Archive of Our Own

Barnes nodded curtly, before bowing to his king and strolling to the front of the castle. Without being instructed to, a guard replaced him at his station in front of the king’s door. Tony clambered back into bed, but did not go back to sleep or take off his robe. Instead, he caressed Peter’s soft locks of hair to keep his hands occupied as he thought. 

What purpose could one have in visiting the prince consort? Whatever it was, the visitor could talk to him about it, too. Tony was not above encroaching on Peter’s privacy if it meant that he would be safe. 

A quiet sigh from his right had Tony turning his head, and he was greeted with the slow opening of Peter’s eyes, which were still clouded with tiredness and sleep. He smiled fondly as a small yawn escaped Peter’s lips, who then burrowed closer to Tony’s side in search of warmth. Tony hiked up their blanket, trapping Peter in a cocoon of heat.  

“Good morning, my prince,” Tony ran a thumb along his ruffled brows. 

“Good morning,” Peter pressed a small kiss against his broad shoulder. “Did you sleep well?” 

Tony said honestly, “I always sleep well when I’m with you.” 

Peter flushed at that, a familiar red tinge blooming on his cheeks and spreading up to his ears. Tony tugged on one with a smirk, pride swelling in his chest as he admired the effect he had on his partner. No amount of riches or power could make him happier than Peter’s love for him did. 

“Shall we go down for breakfast?” Peter pulled down the blanket, but made no move to leave Tony. 

“If you’re hungry,” Tony shrugged, leaving the decision for him to make. “The cooks won’t go anywhere.” 

“Let’s go, then,” Peter decided, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I have been craving that fig jam Steve brought last week.” 

Tony wordlessly followed him through his morning routine. Before he’d married Peter, he’d had stylists and maids to help him dress for the day, but Peter’s distaste for the interruption to their quiet mornings together had him calling it off. He didn’t regret it. Watching Peter browse his wardrobe for an outfit, clad in sleep wear and hair tousled from sleep, was far better than lazing about as others did the thinking and moving for him. 

After they finished getting dressed, they approached the display in which sat their crowns. Peter went first, picking up Tony’s crown with gentle hands and setting it atop his head. Tony then took hold of Peter’s crown and placed it on his curls, the action still taking his breath away years after their wedding. 

It was a solid, daily reminder. They were alive, they were together, and they were in love. 

When they finished having breakfast, during which Peter had enthusiastically spread fig jam on his toast, Tony cleared his throat to get his attention. 

“Barnes claims that there’s a man who wants to see you,” Tony said, the notion making apprehensive butterflies flutter in his stomach. “He didn’t give his name, but when he does, I’ll assess him myself and see what he wants from you.” 

Peter’s eyes widened in surprise. “Can I not decide that for myself?” 

“I am not jeopardizing your safety,” Tony shook his head, leaving no room for arguments. 

Peter stayed silent for several moments as he pondered over the information he was given. Eventually, he opened his mouth to say, “When I do go to meet the man, you won’t be coming with me.”

Tony’s expression hardened. “I am not leaving you alone with a strange man.” 

“Then I come with you to assess him, and we speak to him together.” Peter bargained.

“You’ve gotten too good at this,” Tony’s stiff exterior faltered, and Peter took it for the defeat it represented. 

“Well, I have been married to you for years,” Peter mentioned by way of explanation, reaching for Tony’s hands to soothe any lingering frustration.

They were accompanied by four guards on their way down to the dungeons, where their visitor was being kept as he awaited their arrival. He’d been searched earlier, and found with no weapons, but had been placed in a cell as a precaution. 

The group stayed in front of the bars to the cell, leaving the man by himself on the other side. He looked up at their arrival, getting on his knees and bowing his head to the king. 

“Peter,” the man spoke, looking directly at him and eliciting a gasp from him. “I need your help.” 

The guard to Peter’s left withdrew his sword from its sheath. “You will address the prince consort with respect.” 

Peter hovered a hand in front of him, gesturing for him to return the sword to its proper place. He was smiling slightly. “That’s alright, Thor, thank you. I know him.” 

“You do?” Tony’s brows knitted together in confusion. 

“Yes,” Peter confirmed, breaching the distance between himself and the bars of the cell to get closer to the man in it. “Long time no see, Harry.”

Harry grinned up at him. “Maybe if you’d visit once in a while…” 

“It’s easier for you to reach me than it is for me to reach you,” Peter defended. 

Harry glanced at their surroundings with a doubtful look. “Is it?” 

Peter conceded to that. “What do you need my help with?” 

“I would’ve preferred for this to be a private conversation,” Harry bit the inside of his cheek. When no one reacted, he relented and said, “My father is ill. I don’t have the money to help him, and I was hoping that you would be willing to.” 

Any other time, Tony would have butted in and said that they didn’t give out money. It would send everyone in the kingdom the message that they, too, could come to them for financial aid, and their funds would quickly dry out as a result. They couldn’t show favoritism. 

This was Peter’s friend, however, and if Peter used his personal account, it wouldn’t be considered an official royal expense. So, Tony kept his mouth shut and watched Peter talk. 

“Of course I will help,” Peter’s face softened. “How bad is it?” 

“I’m afraid that he’s nearing his end,” Harry admitted. 

“I will send a medic to accompany you home and help your father. All expenses will be covered.” Peter told him, before turning to everyone behind him with a fierce look, as if daring them to disagree with his decision. 

No one said a word. 

“Release him from his cell,” Peter ordered, and Thor hesitated briefly, turning to Tony for confirmation on the command. The king had the highest power, and Thor didn’t want to risk crossing him by doing something he might not agree with. When he received a nod, he unlocked the cell and swung open the door, letting Harry walk out. 

The guards tensed when Harry threw himself at Peter, preparing to fight, but relaxed when Peter hugged him, thus consenting to the touch. 

“Thank you,” Harry whispered, his gratefulness bringing tears to his eyes. 

“Any time, Harry, I mean it,” Peter said, sniffling slightly in sympathy. 

“Does he treat you right?” Harry murmured into his ear, referring to Tony. 

Peter smiled broadly. “He treats me better than anyone else could’ve.” 

“I’m happy for you,” Harry set his chin on his shoulder. “I worry about you a lot. After losing so many people, it seemed as though you’d never find happiness again.” 

Peter didn’t say anything, tightening his grip on him instead. They pulled away from each other after a few seconds, and Peter escorted him to the gates, where they said their goodbyes. They promised to visit each other more often, and off Harry went, racing home with a medic by his side to get back to his father.

“You never told me about him,” Tony brought up at dinner that evening. 

Peter didn’t need to ask who he was talking about. “It never came up in conversation.” 

“How close are you two?” Tony asked, seemingly gauging something. 

“We’ve never seen each other in a romantic light, if that’s what you’re trying to ask,” Peter informed him, amused. “We were childhood friends, and we’re close to this day.” 

Tony didn’t bluster at being found out. “It’s good information to have.” 

“I suppose so,” Peter’s lips twitched upwards. 

“Don’t you laugh at me,” Tony pointed at him with his fork, an indignant frown forming on his face. 

Peter moved his head to steal the meat that had been trapped on the prongs of Tony’s fork. Tony set down his now bare fork, torn between laughing and playing at anger. He inched his plate away from Peter to protect the rest of his meal.

“I love you,” Peter told him, his happiness expanding past the castle’s walls and seeming to brighten the sky.

“A minute ago, I would have said the same,” Tony said haughtily, gesturing at the stolen meat Peter was chewing. 

“I suppose I love Harry, then,” Peter shot back.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Tony wagged a finger at him. “I love you, too, Peter.” 

“I’ll accept that answer.”