Chapter Text
The first time Tony showed up at the Parkers’ apartment, it was an impulsive decision. The formally rogue, semi-forgiven Avengers had moved back into the tower and within a week he’d needed a reprieve. Upon that realization, Peter and May’s faces had popped into his head. He didn't oppose it. He simply took off without so much as a text to announce his pending arrival. Although he did have the foresight to buy a bottle of wine before showing up on their doorstep. It was no Romanée-Conti, but he supposed the tiny corner store could only offer so much. With little debate, he’d snagged the priciest moscato off the shelf, paid a whopping twelve dollars and trekked his way up to the Parkers’ front door.
May cracked the door open, just wide enough to see into the hall. “Tony?” she questioned, then rapidly shut the door. The sound of the security chain being released could be heard on the other side. Less than a second later, the door reopened. May stood there for a moment, her eyebrows bunched together in a way that made it look like she was mentally assessing the situation. “Peter left for patrol about an hour ago. Was he- did he forget you two had plans?”
With his hands tucked neatly behind his back, Tony rocked casually onto his heels. “Nope. Just thought I’d stop by.” He brought the bottle of wine to his front, held up forward and smiled. “I bought wine.”
May’s expression shifted as she accepted the bottle of cheap wine. She still looked thoroughly bewildered, but amusement was starting to shine through. “I- Okay.” She blinked, took a few steps back, and held the door wide open. “I’ll grab some cups.”
Tony took that as an invitation and entered the quaint entryway. May led him though the small open living area. He glanced around, debating where to sit. There is a round wooden table with mismatched chairs on one side of the room and a well-loved brown couch on the other. “Table?” he asked, as May disappeared into the narrow galley kitchen.
“Sure! I'll be right there.”
Tony sat down in the chair closest to the wall and ran his hand over the pale yellow cloth place mat. There were five of them, one for each place setting and another in the middle. On top of the central one there was a green sage-scented candle in a jar, a Bob Ross Chia Pet and a set of salt and pepper shakers shaped like Legos. None of it matched or made sense, but it made him smile.
“Nice decor,” he called it the kitchen. “The Chia Pet is an exceptionally delightful touch. Who needs floral arrangements when you have that, right?
“Ha!” May paused what she was doing and leaned back to look around the cabinet door. “Peter got that from Ned for his birthday and decided it required a prominent place in the apartment. It’s fine, though. I make sure it's looking at him when we're eating.”
Tony chuckled, picked up the white salt shaker and turned it over in his hands. “And the Legos?”
“He bought me those for Christmas when he was ten.”
“Sounds about right.” Tony set the shaker down, leaned back in his chair and smiled. May was rushing out of the kitchen with a bottle opener in one hand and two bright blue plastic cups in the other. He looked at them in utter confusion before asking, “What’s this?”
“It’s a cup,” May replied dryly. “They’re used to hold liquids you wish to consume. In this case, red wine.” Her head canted to the side. “You don’t have cups in your swanky high-class kitchen?”
A grin spread across Tony’s face. He loved that May wasn’t the least bit star struck or intimidated by his presence. That was something that didn’t happen often, and it was actually really nice. “My wine is typically served to me in a glass with a stem.”
“Not today, Stark!” May popped the cork off and poured a hefty portion into each cup. “You’re going to have to rough it down here on my level.”
Tony picked up the cup, held it out. May did the same. The cups came together with a dull plink before they each took a drink. It wasn’t bad. But it wasn't good either. The company, however, was exactly what he needed. “Doesn’t seem so rough.”
They sat there for a while, the level of wine in the bottle slowly dwindling. May gossiped about her co-workers; the dramatic love triangle that no one was supposed to know about. But of course everyone did. There were theories and polls floating around every department. It sounded like one big entertaining disaster for anyone who wasn’t actively involved.
Meanwhile, he mostly complained. Mandatory Avengers meetings were a pain in the ass. Steve Rogers was annoyingly optimistic, and the group as a whole had turned his tower into a glorified frat house. It was loud and chaotic. Icing on the cake, someone kept dumping coffee grounds in the sink as if they didn’t know that was one of his biggest pet peeves.
As the conversation continued, May’s laugh started to get louder while his head became decidedly light. It was a lot of wine for twelve dollars. The way the deep plastic cups made it so easy to lose track of how much they’d had didn’t help.
At some point, while in the midst griping about his newly reacquired housemates' most deplorable habits, Peter came slinking in through the front window. His mask came off instantly as his head tipped to the side in curiosity. Like a confused puppy. That thought, along with the wine, made an unnecessary bubble of laughter explode from his mouth.
”Mr. Stark? What are you- what are you doing here?”
With effort, Tony bit back the rampant giggles and cleared his throat. “I needed a break from Saint Rogers and his rambunctious affiliates,” he grinned. ”So I thought I would stop by to-” He paused, racking his brain for a reason. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the mostly empty bottle on the table. “Bring your aunt some wine.”
Peter’s head drew back and his browns knit so closely together that they nearly became one. “I thought you had protocols to keep the other Avengers off of your private floors.”
