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Tony was a smart man. Which wasn’t ego talking, honestly, he was a smart man. He had multiple degrees and doctorates and news articles to prove it. So Tony, as a smart man , knew something was up when Peter Parker showed up at the office in the same shirt two days in a row.
It might have been an unfair assumption, if Tony were being honest. Peter was typically a disaster and it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that he simply either forgot he was wearing the same shirt or hadn’t done laundry.
Except, well, the shirt didn’t fit him right.
It was tight enough that the buttons pulled across his chest from under the tie that he had messily and off center tied on. It wasn’t his typical style - it missed a certain college kid chique that meant ketchup stains and small holes on the bottom and science puns - and it cost more than the kid’s grocery bill and Tony knew how much the kid ate. “What’s with this?” Tony asked from behind his desk, waving the pen up and down Peter’s figure and the kid followed the pen’s path with his eyes as though confused by the question. Tony knew when it clicked, though, by the way his cheeks instantly colored.
It was too easy to get under the spider-kid’s skin sometimes. “What… what’s with what, Mr. Stark?” He asked dumbly.
Tony pointed at the shirt again. “That.”
“This?” Peter picked at his watch as though that was the offending article.
“ That .”
“This?” Now it was his belt.
“That, shirt , Parker.”
“Oh,” Peter plucked at it as though there was any space to give and bit at his lip nervously. “I… It’s a… an old shirt.”
Tony slowly raised a brow in shock.
Did he think Tony was dumb? It wasn’t an old shirt. Tony knew Peter’s old shirts. He also knew his Uncle’s old shirts. “ That is a Zenga silk shirt from the newest winter catalog.”
“You know fashion?” Peter’s nose wrinkled at the implication.
“And I know that costs the same as the rent on your shitty little studio apartment.” Tony might have had something against the ‘shitty little studio apartment’. Especially since he knew how much Peter had to work in order to afford that and college. Tony, maybe, had suggested that Peter move in at the tower - with Tony, Pepper and Morgan, or maybe he had offered to foot the tuition bill but Peter was much too stubborn to let him get away with it.
“It does ?” Peter peeled at it again as though the price of it offended him.
Tony pursed his lips. “Pete, that shirt is $890 without the tailoring that was obviously done to shorten the sleeves and tuck in the sides.” Peter made an affronted noise. “And you’ve worn it two days in a row.”
He stared at Tony for a long, long moment before he sighed and dropped into the seat across from him. “He told me it wasn’t that expensive.” Peter muttered into his crossed arms and suddenly looked incredibly uncomfortable in his own skin. Tony frowned. It wasn’t that the shirt looked bad because it, well, it didn’t. His kid, because Peter Parker might not be his kid but he was also his kid in every single way that counted, was always uncomfortable with displays of wealth and Pepper had to force him into a Banana Republic once a year for a wardrobe refresh.
“He?” Tony picked at instead and then smiled broadly at the implication and the way Peter groaned and threw his head into his hands. “Peter are you dating someone?”
“Don’t.” Peter held up a hand the same way Tony had held his pen and pointed it accusatory in Tony’s general direction. In response Tony raised his own hands with pursed lips in surrender.
“Do you have a sugar daddy ?”
“MJ says that’s you.” Peter muttered and Tony couldn’t help the gag that happened when the words registered right as he had taken a sip of his water. Peter’s lips pulled up in a tiny, little smile. “And don’t ever say that again.”
“Only if you never say that again.”
They agreed to each other’s terms and Peter stole a candy from the bowl Tony kept on his desk beside Morgan’s picture and plucked it into his mouth. Tony steepled his fingers under his chin and observed Peter for much too long for it to not go unnoticed. He looked more well rested than Peter typically looked which meant either he had spent the night actually sleeping or he had, instead, stayed somewhere closer. Or over at May’s. May always forced him to get a normal amount of sleep. But that observation mixed with the shirt well… “Who’s your boyfriend?”
Peter groaned and threw his head back. “Tony why?” He draped a hand dramatically over his face and flushed down to his neck.
“If you’d just tell me ,” Tony spread his hands out like a prayer. “Then I wouldn’t have to keep guessing.”
“Harry Osborn.”
Tony laughed. A full body, from the stomach, head thrown back against his chair, and spinning laugh.
It was an absurd notion, truly and one of Peter’s much better jokes if anyone asked Tony. He knew how Tony felt about the Osborns and Tony knew how he felt about Osborns so it was an absolutely ridiculous joke.
Except Peter was frowning as though insulted . “Funny joke, funny joke,” Tony complimented against the uneasy voice in his head that was telling him Peter wasn’t joking. Tony’s smile dropped from his face. “You’re not joking.”
“I’m not joking.” Peter agreed.
--
Tony didn’t have a problem with Harold Theopolis Osborn but, rather, a problem with his father. He had known Norman as long as he had known Stark was his last name. When they were children they had even gotten along. But Tony had dealt with grief in a very different way than others saw fit and Norman had gotten married to a pretty thing from France or Italy or some other European country and had a child when Tony was still five bottles into despair. And when Tony had come back from Afghanistan nearly dead and with a boat load of trauma he hadn’t spoken about for years Norman had, apparently, put in against Obadiah Stane to buy his company if he were dead. Then he had slandered Tony in the media when he said he was Iron Man, and again and again and again as time went on.
