Archive of Our Own

Peter’s patrolling when he learns the news that Tony Stark is back from the dead. 

It appears on an interactive billboard in Times Square, and Peter…

Well, Peter crashes into the billboard.

Breaks it, even, and the screen glitches on Tony’s face for days. It’s awful, really, but every time Peter sees it, he believes it a little more.

Then again, he doesn’t, not really, because it seems too good to be true. It probably is, anyway. Stark Industries has been on a slippery slope for years ever since Ms. Potts stepped down as CEO and some old white man took over, so, Peter wonders, if, maybe, this is all a terrible, terrible marketing tactic to bring the stocks back up.

No one talks about it at SI, at least not to Peter, then again, no one really talks to Peter.

Sometimes, he wonders if Dr. Strange’s spell was so powerful that it didn’t just make everyone forget all about him, but also ensured that no one would get to know him, either.

Most days, that’s what it feels like, anyway.

Peter always tells himself it’s better this way, because, then, everyone around him is safe.

(But then again, there is no one around him, ever, so, he tries not to think about that.)

It takes 23 days, 11 hours and 13 seconds until Peter has definitive proof that Tony Stark, is, in fact, alive.

And even then, Peter is only about 88% convinced, because. Well.

The very real Tony Stark that walked in SI and walked past his desk five minutes ago could very well be a fake. An android. Or, heck, maybe it’s another Tony, from another universe. Peter knows that’s entirely possible, now.

So, yeah.

88%.

He figures that’s a pretty good number, all things considered.

As days go by, Peter is less and less convinced this is his Tony. Or well, the real Tony. Of this universe. Because Tony was never his, never would be, and—

Yeah.

The thing is: Tony doesn’t act like Tony. Or, well, he doesn’t act like the Tony he remembers. He acts like the Tony that Peter remembers reading about, years ago.

A lifetime ago, honestly.

Anyway, the point is: he’s flirty. With like, everyone. And hangs by SI, like, every single day. As though he has literally nowhere else better to be, which, Peter knows, can’t be true.

Because as far as he knows, Pepper never remarried, and, he still has a child. 

Even if Pepper is with someone else, Morgan still… exists? 

And yet Tony is here.

All the time.

And apparently, he’s the new CEO, which, is just. Weird. Because Peter distinctively remembers having a conversation with the real Tony Stark about how he hated being a CEO back in the day when SI was his, and stepping down had been one of the best decisions he had ever made.

And yet, this Tony is… the CEO, again. 

And no one seems to question it.

Actually, everyone seems thrilled. 

Then again, of course they are. Most people are thrilled the moment Tony Stark gives them the time of day.

Except Peter, because Peter keeps his distance. At this rate, he’s probably the only SI employee Tony hasn’t flirted with, because. Well.

Peter can’t face him. One, because he can’t bear the thought of meeting his gaze only to find out something he already knows, but doesn’t want to ever face, which is that Tony doesn’t remember him.

Two, because he still feels so much shame and disappointment about what happened with EDITH and Mysterio, and even if technically Tony wouldn’t know about any of that (because he clearly doesn’t remember Peter), Peter still somehow expects him to be wildly disappointed in him.

So.

So, Peter ensures he’s always at a safe distance, and avoids Tony, successfully.

(He has years of experience avoiding his landlord when rent is due, and avoiding someone living in the same building as him is harder than avoiding your CEO, so, he manages.)

Until he doesn’t.

It happens on the worst day.

Not because Peter is late (because, well, he’s always late), but because it’s Ned’s birthday, and every time it is Ned’s birthday (or MJ’s, for that matter), Peter feels an incredibly awful amount of guilt about the fact that he hasn’t kept his promises to either of them, and probably never will, either.

It makes him crankier than usual, which is not how he wants to be around anyone, but much less Tony Stark.

Real or not.

Not that Peter realizes it’s him, at first, because all he sees is a hand.

A hand, holding the elevator doors.

And Peter sighs, heavily, because he has no patience for this today, and just wants to get to his floor and not have to fake a smile to whoever has the misfortune of stepping near his cloud of misery.

So he decides, in that moment, today, he won’t do it. He won’t fake a polite smile to the person who couldn’t even wait for another elevator and had to stop this one.

He won’t.

He refuses.

It’s his act of rebellion, the one he allows himself once a month.

But then the elevator doors open, and Tony Stark is the one who comes in.

Fuck.

Peter freezes, because he has nowhere to hide. Peter freezes, because he knows Tony will acknowledge him. Peter freezes, because he’s so, so not ready for—

“Well if it isn’t the ever so elusive, Mr. Parker.”

You know my name?

For a split second, Peter feels like the weight on his shoulders is lifted, because he thinks Tony remembers him, because finally, someone remembers him, and it’s Tony, of course it’s—

“Jeez,” Tony continues, “someone needs a pick me up. Here,” he hands him his coffee, “you need this more than me. Don’t worry,” he grins, “you’re still pretty.”

You’re still pretty.

Ah.

Tony does not remember him.

Tony wouldn’t have said that, if he did.

Peter honestly doesn’t know whether to blush, or cry.

He does neither.

He fakes a smile, even after he promised himself he wouldn’t. “Thanks,” he says, because that’s what people should say, after they’ve been given Tony Stark’s coffee. 

Peter already knows, though, he can’t drink this, because it’ll be way too sweet.

But Tony doesn’t know he knows this, so he takes a sip, and… huh.

It’s not as sweet as what Peter remembers Tony would drink.

If anything, this is… what he would order.

Strange.

Peter is now 78% convinced this is the real Tony, because the real Tony would spit (and has) on this coffee ord—

“It’s not too sweet…dunno why, kinda was in the mood for something less sweet, but I have commitment issues so,” Tony chuckles, taking the other cup of coffee from the tray, “I got my usual. And that one. Is it okay? Feel better yet?”

Hm.

Okay.

Maybe 88%...

No, no, 78% feels like a good number, right now. Peter doesn’t know why, but it does. Because ‘commitment issues’ or not, Peter finds it hard to believe Tony would order something this ‘bland’, as he used to say.

To be honest, it kind of… is. But this was back when Peter’s senses were in overdrive because he was simultaneously going through puberty and spider mutations that didn’t end until he reached his twenties and—

Shit, Tony had asked him something, didn’t he?

“No,” Peter says, then immediately regrets it, because it does not seem to be the answer Tony wants. “I mean… yes?”

“No no, don’t lie on my behalf.”

Peter doesn’t even know what he’s lying about.

Tony continues. “Trust me honey, I’ve been around enough faking to know when a smile isn’t…quite there. Maybe I’ll get a real one out of you today?” 

Peter frowns, because, why? Why does Tony want that? Why does he care? He doesn’t know him. He’s just a sad, lonely SI employee who never shows up on time and leaves at the strangest time—it’s a miracle he hasn’t been fired yet, if anything. 

The fact that Tony, this Tony, anyway, knows his name is…

Wait. He’s wearing the glasses. FRIDAY probably told him his name. 

Right.

Peter almost wants to laugh, because, god, he’s so ridiculous, out here thinking Tony Stark would go out of his way to—

“Sorry.”

Shit. Tony snaps Peter out of his thoughts, but before Peter can apologize for being the weirdest dude to be stuck in an elevator with, Tony continues. “Potts would say this a lawsuit waiting to happen but…dunno, you’re too pretty to look this down. So…” he reaches over, casually brushing strands of hair off Peter’s forehead. “You busy today?”

