Spider Café (Starker, Mob boss! Tony x Barista! Peter
I’m totally obsessed with Mob AU’s and Coffee Shop AU’s so I decided to put them both together and behold this fic. I might post it on ao3 but I dunno yet. Please go easy on me, this is my first Starker fanfic that I have had enough courage to post >.< Sorry for any mistakes since I didn’t want to edit it just for me to wimp out from posting again. I have more ideas planned out for this so this most likely will not be a one-shot. Enjoy!
Straight from the moment he woke up, Peter knew that today would be an extremely busy day. He had errands to run, a paper left to do for one of his classes, and he was working a double shift at the café today. He hoped to be able to save enough since he wanted to get himself a new sweater. It was getting cold outside, and his thin worn sweaters could only keep him so warm against the chilly New York weather.
Tony felt his trigger finger itch, today just had to be the day where his espresso machine broke, and everyone was already either getting ready for the meeting or with the crew double checking the site for any possible….inconveniences, so he couldn’t even get someone to get him some coffee! he could feel a nasty headache coming on. Tony wanted to get to the site earlier than Rogers, never knew if- no, when Rogers would backstab him, again. Nursing his headache, checking his phone for updates while keeping an eye outside for anything potentially threatening, he spotted a café. Checking his phone, he confirmed he had enough time to get himself some coffee and still be able to make it to the site at a reasonable time.
“Happy, stop here, I need to get me some sustenance” Happy stopped the car and made to get out, “Just black coffee or something different for today Boss?” Tony thought about it for a moment, “I’ll go in myself, I want to see how many espresso shots they’re allowed to serve” “Not that they would deny you either way, wearing that” Happy said amusedly pointing to his signet ring. It had the crest of the Stark Familia, all higher ups in the Familia had it but Tony was the only one whose was gold, resembling that he was the Don, all the other had silver.
Peter heard a chime of the door when it opened and looked up to see who it was and to greet the customer. “Good afternoon and welcome to the Spider Café” The man who had walked in was wearing a three-piece maroon suit and lightly tinted sunglasses, enough that he could see his luscious brown eyes but with a dark tint to it due to the sunglasses.
“The café is named after a bug?” Tony said humorously and was somewhat surprised by the barista’s answer, “Spiders are arachnids, not bugs sir”. “May I take your order sir?” Tony smirked slightly, so it looked like a trick of the light for someone not paying attention closely, “Coffee, black with as many espresso shots as you can put”. Just to see his reaction, tony pretended to check his watch with his hand in view of the barista, the hand where he wore his signet ring. “Nice ring! Looks like an antique” Tony looked at the barista inquisitively, ‘kid’s got a good eye’ he thought but what surprised him was that the barista didn’t seem to recognize it, especially since he wasn’t quacking in his boots or even having a smidge of fear in those big hazel doe eyes of his as he was pouring the coffee into a cup. To confirm his theory, “Yeah it is, thanks. Ever seen one before?” “You’re the first sir”. Tony just couldn’t take his eyes off the boy in an adorable pastel blue sweater which unfortunately looked too thin to brave a New York winter under his apron. “You okay there sir?” Tony broke out of his trance when he saw the boy was talking to him. “Yeah, I’m fine why?” “You have just been staring at me and then your coffee. You’re acting afraid like if you look away, I might put something in your drink” the barista said laughing lightly”. ‘Well, you never know when your enemies are gonna attack you when you’re the Don of the biggest and most feared mob in New York City’ Tony thought to say. “I get it…don’t worry” the barista said amusedly and for a second Tony thought it was all a set-up and no matter how cute and innocent the boy looked he could be working for any of his enemies. “I watch a lot of spy movies too” seeing Tony’s confused face he went on “you know, like James Bond films” and Tony let out a sigh of relief “Yeah, totally, 007 and all”. This time checking his watch, he noticed that he would have to leave soon of he wanted to make it to the site in time, talking with the barista had made him forget about it.
He left the café with a smile and felt most of his tension with the meeting with Rogers fade away and while finishing up his drink, saw what was written on his cup under the name section which made him laugh, a genuine laugh, something he hadn’t done in a while. Written was ‘For JB 007 – Peter’ with a smiley face with a tongue sticking out scrawled beside the name.
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The story starts when Soldier Tony comes home for a few days, and is introduced to the love of his life.
TW: Mentions of war, overload of fluff, A/O dynamics, mutual pining
Happily Holidays, my dancing sugar plums!
Tony remembers his first station.
Just off the coast of Kuwait, he was a fresh recruit, eighteen years old and awkward with a gun in his hand.
Though the army is Alpha-only, Tony had never really thought he’d want to join until he finished school. He remembers that first year, remembers the fear, remembers the confidence building, remembers the shared-smiles of people in his platoon.
Stephen had been his bunkmate during training camp, and the two have been inseparable since. Stephen’s an irritating, self-righteous ass, a damn fine medical doctor, and Tony would lay down his life for him.
One night in February, fresh off the plane, their general hires out a bar and fills it with dancers and family and lays on a huge spread. Tony’s just about to treat himself to the most expensive drink on the menu, when Stephen taps his arm.
“Anthony, I want you to meet my brother. General Rogers had him flown out as a surprise for me.”
Tony lifts his eyebrows, already a little bemused at the softness around Stephen’s eyes. He’s never seen that before. A gentle smile on the doctor’s face, relaxed in a way that’s impossible to be unless you’re home.
Out from behind the other Alpha, a little omega steps.
He can feel his lips part, feel his mouth drop open a little in awe. The omega is beautiful. Tony’s never seen anyone so beautiful in his whole life. He has dark hair like Stephen, but it’s all fluffy and curly. He’s tiny, with huge honey eyes and lips like pink oceans.
Tony doesn’t know what love at first sight is. He’s never read about it in books, never known anyone who experienced it, never heard stories. All he knows is that the second he lays eyes on the boy, he can see it all. In a flash he sees a future of shared smiles and kisses, he sees a family of curly haired children and a dog running in with the paper in his mouth. He sees the boy in white walking down an aisle, a veil framing him in all his glory, he sees-
“Peter, this is Tony, he’s the most narcissistic, egotistical, brilliant soldier I know. I’m very proud to call him my friend. Tony, this is Peter, the best little brother in the world and Brooklyn’s finest obstetrician in training.”
Okay, Stephen’s gotta be pretty drunk to be this nice, but Tony doesn’t even have the focus to mock him for the sentimentality. Peter. Perfect, beautiful Peter Strange. He’s got the loveliest blush on his cheeks, ducking his head like he’s shy and Tony’s heart-
Peter holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you,” he beams, a sunbeam, a fucking ray of sunshine- “and I’m not very good, Stephen’s the real doctor.”
Stephen scoffs in outrage and Tony grins, tipping his head.
“I’m sure that’s not true. There’s quite clearly something special in your family’s genes.” Tony murmurs, feeling stupid even as the words leave his mouth. He can just picture this omega with babies now, babbling in his arms, babies with big eyes and soft skin and-
A woman from across the bar calls Stephen’s name and he wanders off leaving the two with each other. Peter blushes again.
“Let me buy you a drink.” Tony offers and Peter smiles.
“No, no, please let me buy you one. It’s the least I can do- thank you for-for your service, it’s- so- so brave-“
Tony laughs, feeling a little giddy. “I’ll have a beer. And I’ll get you a…” he glances at the drinks on the board. “A blueberry horizon.”
The omega hops onto a barstool and Tony slides in beside him. Peter nods delightedly. “Okay. Are they nice?”
“I think you’ll like it, I have an eye.” The alpha hums, “it’s very sweet. Like you.”
Another glorious blush.
Tony remembers that night. Eighteen years old and his first time back. He remembers talking to Peter all night, remembers them leaning into each other, feeling the heat of the omega’s body, he remembers Peter’s giggle, remembers steadying him when the two had gone outside for some fresh air.
He remembers the starlight in Peter’s eyes, and the flush across the bridge of his nose.
“I want you.” He’d whispered, drunk off alcohol and lust.
Peter had blinked up at him sweetly. “Want me to do what?” He’d whispered back, and Tony’s chest had clenched something fierce.
“To…to take a walk with me.” He’d offered instead, holding out his arm like a gentleman. “To look at the moon with me.”
Peter had been speechless for a moment, looking up at him in wonder. “It’s like an old movie.” He’d beamed and Tony laughed.
They’d strolled away into the darkness and by the time dawn came up, Tony was in love.
***
It’s been a few years since then. Tony’s twenty-five now, and his six-year contract has finally come to an end.
“You’re not gonna stay on?” Stephen asks in surprise, renewing his contract as a field medic for another five.
