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1.
“Hey, Mister Stark, do you have a dollar?”
Tony watches as Spider-Man pats down the sides of his suit like he’s checking his pockets for a wallet or a phone. Which is ridiculous. His tech doesn’t have pockets. Though maybe it should. He’s not sure, but he thinks Peter’s on his eighth StarkPhone this year. The dangers of swinging and texting. He’d pay for a PSA from Captain America himself if it applied to anyone other than Peter. He makes a mental note to ask Cap to do one anyway, just for the laughs.
“I’ve been known to have one or two to my name, yes,” Tony says.
Peter’s face is still hidden by the mask, but the mechanical eyes of the suit move in a way that has Tony telling the kid’s already exasperated with him. Which is well within reason. Today’s crime fighting adventures of Iron Man and Spidey came with a weather forecast of stifling heat and humidity. They both have cooling technology in their suits, but Peter always seems to get dehydrated no matter what. The fun of being a superhuman, he supposes.
The kid’s posture is a little slack as he stands in front of one of the soda machines in the pavilion, no doubt making heart eyes at the red can of Coca-Cola.
Tony lets his nano-suit retract before he pats his own back pocket. “But I don’t have a single dollar, no. Do these things take hundreds?”
Peter whines, slouching more. “No, they don’t take hundreds -”
“Are you sure? It’s a got a Spidey sized dent in the top of it, it might not be working in top condition -”
Man, Tony sure does know how to push all the right buttons. “That weird lizard thing threw me into the vending machine that is not my fault -”
“Hit it.”
“-Huh?”
Tony brushes past Peter and gives the vending machine a light kick. “If you hit it, one’s bound to come falling out.” He taps the vending machine. “Hit it.”
“I’m not gonna hit it. I’ll break it.”
“I’ll pay for it, don’t worry about it.”
Peter laughs. “How? You don’t even have a dollar on you.”
“Don’t worry, Spidey! I’ll spot you!”
The two of them whirl around to see a group of teenagers looking starstruck. Which, fair. They did just save the day from reptilian destruction and all that. The tallest of the bunch reaches into her purse and pulls out a wrinkled dollar bill and hands it over to Peter with a big smile on her face.
Again, the eyes tell all with his suit. Peter and his friend once compared it to WALL-E and it’s been in the back of Tony’s mind ever since. They go wide with admiration. “Hey, thanks! That’s so nice of you!”
“No problem!” The girl gushes. “Thanks for all your help!”
Tony is then treated to the amusing sight of Peter sitting crisscross applesauce on the ground as he tries to desperately smooth out the dollar before trying to use it. The machine spits it out three times, all to the tune of Peter mumbling come on come on come on under his breath before it finally takes on the fourth time. “AHA! YES!” Peter cheers. He presses 33 before both red and blue hands press to the glass and watch as his shiny red can of soda comes tumbling out.
Peter ends up settling on the ground again, mask lifted up just past his mouth, before he cracks open the can and downs half of it in one swig. “Ahhh. That’s the stuff.”
“You know, I could have just bought you a soda at a store.”
He shrugs at Tony’s words, settling into a more comfortable position on the ground; his back resting on the front of the vending machine, one leg stretched out and the other drawn in. “You’re friends with me now, Mister Stark. Try to think like a commoner.” He takes a small sip of soda. “And commoners carry one dollar bills and eat meals out of vending machines.”
“Commoner,” Tony scoffs under his breath. “Spider-Man thinks he’s a commoner. Kid, you know you can literally lift an eighteen wheeler -” He stops short. “You make a meal out of stuff you buy at a vending machine?”
“Sometimes. You know. When I forget my lunch. Or I’m studying for physics and I don’t want to leave the library.”
Tony’s already reaching back for his wallet again, pulling out two Benjamins. “I don’t ever want to hear that again. Here. Lunch money for the next week.”
“How much do you think public school lunch is?” Peter laughs when Tony lets the money flutter down into Peter’s lap. “Do you know how many cashiers I’m going to piss off trying to get change for this?”
“You don’t need change.”
Peter laughs again, and it’s always nice to see his smile, even if the mask is preventing him from seeing it reach his eyes. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” Peter promises, handing Tony back the two hundred. “I promise, no more vending machine lunches.”
