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Peter was sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, when a striking red head settled two seats over and ordered a glass of wine. He glanced at her, offered a polite smile that didn't quite make it all the way to his eyes.
She grinned back at him, her smile more genuine. "Sorry, honey, you're too young for me."
"Oh, no – no – I wasn't..."
She laughed, a soft warm sound. "Easy, kid. I'm kidding."
"Oh." He felt sheepish. Of course he was the guy who got rejected without even hitting on someone. Not that he had any game at all. He didn't. None. Like not at all, by his estimation.
The bartender brought over her glass. She gave him an equally bright smile before turning back to Peter. "Don't worry, you're cute enough. Someone will definitely snap you up."
He smirked and tried not to sound morose when he replied, "They haven't so far." He's had, what, one girlfriend? No, two. And those hadn't really worked out nearly as well as he'd hoped. The first one was high school though, so maybe that's how it's supposed to go.
"Are you always this glum or are you just having a pity party?"
"Pity party." He sipped his drink. His week had been pretty crap – he'd been dumped and flubbed a chem quiz – him, the chemistry whiz, had fucked a chemistry quiz to hell and back. The professor had given him an odd look about it too, since it was super unusual for him. And, to top it off, his roommate was having very loud sex with his girlfriend in their shared, small apartment. Bad enough normally, but Peter has sensitive hearing and Ned's girlfriend is really really loud.
This dinner with Tony was a small reprieve from the garbage of his life this week. Made even better by Tony insisting on paying. Peter typically objected, but tonight, he decided to let Tony have his way and throw money at whatever they were going to do – starting with this dinner. He hadn't been in the mood to argue.
"Wanna talk about it?" the redhead asked.
Peter shook his head. "Nope." He didn't. Not at all. Especially not if he was going to get over the week from hell.
"I'd think you were just drinking your troubles away, but from the looks of it, you're still on your first drink. So – meeting someone?" she asked expectantly, but friendly. He kind of liked this lady. She wasn't pushy and she really did seem interested in hearing what his answers were when she asked him questions. It was a nice departure from the usual conversations where no one listened to anything he said.
It was still his first drink. Though more because it was nearly impossible for him to get drunk enough to feel it without blowing through a month's worth of grocery cash. Or without scaring the shit out of all his friends with the number of drinks it would take.
He offered a hint of a grin. "Yeah. A friend's meeting me for dinner."
"A date?"
He twisted the glass on the bar. "Only in the sense that he had to put it in his calendar with twenty-five reminders to remember."
The redhead laughed. "Wow. Eccentric or just hopelessly brainless?"
Peter laughed at the thought of anyone calling Tony 'brainless'. Boneheaded and stubborn, sure, but not brainless. "The first."
"At least he's not an idiot."
"Most of the time." He glanced at the redhead. "What about you?"
"Same, not-a-date thing. Sort of an anniversary type thing."
"Cool. I guess."
"You need to snap out of this pity party. I mean, you're sitting here waiting for your smart friend and talking to a hot woman. You should be a lot happier," she told him and sipped from her glass.
His grin came back a little. "The hot woman I'm not hitting on. Who, also, apparently, doesn't have a name."
"Of course not, Pity Party. Names are silly."
Another grin. Okay, she was helping. "I'm Peter."
"Donna."
"Nice to meet you." He meant it too. She really was nice.
She leaned over a little toward him and whispered, "Are you really old enough to drink?"
Peter nodded. "Yup. For almost a year now. I just can't afford to do it often."
Donna frowned. Then her face shifted to a wicked grin. "Your friend your sugar daddy?"
Peter coughed to get tequila out of his lungs. "What? No. Geezus."
Donna laughed. "Sorry. That one was a tease. But, he's got money, huh?"
"Yeah-" Peter said cautiously.
"You're meeting at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city and you just said you can't afford to drink. Obviously you're not paying."
"That's terrifying. And creepy."
Donna shook her head. "Not anymore. We're friends. I know your name and everything."
"Maybe I lied."
Another smile. "You didn't."
"No. I didn't."
Peter felt a warm hand rest on his shoulder. "Hey, Pete. You ready?"
He nodded at Tony and slid from the stool. "Nice talking to you, Donna."
"Sure. Holy sh- that's your friend?" she asked, more than a little surprised.
Peter grinned brightly. "You're the one who knows everything." He could feel Tony smirking behind him. And also giving Donna the once-over. He turned to glare at him. "Can you wait until you've fed me to hit on her?"
"Who's hitting?" Tony asked, as innocently as he could – which wasn't very at all.
"Besides – he's not my type," Donna said, sipping her wine.
"Right," Peter said, disbelief dripping from his voice.
Donna shrugged. "I already have a date."
"A not-a-date," Peter corrected.
"True. But I don't ditch."
"Not as long as I've known her," a new voice spoke from over Donna's shoulder. Peter assumed it was her 'date'. "Stark," he said to Tony.
"Specter," Tony returned. "Sure you don't want to join my legal team?"
"Positive. Too much paperwork every time your goddamned team decides to fuck the city sideways. Pass." Specter held a hand out for Donna. "Enjoy your dinner."
"Call Pepper if you change your mind." Tony turned to Peter. "Hungry?"
Peter glared and shoved Tony toward the waiting maître d'. "Come on already."