Back with a chapter. Hope you all enjoy (:

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It's Saturday. He arrives to work at eight forty four, caramel macchiato with extra whip in one hand - the other a cream cheese bagel.

'Good morning, Mr Anderson.'

"JARVIS," Connor greeted as he stepped into the glass lift. "Is Peter here?"

'Young sir, never left, Mr Anderson.'

Just as well he brought coffee, then. Surveillance on Peter Parker showed the boy had an inclination for this brand of caffeine and style of breakfast - and the Lieutenant suggested this morning that it was a reliable ice-breaker.

The door dinged open. Peter sat at a bench in the far back of the room. Connor took him in, analysis over and complete in a handful of seconds.

[CLINICAL SLEEP DEPRIVATION]

[HAND ANALYSIS; OUTER LAYER TISSUE DAMAGED

CONCLUSION: SUPERFICIAL BURN

HEALING RATE: 3-6 DAYS]

"Good morning." As he made his way in, Connor stepped over an implement that appeared to have popped off the half-collapsed droid model against the first bench. "I bring nourishment."

Peter blinked owlishly. "You're here? Didn't you just…." He searched the room, then himself and rubbed his eyes. Dropping the soldering iron. "It's Saturday."

"Sorry to break it to you," Connor handed Peter the drink, bagel and while he ate, he examined the creation coming along. "This is a gauntlet from a departed Iron Man suit."

"Yeah."

"You're making upgrades," Connor stared. "Mr Stark allows this?"

"He encourages it," said Peter, standing up and stretching.

"From my understanding Mr Stark doesn't allow the American Government near his suit unless supervised."

"What can I say," Peter flopped back down and bit into his bagel, "I'm special."

[SECONDARY MISSION IMPERATIVE UPDATE: EARN STARK'S TRUST]

[INFILTRATION: ^ 5%]

"Do you always operate with a certain level of," Connor eyed the state Peter was in once again, "negligence to one's self?"

"One's self," Peter echoed. "Do you always speak like an Elf from World of Warcraft?"

[WORLD OF WARCRAFT; MULTIPLAYER ONLINE ROLE PLAYING GAME

RELEASED 2004 BY BLIZZARD ENTERTAINMENT]

[AFFILIATION: HOSTILE]

Connor smiled pleasantly. "JARVIS," he called to the ceiling, "what's on the agenda today?"

'Sir left no orders.'

"In other words; do anything except blow yourself up," Peter chimed. Sipping his drink. He looked at it, then at Connor - who began to studiously clean a bench for himself to work. "How'd you know I like caramel macchiatos?"

"Swing and a hit," Connor thought this was an excellent reply.

.

Peter disappears to clean himself up leaving Connor alone to his own devices. He spent the first minutes organising before taking the opportunity to inspect the gauntlet and examine parts of the update Peter had begun to install.

[OBJECTIVE: REFINED FIRE POWER]

The ambition was clear, but the execution was hazardous at best.

"JARVIS, where's Peter exactly?"

'Young sir is currently in the locker room. Would you like me to pass along a message?'

"No need," Connor picked up the soldering iron. "Notify me when he's in the lift."

'As you wish, Mr Anderson.' There was a hesitancy to the robotic tone that Connor took for further inspection.

The intentions that took Peter all night to figure out, Connor managed to finish and furbish in that hour. Being an android not programmed for mechanics, Connor thought he had done a satisfying job. There were every chance this could aim a positive light into Peter's thoughts about him.

.

"So what's this?" Demanded Tony. Not giving Connor room to greet his boss a good morning as he came flambéing in.

"Sir - "

"Tony, kid. How many times must i say it."

Connor took a moment to consider that sort of easy familiarity, "Alright, Tony. This is Peter's work," he said. Touching some flustering tones. "I was just - helping."

Humming and peering and prodding, Tony snorted. "This is more than helping kid, you re-wired the entire thing. Why?"

"I had to," said Connor, gesturing to a certain area of the glove, "these wires Peter originally worked with would have fried and caused a short circuit to the suit which would in turn, cooked you into thanksgiving turkey."

"Okay," Tony said, sounding disturbed. "That's reasoning enough." He slapped the plates securing the glove's internal hardwiring and began putting it on. "Let's test this baby's horsepower out, then."

"Please don't," Connor politely requested. Tony cackled and slapped Connor's back companionably. "This is a terrible idea."

"Most of my ideas are. Doesn't keep me from trying though!" He started to shout over the loud whirring of the glove's device.

[CHANCE OF SURVIVAL: 90%]

"I think you should know," Connor said over it, "that I am in disfavour of this."

"Sure!" And in a sound similar to nails on a chalkboard, a yellow stream of energy spat out the glove's palm bringing down an entire section of wall. Leaving behind a crisp circle of cement. Letting out a whoop, Tony called sharply, "JARVIS, report."

'Energy emission far surpassed Mark 7.'

"You know," said Tony. Stripping the glove he patted his cheek, "you know Connor, you're pretty nifty with tech."

Would be a mystery if he weren't. "I try."

'Mr Anderson, Young sir is here'

Tony gave Connor a strange look, "You sic'd my AI on Petey?"

"Well…" He shrugged.

Tony wagged a finger. "Naughty."

"Apologies."