So Tony didn’t exactly have a problem with Harry Osborn so much as he had a problem with Osborn as a principal. They were ruthless, they were mean, and conniving and Tony didn’t think he was anywhere near good enough for someone as kid, smart, and clever as Peter Parker. But maybe that was Tony’s protective instincts kicking in because, if he were being honest, he had never even met the boy beyond one or two charity galas and even that was on the elbow of Norman.
Peter told him that they had met at college - they were both in the same biology or something class - and his cheeks had colored enough to tell Tony that he was smitten almost instantly. He said that Harry was nice and funny and absolutely brilliant, Tony you have no idea . But, then again, Peter had said the same thing about Star Wars and Tony could barely sit through one of those movies unless he was being paid for it.
It wasn’t that Tony didn’t trust Peter to make his own decisions but, well…
Well Tony didn’t trust Harry Osborn as far as he could throw him.
“You’re being ridiculous.” Pepper said with a small scoff and fixed the sash on Morgan’s bright green dress that they were both matching for the Stark Industries holiday gala.
“I’m not being ridiculous .” Morgan shot him a look that completely betrayed him.
Pepper was gorgeous in her dark green backless dress and straightened his matching bow-tie with a flick of her fingers. “Do you remember,” she asked softly. “When everyone hated you because you were a Stark ?”
He remembered.
He just didn’t want to remember. “This is different.” Pepper fixed him with a look. “This is Peter .”
Her severe look melted and she laughed a little before kissing him on the cheek. “You’re going to be terrible whenever Morgan starts to date.”
“Morgan’s not allowed to date.” Tony pointed at her daughter and she nodded in agreement. “And especially not an Osborn .”
Except, well, later that evening Morgan was completely taken with that very same Osborn. She danced with him in the middle of the floor, his orange hair reflecting the lights and Morgan’s laugh loud and bright through the room. Peter nudged his shoulder - he was in a much more expensive suit than Tony would ever have been able to get him into, a dark grey thing with a blood red shirt and that dopey smile on face that Tony so rarely saw. “He’s not that bad.” He said for the thousandth time.
“Did he get you that suit?” Tony asked with a long pull of his non-alcoholic cocktail.
Peter pulled at the jacket with a nervous hand. “I told him it was too much.”
Tony melted, a bit, around the edges with the tone of Peter’s voice. “It looks good, kid.”
Peter beamed. “I’m going to go cut in, I think.”
“ You can dance?”
“Ten years of classes, Mr. Stark.” Peter winked and, expertly, maneuvered across the dance floor to kneel softly beside Morgan and whisper a question in her ear. She giggled and nodded and ran off to grab Pepper by the knees where she was talking to some investor or something. Tony watched, Peter’s arm settled behind Harry Obsorn’s waist and head tipped close in secretive laughter.
Terribly, Tony had to admit they looked good together, light and dark, sharp and soft, and when Harry Obsorn smiled he looked nothing like his father at all.
--
“Mister Osborn,” Tony nodded in greeting at the small, round little table they were seated at even later that day. Peter was in the bathroom, Pepper was getting desserts with Morgan and it was just the two of them, Tony in his black suit and Harry is his navy one. They had to look a pair, Tony thought, the two of them sitting in silence and waiting for their respective other halves to return.
Harry’s eyebrow crooked upwards with a little smirk. “Mister Stark.” He raised his glass, ginger ale Tony knew because Peter had ordered it for him, and toasted as though their greeting was enough.
He looked like a model, not just because of the suit but because of the way he carried himself. He was in a three piece, had ditched the jacket early on, and the navy of the suit made his ocean blue eyes seem to sparkle. He had too many freckles for it to be normal and his hair was just a shade darker than his father’s. His father that Tony purposely hadn’t invited. His father that… “How does Norman feel about you being here?”
Harry’s other eyebrow rose to meet the other. “What father doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
Tony’s lips twitched. “How does he feel about…?” Tony gestured to Peter’s empty seat. “Is that a secret too?”
“How in the world would anyone manage to keep Peter Parker a secret?” Harry scoffed as though the mere idea was ridiculous. “But what my father thinks about anything isn’t really your business, Mr. Stark.”
“No?” Tony pursed his lips. “If it concerns my kid -.”
“With all due respect.” Harry interrupted him abruptly. “Your approval means nothing to me.”
Tony blinked and sputtered. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not excused.” He looked out at the floor instead of Tony. Observed the people walking by instead of Tony. “I’ve spent my entire life proving to everyone that matters to me that I’m more than who my father wants me to be. You matter to Peter so you’d think that would mean that you matter to me but…” He shrugged as though that was answer enough. “But I know that I’m not going to be good enough for him in your eyes and, Mister Stark, I don’t care if I’m good enough in your eyes if I’m good enough in his.”
--
“I like him.” Tony begrudgingly admitted the next day.
Pepper snorted and pushed the casserole in his hands. “Set the table, dear.”