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Tony always knew Peter was possessive. He thought it was charming—a way to make Tony feel cared for with the perk of staking his claim. He’d indulged in Peter’s jealous streak, sometimes going so far as willingly striking that flame within him. Peter forgave his petty neediness every time. He never made Tony feel bad for wanting attention, only showered him in a litany of praise, aiming to please him.
It was with dawning horror, and an odd sense of glee, that Tony realized Peter’s love knew no bounds.
“Pete,” Tony said slowly, eyes refusing to leave the smoldering property before him. “Most people just ask their partners if they want to move in with them.”
Peter smiled adoringly. “I’m not most people.”
“That you are not,” Tony agreed.
Smoke tickled at his nostrils and he flinched back reflexively, coughing into the crook of his elbow. Peter placed a guiding hand on his back, ushering him away from the ruins of his mansion.
No big deal, Tony thought. Home was where his heart was, and his heart was forever in Peter’s sticky hands.
He’d have given up the mansion in a heartbeat if that was what Peter wanted, but Peter had beaten him to the punch. He supposed there was something to be said about superheroes and grand gestures.
“Ready to go home?” Peter beamed, tucking into his side.
How could Tony possibly refuse an offer like that?
“I’m right beside you, baby,” Tony promised.
Tony settled into Peter’s apartment remarkably quickly. Most of his personal belongings were strewn about the place prior to his move-in, what with all the time he spent there, so the fire didn’t impact him too harshly. He had the money to replace everything else.
“I’m happy you’re here,” Peter admitted softly that night, nails tracing web-like patterns into Tony’s bare skin. “It feels right.”
His nails dug down for a quick, burning second, leaving behind crescent marks that he caressed with apologetic fingers. Tony hummed in agreement.
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Tony hiked their blanket up further, enveloping them in the warmth it provided. “Go to bed, honey. It’s getting late.”
“I’m already in bed.” Peter pointed out with a snicker.
Tony swatted him playfully. “You know what I mean. Sleep.”
If Tony thought that Peter would relax about his whereabouts and well-being now that they lived together, he was dead wrong. If Tony was later to come home than he said he would be, Peter was calling faster than he could even think to send him a text. Peter was concerned about how he spent their time apart and who he did it with. Tony didn’t think his worry was warranted, but he supposed it was only right to fret over one’s boyfriend. He knew he had no room to talk. Tony nearly went ballistic every time Peter got hurt on patrol or during a mission.
“You’re going out this late?” Peter questioned. “It’s dangerous this time of night.”
Tony blew him a kiss on his way to the front door. “And I’m Iron Man.”
“Wait!” Peter called, stopping Tony in his tracks. “What about my goodbye kiss?”
Tony cupped his face in his rough palms, pressing a rueful kiss to his mouth. “That better?”
“Yeah,” Peter said dreamily, dazed. He shook his head quickly to clear it. “Who’s going with you?”
“Rhodey, Steve, Thor…” Tony trailed off, knowing how Peter would feel about his choice in companions without asking. Sure enough, Peter blanched.
“Thor will get you drunk off your ass,” Peter accused.
Tony shrugged. “It’s nothing new.”
“I don’t want you coming home drunk.” Peter pursed his lips. “You’re more vulnerable when you’re not in your right mind. Be home by one, please.”
At Tony’s hesitation, he added: “You know I can’t sleep without you.”
Tony’s face softened. “Your wish is my command. I love you, baby. Call if you need anything.”
“I will,” Peter promised, glancing out the window nervously. “Please be careful.”
“When I’ve got you to come home to? Always.” With those parting words, Tony stepped out of the apartment, locking the door behind him.
He traipsed through the streets of New York with a hand on his repulsor-watch, ready for an attack at any moment. He was careful to stay under the streetlamps and away from alleys, peering over his shoulder every few seconds as a precaution. He made it to the bar in no time, and it was only then that he allowed his hand to drift away from his watch. He scanned the place as he strode in and spotted his friends at a booth, drinks in hand.
“You couldn’t wait for me, could you?” Tony teased in lieu of a greeting.
“You were taking too long, man.” Rhodey shook his head, motioning for him to take a seat by his side.
“I had to say goodbye to Peter.” Tony excused.
