Chapter Text
This is a fucking nightmare, and Tony Stark doesn't use that word lightly. He doesn't actually curse that often, except when needed and especially if it's going to annoy Steve, but he'll make an exception here, in this messy teenager's room, looking at the scrawny kid he'd ostensibly come to threaten and/or bribe (Tony had plans for both angles) into flying out of country to fight with him under the guise of an internship.
Tony's desperate. He'll be the first to admit that. But he isn't desperate for… this.
Tony opens his mouth and for the first time in his life, absolutely nothing comes out, which leaves Peter to do all the talking.
The kid blurts out, "I thought you were with Miss Potts!" and it's the first of many tastes Tony gets of that infamous Peter Parker eloquence. Seriously, he's going to have to get the kid into public speaking. Lessons, not the art.
But first: the bond.
A soul connection is so rare most people don't bother looking. Theoretically of course you could meet your match, but in a world of seven billion people, assuming your match has been born, assuming your match hasn't died, statistically speaking they probably live across the ocean from you.
"They say it's a spectrum," Tony finds himself saying, and it might have been something he believed before. Some people insist you can find a partial match, that true mates don't actually exist and it's all a gradient, but it's impossible to really think that now, not with the gold vividly ringing both of their pupils, not with the warmth that's settled into his belly. It's sickening. He tells himself it's sickening.
It doesn't feel sickening, that's the problem.
"Your eyes," Peter begins, and takes a faltering step forward, his eyes locked on Tony's face with innocent wonder.
Tony says, "You're the Spider-kid," and Peter comes to a full stop and blanches. It's honest-to-God amazing he hasn't been found out already with how terrible he is at lying, at keeping secrets. This isn't how Tony planned to do this reveal, but his whole game plan is thrown off.
"Spider-man," Peter stammers.
"What?" Tony's distracted. He finds the suit in the closet and Peter looks like he wants to snatch it back but is too polite to do so.
"It's Spider-man. Me. I'm Spider-man. Not… Spider-kid. Um. Mr. Stark?" The kid ends on a wavering note, and Tony knows what he wants to talk about isn't the costume.
That's all Tony wants to talk about. He's going to insist on it. He's going to put on blinders and never mention the gold rings and the warmth and maybe it'll go away. Maybe he'll wake up.
Why the goggles, he asks. Who makes the webbing? Peter's easy to distract, at least. The kid's proud to talk about his achievements, especially after a little encouragement. He hasn't gotten to gush about this to anyone, which Tony imagines is especially hard because he clearly needs some support. He's doing a good thing.
Tony can at least provide that.
"Listen, Underoos," Tony interrupts what actually was a pretty interesting ramble about swinging physics. He takes a breath slowly to clear his head, lets it out. Pepper's been harping on him about meditating, and also kale smoothies. He's managed one of the two, and not regularly. "I've actually got something a little bit pressing that I need your help with," and he asks about his passport.
Peter says he can't go to Germany, which is a novel concept to Tony, who's used to being able to go anywhere anytime he wants. Peter has homework, which is also a novel concept, and yet another punch right in his soulbond-warmed gut.
The kid's looking at him with adoring eyes though, like he's expecting Tony to come up with a solution to the homework problem, and Tony of course does. Peter can do it on the plane over.
The kid has a crush on him already, Tony can tell, and Tony's provision of such an eloquent solution to all of his teenage problems very clearly solidifies the kid's rapidly growing view that Tony Stark hung the moon.
Fuck.