Chapter Text
Ryland can barely believe his eyes. For a moment, he’s actually unsure if he’s actually awake or if this is a dream he’s made up in his half-dead state.
It’s been nearly fourteen years since he and Tony have seen each other face-to-face, and somehow Tony looks so different while nothing about him has changed.
Coiffed, neat hair styled with probably enough gel to make it appear spiky but is actually insanely soft, sleek black suit fitted to mold to his terms, loafers practically shining from the overhead lights, and his tie a bright reddish-orange and straight. Ryland has no idea how he’s able to handle a whole suit in New York spring heat, but that’s Tony Stark. Always ready to handle anything thrown at him. A trait that, as occasionally annoying as it is, Ryland has grown to admire and, once upon a time, had even loved.
He’s suddenly very aware of the fact that he’s horribly underdressed right now compared to Tony. He’s in one of his usual science shirts—the ones that his kids always call “corny” but love them anyways, similar to his middle schoolers—, the one that’s says “AH! The element of surprise”, dark-washed pants, and some fluffy white jacket that’s currently strewn over the back of his chair. Basically, he’s in a t-shirt and jeans in the presence of one of if not the richest man om Earth. Darn it, why did his usual suit have to be in the wash today of all days!?
Okay, Ryland, be cool. This is nothing, right? He can be professional. His student is here, for gosh sake, he cannot screw this up. At least Peter looks around as nervous as he is, although he doubts it’s for the same reasons. After exchanging brief pleasantries with the boy, he can’t help but let his eyes wander back to Tony. He tends to be able to do that a lot. Ryland knows this, obviously, he just didn’t account for how effective it would be even after all these years.
Alright, he can be chill about this. Totally. He has, at most, thirty minutes to spend with this man, which is on average how long these things last anyway. He can do this. He’s a grown man! And he’s certainly done worse things than seeing his college frenemy-with-benefits. He turns to address both of them instead of just ogling Tony.
”Hello Peter, good evening to you and your guardian.” He tries to keep the skepticism from leaking into his tone at the word guardian. He still doesn’t fully believe the story Peter told him but, well, what else could be do about it? Taking in a small gulp, he continues. “It’s nice to meet—”
He knows he’s said the wrong thing the second he sees Tony’s neutral face break into a crap-eating grin.
”C’mon, Ryland, baby, don’t say you don’t remember me?”
He feels a little lightheaded. Ryland doesn’t even know what to address first about that comment. His first thought should have been: “oh my God how inappropriate of him to be talking like that while Peter’s still in the room” (not like it’s be the first time Ryland’s been hit on not-so-subtly by a parent). His actual first thought is that Tony still calls him not only by his full first name—something nobody does anymore—, but also by that fudging pet name. A decade and a half later, it still has the exact same effect as it did when he was in grad school.
He momentarily forgets about Peter for a minute, snapping his head to turn to the man instead, and he has no doubt that the look on his face is something 25 year old Tony would’ve called “adorably flabbergasted”. Right now, though, he’s only aware that his eyes are wide and that he’s slightly slack-jawed. Tony looks smug as ever, and, for a fleeting nanosecond, Ryland is transferred back into his college days and he has the biggest urge ever to punch him. Peter’s small, wounded chortle of astonishment is honestly the only thing that stops him.
”WHAT? Huh? Mr. Stark, whatdidyoujusysAY?!?” Peter’s whipping his head back and forth from Ryland and Tony abd he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He really should’ve just called in sick.
Peter has never been more horrified in his life. Briefly, in the back of his mind, he really should unpack the part where Tony implied that he and Mr. Grace knew each other—rather intimately, too—, but he’s still hung up on the “baby” part. It’s absurd! His kind of father figure is flirting with his teacher! Shamelessly! Oh my god.
Peter is fully aware that he’s panicking and rambling, most of what he’s saying probably doesn’t even make sense, and it takes Mr. Grace clearing his throat to finally shut him up.
He’s—well, to be fair, Mr. Grace doesn’t look all that well himself either. He’s beet red—blushing, Peter’s brain unhelpfully corrects—all the way down to his neck, his eyes are wide and borderline terrified, and he’s fidgeting with one of the beanbags, squeezing it like it’s a stress ball. Peter sees him take a deep breath and close his eyes—is he praying!?—before he opens them and gives him a strained smile.