"Holy mother of cow," was Peter's initial reaction to the steaming hole in the wall. "What - " dark circled eyes darted from the glove to Tony to Connor. "You got the glove working."

"Very astute of you," Connor smiled. Attempting to mimic Tony's show of affection.

Peter stared at him. "I was working on that, you know. Could have asked."

[AFFILIATION: HOSTILE]

"Sorry?" He raised his hands in peace.

Peter slapped them down and advanced on Tony to talk about something private. Getting the signal he was no longer wanted, Connor diverged to a small project at his bench.

The computer at it bleeped with a message from JARVIS with a file attachment.

[Sir would like you to go over these blueprints for a new StarkPhone and find any ways to improve it.]

Clicking the pdf, Connor got to work.

.

Nearing the end of afternoon, Connor's phone beeped.

To Connor

From Flash

Nearby, want me to pick u up? Would like ta see how my phone is doin

To Flash

From Connor

Thank you, that would be nice. Work ends in 15 minutes. Don't be late.

To Connor

From Flash

Don't get ur titties in a twist bitch I'll be there when I be there

Connor processed the message with a matter of uncertainty. Safer to seek clarification than to assume. "Peter," he called over to the boy elbow deep in the droid he almost tripped over this morning, "can bitch be perceived as a term of endearment?"

"Wha - yeah. Yes." Peter blinked, "What?"

To Lieutenant

From Connor

Lieutenant, I will be spending the night at Flash's. There is a bowl of spaghetti bolognese in the fridge for dinner. Will return at 11:30.

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Connor exited Stark Industries to the sight of Flash pulled up outside in his sport car arguing with the office guard.

"Sir," Connor heard woman plead, "you can't park here."

"I'm not parking I'm waiting for - him!" Flash furiously gestured to Connor. "You're late."

"You're early."

"Sir, your friend here - "

"Has a quick temper but means nothing by it. I assure you, dear lady - " Quickly Connor placated the woman's frustration. Convincing her to let Flash off with a simple warning.

"You sweet talker," Flash teased as he got in the car. Humour freezing as his eyes slid over his shoulder. Connor followed the gaze and waved to Peter. The boy stepped out of the building in a yawn and eye twitch.

[SITUATION ANALYSIS - - -]

"Let's give Peter a ride to the station."

Flash's stupefied silence left room for interpretation. He took it for a positive one.

Settled, Connor wound down the window and called to Peter over the fierce dismissals Flash began hissing. Hesitant, Peter strode over. Haunched body blocking the cool breeze.

"Flash is giving you a ride to the station."

Peter froze mid-step.

"You what."

"Hell," Flash punched the steering wheel and growled, "Why not!"

.

Nobody attempted to talk on the quick drive to the station - they were all stolen from the blasting rock station Flash promptly pushed to life the moment Peter hopped in.

"Thanks for the ride," is what he parted with.

"You're a bitch," is what Flash said next.

"Excuse me." Connor said in a smile. "I'm trying to play nice with my co-worker.""

"Sweet. Make as many friends as you want but when it comes to Peter," Flash narrowed his eyes, "keep it away from me."

"Can do," he conceded.

.

Flash went about his apartment setting up a sitting situation smack dab against the glass wall overlooking manhattan. Though it being daylight, thunder clouds obscured it making the day appear later than it was.

Flash sat down against the wall. Connor did the same opposite and presented Flash his new and improved phone.

Checking over his phone Flash muttered, "Looks thinner."

"Should hope so," said Connor, "That was the hardest part."

"You're such a fucking geek," Flash smiled. Almost certainly satisfied with the finished product.

.

They stayed up until 11pm - Connor's limit. He had notified the Lieutenant earlier on his arrival time and didn't plan to deviate from it. Flash offered a lift, but having had a beer his intoxication levels were beyond regulation on his Ps.

Statistically, walking in Manhattan at dark wasn't the safest.

[AWARENESS LEVELS: ^ OPTIMUM CAPACITY]

Night vision on, Connor spotted the incoming figure round a dark alley intending to pull him in Prepared, Connor let the man ring him in by the collar of his jumper. Waited until there were no witnesses and shop cameras in view to palm the man's fists off and flip them around. Synthetic, forearm pressed against his attacker's trachea - light enough to convey warning - while his other hand patted down for weapons.

Tyler had managed to surprise him and Connor took this as a learning. To not underestimate drug offenders. He muted out the boy's rambling lies as he took inventory of a half-finished packet of prescription pills he didn't need. And flip knife.

"You shouldn't jump people like that," Connor said. Pocketing the valuables. "They could get the wrong idea."

Tyler tried to laugh, "Yeah, man. Sorry."

"Were you intending to kill me?"

"No!"

"Send a message?"

"No, man"

[LIE]

"What was the message?" Connor asked, analysing Tyler's micro expressions. "To stop being friends with Flash?" Bingo. "I assume given the hoodie, dark alley...you wanted me to think you were some anonymous benefactor." He laughed, "Sorry. You're not going to get what you want, Tyler. Let it go." To cement the sentiment, Connor sent a hard fist into Tyler's stomach. He let the boy drop to the ground. Landing in shit and muck. "See you at school."

Just for incentive's sake, he gave another meritorious kick to the stomach.

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