“Enough for me,” Tony murmurs, looking up at the moon the way he always does when he feels like he could finally get everything he wants.
The problem with only being back in America a few weeks at a time is that over the past few years, he and Peter have only seen each other on a handful of occasions. They’re friends. Peter writes and sends care-packages to both his brother and Tony.
On average, Tony’s seen him maybe two days a year for the past seven years.
Each time Peter is more beautiful. Last time was at a New Years Party, with Peter breathlessly regaling him with a story of a premature birth, hands moving expressively, as the two of them leaned against the railing on the roof and watched fireworks going in the distance.
“I’ve missed you, Pete,” Tony had admitted, wincing at his own lack of tact. “I never get to see you.”
“Aw, Tony,” Peter had knocked their hips together, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder. “I miss you too. But it means we always have lots to talk about when you’re back.”
They talk and talk and they have a good time, but there are topics that are never touched on.
Tony’s never asked if Peter’s seeing anyone. Never broached it with Stephen either. It hadn’t seemed fair to express any sort of interest, to stake any sort of claim, not while he was away so often. The thought- the miraculous thought- of Peter liking Tony back, and then having to wait for him. To wait alone for a few days of snatched contact, to be lonely and unsupported and-
The thought was too agonising.
So, Tony has waited and waited and-
“I want to go home. Settle down. Be around.”
Stephen smiles, pouring the both of them some bourbon. “Any idea where you’ll go?”
Tony takes the glass as it’s offered. “Brooklyn, maybe.”
Stephen chuckles in surprise. “Well good, keep an eye on Peter for me. He adores you, you know.”
Tony’s fingers tremble and he hopes it’s true.
Stephen gives him a look then, curious and frighteningly intelligent, but he doesn’t say anything. They play cards and drink bourbon and Stephen accuses him of cheating.
At the end of the night in their bunks, Stephen talks into the darkness.
“I’ll miss you, Stark. You’re…you’re like another brother to me.”
Tony says, “I’ll miss you too,” and thinks about what it might be like having Stephen as a brother-in-law.
He thinks it might be pretty great.
***
As a young Alpha in Brooklyn fresh out of the army, he’s treated with a lot of respect. People nod at him, offer to buy him drinks and clap him on the back like he’s an old friend.
He finds a place to rent and gets a great deal even though he doesn’t need it. He’s got a lot saved up. His fingers itch to call Peter, but first he goes to a few job interviews. Tries to get a feel for living in the city and having his own space after so long of sharing and barracks.
He gets the first job he applies for. It’s as a security consultant for a big firm. It’s good pay and the female Alpha who shakes his hand is no-nonsense and impressed with him.
He buys himself a bed.
He spends a lot on it. It’s ludicrously big and the mattress is extra plush, queen, memory foam. He gets a fancy headboard and high-thread blankets. When he tries to sleep on it that night, it’s a little awkward. He sinks into the softness, feels unnatural.
He tells himself he wants a change, but he’s lying. The bed isn’t for him.
It’s for the softest, most beautiful, most deserving person Tony knows.
***
“Tony!” Peter cries, leaping into his arms in the March sunshine and clutching him tight. Tony lifts him clear off the ground: breathing him in.
Tony’s in uniform. He feels more comfortable in it, but also, he thinks that maybe- maybe Peter likes seeing him in it. A few people on the street around them aww and applaud, but Tony has eyes for none of them.
Peter’s in a bumble bee sweater and white jeans, looking so pleased to see him that Tony wants to- wants to make his move.
But no. It’s not the right time. He’s just got back, he’s just moved to Brooklyn, he’s just started his job- it’s too soon.
“Wow,” Peter murmurs, tracing his finger down the jagged line near Tony’s eye. His touch is like heaven and Tony leans into his caress. “A close call?”
“Real close.”
“I’m glad you’re safe.” Peter whispers, eyes huge, “and it’s very, very handsome.”
The scar had bled and bled and hurt like a bitch when it happened-
And Tony would do it again in a heartbeat, just for the way Peter wets his lips as he looks up at him.
***
Over the next few months, things move slowly.
Tony has a few bad dreams, writes letters to Stephen, and does his job. He buys more furniture, puts down more roots in the form of a real oak coffee table and a tv with cable.
He visits Peter at the hospital he works at. He sees Peter as everything he knew he could be. Capable, brilliant, eyes flickering over information and reassuring to the pregnant Omegas. Peter’s hands are confident, assured, as they touch round bellies or squirming, wriggly babies.
After his shift, they go and get lunch.
“It’s like watching Stephen,” Tony says in awe, “you’re brilliant.”
Peter blushes and smiles, a classic Tony adores, and takes a bite of his salmon. Tony watches it go past his lips. “Well I think you’re brilliant.”
“And devastatingly handsome.”
“It’s devastating alright,” Peter teases. “So, what’s new? Have you made any friends in your building yet?”
Tony makes a face. “Why on earth would I want friends in my building?”
“Fine, Mr Grumps, what about…um…have you been…dating, or- or anything? Seeing someone?”
Tony stills, eyes flickering over Peter’s face trying to read him. What does that mean? But the omega looks carefully schooled, focused on his lunch. Is Peter asking as a friend? Or asking because- because- “I’m not seeing anyone,” Tony murmurs, waiting for Peter’s reaction. “Are you?”
“You’re- me? No, no…”
“No?” Tony hums, “no Alpha swept you off your feet?”
Peter’s honey eyes meet his. There’s silence for a beat, before Peter looks away. “Well, I mean- it’s just hard to find the time.”
“Is there someone you’re interested in?” Tony asks, voice a little too rough.
Those big, beautiful eyes keep looking at him, and then Peter’s pager beeps and they both seem relieved.
Tony finishes his lunch alone and tries to think. Maybe it’s time, maybe it’s time he made a move. He’s wanted Peter since that night in the bar. He’s back now, he’s-
But no. No, it’s not the right time and Peter’s right. The omega works so hard and doctors’ shifts are long and tiring and-
No. Not yet.
***
Peter’s apartment is all bronze accents and fluffy pillows. It’s near the hospital and has a pretty good view that makes up for all the sirens that go by.
“I swear you’ve spoilt me.” Tony moans after he’s finished dessert. Peter’s cooking is phenomenal. After three helpings of spaghetti and chocolate brownie for dessert, he’s so content he could purr.
Peter laughs, licking chocolate from his fingertips in a way that’s obscene. “I love watching you eat. I wish I could just feed you all the time, make sure you’re getting enough.”
It’s a very omega thing to say to an Alpha. Very traditional. Very domestic. Very intimate. What does it mean?
“It’s late,” Peter says, standing up and stretching. Tony can’t drag his eyes away from him. From the gorgeous figure he makes even in his frumpy green sweater with the floral collar and chocolate on his mouth.
He pulls himself to his feet and reaches for his coat. “You’ve got an early shift-“
“No, I mean-“ Peter takes a step closer, swallowing hard, looking brave. “I mean, it’s late, you could…if you wanted, you could just stay over…”
Tony frowns, “what do you mean? The commute will be a bitch in the morning.”
Tony doesn’t understand when Peter looks embarrassed. “Nothing, no, don’t worry, I was just being silly, sorry.”
Tony doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like Peter looking awkward and humiliated. He feels like he’s missed something. “Pete?” He prompts gently, “are you alright? Was it a…was it a bad shift today?” That happens sometimes. Tragic things happen and Peter gets small and sad and needs someone to lean against for a few days, Tony gets that. “I’ll stay, sweetheart-“
“No, no, you don’t-“
“Hey, hey,” he collects the boy into his arms. “I’m here for you, okay? I’m here for you.” He kisses Peter’s temple: holds him tight. It takes a second, but eventually Peter relaxes into his embrace and they stand there, wrapped around each other.
Eventually they pull apart a little, and Peter peeks up at him.
Maybe now, Tony thinks to himself. Maybe this is the moment, maybe this is the right time-
But no. Peter’s had a long day and-
Warm and soft and perfect is the kiss placed onto the corner of Tony’s mouth.
He’s so stunned that he can only stand there, unmoving, staring down at the omega in shock.
Peter’s the colour of a rose petal, looking like the bravest thing in the world.
Tony can’t even move. Does this- is this-
Peter stretches onto his tiptoes, hands still clutching Tony’s shoulders, and slower, much slower, presses another little butterfly kiss right onto the corner of Tony’s mouth.
He can hear his heart beating in his ears- is this- does he-
He’s hyperaware of his hand on Peter’s waist, one on the small of his back, of how they’re pressed together, of how perfect-
“Tony, I really like you.” Peter whispers, breath fanning over Tony’s face. “I was um…I was wondering if-“
“Yes,” Tony croaks, “yes, yes, yes, yesyesyesyes.”