Peter flinches. Fuck. In his defense, he hadn’t expected Tony to do that, because his Tony (not his Tony, rather) would probably never have, so why would Peter ever have expected—

Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter, because the elevator doors open and suddenly a flood of people come in, and Peter uses that distraction to escape before he inevitably digs a bigger grave for himself, or, worse, ends up having…

A panic attack, which he is having, right now.

In the middle of a SI bathroom.

To be fair, there are worse places to have a panic attack. 

(For example, mid-air, when you see the first (and only) person you’ve been in love with plastered across a billboard after they’ve been dead for over five years.)

Still.

It sucks.

Peter doesn’t go to work the next day.

Or the next.

It’s a wonder he hasn’t gotten fired yet.

Peter starts working from home. About 80% of his work can be done from home anyway. The main reason why he went to work everyday was because, well. The remaining 20% is pretty important, and he needs access to R&D labs and to tech he does not have access to from his worn-down, ridiculously old and ridiculously tiny studio apartment.

He knows he’ll have to go back to SI eventually, but for now…. he stays put.

(He does get to the building on a Wednesday, but it gets hard to breathe before he makes it through the front door, so.)

His work becomes subpar very quickly, but none of his colleagues point it out, so, he figures he can—

Knock knock.

Peter frowns, because. Well. The only person who ever knocks on his door is his landlord, and for once, he paid his rent on time, so that can’t be it.

Plus, his landlord honestly doesn’t knock on the door, he bangs on it, so…

Peter figures it’s a delivery person who got the wrong apartment, so, he gets up to open the door and explain the situation, because he is a good neighbour, and…

And it’s not a delivery person.

It’s Tony Stark.

“You’re a very difficult man to find,” he says, before he walks past Peter to get in.

Peter’s too bewildered to do anything about it, but he eventually manages to close the door behind him, and turn around to find Tony inspecting every corner of his messy apartment.

Tony rambles as he picks up random trinkets here and there. “Nothing to your name since… ever. Officially, Peter Parker has never been born. Didn’t go to high school, either. Didn’t go to college. How did you get in Stark Industries? Because there’s barely no record of that, either. Must’ve happened when Pepper stepped down. Shit hit the fan, you got yourself a job that didn’t require a degree, and then climbed the ladder. Am I wrong?”

It’s a rhetorical question, so, Peter doesn’t answer.

And Tony continues anyway, so. “Ever since I came back, everyone’s been all over me. Except you—you avoid me like the plague. Suspicious. Had to look into it,” he explains, like somehow that’s a valid explanation to go and do a background check on Peter. 

“Not much to look into,” Peter finally says, eyes glued to the floor.

“Which is even weirder. Even people who vanished during the Blip didn’t vanish like that. Thought at first maybe not all of you came back after that…” He makes a dismissive gesture, “nonsense, but you’re the only one this has happened to. So it’s not the Blip. Something else happened, and I need to know what.”

“...Why?” Peter asks, because it’s a valid question, frankly, and—

And Tony laughs. Laughs. “Because there’s a fucking hole in the last few years of my life and I think you’re it.”

Peter freezes.

Freezes, because…

“How’d you do it? Magic? I hear that’s a thing now,” Tony rolls his eyes.

Huh?

Heard?

But–

“Any chance that little spell you did took out the last 15 years of my life with it, too?” Tony asks, but it’s another rhetorical question, and he laughs, again, but it’s a humorless laugh this time, it’s—

“I’m sorry,” Peter says, quiet, “I don’t know what you’re… talking about.”

And he hates himself for saying that, because…

Because now, he’s pretty convinced this is Tony. If Tony really did forget the last 15 years… it would add up. Why he’s so different and… yeah.

Peter’s back to being 88% convinced. 

No, 98%—the deadpan Tony is now giving him solidifies it. He’s seen that deadpan before. That disappointment. At him.

Yeah.

This is Tony. 

Fuck.

Peter sighs. “It’s not… it’s not safe for people to know who I am.”

Tony hums. “Sure. Because the work you do for SI is so top secret, right? Sooo dangerous—”

It isn’t.

“—Gotta keep everyone at arms’ length. Or,” Tony pauses, “you’re saying that because you’re Spider-Man.”

Peter’s jaw doesn’t drop, because, really, he isn’t surprised. Tony figured it out before, he definitely could again. Plus, even if Peter Parker’s existence was wiped off the surface of Earth (this Earth, anyway), Spider-Man’s wasn’t. Tony probably still had all of his suits, designs and…whatever else he made for him, so…

So Peter keeps staring at the floor. Doesn’t have the heart to lie again. Once was enough.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “I’m Spider-Man.”

It’s the first time he’s said that without his mask in years. It doesn’t even feel real. Frankly, none of this does.

“Yeah, well,” Tony’s now stimming with a pair of enhanced glasses Peter had been tinkering on for weeks. Super. “I’m Iron Man, apparently, so, pretty sure I got worse enemies than yours. Don’t have to keep avoiding me like this.”

“It’s not just because—”

Peter stops in his tracks, because, frankly, he really, really doesn’t want to dive into this. Nope. 

“Because….?”

“Because nothing,” Peter lies, “you just came back from the dead, you don’t need my problems on top of–”

Peter stops, because Tony’s laughing, now. Another humorless laugh.

“I never died.”

“...What?”

“I was in a coma. Until technology was advanced enough to bring me back. I never died.”

“...Oh.”

Peter feels a pang of betrayal, more specifically against Happy, for not telling him, but then again, maybe Happy didn’t know, and Peter would rather not sully his memory of him, so, he chooses to believe Happy didn’t know, and doesn’t ask Tony to clarify that. 

“Yeah. Oh,” is what Tony says as he moves on to another of Peter’s failed inventions. “That’s not bad. Would work, if you had the proper equipment. Which, you would, if you stopped avoiding me.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter says, because he is, and also because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“You gonna stop doing it? The avoiding? Are we past it now? I’d say we’re past it, but you’re still not looking at me, so. Maybe not.”

Peter steels himself. He needs to. But he does eventually look up at Tony, who, is now way too close. Peter takes a step back, instinctively. No, actually, that goes against his instincts, because his instinct is to—

Doesn’t matter.

Peter gulps. “I’m… looking.”

“Considerable improvement.”

“Sorry.”

“And enough of that,” Tony sighs heavily, “the apologizing. What are you sorry for? No apologies, I’ll consider it all well and forgiven…if.”

Oh god.

If what?

If what?

Tony’s smiling. “If you make the effort to look at me. Sometimes. That fair?”

“I do… look at you, though. Sometimes.”

Not recently.

But that’s a detail.

If anything, before his… not-death, Peter was looking a bit too much, so.

Anyway.

Tony deadpans. Then he laughs and gives Peter a look of disbelief. “You’re a terrible liar. How did you keep this spiderling thing under wraps for so long? Sorry, I mean Spider-Man.”

Peter snorts, and walks past Tony to grab… something. Anything. “No, you definitely meant spiderling.” 

“Did I? You can’t prove it,” he says playfully and continues to look through Peter’s things with the utmost interest.

As if he didn’t have a lab with the most high tech stuff in it.

It’s kinda… cute.

But Peter knows better than to think that, so, he stops himself before he does something dramatic, like… smile.