The mechanical eyes of his mask twitch in a tell as Peter pulls the mask back down over his mouth. Tony’s own eyes narrow in skepticism before he reluctantly takes the money back from Peter. It’s likely for the best. No pockets and whatnot. “Liar.”
“Oh, probably,” he quips. He passes the half-empty can over to Tony. “Thirsty?”
He yanks the can out of Peter’s grip and downs the rest of it in one gulp.
2.
“Hey, Mister Stark, do you have a quarter?”
Ever since the vending machine incident, Tony made it a point to carry around dollar bills, if only for Peter’s sake. He hasn’t had a need for them yet, Peter doesn’t often ask for an impromptu loan, but he’s been prepared to give the kid as many cans of coke and vending machine meals his little spider heart desires.
But he hadn’t considered coins.
They’re at the Museum of Natural History, just because, but Tony’s got to say it’s been the most fun he’s had in a long time. The kid is still a kid, so it’s been fun watching Peter get excited about everything and anything - especially the dinosaurs. Granted, half the conversation deviated from actual science to a what if survival scenario if the two of them ever found themselves in a Jurassic Park situation. But that’s all part of the fun for Tony.
And it’s good that Peter’s having fun, too, if the fact that he wants a souvenir is any proof. They’re standing in front of some ancient coin press by the front of the museum - for two quarters and a pretty penny, the machine will flatten and create a picture of a dinosaur on said pretty penny and spit it back out. Tony doesn’t get the appeal.
Peter’s looking at it like he’s never heard of a better present in his entire life.
“I don’t jingle,” Tony admits, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. He pulls out a dollar bill. “This is all I got, kid.”
Peter has a single quarter and a penny pinched between his fingers, but he takes the dollar gratefully. “Hey, thanks.” He lifts his head, looking left and right. “There’s gotta be a coin machine somewhere around here…”
It takes Peter a few minutes after he disappears into the tourist filled crowd, but eventually, he comes back with four extra quarters, and another penny. Where he got that, he doesn’t know, but he’s gonna bet on the floor. “Okay, which picture do you want - the Moai, the mammoth, the T-Rex, or Teddy Roosevelt?”
“Robin Williams,” Tony answers and Peter laughs. If half their conversation had been about Jurassic Park, the other half was definitely about the Night at the Museum movie. Nerds, the both of them.
The kid puts the coins in, presses the Teddy Roosevelt button,turns the handle, and lo and behold - Tony gets his own souvenir coin.
“Thanks, kid,” he smiles, when Peter proudly drops the penny in his open palm. Tony’s never been one to be too sentimental, but something tells him he never ever wants to lose this. He makes sure Peter sees him put it in the empty photo holder of his wallet.
(“Wait where’s your ID?”
“You know who I am.”)
Peter, of course, chooses the dinosaur. “I have a whole bowl full of these at home,” Peter admits, staring at the coin and rubbing the raised bumps that make the picture.
“You specifically collect T-Rex souvenir coins from the Museum of Natural History?”
“No, no,” he shakes his head, breathing out a laugh. “From all over the place. The zoo, the aquarium, Coney Island. If Ben, May, and I went someplace and they had these, then we always got one. Every time.”
And just like that Tony Stark is an even bigger pile of mush than he thought possible. “Well, thanks for adding me to the tradition.”
The glow of Peter’s smile definitely makes adding quarters and pennies to his wallet worth it. He’ll jingle like Santa Claus if gets that kid to smile.
"I saw a vending machine over there," Peter says. "...cokes and M&M's?"
Tony fesses up a few more dollars.
3.
“Hey, Mister Stark, can I have five dollars?”
Tony doesn’t know how this keeps happening. He’s tried to keep a various amount of small bills on him but it seems every time Peter asks, he never has the right amount.
They’ve just come out of Delmar’s Deli, two number fives with extra pickles squished down flat in hand. The kid’s also got a backpack full of not one, not two, but three packets of sour gummy worms because Tony’s a goddamn sucker and he’ll buy the kid whatever. So yeah, he’ll give him the five dollars. He just doesn’t know why he needs it.
