Chapter Text
“Does it have to be so tight?” Peter asked as Tony knotted the silky tie around his neck. He reached up to loosen it just a little but his hands were immediately swatted away.
“Yes, it has to be this tight,” Tony playfully mocked. “We’re going to a Stark Industries Press Release, not the Junior Formal Homecoming Prom Ball.”
“That’s not a thing, Mr. Stark,” Peter grumbled while surreptitiously tugging at his collar. He’d only had the shirt on for half an hour and it already felt stuffy. He wished he could undo the top few buttons at least. But with the tie already being in place he was sure Tony would have a fit if he tried.
“Close enough,” Tony shrugged, then picked up Peter’s suit jacket and held it out for him to slip his arms into.
Reluctantly, Peter stepped forward and allowed Tony to pull the jacket up onto his shoulders. Once it was in place, he took a moment to admire himself in the mirror. The tie was a pleasant shade of pale blue with a subtle gray paisley pattern. His shirt was crisp white and the jacket fit well. The only thing he was really unhappy about was the way his hair was falling. It was smooth but it wasn’t nearly as tame as he would have liked. Despite being gelled back as usual, there was still a significant wave to it and there was one curl falling persistently onto his forehead. Tony had insisted it was fine.
“Well, are you going to turn around and let me see, or what?” Tony asked with a huff of mock indignation.
Peter sighed and slowly pivoted on the balls of his feet. He was fully prepared for Tony to start fussing over his suit. He was convinced his tie would be straightened for the umpteenth time and all manner of imaginary dust would be brushed from his lapels. But none of those things happened. instead Tony grinned so widely it looked as though his face might split and reached up to pinch Peter’s cheeks.
“Seeing you all dressed up like this is the most adorable thing I have ever seen in my life,” Tony cooed while unceremoniously squishing the fat of Peter’s face with more and more vigor. “I swear I just want to squeeze you to death.”
“Ow,” Peter complained as best he could. His cheeks were still solidly wedged between Tony’s fingers and thumb.
Tony relented but only marginally at Peter’s mild grievance. And Peter used that opportunity to take a considerable step back. That, in turn, allowed him to liberate himself from his mentor’s juvenile grasp.
“I’m thinking it would probably look bad if you actually squeezed me to death, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, while gently massaging the sore spots on his face. He hoped the pink splotches would ease before they had to take any pictures. “Actually, I think they call that ‘murder’ in most places.”
“Oh hush, you,” Tony replied without missing a beat. “I’m not actually going to squeeze you to death. That’s just the cute aggression talking.”
“Cute Aggression?” Peter asked, his chin dipped and his brows nearly meeting his hairline.
“Yeah,” Tony said, gently knuckling Peter on the side of the head. “You got a problem with that?”
Unsure of how to answer, Peter bit back a smile and shook his head.
“Good,” Tony curtly replied, but Peter could see the mirth in his eyes. “Then let’s get going. I don’t want to be late.”
Peter considered arguing that Tony was never on time to anything; that he liked to be fashionably late.’ But rather than opening his mouth, he simply rolled his eyes and followed Tony into the hall.