Or something.

“So,” Tony continues, “can I expect you back at work?”

Oh.

Right.

Peter could say no here and pretend like the reason why he was avoiding work had absolutely nothing to do with Tony, but, as Tony pointed out, he is a terrible liar, so…

“...Yeah.”

Oh.

There’s a genuine smile that lights up Tony’s face.

Peter has missed it so much.

“Glad to hear it. It’s been kinda boring…but wow,” he looks away, picking up the glasses again, “a vigilante in the workplace. Our very own spiderling. I found the specs for the suits I made for you, you know…I imagine you’d have an easier time wearing my tech.”

“I’ve been… managing.”

Barely.

Tony snorts, looking up from the glasses to give Peter a look. “You’re not convincing anyone. I’ve seen footage…plus, I’ve got some ideas, I can definitely make it better. Safer. It’ll give me something to work on.” He sighs, setting the glasses down gently. “I have work, I should say…just nothing interesting. But this, now this is interesting.”

“You’re that bored, huh,” Peter smiles, a little. This explains why he is at the office all the time. 

And maybe a tiny, itsy bitsy part of Peter preens knowing he’ll be working on something for him rather than flirting with half the people who work for him.

Tony eyes him but then looks away. Something seems to catch his attention on the wall. Probably the leak stain.

Or the mold… 

“You don’t know the half of it…” Tony mutters. “But I won’t bore you with those details, I’m sure you’d be more interested in hearing about my ideas for your suit—sorry,” he grimaces, pausing half ramble, “I feel like I’m slowly dying from asbestos just standing here, would you be upset if I offered to pay for you to live somewhere that passes, gee I dunno, living standards?”

Peter laughs, because of course he’d say that, of course he’d offer that… and of course, Peter has to say no. Because. Well. “That’s not necessary. This place isn’t that bad.” 

Much better than the last place he lived at, anyway.

“Are you….” Tony narrows his eyes, “it’s the asbestos or the fucking mold. It’s gotten to you. You can’t make a sensible decision because if this isn’t ‘that bad’ then…..no,” he shakes his head, looking around with what can only be described as heavy disgust, “I’m gonna be making suits that are worth millions for you anyway…what’s one tiny penthouse.”

“The suits are to help the people of New York, though. Me having a penthouse doesn’t really help anyone.”

Except me.

But Peter doesn’t really feel like he deserves to be helped, so.

“Screw the people of New York.” Tony walks over to the cupboards and opens them, inspecting the insides. “I’m making the suits to keep you alive. Can’t really help anyone if you’re dying of mold, now can you?” He pauses, humming. “Got any snacks? I’ve only had coffee and M&Ms today.”

Peter grimaces. Part of him can’t believe they’ve just glossed over ‘screw the people of New York’ comment, but, here they are. Talking about snacks. Which Peter does not have, hence the grimacing.

“I have… a tub of peanut butter….?” 

Tony raises a brow. “Do I look like a dog to you? You don’t have snacks? Not any? This isn’t living…this is scary.” He sighs, shutting the cabinets and leaning back against the counter. “Will you please consider it? I’ll make sure your new place is housed with actual snacks.”

There’s a tiny smile on Peter’s lips, but he hides it, otherwise, this’ll definity just encourage Tony. “And I told you that’s not necessary. If I had known you’d drop by, I’d have… snacks. Probably.”

“Oh? You sure the rats wouldn’t get into it?” Now Tony’s eyeing the counters with the kind of scrutiny you would only see from Gordon Ramsay when he visits restaurants that should’ve been shut down the moment they opened. Super. “I appreciate it…I like sour candy, btw.”

“I know.”

Peter doesn’t hide his smile, this time.

Peter shows up to work the next day.

On time, too, which shocks half of his colleagues, and makes him realize that they do realize he exists, which then in turn makes him feel overly guilty for not having shown up for days.

No one mentions it, though, which is good, because, Peter really, really doesn’t want to lie to them.

Or anyone.

He’s so, so tired of lying. 

So tired of—

“Hey, nice to see you show up.” Tony appears out of nowhere. “Glad I caught you. I come bearing gifts since…I saw nothing edible at your place.” 

He’s holding a brown paper bag and a cup of coffee.

“Sorry,” Tony adds, sheepishly, “I stole one of your donuts.”

For some reason, Peter decides to be a smart ass. Maybe even smirks. Maybe.

“What was that? Did I hear you say ‘sorry’? I thought that was banned.”

“No donuts for you.” Though there’s a smile on his face as he holds the bag out for Peter. “Smartass…take it or it’s mine. I’m allowed, you’re not. You’ve overused that word for at least a year.”

Peter snorts, but he does take the bag, because. Well. He is starving. Then again, he always is, but Tony doesn’t know that. “Why are you allowed and I’m not? Hardly seems fair.”

“Life’s not fair.” Tony straightens out his jacket, takes a sip of the coffee and gags. “Oh fuck, disgusting. That’s yours. This is why I don’t try new things…take it before I chuck it out the window.”

Peter laughs. Laughs, because this is exactly like he remembers. Laughs, because, for the first time in a really, really long time, he actually feels like he has a little less weight on his shoulders. Laughs, because… well, he’s always found Tony funny, and. And this is 100% Tony. His Tony. 

Not his. 

Whatever.

Peter takes the coffee. “The windows don’t open,” he also points out, because he’s definitely not done being a smartass today.

Tony hums. “Yeah, but I have blasters. Everything is an open door if you’re violent enough. Don’t quote me on that,” he looks around the office, people immediately look away, “if I see this on the Daily Bugle, I’ll know it’s one of you. Definitely not you though,” Tony’s eyes are back on Peter, “you find me funny for some reason.”

“Do I?” Peter tries very hard to hide his smile, but definitely fails. “Don’t remember saying that,” he teases, before taking a bite of his donut. 

It’s a bit crazy, how, somehow, Tony knows which one is his favourite.

Or maybe that was a lucky guess.

Vanilla with sprinkles is pretty basic. 

“Thought I was the one with memory problems,” Tony chuckles, leaning back against a desk, that someone was clearly working on and trying to focus, “you laughed. Maybe don’t next time. But I can’t blame you, I’m pretty damn funny. So, lunch? Started working on our little side project, want your thoughts on it.”

“Lunch?” Peter asks, a little bit incredulous, because— “it’s 10:15 am.”

“Not now, later…I guess, uh when do people have lunch? You, yeah you, when do you have lunch?” He’s staring at Brad, whose desk he’s leaning against.

Brad stares at Peter and then Tony. “I…don’t.”

“Boo,” Tony frowns, “eat. It’s good for you. Or something.” He looks back at Peter and makes a gesture, “do you eat? I imagine not if you don’t even have snacks. 12 sound good?”

“I do eat. Just not at home, because then the raccoons will come back and—”

And nothing, because Peter stops himself the moment he realizes he has given Tony yet another reason to find him a new place to live.

“I knew it. Raccoons too? Nice. You’ve got a whole petting zoo there. Rats, raccoons, I’m assuming pigeons? Awesome. Well this settles it, lunch is on me. Cheeseburgers?”

Peter, of course, agrees.

And Tony, of course, stays, which makes it that much harder for Peter to actually work, but he doesn’t complain, because Tony doesn’t mention buying him a penthouse again, so.

(And the new suit is infinitely cooler, as if that was possible, so, Peter does truly forget this whole penthouse nonsense.)