Tony’s face must ask that question itself, because Peter simply points down the street to a vendor. There’s a sign that says Official Spider-Man Merch! followed by a list of items they sell and their prices in big black sharpie letters.
Judging by the pricing, Peter has his heart set on the official Spider-Man coffee mug. A whopping five dollars. There must be no profit margin whatsoever.
“I have five dollars plus ninety-five in bill form,” Tony admits. Because of course, the billionaire doesn’t have anything on him smaller than a hundred after their little food scavenge at the deli.
Peter points to the bottom of the sign that says No Change.
“Just,” Tony stops short with a long sigh, and hands Peter a hundred dollar bill. “I’m not someone who needs change. Take it.”
He pushes it back. “You don’t have any ones?”
“I have maybe four -”
“ That works! I can haggle. Gimme.” Peter leaves his palm upturned until Tony empties his wallet of all his ones - four, just like he said. “Perfect. Thank you!”
“You’re welcome,” he answers, tone flat and bored. “Now hurry up and go make some counterfeiter's dream.”
Peter scoffs. “It’s not counterfeit if there’s no official merchandise. He’s my biggest fan! He’s the only one out there selling it!”
“Not for long.”
A gasp. “Don’t tell me Stark Industries is going to be selling official Spider-Man merch.” Peter lays the back of his hand on his forehead. “I could just swoon.”
Tony gives the kid a nudge just hard enough to knock him off balance. “Go feed your ego and buy the stuff with your face on it. We’ve got sandwiches to eat.”
As Peter ends up haggling for the coffee mug, Tony gets impatient and starts eating his own sandwich. He’s surprised by how much he prefers that it’s squashed down flat, and even more surprised that the extra pickles are tolerable, but he figures he’ll keep that little tidbit to himself.
“Got it!” Peter sings as he comes jogging over, mug in hand. He presents it like it’s some valued artifact, hands outstretched. “For you!”
“For me?” his says, mouth full. A pickle almost falls out.
“I don’t drink coffee.”
He sighs, but takes the mug from Peter anyhow. It’s nothing special, just some kinda-sorta decent photo of Spider-Man swinging through New York printed on the side of some bland white ceramic mug.
Tony vows to drink his morning coffee out of it every day.
4.
“Mister Stark! Please tell me you have an extra ten dollars on you.”
Peter looks more than panicked as he walks into the penthouse. His hair looks like he’s been pulling at it for hours and his eyes look like he’s had one too many caffeinated drinks. Which means it’s finally the holy Friday Night that Peter’s been equally anticipating and dreading all week.
“Ah, date night already, hmm?” He swipes his hand across the holographic screen in front of him so it disappears, giving Peter his full attention. “Did you finally decide where you’re taking Michelle?”
“Yes,” Peter admits, sounding a little exasperated. “I’ve done the planning, I’ve done the budgeting, I think she’ll like it, but.”
“....But?”
Peter slouches in defeat. “Iwantedtobuyherflowers.”
Tony sticks his pinky in his ear, wigging it around like he’s cleaning it. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
He whines a little, clearly embarrassed. “I wanted to buy her flowers.” he grumbles, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. “But when I was double checking all my cash -” The sentence falls off into a growl as Peter opens his wallet and pulls out two pieces of paper that he lets flutter to the ground.
Upon further inspection, Tony sees that it’s a ten dollar bill completely torn in half.
“Jeez, kid. How’d you manage that.”
He pouts, staring at the fallen money like it’s wronged him in the worst way possible. “Stupid superhuman strength.”
“You gotta learn not to be so nervous, kid. But,” he pauses, reaching into his Peter Wallet. He’s starting to get the hang of it: twenties, tens, ones, quarters and pennies. Tony’s got a small collection going. “You’re in luck. One crisp ten, hot off the presses.”
Peter lights up. “Oh, thank you, thank you, I can pay you back, I swear, I just -”
“Ah, ah,” Tony stops him, yanking his hand back when Peter tries to grab the ten. “The price of this ten is hearing me out.”
The whine comes back, full force. “Nooooo not dating advice.”
