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Tony isn’t a hundred percent sure whether he should be proud or ashamed of himself. On one hand, he’s been able to stay away from the drug that is Peter Parker for a week.
On the other hand… He’s been ghosting Peter for a week. Not that Peter has been obsessively trying to get in touch with him or anything. Which is probably one of the reasons he’s been able to stay away for this long.
Sometimes he wonders if Peter is even interested in this relationship at all, even though he knows, realistically, that he’s just a mess on two legs and has way too many things on his hands. And is prone to forget that his phone even exists ninety percent of the time.
And he knows that it’s a little hypocritical of him to doubt Peter’s investment when he, himself, has been radio silent since he saw them at the park.
But he’s Tony Stark. He has shit to do, so he’s kind of excused, right? Right. So if Peter spots him tonight, he can just… wing it. He’ll figure something out. It’s not the end of the world.
Speaking of… He was not anticipating seeing Peter at this event. This is probably one of the last places he expected him to be, honestly.
It’s a party . Peter doesn’t party. And he definitely doesn’t party with rich assholes. What is he even doing here? In a suit, even. And not the colorful, skintight kind he’s usually wearing. Oh no, he’s parading around in a three-piece, light grey Tom Ford.
He looks absolutely stunning. There’s no other word for it. Like a piece of art that somehow escaped a painting and is trying to fit into the world of the living.
It’s a masterpiece. Peter in general is a masterpiece, but it’s different . Put the two Peter’s next to each other and people won’t even be able to see them as the same person. Tony certainly had to look twice to make sure his eyes weren’t betraying him.
And then he had to blink a few times to get his brain back online, because what the actual fuck are you doing here, Pete? What is he doing getting drinks for Johnny Storm? And why is he looking so damn happy being here?
Tony hasn’t been able to get Peter to wear anything nicer than a pair of jeans without holes in them and a button-up shirt. He hasn’t been able to drag him to a more expensive place than what he can afford to pay for.
How did Johnny Storm of all people manage to drag Peter here? To a charity event hosted by J. Jonah Jameson of all people. Tony might not know a whole lot about Peter and his secret life, but he knows for a fact that it’s gonna take a lot of effort to make him spend any amount of time in the same room as the mayor willingly.
But as it is, Peter is waving his arms around, making weird faces and laughing so loud that Tony can hear it all the way from across the filled-up room.
He can hear Johnny’s laugh too, however, and so can apparently the rest of the party, because everyone is glancing over and side-eyeing them from time to time, probably wondering what the hell is so damn amusing.
It’s most likely nothing anyone else thinks is hilariously funny, however. Tony doesn’t know Johnny outside of the tabloids, but he knows enough about Peter to know that his humor is not civilized on any level. Seeing how they both can barely stand up with how hard they’re laughing, Johnny’s humor is just as bad.
Tony is left staring for a little too long, and he doesn’t exactly have the willpower to look away. Thank god for dark glasses and his whiskey that he’s been sipping on and refilling religiously since he got here.
He’s not the only one drinking like it’s the only thing keeping him together and surviving this event, however. Peter is giggling and swaying and leaning against Johnny while they joke around, and Johnny is (unsurprisingly) just as buzzed. They’re downing champagne like it’s cheap beer and clinking whiskey glasses together like they’re celebrating the biggest night of their lives.
Tony would be lying if he said he wasn’t just a little curious. He wants to know what Johnny is doing, to make Peter relax like that. What does it take to make Peter feel like he can let go so completely and forget his precious responsibilities. And why doesn’t Peter feel safe enough to do so with him?
What does Johnny Storm of all people have, that Tony doesn’t? Why can Peter be public with Johnny, who, in all honesty, is in the headlines for some scandal way more than Tony is? Is the whole “I want my life to be private”- line just a lie? He’s clearly not too concerned about his privacy tonight.
Everyone here has spotted him. Everyone’s eyes have been on him at some point, and Tony is sure that if he could read minds, he could hear everyone’s thoughts trying to figure out who the hell he is. If they don’t know already.
Peter leans against a wall, throwing his head back as he laughs. Bubbly, easy, happy laughter filling the room and covering all the other voices with a thick fog like it’s the most powerful thing in the world. Drowning out the clinking glasses and polite murmuring.
Johnny bumps his arm in his side, looking at him with such pride and joy and they do look like they belong together. It makes Tony’s guts knot together uncomfortably because Peter shouldn’t act like that with anyone but him .
They’re still together, right? Even though Tony has been quiet for the last few days. They didn’t end anything. He just needs some time to figure out what he wants. Or… Not what he wants exactly. He knows exactly what he wants. He wants Peter. He wants that young man by his side. He wants to wake up next to him in the morning. Wants to spend endless hours in the lab with him. He wants to show him off to the world, let everyone know what a magnificent piece of art he is. And that he’s his .