Thor beamed. “Ah, young love. How is the man of spiders doing?”
A chorus of shushes rose from the booth, causing Thor to falter. Steve patted him on the arm consolingly.
“We need to keep his identity on the down low,” Steve reminded. “It’s just ‘Peter’ for now.”
Thor nodded in understanding. “My apologies.”
“Peter’s fine.” Tony smiled down at the table. “Everything’s going great for us.”
Rhodey nudged his side with a goading grin. “I hear you lovebirds have moved in together?”
“We have, yeah.” Tony chose to keep that story to himself. He didn’t think they’d find Peter’s gesture as sweet as he did. “We should’ve done it sooner. I had so many things at his place, I practically lived there already.”
“We’re happy for you,” Steve said gently. “For a while there I thought you might not find someone. But you and Peter…it makes sense.”
Tony beamed. “He’s perfect.”
The conversation shifted from there. The others noticed that Tony wasn’t drinking but didn’t press the matter until they were thoroughly drunk themselves.
“The old you would’ve been shitfaced by now,” Rhodey noted.
Tony snorted. “The current me is in love.”
“The missus doesn’t want you drinking.” Steve hummed, understanding dawning on his face. “I can’t say I’m not surprised you listened.”
Thor pulled a flask from the inner pocket of his coat. “I’ve brought ale from Asgard. It’s the finest I could find. Won’t you try it?”
Asgardian alcohol was notorious for getting people drunk with very little, very fast. Only Asgardians themselves could properly indulge in it. Thor was amused by mortals’ attempts at drinking it and often brought it for them to try. Enhanced humans fared better, but Tony wasn’t enhanced, nor was he Asgardian. Still, the temptation was there.
“Give me that.” Rhodey snatched the flask from Thor, tipping his head back as he took two swallows. He dropped the flask on the table, swaying. “Oh shit. That’s good.”
Steve’s eyebrows raised curiously. He drank from the flask eagerly, blinking hard after setting it back down. “That’s something, all right.”
The three turned to Tony, waiting expectantly for him to try it next. Tony shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He’d never shied away from drinking, and he wouldn’t have now either if it weren’t for Peter’s request. But otherworldly alcohol was hard to come by, and the intrigue was burning him from within. Surely a couple of sips couldn’t do too much damage.
He picked up the flask, a silent apology in his head as he brought it up to his lips. The taste of the ale was unlike any he’d had before, bitter and burning his throat, leaving behind a thick, sweet aftertaste that refused to leave his mouth. Tony cleared his throat with a wince, handing the flask back to Thor.
“It’s good,” Tony slurred. “I wouldn’t have it again, though.”
He could feel the ale taking its effect immediately. His vision clouded over, turning his friends into fuzzy versions of themselves. For the rest of their night, he listened to them speak, their voices filling his ears with indiscernible conversation.
Tony barely remembered himself stumbling home. He made his way by muscle memory alone, all the precautions he’d taken earlier that night gone from his mind. He thought he felt a vibration in his pocket at some point, but his hands were too clumsy to investigate the source of the buzzing.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he felt himself get yanked into the mouth of a dark alley.
Tony yelped, the sound quickly cut off by the slap of a palm over his mouth. He squinted blearily into the darkness, trying to make sense of the situation. His sluggish brain worked frantically to catch up.
“I can’t believe my luck,” a man crooned into his ear from behind. “Tony Stark himself, drunk and defenseless with no one to help.”
Tony grunted, jostling weakly in his grasp.
A hand groped around his pockets, feeling for his wallet. Tony used to carry cards and a couple of hundreds for good measure, but had taken to carrying cash only when he didn’t think his cards were necessary. It was a habit he created when Peter expressed his concerns of Tony ending up in this exact scenario and losing a substantial amount of money. The man fished his wallet out, shoving Tony to the ground in favor of using both hands to rifle through it.
Tony shakily tried to climb to his feet, but was brought back down by a well-aimed kick.
“That’s it?” the man scoffed, shaking the wallet as if it would produce more money. In his grasp were the two hundred dollar bills Tony elected to bring with him that night. “Some billionaire you are. Where’s your card?”
“Fuck off,” Tony spat, barely catching the question.
“This looks like a party I want to join,” enthused a third, new voice.