Peter makes the most adorable sound of delight, and kisses Tony right on the mouth.
He tastes of chocolate and love and Tony sees it all again. He sees the golden mornings and the crosswords in bed. He sees the dog coming into the kitchen with the paper in his mouth, he sees a future, his future, with the love of his life-
“Hey Tony,” Peter giggles, lashes all wet with tears, “I adore you.”
Tony lets out a sob and buries his face into Peter’s curls.
Coffee tables and cable can go screw themselves. He doesn’t need roots to be tethered somewhere- with Peter, he’s always home.
***
On Christmas Eve, Christine and Peter are making mince pies and competitively quoting It’s a Wonderful Life, and Tony’s in the living room, phone to his ear.
“How’s Christie?”
“You just spoke to her-“
“How is she really, Anthony?”
Tony sighs. “She misses you, but we’ve got her, Stephen, don’t worry. She understands. It’s just hard.”
Stephen’s silent for a while. Tony wonders if he’s thinking about his contract. Stephen clears his throat: “It’s a squeeze the three of you in that tiny flat, when are you and Peter going to get a house?”
“We’re gonna start searching after Christmas,” Tony chuckles, “Guess what I’ve got Pete for Christmas.”
“Something ingenious no doubt. A framed photo of yourself?”
“Ha ha. No, get this,” Tony drops his voice, “it’s a puppy.”
“Really?”
“Uh huh,” Tony grins, “Rhodes is bringing it over tomorrow morning, crack of dawn.”
“Tony, he’s going to love it.”
“I know, right? Best-present-ever-sex is definitely on the table.”
“That’s my brother, Tony.”
“Not literally on the table, Christie’s here-“
“I’ve got you something.”
Tony laughs in surprise. “Really? How’d you pull that off? You didn’t have to do that, Stephen-“
“Shut up and let me tell you what it is.”
“Is it good?”
“Obviously. You’re going to feel bad about making sex jokes.”
“I’m excited.”
“Christie should’ve put it under the tree- in an envelope.”
Tony hums in surprise, looking under the tree where all the presents are. Sure enough, there’s a red envelope with his name on it. He examines it curiously. “What is it?”
“Open it, you moron.”
Tony rolls his eyes, balancing the phone in the crook of his neck, and opens it up. Inside is what looks like an old letter. He glances at it in confusion. “What am I looking at here, Doc?”
“It’s a letter Peter wrote me a very long time ago.”
Yes, he can recognise Peter’s handwriting now, doctor-scruffy with lots of loops. It’s very sweet. Tony gets the gist of the first few paragraphs. Peter asks if Stephen’s safe, tells him he misses him, how his studies are going and then- and then-
You might not remember but you introduced me to one of your friends when you were here last month. His name’s Tony. Is he single? He’s got the prettiest dark brown eyes and he was really nice to me and I was just wondering if he’d told you about me? We went for a walk and we talked all night. Do you think he might like me? Could you tell him I say hi? Don’t make me sound like a dork! He’s not like any Alpha I’ve ever met before. And mom said to call her! And-
“Holy shit.”
“Indeed.”
“A month after we met- a month after-“
“Yes, Tony,” Stephen sighs, but his voice is fond. “I’ve had the pleasure of seeing you two pine for seven years. I thought you might like it. I don’t say it often, but I do love you, Tony. I’m very glad you’re with my brother. However, you do worry. You’re a soldier and you have a keen sense of time and when to do things, but you hesitated with Peter. I’m not sure why, maybe you thought he didn’t like you, but regardless, I think, in love, just doing what feels right is okay, from time to time. Especially with you and Peter.”
“Stephen…”
“Merry Christmas, Tony.”
“I’m so glad I met you. You’ve changed my life.”
Stephen sniffles, like he might be crying. Tony calls Christie in, to let the two of them say goodbye, and heads into the kitchen.
Peter beams at him, flour on his cheeks. “George Bailey, I’ll love you till the day I die!” He quotes merrily, skipping over to peck Tony’s cheek, and Tony thinks about Stephen, and about love and about the puppy he’s going to give Peter tomorrow and the dog it’ll grow into and the kitchen they’ll have. He thinks about timings and all the waiting and the missed moments and then- he doesn’t think, he just does.
The first thing he says is: “I love you so much, Peter.”
And the next thing he does is get down onto one knee.
--
merry christmas @lilsoshie your prompts were all equally amazing so it was really hard to choose, so I tried to merge a few of them together. I hope you liked this and that you have an amazing Christmas! All the love in the world1
Peter was annoyed, to say the least. Tony had arranged for him to come over to the tower after school today, a week ago- when he had been at the tower-, but Happy hadn't arrived at the school to pick him up.
An hour after school finished, Peter was still waiting for Happy, when it started raining. Peter groaned and scolded himself for not bringing a coat to school, and only wearing thin clothing today. He then dug his phone from his jean pocket, and searches his phone for Tony's contact. Peter clicked on Tony's number and held his now wet phone up to his ear. It rings a few times before it goes to Tony's voicemail.
Peter sighs and pockets his phone again, so it doesn't get damaged from the rain, and he waits once again for Happy, thinking that maybe he was stuck in traffic. However, after another hour of waiting, Peter gave up.
Peter kicked at the ground, then dug his phone out again. He typed a message to Tony and Happy, saying how he would find his own way, and that he shouldn't be much longer, apologising for making Tony wait. After that Peter puts his phone away and starts walking towards the Tower, still in the rain.
~Time Skip~
After an hour of walking, Peter enters the Tower's front entrance. He wipes his feet on the mat, and rubs his arms, trying to get friction and get warmer, which didn't help much as his hands were just as cold. He was completely soaked through, and was really dreading not bringing an umbrella or coat to school.
Peter then pulls his badge out of his bag, and walks towards the elevator, calling it down with his badge. After a minute of waiting, the doors open and he walks inside.
"Hello, Peter," FRIDAY calls to Peter as the doors close. "You appear to be wet and cold, should I turn on the heaters?"
"E-evening, F-Fri," Peter replies, shivering. "Th-that would be a-amazing."
Peter then feels hot air filling the elevator, and he moans softly at the feeling of being warm, after being cold for three hours.
"Thanks, Fri," Peter replies, smiling to himself.
"Of course, Peter," she replies. "Should I take you to Boss?"
"Yes, please," Peter answers. As the elevator starts moving upwards, he then sighs and asks the AI, "Mr. Stark forgot I was coming over again, didn't he?"
"It seems so, Peter," the AI says, with as much empathy in her voice as she could have.
He sighs and shakes his head. This had happened a few times, but Tony had usually remembered and sent Happy after him after an hour, but this time he didn't.
The elevator dings as he arrives, and he reluctantly leaves the warm elevator and into the cold hallway. He once again shivers, still soaking wet. As he walks down the hallway, he trips on something, crashing to the floor.
Peter groans and grumbles under his breath about how people shouldn't leave things on the floor, especially in the middle of the hall, and grumbles about his spider-sense not warning him of tripping hazards. He then gets to his feet, and looks at what he tripped over. He rolls his eyes, seeing it was a black umbrella. Oh the irony.
Peter picks up the umbrella, and then starts walking back down the hall. As he walks, lights were guiding him in the direction of where Tony supposedly was, thanks to the AI.
Peter walks towards the room, which he realised was the main living room. Peter was looking down at the umbrella, trying to work out who's it was, as he calls out, "Mr. Stark?"
"Shit. Kid, what're you doing here?" Peter hears the voice of his mentor reply. He hears a soft 'language' after it, but Peter doesn't think much of it, thinking it was just his imagination.
"Last week you said I could come over," Peter explains, turning the corner, and stepping into the room.
"Oh God, I forgot again, didn't I?" Tony groans.
Peter nods and replies, looking up at his mentor, "You forgot again."
Peter then realises, once looking up, that they weren't the only ones in the room. All of the Rogue's were there, watching him suspiciously, as well as Thor, Bruce, Loki and a women Peter had never seen before.
His face flushes when he realises who they were, and what he must look like with his wet hair and clothes.
"S-sorry, Mr. Stark," Peter quickly says, eyes widening, worried he had interrupted. "I-I didn't realise you had company."
Tony waves him off and says, "Pete, it's fine. We were just finalising things anyway, weren't we Cap?"
Steve averts his eyes from Peter and looks back at Tony and nods, replying, "Yes, we were.
Tony then raises an eyebrow at Peter and asks, "Kid, why are you soaking wet when you have an umbrella in your hand?"
