Chapter 25 – The Weekend Lab (Peter's POV)
Peter Parker woke up feeling like he'd had three cups of coffee and a lightning bolt to the brain.
Today was the day.
He'd been waiting all week for it, a full weekend at Stark Tower with Mr. Stark and Ned, just building, coding, soldering, and maybe a pizza-fuelled late-night movie marathon if they were lucky. Two whole days of pure, glorious science.
All he had to do was survive school.
Easy, right?
Wrong.
Flash Thompson was apparently on a personal mission from the god of misery that morning. Every hallway, every class, every chance he got; bam. Another jab.
"Hey penis Parker, dreaming of building killer robots again? Maybe this time they'll actually kill you."
Peter just clenched his jaw and kept walking. Ned whispered beside him, "He's not worth it, dude. Just think about micro-servos and pizza."
Peter muttered back, "I'm thinking about giving him a stomach flu that lasts a month."
Ned snorted so hard he almost chocked.
By the end of the day, Peter felt like he'd aged ten years and lost ten IQ points from exposure to Flash. He practically sprinted out the door when the bell rang. "Come on, Ned. If Happy's late, I'm web-slinging us there myself."
The ride up to Stark Industries was quiet except for Ned rambling about new AI protocols he'd been working on under Tony's supervision. By the time they reached the Tower, Peter's bad mood had melted into nervous excitement again.
They swiped their ID cards, stepped into the elevator, and before Peter could even greet Friday—
"Welcome back, Peter, Ned," Friday's warm voice chimed.
The elevator was already moving.
Peter blinked. "Wait, moving? We didn't even say where—"
"Sir already authorized your arrival in advance," Friday said cheerfully.
That made Peter grin all the way up.
When the doors opened, though, both boys froze mid-step.
A glowing figure — Friday's holographic avatar — sat gracefully on the sofa, hands folded like she'd been hosting tea. Across from her, a man in deep red robes sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes half-closed, surrounded by softly glowing sigils. A book hovered open before him, pages turning of their own accord.
Peter's spider-sense didn't flare, but still magic wasn't exactly something you see in Queens
"Uh…" Peter coughed softly. "Excuse me, sir? Sorry to interrupt I-I, I'm looking for Mr. Stark, but… who are you?"
Before the man could answer, the hologram smiled and stood. "Dr. Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme. Currently Sir's guest and keeping an eye on our newest patient. Doctor, meet Peter Parker and Edward Leeds."
"Hi!" Ned squeaked, eyes wide. "Sorcerer Supreme? Like, real-life magic? Not just Hologram CGI equations and particle manipulation?"
Strange's mouth twitched. "Magic, science just different languages for the same laws."
Peter gaped at the floating runes. "So… you're reading and coding the universe at the same time."
The doctor's eyes opened, calm and amused. "Something like that."
He gestured for them to come closer. "You're Stark's protégés, aren't you? You might enjoy this. I'm testing a seal formation, harmonic pattern stabilization through energy resonance."
Ned's jaw dropped. "That's like quantum waveform reinforcement!"
Strange raised an eyebrow. "A mouthful, but yes. A surprisingly accurate description."
Peter crouched next to him, watching the runes flicker. "How are you doing that without, you know, power?"
"I'm not," Strange replied. "These are constructs, empty shells of energy. I use them to study shape, rhythm, interaction. Like sketching equations before you solve them."
Peter's brain was already racing. "Could you—oh man—could you project one onto a hard-light frame? Friday could run a computational overlay!"
"Already building the file, Peter," Friday said proudly. "Doctor Strange has allowed me to study and analyze the geometric structure. It's… elegant."
Strange actually smiled. "You and the AIs are quite remarkable, Stark's legacy indeed."
At that, Peter's smile softened. "Yeah," he said quietly. "They really are."
Strange noticed the shift in his tone, pride, affection, loss all mixed together, but said nothing. He simply resumed tracing his glowing diagrams, the boys at his side, watching in quiet fascination.
For the first time all week, Peter felt calm.
For the next few hours, Tony's living room became less "elegant minimalist style" and more "magical science fair gone rogue."
Doctor Strange had decided that since Peter and Ned were "clearly unreasonably curious," they might as well learn something useful.
