Work Text:
Peter approached a nondescript building whose entrance was in an alley that was remarkably clean for this area of Manhattan. Not that this should surprise him, as it was no doubt maintained by the occupants of the building he was about to go into. He had been trying to get a reservation at this establishment for the last few months and had no such luck. Probably because the owner knew his work, and probably had no desire to have him come and visit as it meant he would need to be on his best behavior, and as Peter understood this chef had quite the reputation for the exact opposite of that.
He knocked on the door, using the “secret” knock that was part of the charm of this establishment. Part of the door slid open at eye level revealing a pair of bright blue eyes. “Password?” The feminine voice requested, as Peter pulled his phone out to give the password he was given.
“Elementary.” The eyes disappeared, a lock was turned, and then the door was opened for him. “Good afternoon.” He greeted the woman who had opened the door for him. “I’m-”
“Mr. Parker.” She finished for him, and nodded her head with a polite smile. “We’ve been waiting for you, sir. Right this way.”
Of course they would be waiting for him, as he had a reservation for this specific time. Again, as a food critic for the New York Times, it was always best to be punctual, and Peter was definitely that. He was actually a few minutes early, but if they were ready for him, then great. He looked around and saw a few people dining, the room filled with only a few banquet tables, the chef preferring to do a farm style layout, which was becoming all the rage right now in Manhattan. It was something that Peter both enjoyed and loathed. But today he was remaining neutral on it, as that was his job.
“We’ve set you up over here.” She brought him over to a smaller dining table that was clearly meant for a small party of two - probably one of their higher end tables to reserve. “Would you like some water to start?”
“Water would be lovely.” He nodded, and set his tablet down on the table. “I assume that there will be a wine flight today?”
“As well as a whiskey and tequila flight.”
He raised his eyebrows at that. “Is that normal?”
“We’re presenting you with a myriad of options we have available here today, Mr. Parker. The chef insists that’s how he’d like to present to you.”
“Very well.” He wasn’t really a person that cared for tequila, but if it was going to be paired with food then he would have no reason to refuse. “This isn’t a way to butter me up, is it?”
The polite laugh that leaves her mouth brought a smirk to his lips as he picked up his napkin and set it on his lap. “Would you like to begin with the first course now?” A bottle of still water was brought to his table, and poured into a water glass. “Or, would you prefer we start in a bit?”
“Now is fine. What’s your name?” Peter picked up his glass of water and took a sip. It was cool water, and he could taste the crispness, letting him know it wasn’t tap water but something filtered. Picking up his tablet, he made a note about it, keeping the expression on his face neutral. That was one of the worst parts of this job - having to remain impassive, no matter how good the service was. It wouldn’t be fair to tip them off and let them know they were getting a good review from him.
She smiled, and picked up the extra place setting. “My name is Karen. I’ll be the one bringing everything out to you today, Mr. Parker.” She turned and walked back towards what he had to assume was the kitchen. It was difficult to tell because it was so well hidden from the public’s view - again, another nice amenity of this restaurant.
Peter tapped a few more notes onto his tablet, then saw her coming towards him with his first course. “Mr. Stark is always cooking with the finest ingredients he can get from local farms in the area. The menu is constantly changing, and today’s menu is no different.” She sets a small plate of escargot in front of him. “These are sourced locally out of the city from a French farmer that has relocated here, and breeds them specifically for our restaurant.”
“That’s wonderful.” Another server comes over, and drops off a glass of he assumed was prosecco. “What’s this?”
“A glass of Veuve Clicquot, a fruitier champagne that will bring out the notes of the sauce for the escargot.” She bowed her head and then walked away.
He picked up the stemless champagne flute, and brought it up to his nose. Some of the effervescent tickled his nose, but then it quickly passed to allow him to sniff the aroma of the champagne. He picked up his small fork and began to dig out the snail, letting it soak up some of the garlic butter it was simmered in, then plopped it into his mouth. He knew he was being watched, but again - he kept his face neutral because if he showed any ounce of enjoyment it would reflect bad on him.
