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Okay. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
He could do this. He could do this. It was all going to be fine. He could do this.
Fuck. How the hell was anyone supposed to do this?
He checked his watch for the fifteenth time that minute. Tony was currently 12 seconds late. But he was always late, so this was fine. It didn’t mean anything. He was just caught up again. Which was normal.
Unless he’s found out and now hates me and is going to take the suit away and yell at me and never speak to me ever ever again-
“God, Peter, pull yourself together,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair and then clasping it into a fist in his lap. It was all going to be okay. It was. He just needed to keep breathing.
Fuck. Why was he even here? Why had he called Tony in the first place? Take an hour of your day please, Mr Stark, I need to tell you something that I’ve only just found out myself and is probably something you don’t care about at all anyway-
This was stupid. He should have just waited until it could come up in casual conversation, not….whatever this was. Pulling Tony out of his busy day in order to tell him this stupid thing was…well, it was stupid!
God, his hands were shaking.
What if Tony reacted badly? What if he got angry? What if…
what if he never wanted anything to do with Peter again?
It happened. He knew it happened. He’d heard all the horror stories. Kids, kicked out of homes by parents who had loved them unconditionally before. Put on the streets because they loved the wrong people.
Not that Tony would ever do that. Peter was scared, but he wasn’t stupid. For starters, Peter didn’t even live with Tony anyway.
Well. He hung out with Tony in his workshop after school more often than not, and occasionally slept there if Aunt May was doing the nightshift, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t deal without it. He’d been fine before Tony came along.
But that wouldn’t even happen. He was making this out to be bigger than it was. Tony was cool. Tony would be fine. And even if he didn’t like it, he knew that New York still needed Peter on side, so he probably wouldn’t take the suit back, or kick him out.
Probably.
Suddenly, there was a four-beat knock on the door, and Peter practically flew off the couch in his living room from the surprise.
Okay. Okay. Showtime.
It was going to be fine.
Taking another steadying breath, Peter smoothed out his jacket a little and took a step forward. He felt like his throat was constricted; like he could barely get any air into his lungs.
Okay. Well, Tony was already there now. He couldn’t chicken out. And he’d already taken the first step forward, so he really might as well do the rest.
“Peter?” Tony called out warily through the door, and Peter felt himself stumble a little at the sound of his voice.
Okay. This was real, then. He was really at the other side of the door.
“Yeah, uh… y-yeah. I’m coming,” Peter called out, hearing the little stutter in his own voice as he took another few steps forward and then put his hand on the doorknob.
It was going to be fine.
He opened the door.
Immediately, a hand shot out and grabbed his collar, yanking him forward. He was so caught by surprise he didn’t even fight it, and somehow ended up behind Tony’s back, held tight by a fierce grip on his jacket.
“What the fuck!” Peter blurted, eyes wide as he saw the gun Tony was pointing into the empty room, “Tony, chill, I’m okay! I’m okay!”
Tony stood, side-on at the door of Peter’s apartment, one hand extended as he held the gun aloft, other arm curled across Peter’s chest, putting him behind Tony’s body. His eyes were searching the room meticulously, every corner and inch of space, before frowning a little. “There’s no-one here.”
“No! No one here, Tony, I’m fine! This wasn’t… this wasn’t a trap, I promise, I just wanted to talk!” Peter said hurriedly, stepping out of Tony’s grip and then putting his hand on the gun, pushing it down again.
Tony turned, looking at him for a second before sighing and sagging against the door frame. “Jesus Christ, Peter, you scared the crap outta me- who the hell calls at 8 am on a Sunday morning, says nothing more than ‘I need to talk to you. Meet me at my apartment and don’t bring anyone else’ -in a voice that sounds absolutely fucking terrified, by the way- and then hangs up before I can even get a word in! I thought you were…” Tony rolled his eyes, and then smacked Peter lightly around the back of the head, “I thought you were in trouble. Idiot.”
Peter blushed in embarrassment, suddenly realising how bad his phone call probably sounded to a hardened superhero. “Oh God. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Tony huffed shaking his head and then tucking the gun back into the back of his jeans. “It’s fine, kid, don’t worry- just me being a paranoid bastard. FRIDAY?” He asked, tilting his head to the side and tapping on the comm in his ear, “you can send Iron Man home. False alarm.”
Peter spun around in surprise as he watched a red and gold blur suddenly whiz past the window and shoot into the sky.