Until three days later.

Tony doesn’t come to get him for lunch that day, but, it’s not like it’s a thing, for them to go to lunch together. It only happened three times, and, well, three times is hardly a pattern, so.

So, Peter doesn’t think too much about it.

(Read: he does, in fact, think a lot about it.)

What is strange though is that Tony does not show up to SI at all, and that definitely breaks pattern. 

Peter would text him, but. Well. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed to. Text him… randomly, that is. So. He doesn’t. 

He goes about his day like he normally would, in his pre Tony-is-back-from-the-dead days, and heads back home at a reasonable hour to prepare for his daily patrol, and–

And nothing, because his building has been quarantined.

There’s hazmat suits coming in and out, way too many people for a small 6 unit building, and his landlord is losing his mind. 

At first, Peter is worried, mostly for his neighbors, though he quickly realizes none of them are there, and that is strange, because he knows Kathy is on disability and stays home and Bernard works from home and—

And they’re not there, because according to his landlord, someone relocated them.

Someone.

That’s when Peter knows.

That’s also when Peter decides to storm inside SI and go directly to the top floors (which he only recently was granted access to), because he knows that’s where Tony is, and FRIDAY confirms it, anyway.

“Tell me you didn’t,” he says, like that means anything without context. He knows Tony knows, and even if he pretends he doesn’t, Peter is holding a paper on which it is clearly written that his apartment building is being indefinitely quarantined by CHEMTREC, who, of course, is owned by Stark Industries.

“You’d be really surprised actually, how many people storm in here saying those exact words, you’re gonna have to be more specific.” Tony looks at him with an admirable amount of feigned innocence. “Something wrong?” 

Peter plasters the paper beside Tony, and deadpans. “Quarantine? Really?”

“Lordy is that what happened? Let me see that.” He pulls out his glasses and takes the paper, humming and nodding. “No surprise. It looks like finally someone with braincells and a functional level of common sense took a look at that death trap. A true hero of this city. Now then,” he tosses the paper aside, “my offer? I’ve got the perfect place for you. Not far from work, next to the subway, kinda in the middle of everything for your shenanigans, next to some of the greatest food joints…thoughts?”

“No.”

Peter can’t explain why he can’t, but he just… can’t.

Tony sighs, taking off his glasses. “Why? Does it offend you? Because you can work it off if that’s what you’re worried about. Why won’t you let me do this for you?”

It doesn’t offend him. It’s not that he has too much pride, either, because he definitely doesn’t. He’s pretty sure it’s not about money, either, so…

So Peter looks away and gives a very unsatisfying, but very complete answer, judging by his tone, anyway. 

He crosses his arms over his chest, and says:

“Because.”

“Not accepting that,” Tony pauses, “look at me, Pete and give me an actual answer or I’m gonna keep at it. I’m stubborn, very stubborn and when I want something I get it. So give me one good damn reason why I shouldn’t want you at a decent, safe location. If you can convince me, I’ll let it go and you can go back to your slums.”

Part of him just wants to… cave, honestly. He’s so… tired, and this would be easy, and…

And that’s why he can’t. Peter’s not ready for easy, not by a long shot. But he doesn’t know how to explain that, doesn’t know how to make it make sense, because he know it doesn’t. Make sense. It really doesn’t.

He’s sure some therapist would make sense of it, but. Peter does not have the money or time for that, so.

“Why is me saying no not good enough for you? Because it should be.”

“Because there’s a look in your eyes. I probably knew what it meant, but now I don’t,” Tony looks down, “I don’t know anything and I don’t like that. And I don’t understand why you won’t let me, at the very least, move you to a place that doesn’t have rats.”

“Because it’s too easy,” Peter blurts out, and hates himself for it. He groans, because he’s even sure how to explain this, but– “And that’s… scary. Easy doesn’t happen to me. And when it does, I let my guard down, and then…”

And then something really, really terrible happens.

He doesn’t say that, though. It’s obvious enough.

Peter sighs, instead. “I appreciate the offer but I just… I can’t.” 

It’s like Tony reads his mind, though, because he says: 

“And then terrible things happen, and when they do, who else do you blame but yourself?” Tony gently sighs, then: “I get it. I get it biblically, but, I also don’t. I know what it’s like to punish yourself, so I’m gonna trust my gut on this. Please, let me at least turn that shit building livable…the mold, damage, the pests… it won’t take long. Stay here in the meantime, that’s my only condition. Deal?”

“...Deal.”

It’s… probably not a good idea.

But Peter says yes, because he knows for a fact that this won’t be easy.

At all.

The ‘moving in’ part is surprisingly easy despite Peter having zero access to any of the things he owns (not that he owns that many things, anyway), because it appears that Tony already has everything Peter might need, including clothes his own size.

Peter starts to wonder if perhaps this had been all a scheme to get him to move in, but, the idea is… ridiculous.

Why would Tony want Peter to move in with him? Surely, there are people who would be better suited than him to live with Tony.

Surely, Peter thinks, though his mind soon changes when he realizes how lonely Tony actually is.

Because it has now been a week since he’s been staying here, and no one has come to visit Tony.

No one.

Not even his own child, which… Peter thinks it might be because Tony doesn’t remember her, but he does have a room ready for her with honestly everything a kid might ever want, so. 

It’s… sad, if anything.

And also kind of makes Peter want to never leave, which isn’t healthy, because he will have to leave at some point. Whenever his building is mold-free and rat-free, anyway. 

He hates that he’s silently praying it never is. Because this was the home of many people, and even if they are ‘relocated’ to somewhere better at no additional cost, Peter knows better than to wish for something bad to remain bad.

It’s unhealthy.

Getting ridiculously attached to living with Tony and spending every minute with him also isn’t healthy, but that, Peter can’t hate himself for, because. It’s natural. He imagines anyone who would spend that much time with Tony would become crazily attached, so.

It’s fine that he is, too.

Or at least that’s what he’s thinking, right now, as they are in the middle of a Star Wars marathon he’s barely listening to, because he’s staring. And has been for a solid five minutes. 

It’s kind of shocking Tony hasn’t noticed, though it makes Peter want to know how long he can get away with it.

Which is, unhealthy, but, Peter ignores the thought that tells him to look away and focus on the best movie of all times.

In the next 5 seconds, though, he will regret ignoring that thought.

“I’d say take a picture, it lasts longer but…” Tony speaks up, his eyes still on the movie, “pictures suck. What, bored of the tension between the hairy alien and Han Solo?”

There we go.

Peter has never snapped his head faster to stare at a screen. 

“No,” he answers, sheepish. “Sorry.”

“What’d we say about sorry’s?” Tony says, and Peter can feel his gaze on him, now, which makes it all the more hard not to look, but– “What’s on your mind? I’m a good listener when I’m not talking over people, zoning out, interrupting or…not giving a crap.”

“Nothing,” Peter lies, “the… movie’s on my mind.”

Tony sighs. “And what did we say about lies? You suck at ‘em. No way you’re thinking that deeply about a movie you’ve seen, I’m sure, over a hundred times….” He turns in his seat, resting his arm against the back of the couch. “So, I’m all ears…no judgment and all that.”

It’s not like Peter can actually tell him what he’s thinking about. How would that even go? ‘So I’m hoping my building remains a dump so I can stay here with you forever’.

Right.

As if.