Tony ignores him. “One,” He holds up a finger on his free hand. “Take her to the Italian restaurant we talked about because two,” another finger goes back, “It’s next to that park you said she goes to sketch and three,” a third finger, “There’s the best flower vendor in Manhattan smack dab between the two. Sells single roses for two dollars. Give her one of those as you're walking to the park. Make it seem all impromptu and spur of the moment. She’ll be charmed, trust me.”
Luckily, Peter seems to take to that suggestion. “Oh, uh, okay. Cool. That...might be better than a whole bouquet at the beginning of the date, huh?”
Tony nods. He thumbs through his wallet again and gives him five. “If you’re feeling wild you can get her two. Go nuts.” And he hands the money over to Peter.
Peter’s smile is easy-going, genuine. “Thanks, Mister Stark.”
“You’re welcome. Oh, and one more thing.”
He hands Peter some more money: a one hundred dollar bill this time.
“I want you to have a good time and be yourself, but maybe be yourself in a new pair of sneakers?”
Peter looks down at his shoes, alarmed. “What’s wrong with my sneakers?”
“Mostly the duct tape holding them together.” He pauses, looking Peter’s whole outfit over. “Actually, why you’re at it, let's throw in a new pair of jeans,” he chucks another hundred at him, “Maybe a new shirt,” a third. “Do you need a belt?”
“Stop throwing money at me!”
He throws a fourth. It hits him square in the nose. “That’s a yes on the belt.”
5.
“Hey, Mister Stark, you wouldn’t happen to have like, twenty bucks, would you?”
Tony looks up from his workbench to see Peter on the other side of the lab, wearing his Spider-Man suit sans mask. He’s thumbing through a couple of bills.
“The pizza guy is downstairs in the lobby,” Peter mumbles absently, eyes on his money. “And I could have sworn I had more cash but I guess -”
“Wait,” Tony cuts him off. “You ordered pizza?”
“Yeah.”
“We ate an hour and a half ago.”
“Yeah.”
“It must be fun having your metabolism.”
“Yeah.” Peter comes bounding over, flipping and tumbling and doing all that spider shit before he ends up standing on his tip-toes and resting his chin on Tony’s shoulder. “Sooooo can I have the cash?”
“That depends. What kind of pizza did you get.”
“Uh,” Peter’s voice pitches up before leans his head more snugly against Tony’s. “Meat lovers.”
Tony scoffs, not buying it. He fishes through his wallet. The only cash he has on him is one twenty. He used the last of his Not Hundred Dollar Bills stash spotting Peter and Ned ice cream literally an hour and a half ago. So the kid's in luck. “Tell the truth, or I’m kicking you out of the Avengers.”
“If I remember correctly, you said I was technically a Junior Avenger even though I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing -”
“Peter.”
“There’s only a little pineapple on it. Just a skosh, really.”
“Get out of my house,” he says flatly, but he hands Peter the twenty anyway. The kid bounces away with an excited whisper, speaking like a true traitor when he quietly acknowledges to himself that there is in fact extra pineapple on that Hawaiian pizza.
“Wait,” Peter says, and his whole posture deflates. Tony waits, wondering what’s wrong as Peter practically has his nose pressed to that bill, only to jump out of his skin in surprise when the kid starts howling with laughter.
“Kid, what the hell -”
“Mister Stark!” Peter snickers. “This is a fake twenty dollar bill.”
That's not what he expected to hear.
“....Huh?”
“It’s not real. C’mere, look,” and then Peter’s pressing himself closely again, leaning over his shoulder as shoves the twenty under his nose. “See? Notice anything off?”
Honestly, no. The last time Tony took a real look at a twenty dollar bill, those dinosaurs from the natural history museum were still alive. He says as much and the kid almost falls over in laughter. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Well, first of all -” Peter pauses before he crumples the bill and pulls away. “Wait. Do you even know who’s on the twenty dollar bill?"
No, he does not. "Of course I do."
"Okay. Who."
“Elvis Presley.”
“No.”
“Marilyn Monroe.”
“No.”
“Queen Elizabeth.”
“There was a whole war to prevent that from ever happening in this country.”
“...Me?”
“God, wouldn’t that be the worst.”
