his alarm to get dressed. But after a three-hour nap and two hours of watching the metaphorical pot boil, it was clear no sleep would come for him tonight. 

And since May only banned him from getting dressed...

Peter grabbed his beaten-up phone and headphones and skipped his way into the bathroom. He hummed as he fixed up the tape on his headphone wire, making sure that one spot was angled just right to function. Peter carefully set up his fabulous countertop saloon, propping his phone up against the wall. Searching up a quick "how to tame curly hair for an important event" on YouTube brought him to a channel called Hair Care Wonderland. 

"Thank youuu HCW," Peter sang quietly and clicked on the hairstyle he wanted. The half-slicked-back, half-free—but styled—curls were perfect. And they sounded complicated. Complicated would make him look professional, a bit older hopefully, and not so... Peter.

More like a Mr. Parker. 

"I am gonna look so adult right now."

When he finished, he almost didn't recognize himself. With his hair messily slicked back, Peter's features looked stronger. His jaw was square, and his cheekbones were more highlighted. They were nowhere near sharp; hair couldn't do miracles, but they were there. The boy in the mirror was older and somehow wiser. He was so... not Peter. He was what Peter wanted to be but wasn't sure he could be.

At the back of his mind, he recognized Ben inside himself—same round eyes, same honey-brown hair, same gentle square face shape. He pushed aside the tears that bubbled in his eyes and sniffled. Peter felt claws scratch at his heart and it took everything not to throw his hands in his hair and mess it up beyond recognition. 

By the time his alarm rang, Peter finished his morning routine to distract himself. He tossed on his freshly pressed pink button-up shirt and tugged up fancy blue dress pants. Peter was out of his room in record time, his hair troubles long forgotten. 

The kitchen was lit with a warm gold and filled with the smell of something sweet. Two bowls of yogurt sat on the counter beside two empty plates. May looked exhausted, standing by the oven with her hair thrown up in a ponytail. Every strand glowed like fire as she flipped the pancake over to the raw side.