Pepper Potts stood there with her arms crossed, leaning in the kitchen side. Herself and Tony having of escaped to the kitchen, while Peter is left in the living room with the TV playing.

"Somethings wrong with your face, honey. The frown doesn't suit you. " The man stated in his usual cool and casual way. Only to receive an eye roll.

"Tony, you need to be careful with how you say things. You may not have seen the look, but I did. And his face was a picture of hurt," the red-haired hushed. Her features stern, but soft.

Tony didn't understand what this is all about. Totally oblivious as to why - since dinner - the boy had closed off.

Not evening coming to realise, it is his fault.

"Babe, do you even know his class? He had it done the other day, you got told about it. Hence why he was late here that day. If you haven't taken that into account, you should look into finding out. That's all I am saying," Pepper sighed.

The boy clearly shouted out, he's a little. Pepper knew her fiancé wanted to do the internship interviews first, before the class. For the man didn't want to feel like he took the class into account, but now he has an intern.

He should at least learn the class of his new buddy. Otherwise, he might get accused of not being aware of the dangerous tools around a little.

Tony let his shoulders drop. "fine, okay. I Dunno what this deal is, but for you Mrs Potts. To leave me alone about, whatever this is. I'll look into it and find out,"

Tony, in fact, didn't find out. He had meant to. He really had, but then he got a notification about one of his experiments being complete. Bringing his attention to another experiment idea, followed by new theory and before he knew it. Peter had arrived back, the boy and his fiancé having of been watching TV together. The boy enjoying what was on TV at the time. Tony had disappeared into the lab, which Pepper and Peter figured.

Though upon entering, it didn't take long for the two nerds to get on some sort of rhythm.

When Pepper brought it up later on in bed, Tony had no choice but to tell a little white lie.

He does not fully outright lie to his beautiful soon-to-be-wife, but she would not have excepted a simple' I forgot'.

Tony doesn't think he really needs to figure out the kid's class. It's not like it will have an impact on how he sees the boy. And if it did impact his work, he's sure either Peter or his aunt will inform him.

However, met with silence. So it mustn't need to be addressed.

As he has stated time, and time again. Peter is a brilliant boy, knowing he will make an honest, smart decision.

Peter decides that he will be completely dishonest with his mentor.

Of course, he doesn't mean completely dishonest. He won't blatantly lie to the man, as that's too low for him. But if Tony hasn't asked about his classification yet, that must mean he doesn't care.

It's a lot easier to ignore that he's a little when he's completing big boy equations in the lab downstairs. That half the time, the smartest of scientist couldn't figure out. Men and women years older, struggling. Have come to the boy - rather than Tony - and asked for help.

A little couldn't possibly do half the task Peter accomplishes in a day.

While he can play a game of pretending when in the lab, or anywhere around Tony. It's different from life when he's home.

Aunt May is either there to cuddle and ask about his day, while she runs her fingers through his hair. Guaranteed Tony at least asks about his morning, but no comfort from the man. Well, apart from the odd hair ruffle and nickname.

Then there is Mason, who has come to sloppily feed him whatever mush he decided to mix together that particular day. Varying from mashed up icky broccoli, - knowing Peter hates his vegetables -to the normal mash potato and meat.

Apparently, - with some looking into - some littles lose the ability to chew correctly. Choking becoming a hazard. And so, Mason had opted for the whole 'Just looking out for Peter's well-being' kind of gig. Before being subjected to the most humiliating diaper change known to man.

So in conclusion, it's so much better to play pretend.

And that's what he planned throughout the sleepover. He impersonates.

To be fair, it was easy to hide. Why? Because he wasn't being forced into doing anything. It was all spent watching movies, eating junk and building a fort. To which, was very fun. Though staying up late, that wasn't so much fun. He was a little grumpy the following day, but nothing a can of red bull and coffee couldn't handle.

Which, Pepper gave Tony an ear full later on for. Saying how he's only young, and energy drinks aren't beneficial to anyone's health.

