Work Text:
At first, Tony isn’t sure what to feel, he isn’t sure how to wrap his head around the fact that his stupidly precious, emotionally vulnerable son, his Peter, is possibly in love with some no good scumbag.
The first time around, when Peter brings the boy home, Tony is quietly making dinner. Dinner that he doesn’t know he is making for three people instead of the usual two.
Tony doesn’t get a good look at the boy before he dashes away into the hallway but he can tell that he’s got a head of messy dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He’s taller than Peter and has a voice that Tony is sure Peter is infatuated with.
Quite the opposite of his son.
“His name is Harley Keener.” Peter says when the boy excuses himself to the bathroom before getting the chance to meet Tony. “His name is Harley and he’s a friend.”
But the way Peter says ‘friend’, with and happy smile and his elbow propped up on the marble counter and his chin resting in his palm, implies that perhaps, maybe, Harley is more than just a friend.
“Is he from school?” Tony asks, stirring the pot of sizzling red pasta sauce.
“No, he doesn’t go to Midtown.” Peter sighs. Tony can hear the obvious disappointment in his voice. “He goes to Cooper Cove High School of Technology.”
Tony’s eyebrows lift. “Oh. Smart kid.”
He tries not to notice how Peter’s cheeks dot with red and how a smile pulls to his little lips. “Yeah, he is.”
“How do you know him?”
“We met at that science fair a few weeks ago.”
That night, over a spaghetti dinner, Tony learns that the boy, Harley, does indeed go to Cooper Cove. He learns that he’s a year older than Peter, making him eighteen and he learns that Harley has plans on going to MIT. Just like Peter.
Tony has to admit, it’s impressive how he has a whole future planned for himself and how he’s smart and whatnot.
But what bothers him is his attitude. It’s not that he’s rude, because Harley is quite the polite boy. But the way he keeps laughing when Peter says something and the way he keeps touching Peter on the forearm-it’s making Tony’s teeth grit with anxiety infused anger.
“Bye, Harls.” Peter says, goofily smiling while Harley makes his way into the penthouse’s elevator. “Isn’t he great?” Peter asks Tony, signs of an irreversible crush glinting in the boy’s eyes.
Tony has to force a smile onto his face. “Yeah, he’s great Pete, he really is.”
It’s the thing about such telling relationships, when you have to let go.
Just a few years ago, when Peter was but a mere thirteen year old, shy and too anxious to let himself into Tony’s life, things had been harder, but somewhat easier.
Peter’s past, Tony knows, a fusion of both abuse and trauma. And it’s Tony who swoops in to to patch up the wounds, the scabs and the scratches. It’s Tony who loves him like a son, almost like his own flesh and blood. Tony picks him up and saves from the horrible nights from foster home to foster home and doesn’t let him stumble or fall.
And Peter, through an abundance of adoption papers and sleepless nights of crying into Tony’s arms, is who Tony can finally call his proudest achievement.
And the itch in the back of his neck is starting to grow stronger, just at the single thought of letting his son go, giving him away into the arms of another boy.
But Harley comes back.
Harley, with his blue eyes and his messy hair, with his ripped jeans and his leather jackets comes back. And he keeps coming.
“You’ve never watched Emo The Musical? It’s so bad but, Harley, we are watching it right now,” Peter’s voice and faint laughter resonates from the living room when Tony slips back into the penthouse from his Stark Industries meeting in the early hours of the evening.
He walks up to both teens from behind the couch, tangling his fingers in Peter’s hair, one of their many special greetings. “Hey, Petey Pie, how was school?”
“Oh, Dad, hi,” Peter tilts his head up to meet Tony’s eyes, an enthusiastic grin plastered across his face. “School was great, I aced my Spanish test.”
Peter is wearing a sweater. A sweater that’s definitely not his.
“Congrats, kid. We ought to celebrate later.”
Later translates to: when Harley isn’t here.
Harley props up from the couch and extends his hand towards Tony. “Hi, Mr Stark.”
And Tony has no choice but to shake said hand. “Hello, Harley. You two having fun?” He asks.
“You bet.”
“Did you guys eat already?” Tony asks.
“Yeah,” And it’s Harley who answers. “Pete and I made stir fry. Well, I made stir fry, Peter just lounged around the whole time.” He snorts.
Tony, with a tight heart, watches as the two boys push against each other in between Peter’s giggles and Harley’s snickers.
He watches as Harley leans in to tuck a strand of hair behind Peter’s pink-tipped ear, the way Peter’s cheeks flush and the way he covers his giggly mouth when Harley stares deep at him.
Tony wants to punch a hole in the wall.