The issue isn’t what he wants. The issue is everything that comes with it. Everything that belongs in the package. Because this isn’t a case where he can pick and choose and leave out the things he’s not capable of handling.
If he wants to have Peter, as a lover and a partner, and have him exclusively, he gets the secrets, the privacy, the burden of keeping half of Peter’s life to himself. He gets the son, the little kid that’s already lost a parent. The responsibility of making sure that kid is safe and happy and has everything he needs.
He gets the trauma Peter is carrying. The grief he’s still holding onto, the guilt of failing everyone he loves. He gets all of it. And is that something Tony can handle?
Watching from afar as Peter leans on Johnny’s shoulder, still smiling, still happy, and feeling as if his heart is torn to pieces, it’s hard to think that there is a reality out there where he chooses to let go. Peter should be with him. It should be his shoulder. It should be his body supporting his drunk and heavy head. It should be him that makes him smile and giggle and escape the horrible reality of the world.
Everything comes to a screeching halt when Johnny wraps his arms around Peter and kisses his head. Because that’s just not acceptable. They might not have seen him, but that doesn’t make it alright. Friends don’t do that to each other. The whole thing between those two has been off all night, and that’s just the parts Tony has been able to see.
He excuses himself from the dull conversation he’s nodding along to and grabs two glasses of champagne from a waitress passing by him as he strolls over to them as confidently as he can. Hoping that it looks like he’s not about to bite his tongue off with how hard he’s trying to not blow up at them before he even makes it over there.
His fingers vibrate around the glasses and his cheeks hurt from the fake smile he’s forcing to stay on his face. The blood pulsing through him is bubbling and boiling on its way around, speeding up his cracking heart, shattering it a little more with every beat.
“Pete! Didn’t expect to see you here. Having a good time?” he announces, grinning a little too wide, and offering one of the glasses. He watches Johnny’s confusion flashing in his eyes, and he raises his chin a little, straightening his back a little more.
Peter, however, doesn’t look too surprised to see him, which is a little concerning, and a bit too much to unpack right now. Did he know he was here? Does he know he’s been watched all night? With the way his face suddenly falls into a mix of irritation and seriously unimpressed, he probably does.
He takes the glass from Tony, downs the whole thing in one go, before looking over at Johnny, stating that he needs some air before he shoves past both him and Tony, stomping off to the emergency exit.
“You’re the worst, do you know that?” Johnny scoffs and shakes his head a little before he wanders off to talk to someone else. What the hell just happened?
“Friday, where did Peter go?”
“He’s on the roof, boss.”
Great. Just… Great. Tony downs his glass, rolls his shoulders and heads for the stairs up to the roof. Dodging people left and right and offering the smallest, most polite excuses he can come up with in his haste as he maneuvers his way through the crowd.
Peter is indeed on the roof, sitting on the edge, hands in his lap, staring up at the dark sky. It’s not until he’s a little closer that he sees the golden ring he’s fiddling with.
“What do you want, Tony?” he asks, voice soft, resigned, almost. It makes him stop for a second, actually think about the words on their way out of his mouth. “ You, ” don’t seem like the appropriate thing to answer right now. Even if it is the truth. “Y’know, if you want this relationship thing to work, ghosting me for a week is a terrible way to go about it.”
“Sorry,” he mutters, almost as a reflex, and cringes a little at how it sounds coming out of his mouth. He’s not one to apologize so easily, and he’s not quite sure how sincere it is either. He had his reasons, he didn’t just do it for shits and giggles. Or to piss Peter off.
“Really? That’s all I get?” Peter turns his head, shifting away from the edge of the roof, clutching his ring in his hand as he stomps over to him, looking all kinds of fed up and powerful. “No explanation, no excuse, no bullshit about being too busy? Nothing at all?”
Tony straightens his back, looking Peter dead in the eyes, breathing slowly through his nose. If Peter wants a fight, then he’ll get a fight. “I don’t owe you an explanation, Peter. And you’re obviously doing just fine without me.”
Peter huffs a dry laugh and pokes Tony in the chest just hard enough to make him take a step back. Peter follows him, stepping up and standing so close they’re breathing the same air. If it wasn’t for the dangerous look in his eyes, this would have been a rather welcome turn of events.
As it is, though, Tony is close to losing his confidence, and that alone is a little too unfamiliar for comfort at the moment.
“I’m doing fine without you, Tony, because I don’t need you.” He pokes his finger with every word of the last part of that statement, really making sure Tony understands. The sound of the strong digit hitting the arc reactor signifying how real and true his words are.
And Tony knows this. Realistically, he knows that Peter doesn’t need him. But it’s still so profoundly rare to have someone in his life that aren’t just around for the things he can provide for them. It’s easy to forget that Peter isn’t one of them.
