As Peter stepped into the lab, he still carried the chill from outside, the cold morning wind had reddened his cheeks slightly. He exhaled, and put down his backpack.
The warm air in the lab made him break into a slight sweat. He took off his coat and threw it onto the back of a chair. Stark was still drowsy when he woke up. Peter said: "I heard from Doctor Schiller that you are troubled by something. The school is closed today, and I'm not interested in those football games. I think we can solve these troubles together, but first…"
He pulled out a bag from his backpack, struggling to hold onto it because it was hot, and then said: "I've brought the tastiest pancakes from the school's neighborhood. I swung swift enough, it's still warm."
Then he turned around, glanced at the coffee machine in the corner, set the bag with the pancakes aside, then ran to the coffee machine, fidgeting with it and saying, "Let's have a cup of coffee. The espresso at Doctor Schiller's place is too bitter. I really can't get used to it. Let me see — I'd like a double milk, double sugar Latte. What would you like, Mr. Stark?"
Stark sat by the window, his head propped up with his hand. He still felt a bit foggy.
Peter's buzzing around was imbued with a vibrancy and enthusiasm typical of his age, much like a bustling New York morning. Although it seemed a bit overdone and even comical, this vitality once again stirred Stark's heart, which had been frozen in the night.
Peter held two cups of coffee on a tray in one hand and a bag of pancakes in the other, then dumped them all onto the table.
Peter unwrapped the pancake, squeezed the accompanying sauce on top, and then handed it to Stark. Stark wasn't fond of receiving things, but he took it anyway, and took a bite.
Peter's and Stark's tastes did not match. Peter liked foods with heavy flavors, preferred to put all kinds of sauces, but Stark's taste was rather bland. He took a bite of the pancake. The somewhat pungent taste of the sauce overpowered the fragrance of the pancake itself, which, in Stark's opinion, wasn't very tasty.
Fortunately, as Peter said, the pancakes were newly baked in the morning. They had not yet gone cold throughout Peter's swift dart through half of New York, coupled with the full-bodied coffee. Stark felt a surge of warmth in his chest; it felt like coming back to life.
During the entire night, Stark didn't feel like crying. Or rather, that emotion was always pressing in his heart, but it couldn't reach his eyes.
However, this ordinary breakfast made Stark feel like he had been rescued. He never thought he would be moved to tears over a two-dollar pancake.
Peter across him was not a graceful eater. He had squeezed so much sauce that a lot of it was stuck to the corners of his mouth. As usual, he took a huge bite and kept chewing non-stop in his mouth.
The steamy breakfast made him sweat even more. He tugged at his collar and his clothes got a bit disheveled.
His appearance and this meal were dissonant within the Stark Building, where everywhere was cold metal, high-end experimental instruments, and orderly blinking lights.
It was like someone forced a streak of colorful paint onto cold and organized mechanical parts.
But Peter was not affected at all. He swiftly finished a pancake, then gulped down a large cup of coffee, and finally sank into the back of the chair with a satisfied sigh.
Wiping his mouth, Peter said, "It's great. I used to only be able to eat this once a week. You know, though delicious, it's a bit expensive. Eating in the school cafeteria can save me half the money."
"But I really don't like the sausages in the school cafeteria. So, whenever Uncle Ben gave me pocket money, I'd go there to eat."
"Gwen also likes this place. Now we go there for a meal after school every day. I used to complain about the lack of chairs there, but when I'm with Gwen, we'd squeeze into a corner, eat and chat. What could be better than that?"
Stark looked down at his hand. What was a whole pancake was now only leftover wrapping paper with some sauce on it. His coffee was nearly finished too.
"This is my first time eating this," Stark said.
Peter said with a bit of surprise, "No way? Pancakes are quite popular in our area, almost everyone at school loves them."
"You know Thompson, right? The big guy on our football team I've mentioned? He can eat five portions at once. Last time he insisted that I get his breakfast. I wouldn't have done that if he hadn't given me an extra tip."
Then Peter said in a relaxed tone, "But it's fine. Everything has a first time, right? How did you like it, the taste isn't bad, right?"
Stark clicked his tongue. He had to admit that human taste buds liked rich flavors. Those sauces, though maybe not the healthiest, were indeed quite tasty.
After they finished eating, Peter stood in front of the lab bench. His original plan was to see if Stark had any new mecha ideas, then he discovered those stacks of books and materials.
Contrarily to Pepper, Peter could comprehend the complex experimental data, but he absolutely couldn't understand those long treatises.
He picked up one of the papers, glanced at it for a moment, then covered his eyes said, "It's as if I forgot English. Every single word seems familiar, but also so strange...."
"I think that someday, you'll have to learn these," Stark said.