He doesn’t know what else to say that won’t sound like a lie, though, so.

He chooses to throw popcorn at Tony’s face.

Because that’s a better answer.

Funnier, too.

“Excuse you?” Tony looks absolutely baffled, staring at Peter with wide eyes. “You didn’t. Classic deflection but fine. I see how it is.”

And because Tony is Tony, he grabs the couch cushion and throws it at Peter. 

Peter laughs. “Is that the best you can do? Kinda expected more from Iron Man.”

“Gee sorry, let me just get my blasters,” Tony rolls his eyes and throws popcorn at Peter with a chuckle. “I may be lame but I got you to laugh, so…I win.”

“Wow,” Peter throws some more kernels, “what do you win?”

“Your laugh.” Tony says oh so seriously, grabbing the kernels and throwing them back at Peter. 

Peter laughs again, because he thinks it’s a joke. He’s waiting for the punchline.

But none comes.

Instead:

“That’s enough for me,” Tony adds. “you’ve been all mopey and bleh…so getting you to laugh or smile is a big win in my book. Let me have this. I seem to have a habit of making the people around me unhappy…so,” he leans back, “yeah, this is a win.”

Peter doesn’t know what is sadder: Tony, thinking he has a habit of making the people around him unhappy, or, Tony, thinking Peter’s been mopey and bleh, when, actually, this is the happiest he’s been in… years. 

But Tony wouldn’t know that, because he hasn’t seen Peter in the past few years being completely and utterly miserable.

Until Tony came back. Until… 

“You make me happy,” Peter blurts out.

Tony looks at Peter, blinking. There’s silence. Long stretched out silence.

But then he smiles and looks down.

“You’d be the first to say that. I…think I needed that,” he laughs, humorlessly, “good to know. I’m doing something right, yay me. It’s been nice having you here so…yeah, you make me happy, too.”

Wow.

Peter doesn’t know if the explosion he hears is from the movie or his head. 

There’s more silence, this time, because he’s the one being quiet. It’s somehow even more unnerving than when Tony was quiet, because there’s so many things he wants to say, all of which he definitely, definitely shouldn’t, but it’s so loud, so… so goddamn loud.

Louder than his stupid heart beating out of his chest, even.

“It’s… a good thing someone sent hazmat suits to my building, then,” Peter finally says, quiet.

Tony chuckles, looking up at Peter. “Yes, a true hero…saving the building from being overrun by pests and mold. If not for that I’d be all by my lonesome, probably not binging such an…iconic piece of history. I hope you’re not forcing yourself to be here though…” he quickly adds, “to spend time with me I mean.”

“I’m not,” Peter replies, a little too quick. “...I’m not.”

Tony narrows his eyes but hums, accepting the answer with a slow nod. “If you say so…I’m thinking Italian tonight, thoughts?” He reaches for more popcorn. “I realize that cheeseburgers 3 days in a row might be pushing it…”

Peter chuckles. “Why? You love cheeseburgers. I love cheeseburgers. It works,” he says, “but…I will not say no to pasta.”

“Well not all of us have superhero metabolism unfortunately,” Tony rolls his eyes, “can you imagine the headlines? ‘Iron Man, From Snatched Waist to Waist Trainers, This Really Your Hero?’ So…I suppose pasta, although not 100% healthy, perhaps…better? Dunno. I’m making an effort.”

“Eh,” Peter grins, “healthy is overrated anyway.”

Yeah.

It really is.

It’s been two weeks since Peter’s started living with Tony when Pepper brings Morgan to Stark Tower, unannounced, or so Peter believes, because Tony looks shocked, Morgan looks lost, and Peter looks…

Out of place.

He can hear the hushed whispers along the lines of ‘who is he?’ and ‘what is he doing here?’, and Peter can understand why she would want to know why there is a stranger living with Tony before she drops off her only daughter, but… still.

It’s awkward, like, really awkward, even after she leaves and Morgan decides to go to her room, leaving Peter and Tony in the living room.

Peter decides to speak first. “Sorry,” he says, even if he knows Tony will tell him there’s nothing to apologize for. “I... I don’t think she ever liked me, even before… before she forgot who I am.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Tony says right on cue, falling on the couch with a heavy sigh. “Pepper is…tough. But if it helps I don’t think she likes me either. I don’t understand how we…” he grimaces, shaking his head, “doesn’t matter. She could’ve spared herself all of this if she pulled the plug, so,” he shrugs with a small smile, “whatever. I’m glad you’re here…Morgan might feel less awkward if she’s not alone with me.”

“Won’t she feel more awkward with a stranger? I don’t… I don’t have to be here, if…”

If you want me to leave.

Peter doesn’t have the heart to say it.

“Please stay,” Tony looks at him with a hint of desperation, but Peter’s thinking he might be imagining it, because— “she seems better adjusted to all of this than most of the adults around me, myself included. But I know it makes her sad when I…don’t reply in a way she wanted or say the right thing. At least if you’re here, I dunno, there’ll be some…balance. She can distract herself with someone she doesn’t know or have expectations of.”

“Okay,” Peter nods, “if… if you’re sure.”

“Definitely sure. I’ll make it up to you…however you want,” Tony sighs, sounding relieved. “Prepare yourself for her rants about magical girl transformations. Whatever that is. You also…” Tony pauses, “have a relaxing, good vibe. Makes me feel at ease. Probably will do the same for her.”

“Wait, really?” Peter perks up, just a little, but definitely enough to be noticeable. 

Tony smiles. “Yeah…? Is that weird? I dunno. Maybe it’s your spiderling-ism. Maybe you project good vibes and calming energy. I know I’ve definitely felt less…fucked in the head. No other way to put it.”

Peter shakes his head. “Not weird,” he smiles, “it’s… me too,” he admits, then adds, playfully: “maybe it’s your Iron Man-ism.”

Tony gives him a mildly disbelieving look but then smiles all the more. “Well, that’s a first,” but how could that be a first? “I hope you know you’re enlarging my ego.”

Peter wants to point out that Tony’s ego isn’t that big, because, well. Peter’s not an idiot, and Tony keeps making self-deprecating comments he probably thinks Peter doesn’t pay attention to, but he definitely, definitely does.

But Morgan comes out of her room before he has a chance to say anything, and, requests to eat dinner and play board games, so they happily oblige.

They let her win every game, but, somehow, Peter really feels like he’s the one who’s won something so precious and so…

So… terrifying.

Morgan starts coming more. Probably because she requests it, or maybe Peter’s imagining the stink eye Pepper gives him every time Morgan rushes through the door to hug Peter.

If she’s asking Tony any more questions about him, though, Peter doesn’t know about it, because Morgan always immediately starts rambling to him about what she’s done that day in school, and what Bethany said to her during recess or—god forbid—what pun Jeremy told the entire class that wasn’t funny at all, allegedly to impress her. 

Peter finds it cute, but he doesn’t mention it anymore, because Morgan pouts every time. ‘I’m cuter than him, though’, she always says, and Peter doesn’t doubt it, because Morgan is definitely the cutest nine year old to have ever walked this planet.

“I don’t want to go to sleep. It’s too early,” she tells him, even though she’s already under the covers and very visibly yawning.

Peter chuckles. “It’s past your bedtime, though. Pep— your mom wouldn’t be very happy with me if I didn’t get you to sleep, like, right now.”

“Mom’s only happy when George is around,” Morgan grimaces.