A couple of days later turns out to be Peter's breaking point.

Mason, like usual. Rouses Peter awake with the same not-so-gentle arm shake, before grumbling that it's too early and stumbling out of the room.

Everything seemed like a typical day. Until it ends up swerving down a different road.

What turned out to be different? Is the full breakfast Mason has laid out when he goes to the kitchen.

Peter doesn't eat very much in the mornings, usually choosing to grab some fruit on his way out the door. Not unless Mason, - on the off chance - stops him. A quick glance at the clock shows that the man woke him a lot earlier than necessary.

"Sit down Pete." Mason used his foot, from under the table. To push the other chair out, his hand gesturing to the seat.

"But I have to-" the boy starts. Trying to make his way to the bathroom, to remove the embarrassingly soggy nappy from between his legs. Only to be stopped and made to sit at the table.

This morning isn't going well at all.

Though thinking about it, with Mason around. When did anything go well?

"But you have to what? Huh? It can't be that important if it is. Then please share, I'll be the judge of deciding if it's of importance, or not." Mason crossed his arms over his chest. His eyebrow raised in silent question.

Peter knew it was no good, knowing already his needs held no significant value half the time. Whether that be, his finger is hanging off or he got a splinter in his foot. To Mason. He'll never be in such a situation labelled as "Important". His needs rarely ever met fist, before anyone else's.

If Mason needed to talk, then they were going to have to talk. Dropping everything else into the background. But for a sense of humour.

Peter told him.

And by gosh it made his tummy swell with embarrassment, and his cheeks burn with shame.

Mason let out a snort. "Oh, Petey. You wouldn't be in this situation if you knew how to keep the bed dry." The man chuckled, though only he thought his humour is funny. Peter didn't. In fact, it pissed him off.

He could feel the dried urine rub against sensitive areas, as to risk infection he needed to change. But alas, yet again. Mason deemed it not serious.

"I'm gonna get a rash," Peter warned. His voice wavered a little. But he stayed within his moment of courage.

"And you're going to get a sore ass if you don't get your padded behind at the table." Mason sassed back, motioning to the kitchen chair opposite him again.

Peter looked to the chair and inwardly whined. Which, may have slipped passed his lips. "I need to change, it hurts." The boy whimpered, squirming on the spot.

Sitting down seemed like too much pain if is caused this much while standing. He didn't want to imagine what it would feel like sitting down, rubbing against his bottom areas and within the creases of his skin. He stood there defiantly.

"If you don't move now, you're just earning yourself a punishment. Do you want that, this early in the morning?" Mason asked, his tone firm.

The answer, of course, is negative.

Mason first and foremost, has a heavy hand and isn't afraid to use it. Several times Peter has tensed with worry, each time he and his Aunt get into any dispute. Thankfully, he's never raised so much as an unkind word to her. And as long as it stays that way, Peter will do anything to protect her happiness.

Even if it means sacrificing his own.

Extremely hesitant, he walks over to the table. Though doesn't sit quite yet. He is mentally preparing himself, for the pain he'll be in once his bottom hits the cushion of the chair.

"That's it! If you need help sitting, you can have plenty of practice over here!" Mason all but roars before grabbing the young boy from behind. The bigger man manhandles his way from the table, unceremoniously dropping him on the stool placed in the corner.

Peter hates this stool.

Mason calls it the 'naughty chair' from some British show he watched. Threatening to place Peter in it, for any little thing he doesn't like. This includes - but is not limited to - fidgeting, twiddling his fingers, rocking back and forth and anything that could distract the man from watching TV or brings attention to himself.

"Now you'll sit here until you learn to listen and be a good little boy,"

The last phase is punctured with a pinch on the cheek before he leaves Peter staring at a wall.

All he can hope is that he isn't late for the first period. No way is he explaining that he was late because he was stuck in the corner.

His teacher might just give him a knowing look, before dismissing him to his desk.