”Please, uh, take a seat. We’ve got a lot of…things to discuss.” Peter absolute does not miss the way Mr. Grace’s eyes flicker to Mr. Stark when he says “discuss”. He has a feeling this is gonna last much longer than he has originally anticipated.
It’s been a grand total of three minutes and the atmosphere is so thick you couldn’t cut it even with an industrial-grade Stark Industries-funded chainsaw. Everyone in the room looks deeply unnerved except for Mr. Stark himself. Now that he’s situated in a chair, Peter allows his mind to run wild.
Here are the facts:
—Tony Stark and his AP Chemistry teacher have, or at least had, something going on. He doesn’t wanna think about the specifics of that “something”.
—Tony Stark did not bother to tell Peter about this before entering this room. Or ever. (Suspicious.)
—Tony Stark is flirting with his AP Chemistry teacher. In front of his face. Right now. At this current moment.
—Tony Stark is honestly kinda a pervert when he’s flirting.
—Mr. Grace is absolutely a flustered mess. He has never had reactions this strong when other parents flirt with him, and Peter has seen and heard some of the crazy stuff some of those single parents say.
—Tony Stark seems to be having the time of his life.
—Peter is very confused and desperately wants answers.
Yea, that pretty much checks out. God, he needs to stop this before Mr. Stark makes his fiftieth sexual innuendo. They haven’t even started talking about the actual reason they’re here!
Coughing loudly and rather obnoxiously, Peter nudges Mr. Stark with his knee to get to him to please shut his mouth. If he says one more thing about “Ryland’s cute ride to school”, Peter thinks he might actually take a ride himself. To the nearest bridge and jump off of it.
Mr. Grace seems eternally grateful for his interruption as he tilts his head sideways as an invitation for Peter to start talking.
He’s been thinking of what he should say for a solid minute or two. It all flies out the window.
”Is anyone gonna tell me why the CEO of Stark Industries to flirting with you right now!?” Okay, yea, not his brightest or proudest moment. Ladies and gentlemen, Spider-Man himself! This is getting humiliating.
Mr. Grace thankfully rises to the challenge. “Well, um, me and Mr. Stark—”
”Aw, don’t wound me. First you claim to not remember me, now you won’t even call me by my first name? Well, you can call me anything you want, but don’t you think ‘Mr. Stark’ is a bit too formal? Even for you?”
Nothing in the whole multiverse would ever come near to seeing his soft-spoken, kind-hearted, never-raises-his-voice-or-curses teacher scowl at Mr. Stark.
“Shut your mouth, Stark, I’ll call you what I want to.” Judging by Mr. Grace’s shocked expression at himself and Tony’s ecstatic smirk, Peter can take an educated guess and say this took all of them off guard. But while Mr. Grace looks horrified with himself, Tony is elated. Like a little kid discovering his new favorite toy.
”Oh gosh, I’m so sorry about that, I don’t—”
”No, don’t be, please. Glad to see you’re finally looking like yourself again.” Mr. Stark’s voice is still teasing as it was before, but Peter can see just the smallest difference in his eyes. They’re softer, and looking at Mr. Grace with something oddly similar to fondness.
Mr. Grace simply nods, appearing to be at a loss for response, before returning to his previous point. “Uh, like I was saying. Your guardian and I knew each other in grad school, Peter. We were…um…classmates. Well, teammates, technically. We were both Speech and Debate club members at our respective schools and during a mixer event, they randomized all the students from the club throughout all the colleges and put them on teams together. And we ended up on the same team, along with a couple other people. Did a couple of rounds abd prompts together until the event was over, and that was it.”
Peter considers calling bullshit before deciding against it.
Come on, it’s so obvious that’s not the full extent of it! Peter has no doubt that Mr. Grace is telling the truth about the debate thing, but he also knows for sure that he’s lying about that being “it”. Club members don’t aggressively flirt with each other, that’s, like, fuck buddy behavior! Especially a decade after they’ve finished grad school.
But then that begs another question. Why was Mr. Grace not telling the truth?
Peter steals a quick glance over to Mr. Stark and gets a massive wave of whiplash when the man’s face is back to being stoic as ever. A little pinched too, matter of fact. He looks like someone just took his lollipop and shit on it. It’d be a bit funny if it weren’t concerning.
