Spider-Man One Shots

Influence

Summary: Tony realized just how much he has influenced Peter.

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"You have a big influence over him, Tony."

"No, Pep. Peter's not like me in any way."

Pepper raised a brow, stood up and approached the teen, who was doing homework on the other side of the living room.

"Hey, honey," she said while ruffling his curls fondly. "What are you drinking?"

Peter looked up from his work and smiled at the CEO. "Just a bit of coffee, Ms. Potts! I need energy!"

Pepper glanced at Tony from the corner of her eye.

"And why drink coffee when you could, say, sleep?"

"Sleep?" He laughed and immediately brushed off her suggestion. "No, there's no time for sleep. Coffee does the job just fine." He smiled at her like he hadn't said anything out of the ordinary. "Ms. Potts, I'm sorry for sounding rude but I need to finish this assignment, two essays, a presentation and a video for tomorrow. Thanks for visiting, though!" He picked up his stuff clumsily, sticking to half of them so they wouldn't fall, and left the room.

Tony, wide-eyed and internally horrified, swallowed hard and said, "Okay, I might have influence over him, but not so much, probably a 12%."

Pepper crossed her arms and sighed. "Have you considered that, perhaps, your influence isn't bad?"

Tony, looking at his wife intently, agressively gestured to the now empty coffee cup in the sink. She sighed again and uncrossed her arms.

"This is not all, Tony," she said softly. "You really haven't noticed?"

"What?" No, he hadn't noticed anything different at all. What was she talking about?

"Remember what happened last time you went undercover to his school for a presentation?"

Yes, of course Tony remembered, he had been so proud of Peter. The teen had stood in front of fifty people and presented his idea about a greener way to produce electronics. Tony wasn't only proud of the genius idea that ended up winning him a trophy, nope; he was also proud that Peter had overcome his insecurities, his fear of showing what he could do in front of someone else (let alone fifty people).

Tony had smiled brightly at Peter and taken him to buy icecream, but the possibility of it being him who had influenced the kid never once crossed his mind.

"I... helped?" He was shocked. Pepper couldn't blame him.

"Yes, you did," she confirmed. "And do you remember what happened with that Flash kid?"

Tony's demeanor immediately turned cold at the mention of the bully, until he remembered what had happened.

It had been just two weeks ago, and Peter was so much happier since then. Getting rid of your bully really did wonders for one's life.

No- not getting rid in that way. Jesus.

Anyway, Peter had gone to school as he usually did, and, as per usual too, was targeted by Flash as soon as he stepped into the building. The tension had been building up for days inside Peter, he couldn't deal with it anymore; he snapped.

"Flash, fuck off."

"Now who do you think you are?" Flash had said in anger, affected by the lack of emotion on Peter's voice. He had thrown a punch afterwards, but, unlike what normally happened, Peter grabbed his fist.

"I said: fuck off. Don't make me repeat it," Peter had deadpanned, only then opening his hand and letting go of the bully.

Flash's eyes had held a healthy amount of fear in that moment, so much so that Tony had printed it (he had definitely not hacked into the school cameras when Karen alerted him of the confrontation). The picture was now hung on the fridge.

"I don't see how that could be because of me," Tony told Pepper.

"You're the one who taught him that he needs to stand up for himself, and did you see his expression? It was a perfect copy of yours when you're dealing with nosey reporters, Tony. Of course it was because of you."

"Maybe."

"Definitely."

Tony looked at his smiling wife, at the school trophy that sat next to his Nobel medals, at the empty coffee cup, and then at the scared face of the bully on his fridge.

Good or bad, Tony did have an influence over Peter.

Smiling lightly, he thought, 'It makes sense. He is, after all, my son.'