Peter looks at his mentor weirdly, knowing he obviously didn't have an umbrella with him if he was wet. Then he realised that he did have one, and started chuckling to himself. That gained a few confused and sceptical looks from everyone.
Peter stops and clears his throat, responding, "It's not mine, Mr. Stark. I found it by the elevator, just lying on the ground. You should really take more care where you place things."
Everyone in the room stills, and looks at Peter, eyes wide. Peter looks at them weirdly, wondering what he said wrong.
Tony then says, "First of all, I told you to stop calling me 'Mr. Stark'. Second, where did you say you found that?"
"And as I've said, if you stop calling me kid, I'll stop calling you Mr. Stark," Peter replies. He then points to behind him and he says, "I found the umbrella by the elevator. Why, did I do something wrong?"
"May I see that, Midgardian?" Loki asks, standing up from his seat he was previously occupying.
"Oh, sure," Peter replies, handing it straight to the God, not even batting an eye to the man who had once tried to take over the world.
Loki took the umbrella from Peter, and immediately it was too heavy for him, making it fall to the ground, along with him. Peter immediately rushed to him, apologising and helping him to his feet, taking the umbrella off him.
Once Loki was on his feet, he realised how everyone was staring and gaping at him. His eyebrows furrow and he questions, "W-what?"
Everyone was silent, still staring at this random kid, they had just met. Thor then stood up and silently walked towards the teen. Peter was rathe nervous, I mean, who wouldn't when a God was stalking towards you? But, his spider-sense wasn't going off, so he knew he wouldn't harm him. So he stayed where he was, looking up at the God.
The God then smiles and pulls Peter into a tight hug, causing Peter to yelp and wrap his arms around the muscular God's neck.
"Peter is worthy!" Thor booms, peppering the boy's face with kisses.
Peter giggles, being ticklish, blushing lightly as he knew what being 'worthy' entailed. Everyone else- except Loki- in the room looked confused at the two.
Loki rolls his eyes and explains, "Whoever else is found to be worthy is Thor's significant other. As they are pure of heart, and worthy enough to rule Asgard along with my brother."
Tony stands up, and he yells, "Not my son, Odinson!"
It’s nice, Tony thinks, all of them living in the tower together.
It curls warmly in his heart, the sight of Bucky glaring at the coffee maker, or Steve watching some documentary. He likes seeing Wanda and Vision baking cookies, or Clint out on the balcony shooting tracking arrows at pigeons for one of Bruce’s migration studies.
It feels a lot like…(family).
Not that’d he’d ever say it aloud.
He feels like he knows everyone better now. Thor’s not there all the time, but he drops down for a few weeks every couple of months, with some new drinking game and stories about huge battles he won that Tony knows he must exaggerate.
In fact, he thinks he knows everyone pretty well- everyone except-
Natasha.
Which is ironic, considering he’s known her the longest.
But she’s a mysterious person, that’s her shtick. He’s prodded and poked at the facade, but like him, she’s very tightly wound, and every inch she seems to give, is actually a metre she’s taken to ensure she’s still guarded. Still protected.
Even after combing unashamedly through SHIELD’s files, Tony’s still not sure about her past. A lot of spy work, but no family on record, no real name on record. Sure, Russian ancestry she says, and he’s certain he’s heard her speaking it on the phone from time to time, but he’s not really sure.
He doesn’t mind too much, because he’s the same. No matter how much he loves Bruce, Tony will never let slip the nights he’d go out to that road and sit there and think of his mom. No matter how much he loves Steve, he won’t ever say that sometimes the resentment he felt as a kid over his dad’s obsession eats him up inside. He won’t tell Vision that losing JARVIS was one of the hardest things he ever had go through, or tell Thor that every time he leaves it aches deep.
He won’t divulge his need to succeed, to prove himself, to anyone. Not even himself.
So, he understands Natasha. He thinks that because they’re so similar- she probably understands him too.
“Easy there, cowboy,” Tony chuckles, knocking Bucky out of the way to sort the coffee machine out for him as the early morning sun shines into the penthouse kitchen.
Bucky grumbles but moves easily. There’s a bowl of cornflakes in a bowl, half eaten, and Tony feels warm again at the domestic ease of it all. “Coffee’s supposed to be easy,” Bucky mutters, not for the first time, still bleary eyed, but he mutters a thanks when Tony hands him a fresh brew, and hunches over his bowl as he makes his way to the couch.
Tony rolls his eyes, and pours himself a cup. “Where’s Nat?” He asks, because she’s the one who normally makes Bucky his coffee. She wakes up first, always, then Bucky, then Tony, and then the rest whenever they feel like it.
“Someone buzzed for her at reception, I think,” Bucky says around a yawn, losing himself to the Saturday morning cartoons.
But Tony freezes. Someone called for Nat at reception? On a Saturday morning before 8am?
He’s grinning and heading for the elevator before it’s too late.
“Nat with anyone down at reception, Friday?” He asks eagerly, as the elevator takes him down.
“Yes.” Friday says mysteriously, and nothing more.
Tony laughs in surprise, gesturing expectantly. “Well…gonna ID them for me? Anything other than that?”
There’s silence for a moment, before Friday replies: “They don’t match anyone on my database, Sir. I’m running an extended scan but I’m unable to find a match.”
Of course. The plot thickens. Off-the-grid friends? Ex-spies? A Nick Fury who’s found a way to hide his face from diagnostics? Tony’s keen to find out.
When he gets to the ground floor, there are only a few people around. His receptionist, a few cleaners, a few scientists and interns dotted around here and there enjoying a coffee for an early start, or stumbling home after an all nighter, and there, sure enough, the shock of red hair gets his attention.
Natasha’s standing near the revolving doors, talking to a-
Tony frowns.
It’s a boy.
A young boy, a college student if his attire’s anything to go by- he’s got a backpack on, and tight jeans with oversized pink flannel. He’s bathed in the white light of morning, and he’s beautiful. Loose curls, hickory highlights and eyes of honey.
Tony can’t quite piece it all together. Does Natasha have a young lover?
He saunters over; straining his ears.
He hears Natasha say: “I know you do, solnyshko, but Mr Stark is really busy.”
Which is weird because Nat’s never called him Mr anything. Moron? Sure. Pain in her ass? Most definitely. Tony Stank on one awful occasion, but never Mr Stark.
So, he smiles, straightens his shirt, and clears his throat.
She whirls around so fast he’s surprised he doesn’t get a knife to the throat, but when she sees him- there’s something naked on her face. Something he’s never seen before- something she doesn’t quite school fast enough. The bare emotion of fear. It’s so painfully human that he suddenly regrets coming downstairs- regrets intruding on whatever this is-
“Oh my god! Oh my god! You’re Tony Stark!” Comes the ecstatic voice of the college student, and Tony doesn’t have time to say sorry, because the boy is stepping forward and gushing about how much he admires Tony, which is, you know, pretty great. The boy’s so pretty, with sharp cheekbones and long lashes-
“The very same,” Tony grins, holding out a hand. “And who might you be?”
Natasha cuts in smoothly, face back to fairly impassive. “Mr Stark, this is Peter, he’s a big fan of all your work- both scientific and Ironman-relevant.”
Peter and nothing more. How do they know each other? And she’s still calling him Mister Stark. Peter nods so forcefully it ruffles all the curls on his head. “I’ve ready everything you’ve written, Mr Stark! And Ironman- I have like- all the posters!”
Tony resists the urge to pull Peter closer where their hands are joined. He knows exactly what he’d do if he’d found this boy at a club, tug him closer and use that hero-worship to have quite the night but-
Natasha’s shifting. Almost imperceptibly. She’s uncomfortable. Her eyes are subtly raking over the lobby as if waiting for someone else to walk in-
Tony helps her out. “Well, Peter, any friend of Ms. Romanov’s is a friend of mine. Apply for an internship at SI and I’d be happy to look over your CV myself, I’m sure we have a position here for you in some department.”
He does mean to help, but the look he gets from Nat feels like he should be murdered on the spot for his generous offer. Well damn, he tried. He called her Ms Romanov.
“An internship?” Peter whispers, eyes-wide and jaw slack. “I will, Mr Stark! Thank you-“
“He’s very busy, Peter,” Nat reminds, voice gentle, and Peter nods, cut short from going onto another long ramble over how much he respects Tony. “You should go,” she urges softly, and Peter nods- but not before he tiptoes and throws his arms around her for a hug.
If Tony were drinking coffee, he’d spit it out.
Natasha ignores him, and wraps her arms around the boy, one hand cradling the back of his head, fingers buried in the curls, and Tony might be seeing things, but he’s sure she kisses his forehead and murmurs something like: “Be safe. I’ll call you later.”