“George?” Peter whistles, “I’m guessing you don’t like George.”

“He smells.”

“Ah.”

“Uncle Happy doesn’t like him, either.”

Peter laughs. “I don’t think Happy likes anyone.”

She frowns. “He likes me!”

He ruffles her hair. “Well, that’s because everyone likes you.”

She seems satisfied with that answer, and hums. “That’s true.”

There’s a smirk curving Peter’s lips as he says, “especially Jeremy….”

“Ew!” She grimaces even harder this time. “That’s gross. Boys are gross.”

Peter snorts. “That’s true.”

Morgan looks away then, and mutters, “you don’t seem to think Dad is gross.”

Peter freezes. Freezes, because if she picked up on that, Tony definitely has. And Tony can’t, absolutely can’t, figure out that— “...what did you say?”

She looks upset, now. “You heard me.”

Peter is now less worried about the fact that Tony might be aware of the fact that Peter is crazy about him, and far more worried about the fact that this seem to upset Morgan, because, why? Is it because it makes him out to be another George, in this scenario? Most kids want their parents to get back together no matter what, so, George and Peter would be obstacles in her eyes, right? Though, Peter doesn’t really count, because there’s no way that Tony even remotely sees Peter that way, so…

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” he says, quietly. “I won’t… if your mom and dad want to get back together, there’s—”

She’s grimacing, again. “Ew. No. I don’t want that.”

“Oh,” Peter pauses, “then what is this about?”

“Idon’twantyoutolikehimmorethanme,” she whispers, very quickly, and averts her gaze.

Peter’s not even sure he heard her correctly. “You don’t…want me to like Tony more than you like him…? Or…?”

She frowns. “No. I don’t want you to like him more than you like me. Because…” she’s pouting, now, “you’re my best friend.”

“Aw,” Peter grins as he ruffles her hair, “you’re my best friend too.”

He means it, too, which, perhaps, is a little sad, but…

It seems to make Morgan really happy, so. “Really?”

Peter nods. “Yeah.”

Her eyes are sparkling now. “So you’ll do friendship bracelets with me?” 

“We can do the most epic friendship bracelets… tomorrow. If you go to sleep,” Peter teases,  and she rolls her eyes. But it works, in the end, and she finally agrees to sleep, though Peter has to promise he will go trick or treating with her while dressed as Bloom for Halloween, so, there’s that.

He may or may not also have promised to convince Tony to have a Stella-themed costume, but there’s like, no way he’ll say yes to that, so.

He does say yes, much to Peter’s surprise. Doesn’t just say yes: he creates the most high-tech versions of costumes Peter has ever seen. It even has functional wings, somehow. Peter doesn’t know why he’s surprised, actually, because if there’s anyone who can create functional, cool techy Halloween costumes, it’s got to be Tony.

Morgan’s chosen to be Flora this year, and her costume very much resembles the original animated Flora outfit, meanwhile Peter and Tony’s costume are slightly more… masculine? Ish. It’s kind of a hybrid between Iron Man and Winx Club, if that makes sense. Peter doesn’t know how else to explain it.

Anyway.

Pepper’s made Tony promise multiple times that their wings can’t actually make them fly, but Peter has a gnawing suspicion that they can fly, because Tony really, really looks like he’s lying when he tells her it can’t.

It’s not that Tony has a tell or anything, he really doesn’t, but Peter just… knows.

So when Pepper finally leaves, Peter says:

“We can totally fly in these, huh?"

“Oh yeah totally,” Tony scoffs, “what do you take me for? I’m not putting myself or anyone associated with me in cheap ass tech that can’t do what it looks like it’s supposed to.”

Peter chuckles. “And what happens when Pepper finds out?”

“And how would she?” Tony smirks. “You gonna tell her? Because if both of us keep our mouths shut and bribe the kid to do the same….she’ll be none the wiser.” 

“You forget people post everything on social media these days. And, unless you’ve forgotten, you’re Tony Stark, dressed as a Winx Club character. This,” Peter gestures at Tony and his ensemble, “is going on the front page of something.”

Tony sighs. “Fair point but, that doesn’t mean she’ll know they’re functional…so. We’re good, we’re safe and if she finds out,” he grimaces, “I’ll take one for the team. You can play the weaponized ignorance card.” 

Peter hums. “Thought I sucked at lying.”

“Yeah but you’re cute, plus, it’s only obvious to me. Clearly, if no one’s figured out your spiderling-ism for this long.”

“Clearly,” Peter says, quietly, shyly, as he tries to hide the blush that warms his cheeks. 

But you’re cute.

Peter’s this close to slap his own cheeks so he has an explanation for the sudden shade of red.

“Have we done this before?” Tony asks. “Costumes and Halloween and all that?”

Peter forces a laugh. It’s not that hard, because the idea that they would have done any of this before is enough to make Peter snort. “No,” he answers, giving Tony a knowing look, “we… uh, didn’t hang out much aside from… lab sessions, I guess. And also, Morgan wasn’t alive yet, so. And when she was, I was…. Yeah.” 

Dusted.

Still leaves an awful taste in his mouth.

“I see.” Tony nods slowly and then frowns, like he just realized something really, really bad. Great. Peter shouldn’t have—

“Lab sessions, huh? What, all work and no play?”

Oh.

Well that’s not too bad.

“I mean, we weren’t—”

“I think I make a hot Iron Fairy, don’t you?” 

Oh. Okay, wild topic change that does not help Peter’s blush and—

Tony continues. “Don’t answer that.” Thank god. “This should become tradition in this household. Halloween. Didn’t really do much of that in my time…well, did try going trick or treating with Jarvis but we got chased off too many properties because most of our neighbors….knew my dad,” he rolls his eyes, “biblically.”

“I’m… not sure I want to ask what that means,” Peter chuckles as he looks down, because. Because, he’s smiling way too much. Paired with his stupid blush—yeah, he was becoming far too obvious. If Morgan managed to see right through him…

Then again, how is he supposed not to smile ear to ear when Tony casually drops something like that?

This should become tradition in his household.

Household.

A household that Peter is part of now.

It’s probably unhealthy to think he truly, really is, but, he allows himself to.

Just for tonight.

Peter reaches a new low once he patrols in his old neighborhood, and finds out that his apartment building is, well, completely renovated. It literally looks so new he barely recognizes it, but, the address is the same.

It’s definitely his old building.

It’s definitely his landlord, too, on the apartment on the third floor, clipping his toenails over his window.

It’s definitely Bernard, too, working on his laptop from the window right under.

They’re back.

Which means, he should be, too.

But that thought breaks him so much he decides to act like he hasn’t seen any of this, and tells himself that he won’t bring it up until Tony does.

He knows it’s wrong, but.

But nothing, because Tony doesn’t mention it either.

Tony doesn’t mention it for weeks, which makes Peter wonder if he even knows the building is fine.

Either way, Peter doesn’t ask.

And prays Tony will never learn.

If Peter is nervous (which he is), it doesn’t show in his work, at all. Not only is he almost always on time (living in the building definitely helps), but he finishes his projects early, and comes up with new ones before he even gets assigned to anything else.

Part of it might be due to the fact that Tony drops by almost daily, though, because he hasn’t come today, and, well. Peter’s work… sucks. Like, big time.

It’s embarrassing.

Embarrassing enough for Brad to mention it, which says a lot.

