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“I can’t believe you got invited to Tony Stark’s New Year’s party,” Ned twisted to face Peter from where he was perched on his bed. “What even is your life, dude?”
Peter threw him a disgruntled look. “You didn’t need to remind me. You know I’m already panicking!”
“You shouldn’t be,” Ned said, not for the first time. “You’re going to look better than everyone there. You don’t need to be nervous.”
At Peter’s skeptical expression, he added, “Trust me. I grew up with you, man, and if you weren’t like a brother to me, I would have made a move on you back in high school.”
Peter couldn’t help smiling at that, some of the tension in his shoulders unwinding. “That goes for you too, buddy. Speaking of, how’s Betty?”
Ned dodged his inquisitive gaze, his cheeks glowing slightly. “This isn’t about me. Do you know what you’re going to wear to the party?”
“We’re coming back to this topic,” Peter warned him, before turning to his closet despairingly. “I have no idea what to wear. It’s all too cheap for a Stark party.”
“If he doesn’t want you when you’re cheap, he doesn’t deserve you when you’re not,” Ned declared. He paused, and asked with a hesitant wince, “Did that make sense?”
“Sort of,” Peter shrugged.
Ned sighed helplessly. “Whatever. Maybe we should call MJ. I don’t think I’ll be much help with choosing your outfit.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Peter agreed, scanning the clothes they’d looked through earlier. Their search had been fruitless. They needed a fresh set of eyes.
It didn’t take MJ long to arrive. For all that she complained about being called in at the last minute, seeing as the party was being thrown later that night, she hadn’t been reluctant to leave her apartment and come to theirs. No matter how many times she tried to deny it, she considered Peter and Ned her friends, and would drop almost anything to help them out — just as they would for her. They had grown considerably closer since not-sitting together during lunch at Midtown. Their friendship stayed firm when they moved to different states for college, and only strengthened when they all returned to New York with degrees to their names.
“How has your fashion sense remained dorky throughout your entire life?” MJ scrutinized the atom-patterned blazer draped over the back of his desk chair.
“Should I not wear that?” Peter stood beside her, trying to imagine what she was seeing.
Did she think the pattern was childish? Was the fabric too scratchy? Did the colors hurt her eyes?
“It would look stupid on anyone else. But endearing on you,” she conceded. “Wear it. I think Stark will get a kick out of it.”
“I’m not trying to impress him,” Peter said adamantly. “I just want to look good.”
“You will,” Ned assured him, “but you’re also going to impress him.”
When Peter didn’t say anything to that, admitting defeat and angling his body away from them to start getting changed, Ned and MJ fist-bumped behind his back.
By the time the taxi came to drive Peter to the hotel — and yes, apparently the party was big enough to be hosted at a hotel, because Tony Stark didn’t do anything by halves — he was vibrating where he stood waiting from the force of his nerves. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. He’d been to Tony’s parties before, and he knew what to expect, but this felt different somehow. He had a feeling, somewhere deep in his gut, beneath the quivering butterflies, that something monumental would occur that night. Something life-changing. Something he simply could not miss.
The anticipation had him on the edge of his metaphorical seat, and then on the edge of his literal one, once he seated himself in the taxi. He spent the drive to the hotel drumming his fingers on the tops of his knees, which bounced incessantly until he pulled up to the building. Peter paid the driver with trembling hands, which he stuffed into his pockets the moment he climbed out of the car. He might be anxious, for reasons still unknown, but he wouldn’t show it to the celebrities that were bound to be at the party.
The hall he was led to was huge and filled to the brim with guests, all of whom were flittering from one end to the other and chattering amongst themselves. Peter sucked in a deep breath and paused by the entrance doors, searching for anyone he knew. He recognized some of the attendants, but only vaguely, from previous gatherings.