Eventually, though, after the awkward explanation, they move onto the actual reason for the conference. Well, the reason was that Peter wrangles a stubborn Mr. Stark into an apology and leave after like ten minutes. However, Mr. Grace is intent of actually discussing Peter’s grades and academic life, and he can’t exactly turn him down. That is what Parent-Teacher Conferences are for, after all. It’s just unbearable considering that Mr. Stark’s energy seems to be completely renewed and he’s back to his previous advances, somehow even stronger than before.
“So, um, trip down memory lane aside, I’d like to talk about Peter’s credits. Seeing as he’s currently a Senior, there is of course a lot of things being put into works for the last quarter of his high school career. Peter, I think you’ve talked to one of the counselors about it?”
”Yea, I have. The goal’s MIT right now but we’ve been talking about backups too. You know, prestigious school and all that,” Peter supplies, smooth as ever. This he can deal with. School stuff. Not Tony-Stark-has-a-complicated-past-with-his-teacher stuff. However, it doesn’t look like he’s willing to let Peter forget about that.
”Ah, I remember MIT. Real pretty gardens from what memory serves, right? You always had a soft spot for sunflowers. And the gazebo! Remember when we’d sneak off in our free time to go there an—”
”YEA, um, uh huh, MIT sounds great, Peter. Good school. Big grounds. Very nice programs. You’ll do amazing. But, ah, it seems you’re missing a PE credit.”
”Tsk, I’ll get that covered, Ryland. You see, Peter here was very busy around that time, with doing the intern here at Stark Industries. It’s a no-brainer he’d be missing a class here and there, but I’m sure we could work something out, hmm?”
Holy shit, Tony Stark was flirting his way out of having to deal with Peter making up classes! He can’t tell if he’s extremely grateful or disgusted.
Mr. Grace doesn’t buy it, though. “See, but the problem is that it’s not just ‘a class every now and then’. He’s either absent or tardy for nearly every single one of them. And he missed a good chunk of the fitness tests last semester, the mile’s a big one, so if he wants to make them up in time I’m afraid you’ll have to take PE courses over the summer.” Crap, now he’s in a tight spot. Summer is practically mating season for crime to start skyrocketing, and if he misses patrol again for homework Steve is going to give him another hour-long lecture.
”Oh, Ryland, you can’t seriously expect him to make up a course’s work in just one mere summer? He’ll never get it done!”—“Actually, it’s a pretty short and simple course”—“I think you should let bygones be bygones. He’ll make up the tests needed right now, and the rest will come together, right?”
Patient as ever—seriously, sometimes Peter is convinced Mr. Grace is the closest thing to an Angel you could get—, Mr. Grace explains, “No, I’m afraid that’s not how that works. Even if he gets the highest possible scores on his missed tests, there’s still the individual class activities and points. Not to mention that the school won’t allow this anyway, respectfully speaking it’s a preposterous notion to present. They won’t authorize it, even for you, Mr. Stark.”
”Oh, sweetheart, we’ll see about that.”
Someone please just tell Peter this is some deranged nightmare he conjured up and wake him up.
Mr. Grace fumbles and mutters under his breath as Mr. Stark continues to stare at him with that look that says he’s already won whatever this is.
Sighing, Peter speaks up before this can escalate any further.
”Uh, PE aside, is there anything else I need, Mr. Grace?”
”N-no, Peter, your grades are as excellent, as always. I would ask more about the process of applying to MIT and college essays and whatnot, but I’ll leave that up to your counselor to talk to you about. If you need help, though, my classroom is always open. During office hours, that is,” Mr. Grace adds at the end, a hint of a smile ghosting his face.
It disappears immediately when Mr. Stark opens his mouth again. God, he seriously needs to unlearn how to do that.
”Even for me, Ryland? I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer, although I sincerely hope it’s open during non-office hours too. I’d hate for the students to walk in on anything…unfortunate, on accident.”
Peter’s about to be sick.
“Ehem, is there anything else you wanted to talk about, Mr. Grace? Anything, at all?” Peter all but basically begs, hoping his teacher gives him an out of this. He does, thank God.
”Yea—yes, um, I’ve been receiving complaints from other teachers that you’ve been ‘too disruptive’ recently. Do you know what that could be about? I’d hate for some grudge between you and your teachers to ruin the last of your Senior year,” Mr. Grace adds. Now that’s interesting. Peter genuinely doesn’t know what he could’ve done to offend his teachers, since most of them ignore him anyways.
