Chapter 34 – Consequences
Monday arrived like it had a personal vendetta.
Peter and Ned did not wake up to birdsong.
They woke up to Tony Stark standing in their doorway with the lights already on.
"Rise and shine, geniuses," Tony said flatly. "The academic institution that insists you become functioning adults is expecting you."
Peter groaned into his pillow. "It's illegal to be conscious right now."
Ned mumbled from somewhere under a blanket, "I think my brain ran a marathon and then filed taxes."
Tony folded his arms. "Congratulations. Welcome to adulthood."
By the time they stumbled into the kitchen, half-dressed and running on fumes.
"WE'RE LATE!"
"I CAN'T FIND MY SHOES!"
"WHY DO YOU OWN FOURTEEN IDENTICAL HOODIES?"
"THAT'S CALLED BRANDING!"
Tony didn't even look up from his coffee.
He simply held out two bananas and an apple like a disappointed deity offering tribute.
"You are not leaving my house without food," he said calmly. "Your brains need glucose. You already used too much yesterday."
Peter skidded past him, grabbed a banana mid-run. "Thank you love you, bye!"
Ned grabbed the apple. "You're the best pseudo-dad ever!"
Tony froze.
"…We will discuss that phrasing later."
The elevator doors slammed shut.
Silence returned.
Happy was already waiting downstairs, because Happy had developed a sixth sense for chaos and minor felonies.
Upstairs, Tony stood alone in the living room.
Shuri had vanished at dawn, claiming something about "nanoparticle curiosity" and "borrowing one lab. Maybe three."
Stephen hadn't come home.
"Status?" Tony asked without turning.
Friday appeared beside him in holographic calm.
"Doctor Strange has not returned. He left word: 'Extended sanctum obligations.'"
Tony nodded once.
He didn't argue. Didn't comment. Just filed it away.
He stared out at the skyline.
He could plan Asgard reconstruction.
He could check on Thor.
He could inspect the lab to assess structural damage inflicted by caffeine-powered adolescents.
He could review rescue logistics.
He could—
He chose paperwork.
Because paperwork was predictable.
Paperwork didn't steal jets.
8:13 A.M. – Ten Signatures In
Tony was on signature number ten out of five hundred when Friday gently detonated his morning.
"Sir. You have an incoming three-way conference call. May Parker and Mrs. Leeds."
Tony blinked.
"…Do they sound like they're about to kill me?"
"Tone analysis suggests high agitation."
"Patch it through."
The screen flickered.
Aunt May appeared.
She did not look amused.
Mrs. Leeds appeared beside her on split-screen.
She looked like she'd already rehearsed her speech in the mirror.
May spoke first.
"Anthony Edward Stark."
Tony sat up straighter automatically.
"If you are adopting my nephew," May continued sweetly, "can you inform me before telling every news outlet on Earth?"
Tony blinked slowly.
"…I'm sorry, what?"
Mrs. Leeds jumped in without missing a beat.
"And if you are positioning yourself as a father figure for my son, I would appreciate a phone call before learning it from morning television. I am a busy single mother, but I do answer my phone."
Tony turned very slowly toward Friday.
Friday shimmered into existence with the serenity of someone who had already calculated the blast radius.
"Sir," she said gently, "Edward Leeds, sleep-deprived and overcaffeinated, authorized a global media push. He declared Peter Parker your son and declared himself Peter's brother. Stark Industries PR, believing it approved, amplified the statement while you were engaged in crisis response. I was unable to intervene due to simultaneous containment priorities."
Silence.
May stared at Tony.
"…Please tell me you did not take the boys into an active disaster zone."
"Anthony."
Tony replied instantly, "I did not."
Beat.
"They stole a jet."
Silence expanded.
May's eye twitched.
Mrs. Leeds inhaled sharply.
"You let them steal a jet?" May demanded.
"I did not let them steal a jet," Tony corrected. "They committed independent aviation."
May blinked slowly.
Mrs. Leeds pressed her fingers to her temple.
"I already told them they're in trouble," Tony added quickly. "Severely. Monumentally. Historically."
Mrs. Leeds crossed her arms. "Are they safe?"
"Yes."
"Are they grounded?"
"Absolutely."
May narrowed her eyes. "Define grounded."
Tony hesitated.
"Emotionally devastated and temporarily unsupervised?"
"Anthony."
"Okay, yes, properly grounded."
May exhaled through her nose.
"You were going to call us?"
"Yes," Tony said immediately. "I was actually going to ask if I could keep them for three more days."
Both women stared.
"Given… everything," Tony continued carefully, "how about I pick them up from school, and Happy picks you both up. We talk like adults instead of yelling through satellites."
Long pause.
May sighed.
Mrs. Leeds sighed.
"…Fine," May said.
"But you're explaining everything," Mrs. Leeds added.
"Looking forward to it," Tony lied.
The call ended.
Tony stared at the blank screen.
"…Friday."
"Yes, Boss?"
"Add 'damage control with maternal forces' to today's agenda."
"Already scheduled."
He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.
"Am I trending?"
"Yes."
"…How bad?"
"Hashtag 'StarkHeir' is currently number one globally."
Tony closed his eyes.
"I negotiate trillion-dollar reparations," he muttered, "and I get taken down by a teenager with Wi-Fi."
He stood.
"Call Stephen. Tell him I need him at the Tower in an hour."
"Sending message."
"And ask Vision to bring Shuri back to the penthouse. Immediately."
"Yes, Boss."
Tony stood there for a moment.
He had dismantled a cabinet minister's career in under ten minutes.
He had secured a trillion dollars in reparations.
He had outplayed governments.
And somehow—
Two angry mothers felt infinitely more dangerous.
He straightened his jacket.
"…I need more coffee."