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Tony wakes easily.
That’s uncommon. It’s far more likely that he’ll wake up slowly and poorly, dragging himself up out of unconsciousness and resenting every second of it. Or wake and feel just as tired as when he fell into bed, and wind up lying there far too long, trying to summon up the energy to go beyond waking up. Sometimes, even worse, he’ll jerk awake, startled, heart pounding and on high alert for no reason at all, and there’s nothing like starting the day with an adrenaline rush. He doesn’t recommend it.
But this morning—he’s pretty sure it’s still morning—he wakes quietly, a slow awareness of the world around him growing. The bed’s soft, he doesn’t ache, he’s not too hot or too cold, and nothing is numb from being in a weird position too long. His mind is just as slow, just registering things rather than running away ten thousand miles an hour.
There’s a warm hand holding his; Tony turns his head and his morning suddenly improves even more. Peter’s curled on his side just a few inches away, eyes still closed and hair ridiculously fluffed up. Now that’s something he could get used to waking up to more often. And it has been more often, more and more.
Tony shifts, scooting a little closer until they’re touching. Kisses Peter’s shoulder, barely, more a brush of lips than anything.
“Morning,” Peter mumbles; when Tony pulls back, his eyes are still closed.
‘Thought you were still asleep,” Tony says.
“I am,” Peter says, and Tony laughs softly. “Well,” Peter adds, “I was trying to be. I woke up ages ago and just didn’t feel like actually getting up.” He opens his eyes, finally. “I’d much rather stay here with you.”
“Agreed,” Tony says. God, what he wouldn’t give to just stay here in bed with Peter. If only it was that easy.
But no, Tony thinks as he lets his forehead fall against Peter’s shoulder, closing his eyes. It’s not that simple. It never is. There are all sorts of things he should be doing, and no matter which one he concentrates on today, someone’s still going to be upset they didn’t get the first slot in his jam packed schedule. He shouldn’t care, shouldn’t be bothered by it all, since the fact that he’s putting in the work at all says enough, but it still niggles at him a little.
Sometimes he misses the days when he spent more time blowing shit off than actually doing any of it. Not that it hadn’t bothered him almost as much back then, but it was easier to not care. Mostly.
“I don’t wanna get up,” he says, and it comes out in more of a whine. He can just feel some of that easy pleasure he’d felt at waking up like this fading.
“So don’t,” Peter says.
Tony sighs. “Not really an option, baby,” he says. “I’ve got too much shit to do. I’ll just get yelled at again for ducking out.” Or worse, and just as likely, he’ll get those looks, those resigned, disappointed looks, those ‘why am I even surprised you did this’ looks.
Peter huffs; a second later, he’s got Tony on his back. He looms over Tony, leaning close, and the sleepiness is mostly gone from his face. “They’re probably going to yell anyway,” he says. “Seems like they spend a lot of time doing it no matter what you do. Just tell them it was my fault.”
“Yeah,” Tony says, “sounds like a great idea. ‘Sorry, couldn’t get out of bed because of my boyfriend; what do you mean you don’t want to hear about my sex life?’. Pepper will love that. I can already hear it: ‘don’t blame Peter for this’.”
“You’ve got a dirty mind,” Peter says, but he’s smiling a little. Spreads his knees a little and settles on Tony’s legs, pulling Tony’s arms up above his head just a bit. Wiggles, pushing Tony down into the bed, pinning him. “Tell them I wouldn’t let you get up,” he says, softer.
"Oh, you won't let me, hmm?" Tony says, trying not to smile.
"Nope," Peter says. "Tell them you tried so hard, but you’re only human and I’m not. Totally not your fault.”
Tony tugs, barely, at Peter's grip; twists just as slightly under Peter. “Well, I tried,” he says, letting himself go limp again. “Guess I’m stuck.”
“Mmm.” Peter leans in, kisses him slow, lingering. “You tried,” he says. “A for effort. I should probably reward that, shouldn’t I.”
He kisses Tony again; Tony pushes up into it, giving in. “I’m not going to tell you no,” he says, and Peter grins.
Smirks, actually.