“Those are some fighting words for a boy with no pizza money.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry Mister Stark. What I meant to say was..." He pauses, clearing his throat for dramatics. "Why yes, it would be absolutely wonderful to have your ugly mug on currency across this great land -”
He chucks a hundred, a totally real one hundred dollar bill with Benjamin’s face and everything, at his head. Of course, the kid laughs. “Go. Before I change my mind.”
Peter pulls down the mask and heads for the window of Tony’s very high penthouse. “Uh, kid? Elevator’s that way.”
“Aw come on,” Peter grins, lifting the mask just enough to show his smile. “If you deliver to Stark Tower, then you’re gonna expect an Avenger to pick up the pizza, yeah?”
Tony crosses his arms, brow quirked. “I thought we just established you were a junior Avenger.”
He shrugs, pulls the mask down, and opens the window. “Semantics. Be back in a jiff! But first: Mister Stark?”
“What.”
“The answer was Andrew Jackson,” and with that the kid falls out of the window.
Whatever, Tony thinks. His face really should be on the twenty anyway.
+1
“Hey, kiddie, you got a few coins?”
Peter blinks over his gelato. The crowds around them ebb and flow like the very waters in the Trevi fountain that they stand before. Somewhere far to the left, May, Pepper and Happy are trying to take pictures. “Yeah, what for?”
Tony flexes his fingers in a gimme motion and waits for Peter to drop two small euro coins into his upturned palm. “I’m not a huge on traditions, you know that, but my mom and I did this every time we used to visit Italy when I was little. Thought we’d give a try. C’mon.” He guides the kid through the crowd by the shoulder, stopping so they’re dead center in front of the fountain, and then spins the Peter so his back is to the water. “Toss it with your right hand, over your left shoulder, and make a wish.”
Peter closes his eyes, as if that’ll make the wish more powerful. “What if I toss it with my left hand over my right shoulder?”
“You sell your soul to the devil.”
“Ah. Messed up when you were a kid, did you? That explains a lot - ow!” Peter laughs around his fake cry of pain when Tony reaches over and flicks him on the nose. “You gonna make a wish, too?”
Tony stands so he’s side by side with Peter. “Yeah, I’m gonna make a wish, too. On three. One -”
“-two-”
“-three!”
They toss the coins over their left shoulder. Peter’s quick to spin around and see if he can find where his coin lands, but Tony’s not sure he ever finds it. Still. Doesn’t seem to bother the kid too much. He’s all smiles.
“What’d you wish for?” Tony asks.
Luckily, he’s not hit back with a if I told you it wouldn’t come true. “I wished that we could come back here again. One day. This has been a fun vacation.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Well, you’re in luck.” Tony grins. “The whole point of the coin toss is to also ensure that you can come back to Rome one day. The wish thing was just a bonus."
There’s a beat, where there’s nothing but the crowds and the fountain roaring in his ears. Then Peter says, “....so I wasted a wish, is what you’re telling me?”
“Not necessarily.” He’s still grinning. “Now it’ll come doubly true. Or something.”
Peter ends up shoving him when Tony laughs a little too loudly at his expense. He almost collides into some innocent bystander, but Peter’s spider skills allows him to catch Tony by the wrist He pulls him back in time, and that just makes Tony laugh even harder.
“Well,” Peter says, almost laughing himself. It’s all pretty silly and in good fun. “What did you wish for?”
“Easy,” Tony answers. “That one day, they put my face on the one hundred dollar bill.”
“Oh my god.”
“What? I have enough of them. Seems fitting.”
“Oh my god.”
"I mean, a lot of them."
“I hate you.”
“What? Not good? Would the twenty be better, or….?”
“I’m leaving. Where’s Pepper?” Peter starts standing on the tips of his toes, trying to look over the crowds. “Pepper!" He waves his arms back and forth, hoping to get her attention wherever she may be. "Come save me.”
Tony keeps going. “Look, I’ll settle for a ten but I don’t want you ripping any more of them in half -”
“I’ll give you ten dollars to stop talking!”
Tony grins, flicking his sunglasses down from the top of his head and holding his hand out. “Deal. Pay up.”
He does.