“Love you too,” Peter beams, not at all covert, so whatever it is she’s hiding, Peter doesn’t know it’s a secret, that much is clear. Or he’s just very bad at keeping secrets which seems…unlikely for someone who apparently loves Natasha. And, if the soft voice and worried eyes are anything to go by, is loved in return. “It was an honour meeting you, Mr Stark Sir!” And then he’s out of the revolving doors and into the city’s bustling morning.
Neither of them speak for a moment, they just breathe: waiting.
Tony breaks the silence. “A friend of yours?” He asks breezily, and Natasha squares her shoulders and turns to look him right in the face.
She feels taller than him. She must be wearing heels. Or Tony’s thoroughly intimidated. “Tony,” she mutters, shaking her head, “we have an understanding, you and I, right? That sometimes you leave well enough alone. That you trust me when I tell you- you don’t need to know anymore.”
He nods slowly, wondering if he’s being manipulated. It’s hard to tell with Nat. It’s one of the reasons he likes her so much. She’s as good as deferring as he is. Good at distracting people with irrelevant things to squirrel away the crux of the matter. As it is, he’s content to let it lie. “Fine by me. Does anyone else know anything?”
He’ll be a little jealous if they do. She shakes her head, eyes hard. “It’ll stay that way.”
He crosses his heart, and thinks no more of it.
*
Oh sure fine, he scans everywhere for a Peter at any of the nearby college’s but there are thousands and Friday can’t seem to match anyone to the boy in reception from earlier. It’s like his face is scrambled and Tony’s sure Natasha’s protecting him.
For what? The boy had seemed harmless enough. Unless he’s some sort of ex-Hydra mind controlled operative, which seems unlikely, there must be another reason.
Family, is Tony’s first thought. You do for family.
But he’s not sure Romanov is her real name and Peter Romanov or even Pietro brings nothing up. Blank. Suspiciously blank.
Tony sighs, and decides to actually let it lie.
*
But then it happens again, another accident.
His muscles ache and it’s nearly three am when he leaves the lab. Sleep has finally demanded his attention, and he’s headed to his bedroom when he feels a cool breeze ruffle the sweaty strands of hair pressed against his neck.
He frowns and heads to the balcony, but all the doors are sealed.
The wind blows again, so he follows it up the stairs towards the roof and sure enough, lit by the light of New York, is Peter.
He’s sitting on the ledge, a bowl of cereal in his palm, spoon in his other hand, gesturing wildly about something or other, so milk sloshes dangerously around each side.
Natasha comes into view too, she’s in her pyjamas unlike Peter who’s wrapped up warm in a coat, and she’s carrying a box of Lucky Charms. She laughs; face unguarded, relaxed in a way Tony’s never seen. He watches, hidden by the shadows, as she pours more cereal into Peter’s bowl until it’s teeming with sugary tokens.
Peter laughs, gesturing her away. “I’m not that hungry!”
“You’re too thin is what you are,” she teases lightly, sitting right beside him.
Tony sees it then, in that moment. The sharp cut of their jawlines, the delicate slender slope of their noses- siblings.
Natasha has a little brother. He feels winded.
“And you’re sure Mr Stark won’t mind us being up here?”
She rolls her eyes. “No one ever comes up here. Besides, it’s one of the perks in being his personal assistant.”
Peter shakes his head in awe. “That is so cool. You have the coolest job ever.”
It’s like a heavy punch to the gut. His personal assistant? Natasha has never been that- not even when she technically was, she wasn’t really. Not for years. She’s lying to her brother.
Tony can understand why, of course. To keep him safe. It also has the double benefit of making sure that even if Peter were captured, he wouldn’t be able to say anything.
Tony thinks it’s probably more so for the former reason.
He heads back down, shaking his head and trying to picture it. Natasha with a little brother. As a protective older sister. Making sure he does his homework, inside jokes, beating up bullies, making sure he eats, texting him. All normal things. He struggles to piece it into one person.
*
Over scrambled eggs on brown toast, Tony brings it up.
“What’s your brother’s major?” He asks innocently.
Natasha takes a mean bite out of the corner of her toast, as if she wishes the bread were Tony’s jugular. She chews deliberately slowly, and then swallows. “Tony.” She says warningly, and he shrugs, lifting up his hands in innocence.
But he’s never known when to quit. “Science? Engineering? Give me a hint.” The kid had gushed over everything Tony had written, he must know at least a little bit of science. Plus, Nat’s always been scarily rational. “Math?”
She sets down her breakfast, and folds her hands under her chin. She doesn’t speak. She just stares.
He refuses to sweat under her glower. “You know you can trust me, right?” He says, more softly.
Her face softens at that, and she returns to her breakfast, looking at is as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “I know that, Tony. But this isn’t about me. It’s about Peter.”
“He thinks you’re my personal assistant.”
She doesn’t ask how he knows. Just takes it in stride, like she does with most things. “Yes.”
“You’re protecting him?”
Her eyes gleam. “Always.” She says fiercely, and Tony’s struck by the strength of it. He’s never had any siblings, any close friends like that. Someone to look out for him, always, something in his blood. He has Rhodey, but Rhodey’s never needed protecting. It’s different. He’s never known his whole life with someone loving him as ferociously as Natasha loves Peter.
“I could protect him too,” Tony offers, going for off-hand and light-hearted, even as her eyes, razor-sharp, dart to his face. He busies himself by sprinkling black pepper over his eggs. “You’ve done a pretty good job hiding him from the database, but I could add a whole other level of protection. Keep him off everything for good. No one could ever get their hands on him.”
She’s silent for a while. Pondering it. She’s not stupid enough to reject it outright through sheer stubbornness. “You would do that?” She asks tentatively, and Tony scoffs.
“Of course, I would. I’d do anything for you.”
The look she gives him makes him feel warm. Like maybe he’s her older brother.
“He would probably die for the chance to meet you,” she muses, before smiling in that way that says she’s given in. “If I introduced you, you could never tell anyone, Tony, I mean it. Not if we fight, not if you’re trying to get to me, I would destroy you.”
He thrums with excitement, even as his brain says: maybe this isn’t such a good idea.
*
For obvious reasons, Nat doesn’t want to bring Peter to the penthouse.
Instead, she and Tony find themselves on the jet to MIT.
“MIT, really?” He scoffs at her, “my terf! And you didn’t even tell me!”
“Don’t pout.” She hums, looking out of the window. “He’s very smart. Smarter than you, for sure.”
Tony blinks affrontedly. Before he shrugs her off.“You would say that. You’re biased.”
“He’s majoring in Aeronautics and Mathematics, and he’s averaging an A in Jefferson’s class.”
“Bullshit,” Tony gapes, “no one gets an A in Jefferson’s class.” He knows the old bullfrog wouldn’t give a student an A if his life depended on it. It was something of a legend back in Tony’s day to try. He’s not surprised the man’s still there. Like a statue, probably embedded into the building’s heart.
She smiles smugly. “Peter does.”
“Peter does,” he mimics in a high-pitched voice. They enjoy silence for a moment, before he clears his throat to ruin it: “Your brother, he’s…eighteen?”
She arches an eyebrow. “Yes.”
“Right, right,” he nods, phew. “He’s very…pretty.”
“Tony.”
“Of course, I wasn’t gonna try anything-“
“Jesus,” she rolls her eyes, but her tone is firm. “Do you have to try and get in the pants of everything that moves?”
“Not everything. Just very pretty things. And I never said I was going to try, I was just making an observation. Anyone could see it. You’ve got some great family genes.”
“I didn’t think I’d need to say it, Tony, but touch my brother, and I will kill you.”
He slouches in his seat and sighs. Beautiful and smart and completely off limits. He’s sure he’ll have no problem adhering to that rule.
Across the classroom, near the window where Peter Parker is bathed in afternoon sunlight and shimmering like an enchanted thing of beauty. With his perfect coffee curls and his hazel eyes and his effortless grace, Tony feels lust coil hot and tight in the pit of his gut.
Peter, who’s scribbling away at his paper, looks up as though he can sense eyes on him, and looks across the classroom.
Tony snaps his eyes back down to his desk guiltily; hot shame rising up to his cheeks, before sneaking another look to see Peter still looking over at him; perfect pink lips lifted into a smile.
Tony tries to smile back, but he thinks it comes out as a distorted grimace and he hates himself.
Is it not enough that Peter is the most obscenely beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life? But does he have to be so nice? The popular clique, the ones that roam the halls of high school exuding confidence and superiority. The ones who never have to worry about anything, the ones that everyone else lower down in the food chain simultaneously hates and envies- why does Peter have to be the only one who is nice?
