Chapter Text
Pairing: Mob Boss Tony x Peter Parker
Word Count: 1219
Warnings: Drug use, slight foul language, mentions of violence
There wasn't anything that got past Tony. He was a silent, but thorough observer which was necessary for his line of work. Of course, a large part of his work required traveling despite his precious baby boy's desperate pleas to remain stationary. The boy was undeniably his daddy's boy and honestly there really wasn't anything Tony cared for or about unless it pertained to that precious boy, his money, or his pleasure. He wasn't afraid to voice it either.
Tony had left for an entire month in order to ensure an extremely important deal was properly executed. It should have been simple, an assload of his drugs in exchange for an assload of their weapons. There was no real reason he should have attended. His mean should have been more than capable of ensuring this deal went smoothly, but he hadn't wanted to chance it. So, he left his precious boy, Peter for four weeks. And that's when it first happened.
Miraculously, some of his merchandise had disappeared. He chalked it up to some idiotic underling who was unsure of Tony's authority. Thus, he took care of the situation in a way that definitively proved who was in charge: he put a bullet right between a guards eyes, and thought the situation was dealt with in its entirety.
Sadly, he was sorely mistaken.
Peter Parker was Tony's perfect princess. There wasn't anything that sweet Pete wouldn't do for his daddy and there wasn't much that Tony wouldn't do in return. But Tony had rules. And Peter knew far better than to question them, or break them. Tony had told him, at the very very beginning that there wasn't much he needed to know except these three things: They were exclusive, Peter wasn't to leave the compound, and Peter was under no circumstances to take any of the merchandise within the compound. Tony, and his company, Stark Industries were a notorious underground hub for quality paraphernalia, and Tony prided himself in selling the best drugs in the entirety of the country. But he refused to taint his baby boy with any of that, and didn't really use it for recreational purposes much either.
So when the kilo of cocaine seemingly disintegrated and there were absolutely no traces of its new whereabouts, Tony hadn't even thought to look in his precious boy's direction.
But perhaps he should have.
Peter couldn't help that hollow, uncontrollable lonely that settled in the pit of his stomach and ostensibly ate its way into his bones, until there was nothing. Every time Tony left on one of those stupid deals there was nothing to complete him, nothing to make him feel whole. In the midst of Tony's one-month deal, Peter began weighing his options.
He attended school, took a few AP classes in Bio and Psych and he knew the dangers and the effects. He knew what drugs could do to him, the extreme hazards they posed and yet somehow in the face of this persistent, inexterminable loneliness, he chose to concede.
And that first time, he could feel everything. He tied up his curls in a bun, leaned towards the white powered line on the table, gently held his left nostril closed and used the small receipt he had rolled to inhale those fine grains. Within 10 minutes he could feel his brain running through all the anatomical and physiological processes that were happening within him. The cocaine seeping through his intranasal walls into his bloodstream. From the bloodstream to his brain. Within his brain the dopamine being produced would begin to accumulate as a result of the cocaine hindering the dopamine's transportation out of the synapse, and would henceforth create the high of a lifetime. That first time was all he needed, and he knew he wouldn't just be able to stop. Tony was gone, and for the first time, when he was gone, Peter hadn't felt so utterly hollow. He by no means felt complete, but at least he was distracted.
Each day Peter upped his dosage. Not by much, but enough to make a large dent in the block of coke he had hidden under his bed. Rather, their bed. His and Tony's. When sober, the guilt ate at him, but when he was gone, there wasn't anything wrong with what he did. When he was sober he noticed the tremors and recognized that his hollowness seemed exponentially worse, hoping Tony would be oblivious to these changes we he returned. When he was on another planet he hadn't cared about his obvious trembling, or the insomnia accompanied with being completely wired.
When Tony arrived home from that month long trip and glocked that guard, precious princess Pete hadn't felt a goddamn thing, because he was higher than hell. Tony had many matters to attend to that day, so Peter made himself busy laying in their bed, eyes rolling into the back of his head, pale skin flushing with patches of pink as the room seemed to get hotter, as his heart started to beat faster. In his trance, Peter began to contemplate the small proximity between his lover physically, but what ate away at him was the seemingly large distance between them. That Tony, his Tony, his daddy, didn't seem to care if he was there or not. Peter hadn't known that Tony was itching to see him, and was planning to put all of duties aside in order to spend the rest of day with him.
So Pete procured another line for himself, essentially doubling the dosage he typically took. His senses were shot, heart kicking into overdrive as it pounded so hard it felt it would beat out of the boy's chest. The room, seemed to fade in and out and he had known even in this haze that he had royally fucked up. He ignored the bubbling feeling of impending doom and tried to enjoy his high. He sat himself up and chuckled gently, watching as the room faded in and out, and the dissociative feeling that accompanied it. Better he was somewhere else than anywhere near he where he was so blatantly unwanted.
When Tony had entered the room, he was so content. There was his boy. His precious baby boy who he hadn't seen in an entire month. Tony was captivated by the baby pink sweater that had slipped off his shoulder, and his curly soft locks that were tied up in a small bun. He was enraptured with the soft giggle that fell from his plush pink lips, and the flushed hue of his skin. So enthralled with the image of his precious boy, that he hadn't bothered to notice how Peter hadn't even responded to him walking in the room.
"Baby boy," Tony said, grinning as he stepped further into the room, now noticing the way in which Peters hands shook and the far off look in his eyes.
"Pete." He snapped his fingers, and again there was no response. "Angel baby?"
It was at this that Pete finally turned with a lazy grin, and Tony noticed the pale white powdered smeared under his nose, the large black pupils that only left a sliver of his hazelnut brown irises, and the blood that seeped out of his nostril.
"What the hell've you done, baby boy?"