Tony’s shoulders sagged in relief. The man stepped away from him, stashing the money in his own pocket. He turned on his heel and went to sprint out of the alley, but was caught by a web and dragged back in. Spider-Man landed in between him and Tony.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Spider-Man pulled on the web, dragging the man closer. He reached into his pocket and pulled the money back out. “You can’t go so soon! The cops haven’t even arrived yet.”
Spider-Man webbed the robber to the wall, watching impassively as he struggled against the bindings.
“Stay until they get here,” Spider-Man instructed, ignoring the angry expletives coming his way.
He turned to Tony, helping him carefully off the ground. Tony clung to him as tightly as he could manage, rattled by the encounter in his drunken stupor. Spider-Man rubbed his back soothingly, bending down briefly to pick up Tony’s wallet and place the money back where it belonged. He tucked the wallet into Tony’s pocket and began to escort him out of the alley.
“You’re in no state to swing home,” Spider-Man commented, keeping a steady arm around his waist.
They strolled through the streets in silence. By the time they made it home, the sky was beginning to lighten.
“You go in,” Spider-Man said, gesturing to the building. “I can’t be seen entering. I’ll make my way in through the window.”
Tony nodded silently, separating himself from the hero and trying not to wobble as he climbed the steps to the building. By the time he arrived at their apartment, Peter was inside and waiting for him with crossed arms.
“I’m sorry,” Tony said.
Peter shook his head curtly. “Go to bed. We’ll talk later.”
“Join me?” Tony pleaded, tugging at one of his hands. “I know you haven’t slept either.”
It wasn’t just Peter who couldn’t sleep alone.
Peter studied him, his anger fading as he let out a deep sigh. “Okay.”
They climbed into bed side by side. Peter was reluctant to curl around him the way he usually did, so Tony breached the distance between them and hugged Peter to himself. The stiffness in Peter’s body abated and he gave in to the affection.
“I know I messed up,” Tony whispered. The sunlight streaming through the window was hurting his eyes.
“We’ll talk later,” Peter reminded him.
By the time Tony woke up, it was dark again and Peter’s side of the bed was empty. Tony tensed up, straining his ears for any sign that Peter was still home. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if he’d driven Peter away with his antics.
Tony shoved the blankets off and stumbled out of the bedroom, approaching the living room where he found Peter silently sitting on the couch. His shoulders sagged in relief.
“You’re here,” Tony breathed, his racing heart returning to its usual beat.
Peter remained quiet.
“Pete, I’m sorry.” Tony ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “I know you didn’t want me to drink and you were right for it. Hell, I almost got robbed. I didn’t mean to get so drunk.”
Peter lifted his gaze from the carpet to meet Tony’s. “Your friends are bad influences.”
“What?”
“You would have listened if it weren’t for them. They’re always pressuring you to do what you shouldn’t.” Peter clenched his jaw.
Tony was speechless for a moment. “They didn’t force me to do anything, I just—Thor brought ale from Asgard.”
“So you chose to ignore me,” Peter clarified.
Tony floundered for the right words to say. “No, baby, of course not. They did insist but I should have known better.”
“Then if they told you to leave me, you would?” Peter rolled his eyes. “Why does what they say matter?”
“That’s completely different!” Tony protested. “I would never let them come between us.”
Peter shook his head forlornly. “You already have.”
Grim silence settled between them, thick and deafening.
“If you don’t value our relationship, I guess it’s over.” Peter crossed his arms over his chest, eyes shining with unshed tears.
Tony’s mouth fell open, chilled to the core by the finality of those words. “No, Peter! What can I do to make it up to you? I would do anything.”
“Cut contact with your friends,” Peter said coldly.
Tony wavered. It nearly felt too big an ask, but his devotion would forever remain in Peter’s hands.
“Done.”
Peter’s face warmed considerably and he opened his arms, welcoming Tony back into his heart. “Thank you, Tony.”
Tony snuggled closer to Peter, relieved to be back where he belonged. “Anything for you.”
Unbeknownst to Tony, Peter was sporting a victorious grin, his eyes as calculating as ever. Tony was without a house of his own, without friends, and if everything went according to plan, would soon be without a job, confined to their apartment with no one to be with other than him.
Only then could he belong entirely to Peter.