Tony, a surly outcast who doesn’t care for interacting with his peers, eats alone most of the time. Sometimes he camps out in the biology rooms at lunch with a boy from the year above named Bruce, but most of the time he likes to be by himself. A lone wolf. He feels above all the high school drama- transcended because he knows that this is just a temporary state. What happens here and now doesn’t matter. Tony won’t ever fit in here. This is not his arena. His arena will be just after college, then he’ll start living his life and he’ll be popular and rich and as confident as he likes without having to worry about getting shoved into lockers by jocks who think that just because they can catch a ball they’re better than him.
But Peter Parker makes him…
Makes his blood run hot. Makes him want to engage in the stupid, so so stupid little scenarios. Makes him want to text until his fingers ache, makes him consider cramming love letters into the boy’s locker or maybe even hoping against hope to end up getting partnered with him in something again like they were in English a while ago.
But Tony isn’t special.
Everyone thinks Peter is beautiful. The boy may be small in stature but he has the face of an angel, and he lives on the rich side of town, he has perfect skin, and he’s on the cheerleading squad and he hosts supposedly phenomenal parties at his mansion whenever his parents are away. Peter extends invitations to everyone but Tony never ever goes. Most of the student body lusts after him, but Tony-
Tony thinks he can see a little more. He and Peter share practically all the same classes, and even though Peter seems on the surface like another pretty boy living on the highest rungs of society, though he seems like just another cheerleader, just another person who comes to school in a shiny red camaro in expensive clothes- he’s also…
He’s also in every AP class, and he has a grade point average that almost rivals Tony’s. He’s never missed a day of school and he never skips out on lessons and he gives all his teachers handwritten thank you notes at the end of each year.
And instead of ignoring Tony, or sneering at him, or shoving him into a locker, Peter every so often, gives him that gorgeous, heart stopping smile.
But then the end of class comes, and he can only watch as Peter and the rest of the other beautiful people stand up and leave. Tony lingers, waiting until the room is practically empty before packing up his things and going to find Bruce.
Homecoming is an ever-present shadow that lurks on the cusp of the horizon.
Tony tries to stay above rumours, really he does, but even he can’t help hearing, as he collects his physics books, as a number of students whisper about how Peter Parker rejected William’s request.
“He said he was going to ask someone,” a girl whispers, and Tony cocks his head, straining to hear:
“Really? Ask who?”
“Maybe he has a boyfriend who doesn’t go here. He’s probably dating an older guy.”
“That’s so unfair. Maybe it was just an excuse not to go with William. Maybe he’s waiting for someone else to ask?”
“Do you think I should?”
“I would pay to see that!”
Tony tries to ignore it, but instead he obsesses over it. He’s not going to Homecoming because it’s all superfluous and he doesn’t need to put himself through it. His mom had looked sad when he told her, but she’d ultimately understood and Tony had tried to reassure her. This doesn’t matter. None of it matters, and even though he has reoccurring dreams about walking into the hall with Peter on his arm, even though he thinks about wearing his dad’s old tux with staples in the sleeves, even though the thought of slow dancing with the only boy in school that manages to hold his attention seems to torment him every waking moment of the day- none of it matters.
He’s in the middle of eating a tuna sandwich and trying very hard not to get fish stuck in his braces when the entire cafeteria falls into a hush.
It’s unnerving, and he looks up curiously, expecting to see…honestly, he’s not sure, but he doesn’t expect to see Peter Parker standing at his table; heart stoppingly gorgeous in a silky red bomber jacket embroidered with green flowers, and a low cut v-neck black top and light wash jeans. He’s not expecting to see Peter looking at him, pink on his cheeks and glitter in his eyes. “Tony?” Peter asks quietly, but it seems exceedingly loud in the amazed quiet of the canteen.
Tony swallows a hard lump of tuna and stares in amazement. He almost wants to clean the dust smudges off his glasses to make sure he’s seeing things clearly. “Uh…hi?” He manages, croaking a little and instantly glowing scarlet as Peter smiles beside him. Peter’s voice is smooth as velvet; Tony’s still cracks here and there on certain words.
“I was wondering if you were going to Homecoming?”
What-how-Tony’s brain isn’t working right. He feels like a complete mess in the face of Peter’s elegance. “I…I wasn’t planning on it?” He forces out and Peter nods like this is what he expected, a few perfect curls tumbling into his forehead.
“I was thinking, um, maybe if you decided to go we could…” he shrugs, a small, hopeful smile on his face as he tips his head, “we could go together? If you want.”
The words don’t compute. Nothing really makes sense. He sets down his sandwich and tries not to melt under the thousand eyes looking over at them. He glances at Peter suspiciously; his heart pounding. “Is this…” he whispers, barely audible to his own ears, “is this a joke?” Fuck Peter, if it is. He’s just like all the others-
“What?” Peter asks, eyebrows furrowing together in adorable confusion. “What? No, Tony, I…I’m not joking.”
He sounds so sincere, but surely he can’t be. “We’ve never even talked,” Tony points out, “why would you want to..?”
Peter’s cheeks go even pinker and he ducks his head. “I mean- no, you’re right really, but I just- remember when we were paired up last semester in English? I just- I don’t know, you’re really…I thought we had fun.”
Peter remembers that? Tony had thought that the connection between them was entirely one-sided. He’d thought that Peter was just nice to him the way he was nice to everyone. But did he- did he feel how Tony felt about it? All flushed and excited because Peter Parker was sitting next to him and laughing at his jokes and- that was more than just politeness? He swallows hard, and nods jerkily. “No! No, yeah,” he stutters out, “that was fun.”
Peter smiles again; serene and breathtaking. “I get Homecoming might not be your scene, so maybe we could do something else? Um- you like sci-fi movies, right?”
Tony does love sci-fi movies, and his heart skips a beat over the fact that Peter remembers him saying that. Is this even possible? Could he see a sci-fi movie with Peter Parker? And yet…he should rise above it, really he should, but there’s something about the boy before him that- that makes him want to buy a carnation and hold Peter’s hand and smile with shiny metal on his teeth as his mom takes a photo on their old, beaten up camera. “Homecoming,” Tony whispers definitively, “homecoming would be- that would be nice.”
“Cool,” Peter whispers back; a smile in his voice, as he nods at Tony, and shoots him a little wave, before heading back to the table with the rest of them.
The cafeteria breaks back out into noise.
A little part of Tony continues not to believe it. Why wouldn’t he? He’s too smart to actually believe whole-heartedly that Peter Parker would want him. Why would he? Tony’s skin is still bumpy from puberty, and his braces make his lips all chapped and his glasses are too big for his face and he dresses like he just doesn’t give a crap (because he’s saving all his effort for when he’s older, for when he’s made it and if he pretends like he doesn’t care about having nice clothes, his mom won’t feel so guilty over not being able to afford them and he never, ever wants her to feel guilty).
He holds onto the hope, but carries the skepticism, and it only really goes away when Peter Parker steps into his house and gives Tony’s mother a box of chocolates and trips over the threshold because he’s so nervous.
The skepticism disappears completely when Peter wraps his arms around Tony’s neck under the cheesy disco ball to some pop song from the 80s and Tony’s hands shake as they settle on Peter’s waist and he’s certain he’s sweating like a pig, and Peter whispers into his ear, almost hidden by the music:
“I’m so glad you said yes,”
Tony holds him tighter; trembling and petrified and excited because he knows this is going to change everything. People are giving them looks, emotions range from surprise to utter confusion. “Why me?” He manages to choke out into Peter’s hair, and the boy pulls back to look up at him. Because it’s obvious to anyone in the world why Tony would like Peter, but why does Peter- why would he want some surly, easily annoyed nerd?
“You make me happy,” Peter says simply, one of his hands stroking through Tony’s short hair. “And I think there’s more to you than what everyone else sees.”
His heart clenches and flips with excitement. “I feel- I feel the same about- about you-“ he gushes and Peter laughs, burying his face into Tony’s sweaty neck.
When he gets home, his mom eagerly demands to know every single detail and instead of hiding in his room with his computer, he sits down and drinks the hot chocolate she makes in front of the fire, and tells her everything.
He almost doesn’t sleep that night because for the first time in a long time, he’s excited to go to school and see what might happen.
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“Another idea is where Thor decides to try courting Omega Peter, much to Tony's horror. Thor thinks Peter will be a good mother of his children. Peter is strong, smart and beautiful. Not to mention he's an unclaimed virgin Omega. He's perfect and Thor is going to have him. Of course Tony keeps cock blocking him and away from Peter.”