The escargot was amazing - as he expected it to be. He finished what was on his plate, then picked up his napkin to dab at his mouth. He took a sip of the champagne and was impressed by how well it paired with the escargot. One more sip, then he set the stemless flute back down on the table, and waited for his next course.
Four more dishes were brought out to him, along with the wine flight for each course. It was decadent, and knew that these items would surely break the bank for any normal person coming to dine here. But then again - he had seen quite a variety of patrons as he’d walked in, and knew that the menu often offered different price points. The big guns were coming out today to make sure that he knew how the chef preferred to cook things. At dessert, he was brought his tequila flight, which was to be paired with the four different chocolate desserts that were on a plate for him - petit fours, thankfully.
“We normally offer these as full servings, but since we knew you would be visiting us today, we wanted to make sure that you weren’t overwhelmed by the size that we serve.” Karen stood in front of his table, a smile on her face. “Again, the tequila flight is optional and not necessary to enjoy these rich desserts, but the chef had heard that you are a man that enjoys a good tequila.”
Peter smirked, but then carefully hid it with a cough to return to a neutral expression. “The chef would be correct - thank you so much, Karen. Do you mind if I have a little time to eat these, and enjoy the flight?”
“Please take as much time as you need, Mr. Parker.” She left the table, giving him the space to think.
Each dessert paired beautifully with the flight, Peter again amazed by how well the tastes paired together. It was something that only a very trained chef would be aware of, and one that wasn’t afraid to think outside the box. Because one cake was a combination of two items that he never would have thought to put together, but they tasted phenomenal. And then the sip of silver tequila with it? Like a symphony on his tongue.
He picked up his tablet and began to type, wanting to remember everything he loved about this meal, and the small hiccups that he didn’t quite enjoy. No restaurant was perfect, and he wasn’t about to make believe that this one was that as well. After a half hour of typing, he set his tablet down, and pulled the napkin off of his lap. He stood up and stretched, and saw Karen walk back over to him.
“Would you care to meet with the chef, Mr. Parker?”
“I would love to.”
She led him back to the kitchen, Peter standing at the door, waiting for the chef to come to him. As he waited, he looked at his tablet, making minor changes on what he’d just written. He looked up and saw the chef coming towards him, a passive smile on their face, as a hand was extended out towards him.
“Mr. Parker.” The chef - a two-star Michelin star recipient Tony Stark - held his hand out towards him. “It’s wonderful you were able to join us today.”
“Mr. Stark.” He took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “This is much different than your last restaurant you opened.”
“I hope it was to your liking?” Tony stood in front of him, his arms down at his sides. Peter smiled and nodded his head. “When will we expect to see your review?”
“It will be published in Thursday’s edition.” Peter held his hand out, and Tony took it, their hands going up and down again with another shake. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Stark. Thank you for your time today.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Parker. We look forward to hearing what you had to say about us in two days.” Tony dropped his hand, then walked back into the kitchen, leaving him alone with Karen.
“Can I take you to the entrance?” She asked, as he began to walk in that direction. “Did you need anything before you leave? Any comments from the staff about our work environment?”
He shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. Thank you so much, Karen.” He shook her hand. “It’s been a pleasure.” He walked to the door, and headed back out to the alley.
Instead of going to his office in downtown Manhattan, Peter decided he was going to finish up his day back at his apartment. Sending a text to his boss who agreed, he took the subway back to his part of town, and then got off two steps prior to his exit to enjoy a nice stroll back home. After eating all that rich food, he really needed to take time to digest and walk it off so this was the perfect excuse to make that happen.