“It’s fine,” Martha assures him, “must be because Tony’s not around. I think he’s your good luck charm,” she smiles, and Brad…

Brad rolls his eyes with an audible groan. “Don’t say his name or he’ll spawn out of thin air. I happen to enjoy the silence, thank you very much.”

Peter frowns, because. Because that’s just plain rude, and—

And Baljit nods in agreement, which makes Peter all the more shocked. 

“You guys don’t like Tony?” Peter asks, incredulous. Because. How could they not? 

Brad grimaces. “He comes here literally just to flirt with you.”

Um. No.

Peter snorts. “He flirts with everyone.”

Everyone stares at each other so incredulously it makes Peter feel very, very nervous.

“No, he doesn’t,” Baljit notes, while Martha nods.

“He… doesn’t…?” Peter mumbles.

Brad shakes his head. “Dude, no. He’s into you.”

That… that cannot be right. Tony, into him? Tony Stark? Iron Man? Into him?

Please…

“...Really?” Peter asks, quietly, like somehow he’s committing some sort of crime for even considering it.

Everyone agrees. 

Like, everyone.

Which.

What.

Peter thinks they’re delusional, but, they think he’s the delusional one, which. Maybe. But also, no. Peter would know if Tony Stark was into him. Come on.

Wouldn’t it be super obvious? 

Because, uh, it isn’t.

Not to him, anyway.

But maybe to Morgan… Hm.

Peter can’t believe he’s considering asking Morgan her input on this, but, she is coming tonight, and. Frankly, it’s all Peter can think about, now.

He’s almost buzzing in his seat for dinner and for the movie Morgan chooses to watch (he can’t even remember the name, that’s how unfocused he is), because all he can think of is Tony for the whole night, which, isn’t entirely new, but, at the same time, he does have new information (though, is it real information? he wonders).

Wonders, wonders, wonders.

Wonders all the way to Morgan’s bed time.

He’s grown so fond of their little nighttime chats that he feels bad wanting to ask her… about this. Because she’s nine. Would she even know?

Well.

She knew about him, so…

“Go on,” she says with a sigh, “I know you want to ask me something.”

“Wow,” Peter chuckles, nervously, “Am I that obvious?”

“Yes,” she answers, so easily, like that doesn’t almost shatter his resolve.

Fuck.

Well.

He’s come this far.

He’s not sure how to ask her, though. What was it, that she said, when she practically outed him?

You don’t seem to think Dad is gross.

Well… that’s one way of looking at it, Peter supposes.

So, he steels himself, and… “Do you think… do you think your dad thinks I’m gross?”

That sounds so wrong. Honestly, he’s not even sure she’ll understand what he means. Heck, he—

“No,” she answers, so sure of herself, and then: “he’s in love with you.”

Peter does not expect that. Which is why his jaw drops in the most comical, dramatic way possible. At least, she seems to find it funny.

“How… how do you know that?” He asks, because, well. He needs to know how true her assumption is. It’s not because she was right about him that she’s right about Tony, and—

“He looks at you the way he used to look at mom.”

Oh.

Wow.

Peter blushes, furiously, until…

Until he realizes that might not be good at all.

After all, Tony, or at least, Tony without his memories, didn’t understand why or how he ever got married to Pepper, so… maybe that look isn’t love, rather… fondness? Surely, Tony would’ve at least been fond of his wife, right? Plus—

“You’re thinking too much about this,” Morgan notes, pulling the covers up to her nose. “Dad loves you. I said so. And I’m always right, so.”

The thing is…

She always is.

Peter can’t sleep.

Because.

Well.

He’s in love with you.

That.

That, right there, is why Peter can’t sleep. Because, although he very much can’t believe it could possibly be true, what if keeps gnawing at his mind, and he finds himself maladaptive daydreaming instead of, you know, actually dreaming.

Not that he dreams very much anyway–nightmares are what usually keeps him up.

But tonight, he’s busy replaying thousands of little interactions he’s had with Tony over the past few months, obsessing over each detail just in case he might’ve missed something, which. Is driving him crazy, and now he’s second guessing absolutely everything.

He really can’t sleep.

So, he gets up after what seems like an eternity, and heads to the kitchen, only to find Tony having a staring contest with his coffee mug. He looks… upset? Peter can’t tell anymore, because he’s fucking delirious at this point, and definitely, definitely overthinking all of—

“Surprised to see you still up,” Tony speaks up. His eyes are now on Peter. There’s a tired smile on his face. “Did I wake you? Trying to get a drink but I…kinda got lost in thought.”

“Is everything okay?” Peter asks, shifting on his feet. “You didn’t come down today.”

“Oh yeah just…” he waves his hand dismissively, “stuff. You okay? You look like an awkward porcupine, c’mere. Can barely see you. I’ll make you coffee, yeah…good idea.” 

He doesn’t give Peter a chance to protest, he grabs the designated mug that he’d usually use to give Peter coffee.

“What stuff?” Peter asks as he moves closer, eyes glued to Tony. Is he staring? Yes. On purpose. He wonders if he can start magically seeing what everyone else is seeing. Because. 

Yeah.

“You’re doing that more today,” Tony says instead, looking at Peter and chuckling. “That thing…” he waves his hand at Peter’s face, “intense staring. Do I have something on my face or do I look just that good?”

Like he’s gonna answer that.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine.” Tony shoots back with a smirk, leaning back against the counter and holding out Peter’s mug of coffee for him. 

Which he takes, of course.

Then says:

“I asked mine first.”

“Yeah, but I’m Iron Man,” Tony grins, poking Peter’s chest. “So, go on….answer me and I might answer you. I’m a man of my word.”

“You might? Wow,” Peter rolls his eyes, playfully—there’s a smile on his lips. “So generous, Mr. Iron Man.”

“I am. And…it got you to smile,” Tony points out. “Glad to see you doing more of that now. Makes me happy…I think Morgan’s had a nice effect on you. Even if she makes you dress like a fairy from time to time.”

Makes me happy. 

“Oh but that’s the best part,” Peter grins, “I make a great fairy.”

Whatever look Tony had before is gone—he’s fully smiling, now. “You are. You’ve brought…goodness and all that since you’ve been here. What did I say? Having you around here would be good. And you have a little fairy friend now too.”

Peter feels a little bold, then, and says:

“Hm, no, I think what you’re saying is that I was right not to let you buy me a random apartment.”

That seems to get a laugh out of Tony. “Hey, I just wanted to do something good and right. You might as well have been living in the sewer. I didn’t know the answer would be to just indefinitely get you to move in here.” He shrugs nonchalantly, sipping from his coffee. “Guess it worked out. You’re not dead from mold and radioactive raccoons, my kid doesn’t hate me and you have a friend. Right out of a Disney movie.”

Peter shakes his head. “She wouldn’t have hated you even if I wasn’t here.” He then pauses, and wonders. Wonders how far he can go, wonders…

Wonders.

He’s honestly not sure what helps him feel so bold tonight; maybe he’s half delirious because it’s definitely past 4 AM and do good things ever happen after 4 AM? 

Not in his experience.

But this is good.

So Peter says:

“You forgot the greatest part about living here.”

“Aside from owning the building and bossing a bunch of people around?” Tony teases. “Wonder what that could be…what did I miss?”

“You.”