God- he’d fucked up already, and he hadn’t even started the topic he was supposed to be broaching on.
What a disaster.
“Alright then, buddy,” Tony began, clapping him on the shoulder and stepping through the threshold, “now your imminent demise is no longer at the forefront of my mind, what do you wanna talk to me about?”
Peter stopped, taking time to shut the door as he processed his thoughts. Tony had made himself at home on the couch, and looked as laid back as always, head falling on to the worn-out cushions as he stared up at the ceiling.
“I…uh, I needed to…” Peter stopped, wincing a little. This sounded so stupid. “I needed to tell you. Something. Uh- yeah.”
Tony turned his head, looking at him with slightly raised eyebrows and a concerned expression on his face. “Okay… is it superhero stuff?”
“No,” Peter shook his head firmly, leaning back against the door and shutting his eyes for a second before pushing off and walking a few more steps into the room, until he was a meter away from the couch. He briefly debated sitting, but ultimately decided against it. “It’s not superhero stuff.”
Tony nodded slowly, sitting forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he looked up to Peter. “Alright. Then what is it?”
Peter stopped, opening and shutting his mouth like a goldfish. He didn’t know how to broach the subject at all- this had been a stupid stupid idea, he should’ve just waited a little longer, or at least had a better plan for it-
“Peter,” Tony said slowly, eyes fixed on Peter’s hands, which he realised were shaking a little in front of him, “what’s going on? Are you in trouble?”
Peter stopped, and then shook his head. The longer he dragged it out, the more worried Tony would get, which would just make Peter more anxious, which would in turn worry Tony even more, like a horrible cycle of bad feeling-
“IthinkI’mbisexual,” Peter blurted, faster than even he himself could make sense of.
Tony paused, and then jutted his head forward a little. “What?”
Peter took a deep breath, folding his arms awkwardly across his chest. “I…uh, I’m…I’m bi. Sexual. Bisexual.”
Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God-
Tony looked at him.
And looked.
And kept looking.
Oh shit. Oh shit.
“Hell yeah!” He said suddenly, holding up a hand and breaking out into a huge grin. “Me too, kid- I’m bisexual as fuck! join the club!”
Peter froze, looking curiously at Tony’s hand, still raised in the air as the man grinned up at him.
“You’re supposed to smack it with your hand,” Tony replied helpfully, catching the look, “it’s what people call a ‘high five’-”
“I know what it is,” Peter said, unable to stop rolling his eyes a little, before tentatively bringing his own hand up and tapping Tony’s weakly.
“Not good enough, kid, come on, mean it,” Tony shook his head and frowned, jiggling his hand a little in the air.
Peter stuttered, but smacked harder, and Tony whooped loudly. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
“I don’t…” Peter began, brow deeply furrowed. This had definitely not been what he was expecting in his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be…”
“What, serious?” Tony pulled a face, leaning back on the couch, “nah. I don’t do serious. Hey- do you wanna come to Pride with me? I go every year, and I think it’s coming ‘round again sometime soon.”
Peter stared, wide-eyed. He’d been so busy thinking of the worst-case scenarios that he had no idea how to react to this. “I- aren’t you… I don’t know- surprised? Shocked?”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “Kid, five minutes ago I thought you were in mortal peril. Honestly, I’m just glad this was what you wanted to talk to me about, rather than the fact you had terminal cancer or were moving to Russia or something.”
Peter deflated a little, nodding his head as he turned around and fell on to the couch next to Tony. “So…you’re bi too?” He asked quietly, biting his lip at the end and fighting down the urge to blush.
Tony laughed, “oh yeah. Why settle for just one sex? Boring. We get double the selection.”
Peter nodded again, frown still on his face. “When did you know?”
Tony squinted, thinking for a second before saying “probably knew when I was your age. Only acted on it when I was in my early twenties.”
Peter made a humming noise, suddenly feeling the wave of utter relief that overtook him, making him feel a little unsteady.
Tony was fine with Peter being bi. Tony, apparently, was bi himself.Nothing horrible was going to happen.
“So… you got anyone in mind?” Tony asked, pulling that typical adult face when they asked kids who their crush was. He shuffled on the couch until his knees were tucked into his chest and he was fully facing Peter, eyebrows raised in barely contained delight as he watched Peter roll his eyes and blush yet again.
“No,” Peter said, looking away and shrugging, “I just…I know that boys are really cute? But then…so are girls?”