Thor is a relatively simple man. God. He’s a relatively simple God. He doesn’t want for anything, really. Life is pretty good. He’s the rightful King of Asgard but hopefully if Loki continues down the path of relative non-evilness, Thor would be happy to let him have the throne. Odin only knows that the people sure do love the green leathered God of Mischief now and that makes Thor happy. He’s happy when the people he loves are happy, and that makes life pretty good.
Okay, maybe saying he doesn’t want for anything is a little misleading. He does want something. One thing.
The spider is a welcome surprise. He doesn’t look like the other Omegas Thor has ever seen. He’s definitely prettier, and he smells sweet as the tulips that only bloom in the Asgardian winters outside the palace walls. Other Omegas are fragile, weak little things, but not Peter. Peter is small and dainty, but he’s strong, and even though Thor towers over him, he has one of those inklings that Peter could definitely pick up his hammer if he tried and that is…
A little worrying, if he’s honest.
He tries to keep it hidden away. It’s not like he really needs it now anyway.
When he’d first met Peter, in the days after the uproar, when all was settled and life was back to normal, in the bright afternoon light of the compound, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Being Stark’s protege, the little that Thor had seen was that the little spider was going to become another Stark. They were often tinkering away together in the labs, and Peter made enough quips and jokes and had a wry little smirk just like Tony. He’d expected sarcasm and a great many confusing science references to go over his head, but walking into the kitchen Peter had lit up and nearly dropped his mug.
“You’re Thor!” He’d exclaimed, bouncing on the heels of his feet excitedly, “oh man, this is- I’m Peter! You’re- you’re awesome! I mean-“ he makes a weird breathy sound through his teeth that Thor comes to realise is meant to be an attempt at thunder and he laughs boomingly.
“I know you, young Spider,” Thor had beamed. It’s nice to finally meet someone as friendly as he is, and Peter’s bright eyes and endless happiness was something that made Thor happy.
Their friendship hadn’t much progressed, though Thor had wanted it to.
The spider still goes to school, but he spends his weekends at the compound and he’s meant to be finishing school soon and he and Thor have even sparred together once.
Thor only uses hand to hand combat in such situations, and the Spider had been impossible to pin down. Wriggly and nimble (and incredibly flexible, the Alpha part of his brain had noted) and always with some unusual reference to a movie.
The one time Thor had managed a good hit, Peter had merely winced and reluctantly given him a point.
He’s probably the only Omega in the entire galaxy that wouldn’t perish from Thor’s touch. He tries to be gentle, really he does, but he has the strength of a thousand Asgardians and his hands are weapons and gentle touch is difficult and in his exuberance he can forget. Taking human lovers, let alone omega human lovers, has been impossible.
Peter, though, Peter could…Peter would make an excellent mother to their children.
His inner-Alpha purrs excitedly. Yes. That is his next goal. He wants to be a father, and he wants an Omega like Peter. No, he wants Peter. Peter is perfect. He’s strong and beautiful and graceful and clever. He’d be a perfect mother and then there would be heirs to the throne and Loki would be an Uncle and Thor would be a father and-
It’s all decided.
He goes to the person who knows the boy best.
“Stark!” He greets, ambling into the lab and cringing as he accidentally knocks a lot of glass off one of the tables.
Tony, after wincing at the sound of his voice, lifts his visor and sets down his tools with an exasperated, but fond look on his face. “What is it, Thor?”
Thor smiles and slides onto one of the stools. It creaks ominously under his weight and he waits to see if it will crumple, but it doesn’t. “Your spider,” he begins, voice excited and notices Tony’s expression change from soft and open to something a little tighter. He’s probably imagining it. “He is untouched, yes?”
Tony’s face does more complicated things, before the man repeats incredulously: “Untouched?”
Oh right, humans. “A virgin. He is a virgin Omega?”
Tony looks him up and down almost angrily. “Yeah, Thor, I think so. Why?”
“Perfect,” Thor beams, “not that it would matter of course, he’s wonderful, but it’s just better- especially when it comes to the future mother of the king, you know? I’m sure you earthlings have similar protocols.”
“Maybe in England,” Tony murmurs dubiously, before shaking his head, “Wait- are you telling me you’re planning on mating Peter?”
“Yes! Do you think he’ll say yes? I imagine he will.” Thor puffs out his chest. He doesn’t want to brag or anything, but he is a mighty defender of earth and nine other realms. He is a King, and he is of royal blood. He is richer and more powerful than human comprehension and on top of all that, he’s pretty attractive if he does say so himself.
One of the screw drivers in Tony’s hand bends ever so slightly and Thor blinks: impressed. He hadn’t realised the man of iron was so strong outside of his suit. “You are not mating Peter Parker,” he growls and Thor recoils a little from the venom in his voice.
“Oh? Is he spoken for..?” He asks curiously.
Tony bares his teeth then, all Alpha and angry, and Thor scrambles to his feet even though he could take him in a fight. He does not want to fight Tony. “Get out of my lab!”
Thor leaves and shakes his head. Humans are very complicated. Perhaps Tony, as a fellow Alpha, had felt threatened by the thought of his protege being taken away from him? That’s absurd, Peter could visit as often as he wanted. It would be better if he lived on Asgard, but if the pretty little thing was desperate to live on Earth, Thor wouldn’t object. He won’t steal the boy away from Tony, he rolls his eyes. Humans can be so possessive over their friends.
In the morning, he goes out bright and early and picks a fresh bouquet of flowers. Steve and Bucky pause from their morning run and wave at him. Well, Steve waves, Bucky looks him up and down dubiously. “Good morning, fellow avengers!” Thor greets merrily.
Steve half smiles, “hey, Thor. Are you picking flowers?”
“I am going to woo Peter. I would like to take him as my mate.”
Steve looks suddenly very carefully blank. “Oh uh…have you talked to Tony about that?”
“I have. I’m sure he’ll understand in due course that Peter will still be his friend.”
Bucky snickers into his palm the way that Loki does whenever he thinks Thor has missed something obvious.
It’s not a good sign.
Still, though, Thor tries to put it from his mind as he heads back inside with the tumbling bouquet of dandelions, foxgloves and hyacinths. He finds Peter in the kitchen, eating a bowl of crunchy chocolate things that float in milk and looking all soft and sleep ruffled in a shirt too big for him.
Thor would very much like to see him in some Asgardian robes. All the finest silks. Maybe he could even pull a few strings and find Peter a lovely gold helmet-
“Young Peter!” He smiles, bounding up to the counter and presenting the bouquet. He’s crushed the stems a little hard in his grip, but they still look pretty good, he thinks. Vibrant pinks and yellows. “I want to give you these flowers, though they pale in comparison to the sweetness of you.”
Bucky and Steve are watching from the doorway. Steve looks horrified and Bucky looks as though he might laugh himself sick.
Peter stares at the bouquet, before going pink all over, and reaching for them with his dainty little fingers. “For me?” He whispers, voice all pleased, “Thor, that’s-“
The flowers are yanked from Peter’s grip and immediately tossed into the sink, and doused in hot water.
Thor stares in disbelief and Peter lets out a little gasp.
“Mr Stark!” He exclaims, “those were-“
“I’m allergic to honeysuckle,” Tony says, voice apologetic. “I’m sorry, Pete. I’ll buy you some more flowers, if you like. You know I’d get you anything,”
Peter’s face goes pinker, and he ducks his head towards his cereal as Tony reaches out to squeeze the nape of his neck. Peter seems to lean into the touch and Thor frowns at the contact. He wants to reach out and touch. He’s about to, when Tony’s voice interrupts again-
“You should go shower, kid. We can go patrolling.”
Peter’s face lights up in amazement. “Can I hang from your suit?” He asks eagerly, with his big puppy-dog eyes and Tony smiles gently.
“Sure thing,”
Peter goes bounding off and Thor frowns.
“There were no honeysuckles in my gift,” he says, and Tony’s fond expression disappears into a much harder one. His brown eyes look over at Thor with irritation and Steve takes a sharp intake of breath from the doorway.
“My mistake,” Tony shrugs and Thor feels anger well up inside him. Electricity crackles around his fingers and Bucky takes a worrying step forward. Tony gives Thor a look. “Listen, pal, you don’t get to buy Peter flowers.”
Thor pouts. “But why? You said he was unclaimed-“
“I know I-“ Tony takes a deep breath, eyes closing as he pinches the bridge of his nose and Thor watches balefully. His flowers are all ruined in the sink, and he only got to receive Peter’s beautiful gratitude for about two seconds before Stark came in and ruined everything. “It’s complicated, Thor,” Tony whispers, tone meaningful. “Do you understand that? Can you just…back off?”