"Magic," he began, seated cross-legged again, "isn't so different from coding. You visualize a command, feed it through the proper structure, and release it into the world. Only difference, the compiler is your mind."
Peter and Ned nodded like two lab interns in a lecture they didn't want to admit was blowing their minds.
Strange conjured a small ring of light in his palm. "A seal starts with focus. Emotion shapes energy. Try something simple like plant growth."
He handed each of them a tiny clay pot, soil, and a single seed.
"Visualize warmth, life, the pulse of creation. Don't force it. Guide it."
Ned stared at the seed in concentration. Peter did the same.
For thirty seconds, nothing happened. Then—
A soft pop came from Ned's pot.
A tiny green sprout unfurled.
"Dude!" Peter whispered, eyes wide. "You did it!"
Ned grinned, awe and pride warring on his face. "It—it actually worked!"
Peter, determined, redoubled his focus. "Okay, okay, come on, little plant, let's go. Grow. Flourish. Photosynthesize!"
A faint orange spark ignited in his palm.
"Uh… Pete?" Ned said slowly.
"I got this—"
The pot whooshed into a small, controlled flame.
"—I don't got this!" Peter yelped, shaking his hand as Strange calmly waved a sigil, extinguishing the fire before it reached the rug.
Strange arched an eyebrow, smirking just slightly. "Fascinating. One calls the seed to life… the other calls it to ashes. You may have more affinity for combat magic, Mr. Parker."
Ned, meanwhile, was glowing literally, thanks to a faint shimmer of ambient light around his fingertips. By the end of an hour, he had coaxed not one, but six flowers from the soil, four roses and two sunflowers, all radiant and very much alive.
Peter's results: three burnt seeds, a cracked flowerpot, and one suspicious scorch mark on the ceiling.
By eight p.m., the once-pristine lab-living-room hybrid looked like it had hosted a garden party and a small explosion at the same time.
Friday's hologram flickered nearby, voice sweet as honey. "Congratulations, Mr. Leeds. Your magical aptitude rate is eighty-seven percent efficiency for beginners. And you, Peter, well… your aim with fire-based manipulation has potential for… rapid growth."
Peter groaned. "You mean I burned stuff good."
"I mean you're consistent," Friday corrected diplomatically.
Unseen by both of them, she quietly added the entire session to the Spiderling File for Tony to review later — timestamped and annotated under "Potential energy channeling data." She also tagged it in her expanding Doctor Watch protocol.
Meanwhile, Doctor Strange had migrated to the kitchen — robe sleeves rolled, cloak hovering helpfully to pass him ingredients as he prepared a surprisingly domestic dinner. The smell of grilled salmon and herbed pasta filled the air.
"Dinner in five!" he called out, utterly at home. "And Peter, stop glaring at the sunflower like it owes you money!"
Peter muttered something about magic being biased. Ned just laughed.
Tony Stark – Waking World
Tony shuffled into the living room in a T-shirt and sweatpants, hair sticking up in every direction, the look of a man who had finally gotten sleep and immediately regretted waking.
He stopped dead in the doorway.
His son and his son's best friend were potting flowers under Friday's cheerful holographic supervision. The ceiling had at least three scorch marks. The cherry on top was the wizard sautéing salmon in his kitchen like a 1960s housewife.
For a long moment, Tony just stared.
Friday, ever the helpful assistant, chirped, "Good evening, Boss! The children are learning practical magic, and Doctor Strange is preparing dinner!"
Tony blinked once. Then twice.
Finally, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Good evening, Stephanie," he said dryly. "And children. What's for dinner?"
"Salmon with pasta," Strange said calmly, not even glancing back. "Your kitchen knives are subpar."
"Yeah, well," Tony muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "Welcome to my life, where wizards cook, teenagers garden, and my ceiling is a crime scene."
Peter tried not to laugh. Ned failed spectacularly.
Tony just shook his head, smiling despite himself. "I leave you guys alone for one day, and suddenly this place turns into Hogwarts with Wi-Fi."
He walked over, clapping Peter lightly on the shoulder. "You burn anything while I was asleep?"
"Just…a few learning experiences," Peter said meekly.
"Uh-huh."
Tony turned toward the kitchen, inhaling deeply. "At least it smells like we're not eating takeout tonight."