“Okay, well, it’s good that you’ve eaten. That’s good, uh, I’ll be in my office if you two need anything, alright?” Tony says.
Peter turns, innocent and concerned eyes looking straight at him. “Aren’t you gonna eat?” He asks.
Tony smiles, warm and sensitive. “Yeah, don’t worry about me Pete, I’ll eat.”
And on most nights, he does. But tonight, he can’t help it. He can’t help but think about the unforeseen future that Peter might have ahead of him.
Harley is a nice boy. He’s smart, he’s witty, Peter likes him so why can’t Tony just get over it? Why can’t he just throw his doubts away?
The next morning, Harley is long gone to Tony’s relief, and Peter is still fast asleep in his bedroom when he checks on him.
Tony takes the time to call Pepper.
“I just don’t know what to do anymore, Pep. It’s not that he’s a bad influence on Peter, he seems like a very nice boy but-“
“You can’t stand the thought of Peter having a broken heart. Tony, don’t worry, it’s normal for you to feel this way.” Pepper says, her voice soft and reassuring.
Tony wishes she were here right now. She’s a lot better at, these types of things, than he is.
“Should I maybe, you know, get involved?” Tony hesitantly asks, bites at his nail, it’s a habit he thought he dropped a long time a ago.
Pepper is quick to reply, now sharp and firm. “No, Tony, don’t get involved unless it’s absolutely necessary. Let him come to you.”
“You sure? But what if he’s crying or what if he’s-“
“Tony, honey, there’s only two rules to this; give them space, lots of it. And let them come to you. It might sound absurd but trust me, when Peter is ready, he’ll confide in you.”
“You think so?”
Tony’s gaze shifts to Peter as he sluggishly pads into the kitchen.
With one last word from Pepper, Tony wishes her luck for her conferences in Japan and hangs up the phone, immediately addressing Peter. “Hey buddy, sleep well?”
And for that single day, Tony’s nerves relax when Peter doesn’t even bring up Harley’s name until nightfall.
Let him come to you. Let him come to you. Pepper’s words linger in his head the whole night. Let him come to you.
He eventually does fall asleep.
To his dread, he finds Harley and Peter sitting on Peter’s bed together a few days after.
Tony opens the door to check on Peter and, wow, there they are, not even three inches apart. It’s full, knee against knee, elbow touching elbow and shoulder pressed to shoulder. Luckily, they aren’t indulging in anything...inappropriate.
“Hey, kiddos,” Tony pops his head out into the room. “What’s up?”
Harley’s head is the first to look up at him. He smiles. “Oh hey, Tony,”
Since when does Harley call him Tony? But it doesn’t make his skin crawl as much as he thinks it would.
“Hi, Dad,” Peter bubbles, digging his sock clad feet into his mattress. “I was showing Harley the pictures we took at my Decathlon tournament last year. That’s okay right?”
Why the hell wouldn’t it be?
“Of course it is, kiddie, but uh, do you guys mind keeping the door open for me?” Tony tries to ask with as little frustration in his voice as possible.
And a smile, always smile when talking to teenagers, Pepper says.
Apparently, Peter understands why he’s being asked to keep his door open and covers his quickly reddening face with the album he’s holding. “Dad.” He groans.
But the door stays open anyway.
When Peter accompanies Harley to the elevator that day, right after lunch, they share a quick hug before Harley steps into the lift.
“I like him. I like him a lot.” Peter says when Tony asks him to help with the dishes. “I think...I think I love him. Am I allowed to?”
Promptly, Tony sighs, pulling his hands out of the dishwater, drying them and wrapping his arms around Peter. “Oh, Pete. Of course you are.” Tony brushes a hanging strand of hair out of the boy’s face.
“Aren’t you mad?”
“W-why would I be mad?”
Oh shit. Busted.
But Peter just shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe because I’d be spending lots of time with him. If he actually wants to date me, that is.”
“Peter, I can’t stop you from spending time with him. He’s...he’s cool, I like him. So if you wanna date him, go ahead, I’m okay with it.” That’s about ninety five percent true. “But uh, I know you’re, you know, of age and everything but please do me a favor and keep the door open. I know I can’t stop you but if you ever do want to...you know, just make sure that it’s consensual and safe on both sides.”
It’s not that Tony is encouraging the idea of sex. He knows it’ll probably happen and maybe it’ll happen while he’s in the very next room, gross, but he wants Peter to know that he can trust him.
“I never said anything about doing...that.” Peter turns bright red but smiles measly nevertheless. “But uh, thanks. For not freaking out about it.”
Tony kisses Peter’s forehead. He’s starting to notice how tall his kid is getting, the slightly visible peach fuzz right above his lip and his broader shoulders. “Of course, you can count on me, kiddo. But seriously, stay safe okay? And maybe invite him over for movie night sometime?”