“But why?”
“Because I said so, that’s why!”
Thor’s eyebrows draw together, and he shakes his head. “Now Stark, I am a fair man. I like you and I like this place, but you are not the God of me. I am a King. You are not my leader.” His voice echoes in a low boom around the room, and everything falls silent. Peter is a perfect, wonderful Omega and Thor will not be bullied into dropping his courtship.
Tony doesn’t say anything back, and Thor nods, glad he got his point across.
So, flowers are a no-go.
But you can’t go wrong with a stunning set of daggers.
Or at least, that’s what Loki says when Thor asks him for help.
Thor looks down at his shiny set of purple blades as they sit against the black velvet, and thanks Odin that he has such a helpful little brother.
He’s about to go to Peter’s room and bequeath him, when he spots movement outside in the darkness. He frowns, peering out of the glass and into the starry field beyond, and he spots a lone figure.
There is only one figure that small.
He sets down his daggers and heads outside. His boots crunch against the gravel, and Peter looks up; eyes shiny with tears. It punches into Thor, a deep pain to see the boy like this, and he comes forward and stands beside him, and they look up into the stars together. “Young spider,” he whispers, not wanting to disturb the gentle breeze and the cricket-creatures.
“Thor,” Peter sniffles, and he nuzzles into Thor’s chest and Thor wraps his arms around him, as gently as he can, and it feels good to have Peter here like this, in his arms.
“What’s the matter?”
“Oh, nothing, it’s just-“ he pulls back, wiping his pretty face and half smiling, “it’s just the day my Uncle…it’s the anniversary of…”
His heart pangs again. “Peter,” he murmurs, stroking his fingers through Peter’s satin hair. “Loss is hard, believe me, I know. But you have lost at such a young age, and you are still here and you are so strong. It’s one of the things I admire most about you. Trust me, young spider,” he continues, wrapping his arm around Peter’s shoulder and gesturing up at the stars. “Your Uncle and my father are up there, somewhere, probably looking down on us now and laughing. Hello father,” he waves his hand up at the sky.
Peter looks at him in amusement, before ducking his head and laughing. He lifts his hand too, and waves shyly at the stars. “Hey, Uncle Ben,” he whispers, voice hitching a little, “I miss you so much.” Tears spill over onto his plump red cheeks again, and Thor pulls him in for another hug.
They both pull back a little, diamonds reflected in Peter’s eyes and Thor thinks this could be it. His moment. Without the blades or anything. He cups Peter’s face in his hand, and leans down slowly and-
“Peter,” comes a voice, and Thor bites back his frustration as they pull away to see Tony on the edge of the grass. He’s in his nightclothes and even from here, Thor can feel something radiating off him. It’s odd. It’s a familiar emotion. Like something he used to get from Loki- something like-
He stiffens.
Jealousy.
Oh. Oh. Tony is- but he can’t be. He would have said. Why hadn’t he said anything?
“Let me make you some pancakes, sweetheart,” Tony offers, and Thor feels Peter draw out of his arms and towards the other man. “I know today’s a hard one,”
Thor watches as Peter cuddles into Tony’s arms instead, and Tony guides him inside, but not before turning to shoot one more, scathing look at Thor who blinks in confusion.
He turns to the stars and frowns. “Father, if you are watching, you better not be laughing.” He warns.
He has a feeling that somewhere, Odin is.
“Wow,” Bucky and his metal arm say in the morning, “you’re still alive. I didn’t expect that.”
Thor’s eyebrows furrow together. “What does that mean?”
“It means you tried to kiss Peter and I’m surprised Tony didn’t kill you.”
Thor bristles. “He could not kill me. I’m thousands of years old.”
Bucky cocks his head and shrugs. “Wouldn’t that make it easier?”
Peter pads in next, eyes still a little red, but he smells like himself. Sweet, and omega, and like the tulips in winter. Thor pats the seat next to him despite Bucky’s warning glance, and Peter smiles, perching beside him and reaching for some berries. He eats them like a little bird, one at a time, and waves at Bucky who nods at him warmly.
“If you like these mortal berries,” Thor begins, “you would love the berries on the fringes of the Asgardian forest.”
Peter’s big brown eyes look up at him in amazement. “Really?” He whispers, in awe.
Thor nods, pleased. “But of course. I shall take you to Asgard. It is beautiful, more beautiful than you can even imagine. We have a city of gold and all the people are wonderful and you will never want to leave.”
“Another planet,” Peter whispers excitedly, just as Tony walks in. “Mr Stark! Can I go to Asgard with Thor? Please? Please?”
Thor doesn’t know why Peter needs permission, but perhaps it is like Strange said. Perhaps Peter is his ward. Tony can’t be courting him. He would have said something, stated his intention, and then Thor would have backed off. He’s a polite Alpha, and he abides by some gentlemen’s code. But Tony hadn’t. He’s just…weirdly possessive. Maybe he has something against Thor personally. Maybe it’s because of Loki.
It wouldn’t be the first time Loki had ruined his chances with a love interest.
Tony’s face instantly goes angry, and Bucky busies himself with buttering some toast and Thor watches curiously to see what Stark will do. “I dunno, bud,” he says eventually, voice purposely light, “it’s not exactly visiting a friend in another state, this is another planet.”
“But I’d be with Thor!” Peter insists, one of his hands resting on Thor’s bulging bicep. Tony and Thor immediately hone in on the touch. Thor beams, and Tony scowls. “He’d keep me safe! He’s the God of Thunder, Mr Stark!”
“This is true,” Thor chuckles, “your young protege will have nothing to fear with me around.”
“Loki tried to take over the Earth, and he lives freely on Asgard. It’s too dangerous.”
“Loki helped save the world, Mr Stark!” Peter pleads, his eyes big and round. “Pleeasse? I promise I won’t do anything dangerous, or wander off, I’ll even take the suit, and- it’s another planet!”
Tony’s body is tight with barely contained anger, but at Peter’s hopeful gaze, he seems to crumble. “I’ll think about it,” he concedes, and Peter cheers, nudging Thor happily and nibbling away at his berries.
Bucky is looking at Tony like he thinks he might combust.
The rest of breakfast is tense. Bucky and Peter make conversation, but Tony keeps glaring at Thor and it’s hurting his feelings, if the god is honest.
Only after Peter leaves to get changed, and Bucky hastily makes his own excuses, does Stark move to stand opposite Thor across the counter and look like he’s steeling himself. Thor briefly wonders whether he’s going to attack him. He hopes not. He doesn’t really like being attacked.
“I am courting Peter, Thor,” Tony whispers, like a confession.
Thor blinks. “Oh! Well, Stark! You didn’t say!” That does change things-
“He doesn’t know,” Tony admits gruffly, shoving his hands through his hair in frustration.
Thor frowns, wondering if Tony knows that- “It doesn’t count as courtship if the Omega hasn’t been made aware-“
“I know!” Tony snaps, angry at himself more than Thor, and Thor waits, hoping the man will elaborate. “Thor, on earth- you can’t start courting an Omega until they turn eighteen. Peter’s still seventeen. I can’t do anything yet.”
How strange these earthly rules are. “Really?” Thor shakes his head in amazement, “well then, of course, Tony, I will be happy to withdraw.”
Tony looks immensely relieved. “Really?” He asks, a little skeptical. “You’re not gonna…put up more of a fight than that?”
Thor chuckles. “You are my friend, man of iron. Though it’s true,” he sighs longingly, “Peter would have made a fine omega, and a wonderful bearer of future Asgardian Kings, you must be allowed your suit. If he rejects you, I shall continue my courtship.”
Tony looks affronted. “He won’t- he’s not going to reject me.”
Thor shrugs. “Look at you, look at me. He would be an actual queen.”
“Shut up, you big oaf,” Tony snaps, but there’s something soft in his voice. Soft and happy that Thor hasn’t heard in a long while.
It’s probably for the best that he has to pause in his pursuit of Peter, because Loki goes and tries to start another war against Sikaar, and Thor has to put out that fire.
By the time he comes back, there’s a dark blue mating bite on the spider’s neck, and Tony has never looked more pleased.
Thor smiles, nodding in acceptance and quietly retreating. It’s for the best then, perhaps. But- who knows? After Tony and Peter have been bonded for a while, Tony may feel less possessive.
Peter Parker is the kind of person that loses small objects under furniture and appliances without knowing how in the world they got there, but he’s also the kind of person that is totally over-oblivious to his own abilities that when he lifts the fridge to grab the magnet that he lost a week ago, he doesn’t understand why May is screaming.