Entering his apartment, he set his stuff down on the table in the foyer, then toed his shoes off in the entryway. Looking at the clock, he still had a few hours left before he was going to be done with his day, but the couch looked too inviting to not lay down. Stupid tequila. He yawned, as if the alcohol was playing a cruel trick on his system, making him feel more lethargic now that he was at home. He set his tablet down on his desk he occasionally worked at, and then went over to the couch and dropped down on it.
Not bothering to set an alarm, Peter got his head situated on one of the throw pillows and proceeded to fall asleep, the food coma finally hitting him in the way he expected it would. Another reason why he wanted to go home, because falling asleep at his desk would have looked bad.
Someone touching his forehead brought him out of his nap, Peter yawning softly as he turned towards the touch. “W-What are you doing home?” He asked, yawning again as he looked up into a pair of brown eyes that were looking down at him with an expression that he wasn’t sure how to read.
“You didn’t tell me you were going to wear that today.” Tony Stark, the 2-star Michelin chef - was sitting next to him on the couch, the smirk on his face making his cheeks turn slightly pink. “You know I love that shirt on you.”
“What?” Peter returned the smirk, as he dropped his head back down onto the pillow. “Hey - I figured if I was going to be reviewing your food today, I had to look good.”
“Oh, you looked very good. Too good.”
“Is that why you’re home right now?” He asked, grabbing onto Tony’s shirt to pull him down towards his head.
“That, and I kinda figured you’d be home.”
“Is that why you gave me a tequila flight?” Peter’s eyes closed again as he felt his lover’s breath touch his lips. “That’s a low blow, even for you.”
“I’ve got to play the part.” Tony brushed his lips back and forth over his. “Because if I didn’t - then who knows what sort of shitty review you’d give my restaurant.”
“Hey!” He pouted, his hand laying flat on Tony’s sternum. “I would never.”
“I don’t know. It’s how I got you to move in with me in the first place.”
It had been true. The first time they had met was years ago, one of Peter’s first assignments as the newly appointed food critic at the New York Times. That was the restaurant that Tony had won his first Michelin star at, and the food had been good - but it wasn’t great. Tony hadn’t taken too kindly to his brutally honest review, but instead of terrorizing him, he invited Peter to dinner at his own place. They’d gotten to know each other, and then realized that they both had a lot more in common than Peter ever expected. One thing led to another, and now here they were - living together for two years.
“You might be right.” Peter put his hand on the back of Tony’s neck, and pulled him down to lay a kiss on his lips. “But it’s not fair that you were playing dirty. You know tequila always makes me sleepy.”
“Guess that means you’re going to write a bad review, hmm?”
Lips touched the side of his neck, Peter moaning softly as he grabbed onto Tony’s shirt. “You know I’m not. That food was amazing. Your food is always amazing, though.” He wished that they could be open about their relationship, but then it would look like favoritism, and both men respected each other’s work too much to allow that to happen. “You know it’s going to be a good review, you jerk.”
“I know.” A kiss to his lips silenced Peter’s rebuttal, making him moan instead. “Now, I don’t have a lot of time before I gotta get back for the dinner crowd.” Tony held his hand out to him. “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable, sweetheart.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth.”
Peter followed him to their bedroom, where they enjoyed an afternoon delight, or two. Peter helped Tony get ready for his night shift, both sharing kiss after kiss with one another. He walked him to the door, and stared up at him. “See you in a few hours.” Tony dropped his head, and gave him another kiss. “Go finish that glowing review.”
“I will.” Peter looked up at him and grinned. “Love you. Have a good night. Bring home some of that cake, would you? I can’t believe you’ve been keeping that a secret from me.”
“Hey - I needed your review to be as unbiased as possible.” Tony grinned, then kissed him again. “I’ll see you tonight. With cake.”
“Good.”
He kissed him again, and then closed the door. Peter looked over at his tablet and sighed. Yeah, he should probably finish his review before he completely forgot about it. At least he had some cake to look forward to later tonight. And maybe some more of that escargot, if Tony would remember. Which he probably wouldn’t, but he wouldn’t forget the cake. Thank God.