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Tony was busy thinking about the potential use of fishpaper in a new project for Stark Industries when he got jolted out of his brain tangent to hear Peter’s question to him. They were in the workshop in the Tower—it was a typical lab Wednesday, both of them just tinkering. They’d been pretty much silent for about twenty minutes, happy to get on with their projects. Peter had been more twitchy than normal, as though he had something on his mind. Tony hadn’t inquired further, had waited for him to say something. The kid liked for things to be done in his own time, and there was no point jumping the gun.
“Can I tell you something?” Peter asked, eventually.
Tony glanced at him, putting down his spanner to focus his attention solely on Peter. He looked nervous, now—more than just twitchy, so Tony could tell it was serious. Okay, they were doing this. Having a serious conversation. That was cool. Tony could handle that. Mentoring. Great. Wonderful.
“Yeah, of course, kid.”
“It’s—uh. Um,” Peter put a hand over his eyes, scrunching them up—probably so he didn’t have to see Tony’s reaction, which was fair enough. Tony was stressed about controlling his emotional response to whatever Peter was going to say. “I’ll just—I don’t…I don’t like girls.”
Oh, it was going to be that type of conversation. He swallowed, his brain instantly supplying him with a thousand different responses. Peter seemed to be waiting for him to respond with baited breath. One of his eyes peeked out through his fingers to see Tony’s face.
Tony was worked extremely hard to keep his face mostly neutral, with a slight smile on it. “That’s alright. I’m bisexual, if you didn’t know. So that kind of thing doesn’t bother me.”
His mind was screaming at him that he didn’t know how to do this, didn’t know how to react to his teenager coming out to him, but Tony mentally took a breath and cleared out his brain of all of the panic. Right. Just do what you wish your dad had done when you told him.
God, that had been a nightmare. He hadn’t thought about that in years. The disappointment on Howard’s face had been an expression that had firmly seared its shape into Tony’s long term memory.
But Peter wasn’t done. “I don’t like guys either. I don’t like anyone in that way.”
Oh, yeah, Tony remembered that feeling. There had been an odd month or so when he was about Peter’s age when there were lots of romantic attention being thrown his way, because he was nearly of legal age and people were weird about famous kids in that way. Tony had outright rejected all of it—horrified, and had promptly decided he never wanted to date or sleep with anyone ever. He’d been wrong, obviously—he did actually find he wanted sex when he was an adult, and then he’d met Pepper and the idea of dating had suddenly become a lot more attractive as well.
So Tony nodded and went to comfort-mode. “That’s okay, Pete, you’ll find someone who you want to be with eventually. You’re in high school, it’s normal to feel like that, I didn’t like anyone properly until Pep—”
“No…” Peter frowned, interrupting him. “I don’t think you—I don’t think you get it. I’m not…going to like anyone. Ever. And don’t tell me that will change as I grow up, that’s not…it’s called being aroace. Aromantic and asexual. I’m happy and content with my platonic relationships, friends, family, stuff like that. I don’t need to date.”
Tony hesitated. Asexual. Aromantic. Those weren’t terms he’d come across before, but he remembered the absolute crushed feeling he’d felt when Howard had sneered at him—"You’re saying you like women and men? That’s not a real thing, Anthony. You pick one, and for the sake of the company, you better pick women.”
In public, he had picked women. For the sake of the company. Even after his dad was long buried. Didn’t change anything, though. He was still bisexual, and he’d even briefly dated a guy in private for a while in his early twenties. It hadn’t worked out and it was really more like casual sex than an actual relationship, but that was because Ty Stone was an asshole. Tony hadn’t really wanted to date him anyways, nothing had…clicked for him until Pepper.
So maybe he didn’t know what being asexual or aromantic was, but he sure wasn’t about to deny the kid’s identity in front of him. He was confused, not an asshole, and he wasn’t going to pull a Howard Stark in this scenario.
“That’s really cool,” Tony shot him a smile. “Thanks for sharing that with me, kid.”
Peter seemed stunned, letting out a breath he’d clearly been holding in. “Um. No problem. Thanks for being…well. Yeah. Just thanks, really.”
Peter’s gaze slid back to his forgotten project, and Tony extended an olive branch, still looking at him. He looked a lot less nervous than he had at the start, as though he was relieved now he’d spoken about his identity.
“If you want to talk about it…” Tony suggested.
Peter blinked. “Uh. Not—not now. Maybe…not yet. And also uh—don't tell anyone. You’re the first person I’ve told, and I’m not ready to tell everyone yet.”
There was a warm tingle that shot through Tony’s heart at that admission—he was the first one to know. The first!
“I’m honoured, Pete,” Tony told him, and Peter ducked his head in the way he did when he went all embarrassed. “Really.”
Peter turned back to his project, and that signalled the end of the conversation. Tony went back to his own query.
Maybe it would be better to use aramid paper instead, that might fit better for the purpose they needed it for. Peter’s admission hadn’t left his brain, and had simply settled into the back of his mind for a while so he could get some science done.
The rest of the lab session went well, and before long it was the evening and they were arranging for Happy to drive Peter back—after having the usual I can walk home, I’ll be fine argument that Peter always lost. There was no way Tony was letting Peter walk alone through the streets of New York City late at night, even though he was enhanced and could take care of himself.
The second Peter was out the door, Tony’s head glanced up to the ceiling.
“FRIDAY, can you bring up everything the internet has about being aromantic and asexual?”
“Of course, Boss,” His AI replied immediately. “Here is a variety of articles I think will be relevant for you to read.”
Two hours and several articles later, Tony had essentially reframed his understanding of sexuality as a concept—he understood it a whole lot better than he had before, and he’d also had a holy shit moment when he’d been scrolling on one of the articles. By the end of the night, he was proud to say that he had a new label—as well as bisexual. He was demiromantic.