Tony nodded in agreement, “that is very true, my friend.”
“And boys,” Peter said, moving a little so he was turning more to Tony, “have really awesome muscles. And their eyelashes are super long. I always noticed that. They’re so pretty, Jesus.”
“Hit the nail on the head,” he heard Tony mutter in agreement.
“But also,” Peter added, “ girls’ hair? It’s so…shiny? And they always get the nicest smelling shampoos. They’re gorgeous. I can’t decide which I like more.”
“You don’t have to,” Tony told him, fingers linking together against his stomach, “some people have preferences, some are equal opportunists. I will mostly date women, but I definitely like guys, too.”
Peter grinned, mirroring Tony’s previous expression as he raised his eyebrows and turned to face him. “So…you got someone in mind?”
Tony shot him a dry sort of look, and for a moment he looked sort of sad, before it was quickly passed off into a rolling of his eyes. “Ooh, ouch, that one’s a little complicated right now, kiddo. Maybe when you’re older.”
Peter felt his interest perk immediately. “Who is it? Who is it who is it who is it-”
“None of your gosh darn business,” Tony leaned forward, flicking him in between the eyes and huffing, “I get the feeling he’s not too keen on me, right now- if he ever was, anyway. It is an irrelevant subject matter- I’m here to interrogate you, not the other way around.”
“See, I was getting the feeling it was a mutual interrogation sort of thing,” Peter argued.
Tony looked blank. “I think that’s what most people call a conversation, kid. You need me to explain what they are, too? Basically, it’s where people-”
Peter groaned and poked him in the stomach with his toe. “You’re annoying. I should never have called you.”
Tony shrugged, “your mistake, not mine. Anyway- do you have chocolate here? I missed breakfast.”
“That’s bad,” Peter said, as Tony hauled himself up and wandered off in the direction of the kitchen, “and unhealthy. But there’s a chocolate cake in fridge. Bring it all over, I haven’t eaten yet either.”
“Uh, no,” Tony told him, pointing a finger toward the fruit bowl. “Youhave to eat something healthy. Like…I don’t know what the hell that is you’ve got there, a sort of…hairy plum? What the fuck kind of food is that?”
Peter looked at him, unimpressed. “That’s a kiwi, Tony. How long have you been awake?”
“Uh, not gonna disclose that, I don’t want to encourage you. Go eat fruit, get to bed on time, go to school, etc cetera etc cetera, see- good parenting. My work here is done,” Tony muttered, bending down and pulling the door of the fridge open.
“How come you get to eat cake and I don’t?” Peter called out indignantly.
“‘cause I’m an adult,” Tony replied.
“Yeah, but I just went through a gruelling emotional conversation. I deserve cake.”
Tony looked at him for a long while, before finally relenting. “Ugh, okay, good parenting failed. Go grab some plates, I don’t know where they are.”
Peter grinned in triumph, pulling himself off the couch and jumping over to the cupboards in one leap. Tony just pulled his lip up in a look of mild disgust. “It’s 8 in the morning. Do not be that enthusiastic at 8 in the morning. I’ll kick you out if I see that behaviour again.”
“It’s my house.”
Tony waved a hand over himself, “who’s the adult here? I get final say in everything, ever.”
“Objection-”
“Denied. Shut up, squirt, and fetch the plates. I want to eat and make fun of you.”
Peter shook his head and bit back a laugh, whilst Tony just wandered past him and ruffled his hair. “I am proud of you though, kid. I know it’s not easy,” he said softly.
Peter opened his mouth, trying to figure out how to answer. “I… yeah. Yeah,” was all he ended up saying, nodding a little awkwardly.
Tony chuckled a little, letting go and walking back over to the couch. “Did my seriousness bamboozle you? It’s rare, I know, but what can I say- the new me. I’m responsible now, you know.”
Peter pulled a face, following him. “Gross.”
Tony mirrored his expression a little, before picking a slice of cake up between his two fingers and shoving a good 60% of it into his mouth. “I kn’w, ‘ight? ‘M ‘shamed.”
Tony sat back, chewing the huge mouthful of cake and then pulling his legs up so they were resting across Peter’s lap. “So,” he said finally, swallowing the food down and then raising an eyebrow. “be honest, here- who’s the lucky fella?”
Peter sighed. He got the feeling this was going to become a pretty common occurrence.