From the stove, Strange smirked without turning. "I find cooking… meditative."
Tony shot him a sideways look. "You would."
Friday dimmed the lights to a warm glow. The laughter softened, the scent of dinner filled the air, and for the first time in days, the Tower felt alive.
Dinner was surprisingly perfect.
The table gleamed beneath the low golden lights, the air rich with butter, herbs, and the faint metallic hum of reactor power deep below the Tower.
Tony ate like a man rediscovering civilization after a war. "I can't believe this," he said between bites. "The Sorcerer Supreme makes a mean salmon. Next thing I know, you'll be ironing shirts and humming show tunes."
Stephen took a calm sip of his wine. "Cooking, Tony, is a ritual. An act of focus. Something you should try that doesn't explode."
"Explosions are how I meditate," Tony shot back.
"Of course they are."
Peter and Ned exchanged looks, stifling snickers. Friday dimmed the lights to an amber glow that made the whole scene feel… normal. For once.
Halfway through the meal, the conversation softened. Tony leaned back, eyes heavy but content. "Seriously, Steph… thanks. For holding the line."
Stephen glanced at him over his glass. "You would have done the same for me."
Tony smirked faintly. "Yeah, but I wouldn't have made dinner afterward."
"I'm more civilized," Strange replied smoothly.
"More pretentious, you mean."
The boys laughed again, and Tony pointed a fork at the doctor. "You know, this mentorship thing was supposed to be mine. Science, engineering, bad life choices, that's my brand. And now you're in here, waving your glowy circles, teaching my kid and his partner how to grow sunflowers with hand gestures."
Stephen arched a brow. "Well, you clearly have Peter. I'm taking Ned."
Peter nearly choked on his pasta. "Wait, what?"
Tony put his fork down, mock-offended. "Excuse me? You can't just take one of my interns."
"Correction," Strange said calmly, "one of your interns with high natural magical aptitude."
Tony's eyes narrowed. "We're not splitting the kids."
"Oh, we absolutely are." Stephen's tone was maddeningly even. "You get Peter — he's combustible and obviously yours. I'll take Ned. He listens, follows instructions, and hasn't set anything on fire yet."
Peter gaped. Ned blinked.
"Are you guys" Peter started, incredulous. "are you literally negotiating custody right now?"
Tony gestured toward Strange with his fork. "You hear him? He's trying to poach my intern like this is a wizard custody court!"
"I'm being practical," Stephen countered. "Joint mentorship will ensure balanced development."
"Oh my god," Ned muttered under his breath. "They're divorced."
Peter groaned. "We're the kids in the custody battle."
Friday helpfully chimed in, "Would you like me to schedule alternating visitation days, Boss?"
Tony blinked then grinned. "Yeah, actually. Let's make this official."
Within five minutes, the "Stark–Strange Internship Program" was born.
Peter: Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays with Tony for lab work and patrol prep; Wednesdays and Saturdays from noon with Dr. Strange for magic and discipline ("Emphasis on discipline," Stephen added dryly).
Ned: Mondays and Fridays at the Tower with Tony's engineering division and personal coding lessons from Tony; Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays under Strange's tutelage for mystic training and whatever "non-explosive" meant in magic terms.
By the time dessert (Strange's shockingly good tiramisu) appeared, Tony had already FaceTimed Aunt May and Mrs. Leeds. Both women approved of the "dual mentorship" after Tony promised to keep the boys safe, fed, and out of extradimensional trouble or, at least, to call if extradimensional trouble showed up.
Peter leaned back in his chair afterward, still dazed. "So… we basically got two super-genius mentors to share custody of us in one dinner."
"Yeah," Ned said, grinning. "And we got tiramisu out of it."
Tony smirked across the table at Strange. "You win this round, wizard."
Stephen's cloak twitched smugly behind him. "I always do."
Tony rolled his eyes, pushing back from the table. "Enjoy it while it lasts. Next week, we're doing lab work your magic can't fix, taxes."
Stephen dead-panned. "I'm suddenly reconsidering this partnership."
The boys burst out laughing as Friday dimmed the lights again. The sound filled the Tower — laughter, easy and bright — echoing through steel and glass like the promise of better days ahead.
Science, sorcery, sarcasm, and family.
Just another night in the Tower.