Peter shook his head and said, "That's why my dream has never been to own a company or be something like the richest man in the world. I know I can't comprehend all these, I might not be able to hire a single employee because I do not understand what they are thinking, and I'd probably mess up any business deal…"
Stark's hand holding the book stiffened for a moment.
Peter's words reminded him that he wasn't being forced to learn these things. He chose to save Stark Industries. If he chose to give up the company and be an independent street hero like Peter, there wouldn't be a need for him to read these things, certainly.
As long as he has his genius mind, even if he had to collect materials from a garbage dump, he could still build a mecha.
So why did he choose to save this company? Stark thought, the pain of learning these things was probably just as bad as rummaging through a garbage dump.
Then Stark thought of Pepper, thought of Obadiah, and also thought of his father.
Just then, Jarvis reminded, "Mr. Steve is visiting."
"Close the door, refuse the visitor."
But it was too late, Steve had already appeared at the lab door, he crossed his arms and said, "Shiller said you seemed to be in some trouble, so I rushed over to ridicule you."
"Shut up, or I'll put on my Mecha and teach you a lesson right now."
"We haven't even squared up about the bill for when you used your Mecha to blow up my place."
"You deserved that."
The two bickered a bit. Just as it looked like they were about to start fighting, Peter stepped between them, extending his arms to hold them back.
Steve said, "I actually have some clues about your father's relics. I guess you don't want to hear it."
Stark was taken aback. He seemed a little wary as he asked, "My father has other relics? Are you trying to trick me?"
Steve shook his head and said, "I don't know the truth about your father's death. But I'm certain it wasn't simple. It's likely that he was prepared…"
Stark, lips pursed, asked, "The stuff… where is it?"
"It should be at the old site of Stark Industries. But don't get your hopes up too high, he wouldn't have left anything important there."
"The Howard Automobile Company, you mean? Jarvis, didn't you find some of Obadiah's research materials there last time?"
"Yes, sir. However, there are two old sites. Stark Industries has relocated before. I've sent out Mechas to search at both locations."
"It seems you really care about your father," Steve said.
"No, I just…"
"No, I mean it. You don't have to deny it. All I can tell you is that your father's activities back in the day, as well as his death, were not so simple. He …"
Steve paused and seemed a bit hesitant, but continued, "In your eyes, he may not have been a good father, but from my perspective, he must've been a good partner. What do you think created this difference?"
Stark furrowed his brow, sensing that Steve was trying to gently nudge him towards something but unwilling to say more, which left him feeling somewhat agitated.
Now he realized why Shiller had instructed him to read those theoretical books. For every move Steve made, he could find a corresponding entry in his mind. This helped Stark view his attitude from a more objective perspective. If it had been before, he would've grabbed Steve by the collar and demanded an explanation.
But now, he knew that Steve wanted to hint at something without explicitly saying it. Even if he confronted him about it, at most it would result in a fight, and Steve might even think he was being unreasonable.
It was the first time Stark appreciated the beauty of what he had learned, which could save him from wasting his efforts and make him appear smarter and more unpredictable to others.
Seeing that Stark had no reaction, just contemplating in his original place, Steve felt a bit surprised. What was wrong with Stark today? Was he sick? He had been expecting Stark to go hysterical and force him to tell the truth.
Was it possible that Stark knew something?
However, this wasn't impossible. Steve thought the Starks were all extraordinarily clever, maybe little Stark had only disdained him in the past, but should be reliable when it came to serious subjects.
Peter found it hard to understand the subtle atmosphere between these adults and could only ask, "Captain, would you like a cup of coffee?"
"No, I just came to deliver a message, I haven't jogged yet this morning."
"Oh, right." Peter took out a lunchbox from his backpack and said, "This is the lunch box I took from Shiller a few days ago. If you pass by the clinic, could you help me return it to him, and by the way, there are two pancakes in it, one for each of you. The sauces are in the compartments…"
Steve opened the lid and glanced inside, then said, "You can give it all to Shiller. I'm not used to food with so much sauce, and to be frank, I don't understand why you guys are so much in love with Mexican food; it is too overpowering."
"Okay, then. Let's give it all to the doctor. See you."
After Steve left, the Mecha soon flew in through the window. One of them was holding an old leather case in its hand. Stark couldn't care less about the dust on it. He turned it over and found an old notebook inside.
Stark opened the notebook and glanced at it. Half of it appeared to have been soaked in liquor. When he opened it, he couldn't find any useful information.
All it contained was Howard's scribblings when he was drunk and chaotic lines and jumbled letters. He couldn't make out anything.
Stark set down the notebook. He felt both disappointed and, oddly, a bit relieved.
His father better not be some savior he had to depend on in times of difficulty or hardship. Howard was not a person he wanted to think about when he was down,
A genius, Stark thought, there could be only one genius in the world named Stark, and that was him, Tony Stark.