A couple of hours of stilted conversation with strangers passed by until he caught sight of Sam Wilson, who was leaning against the side of the bar and seemingly chatting up a woman who was dressed to the nines. Peter shifted uncomfortably in his blazer as he approached them, reminded once more of his subpar outfit. He hoped that Tony wouldn’t feel embarrassed at having his guests see him.
“What’s up, Parker?” Sam called, having noticed him before he could say anything. “You want a drink? I can check if they have any juice boxes for you.”
Peter nudged him with his elbow, letting loose an exasperated snort. “Only if you want me to look for adult diapers. I heard you’ve been having some issues. Old age, and all that.”
The woman before them raised her brows at that. With a pinched expression, she turned on her heel and drifted towards a different group. Sam hurried after her, swearing that what Peter had said wasn’t true.
“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” a calloused hand caressed his back before sliding up to grip his shoulder.
Gulping, Peter turned to the man the hand belonged to. “No, Mr. Stark. I’d help you with your diapers.”
“Good,” Tony hummed, tightening his, dare he say, possessive hold on him.
Peter gestured jerkily in the direction that Sam and the lady had gone in, unsure as to what he should say next. “I kinda feel bad about that.”
“Don’t,” Tony waved a breezy hand. “Sam deserves better than a woman who wouldn’t change his diapers.”
“Right,” Peter swallowed. The bundle of nerves inside him had bloomed erratically since he started talking to Tony.
“You want to get out of here?” Tony asked, already steering him towards the doors.
Peter’s mouth fell open. “But this is your party. You can’t leave if you’re the host.”
“Says who?” Tony’s lips quirked upwards, and he continued to lead Peter out of the hall when he remained silent.
To Peter’s surprise, Tony didn’t take them outside but to the elevator, which they then rode up to the roof. Despite his complete faith in Tony, Peter found himself fleetingly worried that this was part of a murder plot, and that he was about to be pushed off of the roof.
He shoved away his ridiculous thoughts and instead marveled at how beautiful Tony looked. His expressive eyes shone under the city lights, and Peter was startled to find that they were trained on him. Tony didn’t look away once he was caught, his stare only intensifying.
“Pete,” Tony broke the silence quietly. “I need to know if I’m reading this right or if I’m about to ruin our friendship.”
“Well, what are you reading?” Peter breathed, that persistent gut-feeling at its peak, having risen in a steady crescendo throughout the evening.
“I love you,” Tony said without hesitation. “And I think you love me too.”
Peter’s heart stuttered in his chest. “You are reading this right, then.”
“Can I kiss you?” Tony asked without preamble. “I’d be smoother, but I’m trying to get you to be my New Year’s Kiss, so we’re in a bit of a time crunch here. Hope you don’t mind.”
Peter glanced at the watch strapped to Tony’s wrist. “Better kiss me now, then. We’ve got ten seconds.”
As if on cue, people throughout the city started counting down, all in their respective celebrations.
10
“You won’t run for the hills as soon as it’s over?”
9
“No, Tony.”
8
“If I’d known that this was what would get you to call me by my name, I would have kissed you a long time ago.”
7
“So this isn’t a recent thing for you?”
6
“No. But not enough to be creepy.”
5
“It’s not recent for me, either.”
4
“That was obvious from the start.”
3
“Oh, shut up and kiss me.”
2
“Getting ballsy now that you can boss me around?”
1
“Tony.”
0
“I’m on it.”
Happy New Year!
Tony threaded his fingers through the soft locks of hair on Peter’s head, bringing them closer together with a gentle tug and tilting his chin up, until their mouths bumped together in a clumsy kiss. Tony steadied it, guiding Peter through the first of many kisses that would be shared between them. Behind them, fireworks were going off, their vibrant colors painting themselves behind their closed eyelids. They didn’t need to look to see what was happening; the thrill of having the other was more than enough for their hearts to start racing.
“You sure you’ll want to help me with diapers?” Tony murmured against his lips.
Peter smiled. “Yeah, Tony. I’m sure.”
“Then it’s your turn, Parker. Kiss me.”