“I do, but that’s not the point.” Peter opened his mouth to reply. Tony shushed him with a dismissive gesture. “What? I’m not allowed to visit my favorite intern and his ho- friendly aunt.”
Peter still bunched up eyebrows rose, his mouth curling into an unreadable expression. Whatever he might have said was cut off by May. “He brought moscato!” she reiterated. Then she thrust the cup into Peter’s hands.”Want to try it?”
Tony’s eyes doubled in size. He was no expert, but he was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to offer fifteen year olds alcoholic beverages. “Woah, May! Are you sure he can have that?”
“It’s one sip,” May deadpanned. “It won’t kill him.”
Peter accepted the offering and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s fine Mr. Stark. She lets me try stuff all the time. It’s not like she gives me my own cup.” He brought the drink up to his nose and gave it a sniff. His nose wrinkled at the smell. But that didn’t stop him from moving the edge of the cup between his lips. “Gross,” he stated with finality. “I still don’t know how you drink that kind of stuff.”
He and May both laughed jovially. Although he was the one to recover first. “By having a refined and mature palate.”
“Sure,” Peter happily placated. A beat passed. Tony tipped the last of his drink into his mouth. When he looked up, Peter was frowning. “You’re not like- driving home like that are you?”
Tony scoffed. “I’m not that irresponsible.” His words were slow and uneven. He rolled his eyes and gestured toward the kitchen. “I’ll have a glass of water. Call for a ride if I need to.”
“Water sounds lovely,” May agreed. “And Snacks. I’ll make snacks.” Peter perked up at the mention of food and followed his aunt into the kitchen.
While Peter filled three cups with reusable ice cubes and tap water, May rustled around the small pantry and refrigerator. When she returned to the table, she was carrying a low-budget version of a charcuterie board. Butter crackers, cheddar cheese cubes, celery sticks with peanut butter and a pile of pepperoni.
They ate and drank and talked for a while. Peter prattled about his patrol while Tony’s head gradually shifted from fuzzy to exhausted. He turned his head as the bird-themed clock on the living room bookshelf began to chirp, literally chirp, notifying them of the hour. It was well after one in the morning. “I should go,” he said, his smile sinking with disappointment.
May shook her head and started collecting dishes. Unsurprisingly, Peter hopped up to help her. “It’s already late. Why don’t you stay here?” May casually inquired. “We don’t have a guest room or anything. But I just washed all the sheets. You could have my bed.”
His first inclination was to accept the offer. He was admittedly tired. He supposed half a bottle of wine would do that to you. And the drive back to the tower was guaranteed to take at least forty-five minutes. But he wasn’t about to displace anyone. “Why would I take your bed, May? He asked, then shifted his gaze to Peter. “Don’t you have bunk beds?”
The bunched up brows and head tilt returned. “Uh- yes?”
“Great,” Tony reclaimed. “I call the bottom.I’m too old to be scaling ladders.”
A few minutes later, Peter handed Tony a spare toothbrush and they took turns getting ready for bed. The hall restroom was small. Small enough that he was certain the shower from his master restroom would occupy the entire space. Although it didn’t feel as claustrophobic as he assumed it would. He chuckled as he dropped his standard issue toothbrush into the cup beside the sink.
Peter’s room was cluttered but not in an undesirable way. There was a large desk taking up most of one corner. It was heaped with unfinished projects, books and action figures of varying sizes. The beds were in the opposite corner. On the floor was a tattered rug covered in planets. There were nine of them, giving away exactly how long it had been in existence. The kid couldn’t have been more than five when he acquired it.
He hesitated for a moment before kicking off his jeans. He folded them neatly and set them aside before lowering himself onto the bottom bunk. He laid on his back looking up at the thick metal slats. There were a few random stickers scattered across them. He smiled when he spotted a faded depiction of the Iron Man Armor. He was going to comment when Peter returned to the room. But as the kid climbed the ladder, the bed squeaked and shook with each movement. It was mildly unnerving. “This thing isn’t going to collapse in the middle of the night is it?”
Peter laughed.
Tony sighed. “Very reassuring, Kiddo.”
“Ned and I have been taking turns sleeping on the top for the last seven years. It hasn’t broken yet.” When Tony produced a small noise of dubious agreement, Peter huffed. “Don’t worry, Mr. Stark. It has all its screws and supports. It’ll be fine.”
Soon after, the lights went out. The door was still slightly ajar allowing a strip of warm light to flood in from the hallway. In the darkest corners of the room, dozens of star stars started to glow. Tony shifted onto his side. The mattress dipped below him, soft from years of use. It was by no means what he was used to, but it wasn’t terribly uncomfortable. He tucked a hand under the pillow and whispered, “Night, Pete.” Peter mumbled incoherently in return, pulling a languid smile to his lips. The kid was already practically down for the count. Honestly, he didn’t think he was too far behind. As he listened to the comforting sound of Peter’s soft snores, his eyes began to drift closed. He sighed contentedly and thought to himself, ‘yeah. Coming to the Parkers’ was a good idea.’