Peter smiles. “Yeah, yeah that’d be nice.”
Tony relaxes.
Not even a week later, Peter comes into Tony’s workshop with anxious eyes and a sweaty face. “Can I sleep over at Harley’s?”
And Tony pulls his safety googles off and drops his saw. He isn’t sure what to say. “Sleep over at Harley’s? Does his mom know about this?”
“Y-Yeah, she does. You don’t have to say yes though, it’s fine really, I just thought since-“
“Okay. You can go.” Tony answers.
Peter looks at him with wide eyes and a hanging mouth. “I can?”
“Yeah,” Tony encourages, wiping his hands of motor oil with a nearby towel. “I don’t see why not. Just remember, stay safe and-“
Peter ambushes him into a hug before he can even finish his sentence. “Thank you,” The teen muffles into the crook of Tony’s neck.
Finally, for a split second, Tony’s heart doesn’t tighten.
The elevator dings open and Harley steps out looking as smug as usual. “Hi, Tony,” He says, hopping onto the couch adjacent from the arm chair Tony is sitting in.
“Harley,” He looks up from his StarkPad. “Here to pick Peter up for your epic nerd sleepover?”
The boy chuckles. “Yeah, something like that.”
There comes a comfortable silence between them before Harley has to go and say, “Do you hate me?”
And Tony, surprisingly, takes it well. Let them come to you. Let them come to you.
Tony sits up, one leg over the other. “No. I don’t hate you. But I don’t entirely love you just yet. But...I love Peter and I know you love him too. And he loves you back so if he feels good about you, then I feel good about you.”
“Cool. Cool, cool, cool.” Harley nods, picking at the couch. “So you’re not gonna ask me what my intentions with him are?”
“I don’t feel the need to. I-“ he pauses to gulp. “I trust you with him. And I hope I can maintain that trust.”
Harley throws him a shy smile, totally out of character. “W-wow, thank you, I guess. And yeah, I uh, I really do love him.”
“No problem. I’d tell you to bring him back home before eleven as usual but it doesn’t apply to this situation so instead,” Tony sets his StarkPad on the coffee table. “Keep my boy safe alright? He’s fragile but he loves you and he trusts you so please, keep it that way. I want him alive and happy when I pick him up tomorrow night, you got it?”
Harley nods. “Yeah, yeah no problem, Tony. You can count on me.”
Peter walks into the room, duffel bag in his hand and a very suspicious look painted on his face. “Please don’t tell me you’re giving him the shovel talk, Dad.” He rolls his eyes.
“Wouldn’t even dream of it, Pete.” Tony flies up from his chair and puts a hand on Peter’s back. “You ready?”
“Yeah, I am.” Peter shyly grins. Then he lowers his voice. “Are you sure this okay? You’re really fine with me sleeping over at his house?”
Tony kisses the crown of the kid’s head, brown curls ticking the tip of his nose. “It’s okay, I have Dum-E and Butterfingers to keep me company. Now go, Harley’s waiting.”
“Alright.” Peter softens against him. Tony sees both teenagers exchanging and brief glance before Peter turns back and hugs him. “Uh, thank you, I-I love you.”
In that moment, Tony feels nothing but reassurance and hiss heart safely beats in his chest. “I love you too, kiddie.”
And when the elevator door closes, they’re off, and Tony’s hands don’t clench up into fists, and his eyes don’t burn with anger. No, he feels calm, still nervous but calm and at ease.
But Peter calls him that night, which he doesn’t expect.
“I’m fine.” He says, and the happiness in his voice backs him up. “Harley’s mom made lasagna for dinner and we watched Good Omens with his little sister the whole time.”
“That’s awesome, Pete. You guys gonna go to bed soon?”
A laugh. “It’s only nine pm, so I don’t think so.”
Tony bubbles. “Alright, have fun okay? And tell Harley’s mom I said hi okay?”
“Yeah, okay. G’night.”
“Night, Peter pumpkin eater.”
“I hate you. You said you wouldn’t call me that anymore.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Tony chortles wholesomely, pressing his phone to his ear. “Oh well, I take that back.”
Tony hears Harley’s voice at the other end. Something about Crowley’s hair looks fake as hell. “Of course you do. Well, I gotta go. Harley’s ranting again.”
“See you tomorrow, kid. Stay safe.”
“Right. Yeah, see you.”
Tony goes to bed and he doesn’t even spare a second to wonder if Peter is in trouble or not. He doesn’t try to track him down and he doesn’t pick up his phone to check if he has any missed calls.