”I…have no idea, Mr. Grace. Really, I swear. If I had to guess…” Peter trails off, before something suddenly pops into his mind. “Is it because of the bathroom breaks? If that’s it, I don’t…really…know…what I could do. I’ve been having stomach problems recently.” A lie, of course, albeit an embarrassing one, but it’s just that too much stuff has been happening with the random major crimes sparking around the city, and he needed a quick out of the classroom.
”Oh, that sounds unpleasant, are you okay? I mean, not to pry, but that sounds like trouble.” Mr. Grace’s frown makes Peter feel bad instantly. He appreciates the concern, but it makes him feel all the more guilt at having to lie to his teacher.
”No, it’s alright, I probably just haven't been eating well these past couple of days, hah. It’s nothing though, I promise.”
”Alright…if you say so, Peter. I would suggest going to see a doctor about it and showing your teachers the note. It’ll do well for them to have an explanation, at least. Oh! Before I forget, there’s also something about finals I’ve been meaning to ask you about…”
Tony is sure that he’s going crazy. Slowly, but surely, being in Ryland’s presence is making him go insane.
He’d expected…well, he didn’t really know what to expect, but it wasn’t this. Definitely not this.
He’d had a small inkling that the man before him would strike him as a complete and utter stranger. He had been ready for it, in fact. After all, it only made sense. With over a decade of time apart, it logistically made sense that Ryland would feel like a foreign entity to him.
Tony was never prepared for that statement to be so incorrect.
Sure, someone who knew Ryland on a surface level back then versus now would say that he’d changed. But that wasn’t what Tony saw. No, what Tony Stark saw wasn’t a jarring change, that wasn’t the right word for it. It was maturity.
And damn, did Ryland look good with it.
There was nothing replaced because it was still all there, just more rounded out and thought through. Where there used to be a reckless, sharp, cunning edge, it had mellowed out to become something that, while still stern, was more gentle and wise. Where there used to be sarcastic, witty remarks that knew exactly where it hurt and utilized it to a brutal accuracy, there’s now a soft redirection that, instead of harshly picking at the scabs, now handled them with methodical care to pave way for healing. Ryland had traded leather jackets for wool cardigans, cigarettes for woody incense, hard liquor for Earl Gray tea. And God was it addicting.
Don’t get him wrong, there were still a lot of habits Ryland kept that just added to his familiarity. How he still pouts when he doesn’t get his way, how he bites his lips and nails when nervous, how his left eye still microscopically twitches when he’s annoyed but doesn’t want to admit it, how he still fidgets with his fingers when he’s deep in thought, how he still blushes that adorable shade of red all the way down to his collarbones, Tony could go on for ages. The images of a wild uni student Ryland and the one sitting across from him right now don’t clash, they melt together to form one solid picture.
Besides, it’s much more fun to try to make this Ryland lose his composure. Back when they were still in their twenties, getting him riled up was an easy feat if you knew where to push. He was still patient, yea, but it was more of a straining-to-be-let-free-and-barely-keeping-it-together kind of patience, not the polished calm as it is right now. You could insult anything about his appearance, his manner of speech, his outfit of choice, all of those things were deemed to be materialistic to Ryland and, therefore, he didn’t care. If you went for his work, however, you were bound to uncover somebody with quick and cruel enough jabs to unwrap every layer of defense you’ve ever built for yourself. At that point, it was less of a petty remark and more of him breaking down every single insecurity and flaw you had with a maniacal precision so intensely efficient it made war veterans tremble.
It was exhilarating. Being so close to something he can’t have—yet. Tony isn’t one to give up, after all.
As Ryland and Peter continue their conversation, Tony steals a quick glance to his watch. Shit. He’s only got about five more minutes until he has to start leaving with Peter. They can’t be caught here, it’d be on the front page for ages. He has to figure out how to see Ryland again, and fast.
Tony finally tunes back into the conversation. Something about finals coming up or whatnot. He clears his throat.
“So, Ryland, what about we do this again sometime soon?”
Blanching, the man turns to him and tilts his head, furrowing his eyebrows. God, for a man pushing forty he’s fucking adorable.