Peter doesn’t want his money. Or his gadgets. Or his brain. He doesn’t need Tony’s protection or status. And it’s a little intimidating, because what the hell is left of Tony to want?
“I want you. But I don’t want whatever uncertain bullshit this is. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it the proper way.”
“And how do I know you’re really in this with me, huh? It was one week , and you’re already draping yourself over Johnny Storm. Is this just a joke to you?”
“Are you not listening to me?” Peter throws his arms out, raising his brows before letting both arms and facial expressions fall again. He looks so utterly resigned suddenly. “Of course you’re not. You never listen to anyone.”
“Then tell me! What the fuck are you doing hanging on Johnny’s arm?” Peter actually laughs at this. Not a happy laugh, but more like a mocking “You’re-a-fucking-idiot” kinda laugh.
“Are you jealous? Of Johnny? Seriously?” Jealous? Tony isn’t jealous. He scrunches his nose up at the accusation, taking a step back, on his own accord this time, and opens his mouth to argue, only to have Peter’s hand block it before he’s able to get a single sound out. “Don’t even think about it. You’re jealous. Of the guy I see as a brother .”
Brother. What Tony saw earlier today doesn’t look very brotherly, but he’ll give Peter a chance to explain. And not only because his mouth is covered by a warm, sticky palm.
“I’ve known Johnny since I was sixteen. Sue basically forced me into their family. There is not, and has never been anything romantic or sexual between us.” His eyes narrow, his voice lower to this husky tone that always has Tony’s knees grow weak, even when he looks like he’s 2 seconds away from dripping venom all over him. “Now, your turn. Tell me, Tony—” he continues, almost whispering, leaning in so close their noses almost touch.
“--Why did you think ghosting me for a week was a good idea, huh?” The mix of danger and teasing in his voice is making his spine vibrate and the hairs on his arms stand. It’s making his brain shut down and it’s impossible to say anything but the absolute truth. He doesn’t even have the time to scramble up a proper way to say anything, because as soon as Peter removes his hand, the words just fall out of his mouth.
“I’m scared. I want you, and everything that comes with you. But you have a lot going on, and I’m… scared .”
Peter looks really confused for a flash of a second before it shifts into anger, and then something that looks like disgust, before it lands back on confusion. Just watching his face go through all these stages is a little mesmerizing, but doesn’t do much to soothe his sweaty hands or thrumming heart at the moment.
“I’m sorry, what? What the hell are you scared of?”
Tony regrets opening his mouth as soon as the words are out, but he’s not about to back down and be a coward about this. He might have made a mistake, but backing down and leaving Peter to wonder is just gonna make everything a whole lot worse.
“Listen… I’m not the best when it comes to relationships. I’ve fucked up so badly I wasn’t even planning on trying it again. Ever.” He moves his feet a little, straightening back up, trying to show Peter that even though he’s weak for the dominance, he’s still Tony fucking Stark, and he doesn’t bend just for anyone. (He will bend for Peter any time of the day, no matter what he tells himself, but Peter doesn’t need to know that.)
“But I—” he takes a slow breath, trying to find a way around confessing shit way too soon and ruin everything anyway. Peter is looking at him expectantly, however, eyebrow raised and eyes boring into him, probably exposing everything he feels regardless of what he says. “-- I don’t want to lose this. You.”
He bites back the comment about Normie before he’s able to shove his foot further into his mouth. He’s not that terrible at saving his own ass, after all. And he doesn’t want Peter to feel like Normie is a burden. He hasn’t actually met the kid yet, so bringing him into all of this just feels wrong , even though it’s been taking up his mind way too much for the last week.
Apparently, he does say the right thing, though, or Peter is just a little too drunk or tired to argue anymore because he’s not even able to fully comprehend what the hell is happening before his lips are met with Peter’s soft, wet and warm ones. His hands come up to cradle his cheeks, keeping him steady and Tony moves on autopilot. Peter tastes like champagne and burgers, and he smells like cheap perfume and science, just like he always does.
It’s a good thing, honestly. It reminds him that Peter is still Peter, even when he’s pissed off and sporting a designer suit at an event he never would have been to if he could choose for himself.
He wraps his arms around his slender waist, bringing him even closer, reveling in the warm palms on his face, the cold nose pressed against his skin, and for just a second he forgets that they still have a lot to talk about.
Nothing is really resolved, Peter is probably still mad at him, and Tony is still fucking terrified. But they can work it out. They can have a long talk when they haven’t been drinking and the nagging image of Johnny kissing Peter’s forehead isn’t glued to his brain.
“You’re a fucking idiot, Tony,” Peter murmurs, raking his teeth across Tony’s lip before locking his mouth around his again, and Tony just hums in agreement, because, yes. He is a fucking idiot. He’s an idiot who’s falling way too fast and way too hard for a guy running around in thighs to save the day.