Satisfaction. Maybe he doesn’t fully know it yet but a part of him does. And he’s cool. Cool with the boy he calls his son dating another person. He’s seventeen, he keeps telling himself, he’ll be fine.
And he is.
When Tony drives to pick Peter up, he sits in the car and watches as Peter gives Harley a kiss, on the mouth mind you, and hops off the doorstep and into the passenger seat with a lovesick look taped on his face.
Tony notices how he’s wearing a shirt that isn’t his: white with the words ‘Cooper Cove robotics team’ on the front in crimson red. It’s a little too big for him, hanging under his collarbone and Tony sees the purple blotches adorned with faint teeth marks littering his neck and the dip of his collarbone.
His heart pounds but it’s what he expected.
Peter sinks into the leather car seat and sighs of joy. “Hi.” He says, looking at Tony with his perfectly round, shiny brown eyes.
“Hey, you look happy.” Tony remarks, eyes darting from Peter’s neck to his eyes. “Have fun?”
Obviously.
“Yeah, yeah I had a lot of fun, actually.” The teenager blushes so brightly that he covers his face with his hands, smiling.
“That’s very good.” Tony can’t help but reach a hand out and gingerly run a thumb over the bruises on Peter’s skin. “So this happened, huh? He didn’t hurt you did he?”
Peter goes from flushing to flushing of embarrassment. “N-no, it was-it was cool. I mean, like, it was nice. I let him.”
“Was it-“ Tony hesitates, not wanting to push Peter’s boundaries. But something tells him it’ll be okay if he asks. “Was it okay? He didn’t do anything that made you feel uncomfortable did he?”
“Naw, it was okay.” Peter says, then adds with sassiness in his voice. “And yes, it was safe and consensual because I know that you’re just dying to know.”
Tony smirks. This kid knows him like the back of his hand.
He starts the ignition and the car engine rumbles. “Yeah, okay. Maybe I was dying to know but I just needed to make sure you were okay, sassy pants.”
Peter playfully jabs at Tony’s shoulder with a fist. “Whatever. Can we go to McDonald’s? I’m craving a spicy chicken burger right now.”
Tony pulls out of the Keener residence, wrinkling his nose at Peter’s suggestion. “McDonald’s? I thought I raised you better than that. Burger King is the obvious superior.”
Buckling his seatbelt in with a click, Peter rolls his eyes. “Burger king has shit fries, they’re not good, they don’t even add salt to their recipes.”
“What do you mean?” Tony scoffs in mock offense, eyes curving from the road to blink at Peter for a second. “McDonald’s fries are soggy, bland and gross.”
“Your face is soggy, bland and gross.” The teenager snaps back, sticking a tongue out at his father.
“Peter Benjamin Stark, you wound me.” Tony says with pride in his chest.
Harley comes back. Yes, Harley with his shiny wicked blue eyes and his messy blonde hair, ripped jeans and woolly sweaters keeps coming nonstop.
And Tony is okay because Peter is okay.
Whether all three of them are watching movies, having dinner at the Keener house, messing around in the workshop or whether one of them are staying at each other’s houses or it’s just the two boys alone in the privacy of Peter’s room, door closed, Tony is okay. He’s not overly excited or joyful but he’s okay.
Watching his boy being happy and in love is okay. In a way, it’s all he’s ever wanted, really.
And Tony watches their interactions with joy.
“You’re ridiculous,” Peter giggles while his lips tickle Harley’s neck.
“Ridiculously in love with you, darling.” The blonde replies as frisky hands rubs across Peter’s back. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Peter presses his lips against the other’s and hums contently. “Of course, and text me when you get home alright, babe?”
Harley returns the kiss, looking down at Peter with admiring eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of not texting you, snookums.”
Tony quits watching them, cringing at all the pet names, and focuses his attention back on chopping the vegetables for dinner when Peter presses Harley up against the wall and starts nipping at his ear.
“Hey you two,” He calls out, the smirk on his voice matching the one on his face. “Quit making out there, that’s my favorite wall. If you really wanna get all handsy I suggest you move it somewhere where I don’t have to cover my eyes while puking a little.” He jokes.
Harley beams at him, Tony throws him a little wink.
Peter buries his face in his boyfriend’s sweatshirt clad chest and moans. “Dad.”
“What?” The billionaire innocently shrugs. “I’m just helping you out. In fact, Harley, why don’t you stay for dinner?”
“Really?” Both teens simultaneously prompt with joy.
“Of course. Now get your asses here and help me with these vegetables, you troublemakers.”
So now, Tony is sure what to feel. It’s taken weeks but, he’s sure how to wrap his head around the fact that his amazingly precious, smartly touching son, his Peter, is indeed in love with the boy he calls his boyfriend.