“Huh? W—what do you mean? I guess like, yea, Parent-Teacher Conferences are required and whatever but this is the last one for the school year. And Peter’s graduating. There’s really no need for you to come back, unless you wanna speak more about Peter’s future and his current courses, but that’s more of a counselor thing. And he’s passing with straight A’s anyways. If it’s a Chemistry concern, I can assure you—”
“No, Ryland, I’m not talking about Peter. I’m asking you to go out with me again.” Well, subtlety was never Tony’s area of expertise. And it’s definitely not Ryland’s either.
Ryland turns red all over again, quickly averting his gaze and shooting a worried glance over to Peter. No, that won’t do.
“Um, gee—geez, Mr. Stark, I don’t think that’s very prof—”
“Ryland, please, you’re breaking my heart, baby. You’d turn me down? Really? Even if it concerns…the Task Force?” Okay, alright, yea, that was a really low blow, even for Tony Stark. He knew the Petrova Task Force would really be the only thing that’ll give him an excuse to be around Ryland, and judging by the way his breath hitches, he’s hit dead-center. “You owe me, y’know. My team did have to clean up your guys’ mess. Blowing up the ship with a miscalculation was a rookie mistake, and one I can’t believe you would overlook. C’mon, nothing fancy. Just let me take you to dinner, alright? I’ll make it fun and worth your time.”
He doesn’t need to look at Peter to know the kid is probably floored.
“Mr. Stark,” Ryland grits out. How is it possible he sounds even more attractive when he’s holding back? “I really don’t think that’s a good idea. If you’re salty about having to step up on saving the world with your magical boy group, you can take it up with Stratt in her jail cell. Or better, the world governments, because I don’t see how this has anything to do with me—”
“Oh, Ryland, but it does. Now that Stratt is in jail, she has no more authority. You’re basically her next of kin, being her second-in-command—”
“I’m not, and even if I was, I'm not in the field anymore. Stratt is, however, and there’s already talk of them releasing her to let her continue her work with different circumstances—”
“And how would you know that if you weren't on the Task Force? Last I checked, that’s not public news, honey.”
Tony knows he’s won when Ryland glares at him—ohmygod he’s missed that so, so much—, clenching his jaw and balling his fists up like he’s reeling to punch him.
“I don’t owe you anything, Tony.”
He never thought just merely hearing his name, his actual given name, in Ryland’s voice in that tone would have him so riled up, but there’s many things Ryland Grace can achieve.
He’s just about to snap, Tony can feel it, thick and palpable. He just needs another push. “Hmm, I think that Stratt would disagree with you, Ry. She promised me anything within her power if I complied quickly, and under everyone’s noses. I’m afraid your hands are tied, Angel.” He hasn’t called anyone, let alone Ryland, “Angel” for over a decade, but the effect is almost immediate.
Ryland’s whole body tenses, both at his nickname and the pet name, and he downright growls at Tony. The look in his eyes is reminiscent of the one he had during the UNESCO Conference, a memory Tony will equally treasure and loathe forever.
“Get out,” Ryland snarks, tone clipped and furious. He doesn’t even spare a glance at Peter. “Get out of my classroom, Tony, and go fuck yourself.”
Oh, how Tony’s heart sings at Ryland’s curse. It’s been far too long since he’s done that.
Grinning, he stands up and pushes his chair in. He’s still got manners. He turns to the door, knowing that Peter is already scrambling after him. Ryland stands, and Tony takes the chance to have his final word before a desk gets flung at his head.
“I’ll see you around, babe.”
Peter can’t believe what just happened. Now he’s even more sure that he’s dreaming. Or in a nightmare. Or possibly hallucinating.
He doesn’t even have time to be mad at Mr. Stark. Their goal—or at least Peter’s—had been to placate and apologize to Mr. Grace. Not make him even more angry. And Mr. Stark had managed to do that flawlessly. Something that implies there’s been a reason for why he’s so good at making Mr. Grace mad, but Peter doesn’t wanna think about that. He still hasn’t even processed the last thirty minutes properly yet.
They get in the car, and the sound of the radio blasting, as well as the AC on his skin, finally zaps Peter out of his trance. He turns, ever so slowly, to Mr. Stark.
”Okay…Mr. Stark, I’m gonna need you to tell me everything about your involvement with Mr. Grace. Like, right now. Or else I will drive myself crazy trying to figure it out.”
Huffing out a half-sigh, half-laugh, Mr. Stark runs a hand through his hair, messing up the carefully styled gel.
”I wish I could tell you, Peter. I really do.”
This…was going to take years off of his life. He can already feel it. God, what did Peter just get himself into?