Peter’s response is immediate. For once, he doesn’t try to hide his blush. It’s probably too dark for Tony to see it anyway, but…

“Oh…” 

Peter doesn’t know if that’s good, or bad. He doesn’t understand how his colleagues or Morgan can somehow magically tell Tony’s into him, because he… can’t.

Sure, he can definitely see fondness in Tony’s eyes, has been for… a while, from the very start actually, but…

Appreciating someone’s presence isn’t the same as being in love with them. 

And frankly, Peter doesn’t have enough experience with love to know what it’s supposed to look like.

Sure, he had stupid crushes in high school, and then a not-so-stupid crush for MJ that turned into something… more, but he eventually realized that he mistook appreciation and fuck, even adoration for his friends for romantic feelings. 

Looking back, he realizes now that even the feelings he had for Tony before he “died” were not… not as real as this is, anyway. Realest they could be, at the time, sure, but Peter had been so young back then. What does a 17 year old really know about love? 

Sure, one could argue he’s only 22 now, but five years alone with the weight of the world on his shoulders frankly made him feel like a lifetime had happened since Tony died.

And another lifetime happened since he came back, too.

He knows now that this… this, truly, is love. From his end, anyway. He knows Tony must love him in some way, too, but…

Is it the way that Peter wants?

He can’t tell.

Fuck, he really can’t.

It almost shatters his resolve, but then, Tony says:

“I…usually have something clever and witty to say but that sounded too sincere to ruin,” Tony says gently. “But I’d argue you’re the best thing here.”

He sounds sincere, too.

“Oh,” Peter says, though that’s not much of an answer. So he clears his throat, and continues. “Well. I’m… I’m not going anywhere, so…”

“Good. I don't want you to. I’ve gotten too used to having you here…in my life. Breakfast, lunch, dinners…movies,” Tony smiles, the fondness very clear in his eyes. “And I don’t know…having you here makes things feel safe. Not sure how to explain that one but,” he shrugs, looking away, “take it how you will.”

“Well,” Peter steps closer, pausing, and then: “I am Spider-Man,” he says, like that somehow explains why Tony feels safer with him here, but.

But Peter knows that’s not what he meant.

He knows.

“Well,” Tony starts, “Spider-Man is great and all but it’s who’s under it…hear it’s a great guy. Pretty cute, too.”

Wow.

So maybe Brad is right. About this, anyway. Definitely not about anything else. Definitely not about his opinion of Tony. He’s so, so deadly wrong for that. Peter can’t understand how someone, how anyone could ever think something like that, but, then again, Peter is completely whipped.

Surely he’s not that biased, though, is he?

Maybe he is.

He doesn’t care, though.

So.

“Just cute?” he asks, quiet. Bold. Insane, even. But.

If Tony’s surprised, he’s quick to mask it with a quiet laugh. “Hmm…no. There’s more. But why should I tell you, hmm?” He pokes Peter’s nose. “What do I get in return?”

Peter feels a shiver run down his spine. God. They are flirting now, right? That’s flirting? Though they’ve been like this before. Have they actually been flirting? This whole time? No way.

“You’ll have to tell me to find out,” Peter says, eyes glued to Tony. His instinct would have been to look away, but, oh, no, he needs to watch his reactions.

And, um.

Wow.

Is he looking at his lips?

For real?

Peter feels delirious.

“Tough bargain, Parker. Where’d you learn how to hackle like this?” Tony teases. You taught me, Peter thinks, but Tony continues before he has a chance to say anything. “Well I could give you essays about the perky ass—” what, “—the great figure—” what?! “—but then I’d be neglecting to talk about the amazing hair and pretty eyelashes, don’t get me started on the smile though, gee…” he sighs, looking off to the side, “now that’s a heartstopper.”

Wow.

Peter has to stop himself from saying no, the heartstopper is you, because, um. my heart is doing a thing.

His heart is indeed doing a thing.

Because, um. That was definitely flirting, right. Perky ass? You don’t just say that to a friend. Right? Or maybe you do, if you’re Tony Stark... Still. Still.

What do I get in return?

Oh.

Oh, right.

Shit.

Peter, for all his boldness and insanity tonight, has not thought this through. What is he supposed to do, now? Is this when he’d kiss him? Now? Would Peter even survive that? 

Is he even ready for that? Kissing? And all that it implies? It’s pretty big.

For him, anyway.

Maybe not for Tony. He’s kissed so many people in his life.

But no one recently. Not since he’s been back, actually. Peter would know. Not just because he lives with him, but because the media would be all over it. Every time he’s seen with Pepper, it makes the front page, for crying out loud. 

Still.

It feels like a big jump.

A mildly terrifying one, even.

So.

So, Peter kisses Tony’s cheek instead.

Safer.

Softer.

Toes the line without fully crossing it.

Maybe that makes him a coward. Probably does. But he doesn’t care, because. Because it feels really right. Easy. Easy is normally scary, but, this isn’t, somehow. Sure, Peter can feel a thousand butterflies in his stomach and his heart is about to implode, but. It’s not from fear. Rather, excitement, and–

“Dad? Peter?”

Shit.

Peter widens his eyes. It’s not like Morgan caught them in a compromising position—Peter’s a safe (ish) distance from Tony, he had already pulled away, and. And nothing, because Morgan is already aware of how Peter feels. Still.

“What’s… what’s wrong?” Peter asks, and hates how shaky his voice sounds. 

She rubs her eyes. “Nightmare.”

Ah.

“She really is my kid.” Tony mumbles, looking at Peter. There’s a smile on his face, though, and maybe a hint of red but...

But he’s moving away toward Morgan before Peter can see.

“Aw, what was it? An evil alpaca? I’ve had that nightmare before. Want Pete to tuck you in again honey?” He brushes hair off her forehead, gently taking her hand. “Maybe cookies and ice cream? Kinda craving sweets, don’t tell mom.”

“What were you doing?” She asks, looking between Tony and Peter. 

“Nothing,” Peter replies, way too quick. “Talking.”

She makes a face. She definitely does not believe that. “You’re both blushing, though.”

“And what do you know about blushing, huh?” Tony shoots right back. He gives her a look. “Is it cause of that Jeremy kid? Because you can do so much better.”

She gasps. “Ew, no! You’re avoiding my question….” She looks at Peter with a pout. 

“Well then, I’m sure you two have a lot to discuss, maybe I should leave…” Tony clears his throat and smiles at Peter. “Wanna handle this?”

“Yep, yeah, yes,” Peter nods, maybe a little bit too much, before he drags Morgan back to her room (with two cookies, both requested by her, and frankly, he needs to buy her silence, so.)

He does end up telling her what happened (minus the perky ass comment, of course), because it’s nothing a nine year old can’t handle. 

She looks very disappointed, though, as she bites in her second cookie. “You should’ve kissed him,” she notes, like that doesn’t make Peter shortcircuit six ways into Sunday.

Because that’s crazy, right?

Right?

God, he wishes so badly he could talk to Ned about this.

It kills him a little, to remember that he can’t. 

Peter wakes up late, the next day. Very late, in fact—so late that Happy’s already picked Morgan up, and Peter has approximately 7 minutes left before his meeting starts, and he’s kind of the one who’s presenting today, so he can’t exactly miss it.

He looks like a mess, because he is, but he really can’t figure out how to tie his stupid tie and temporarily gives up so he can fix his hair, because, wow, it does not look good.

Tony seems mildly amused by all of this, which does not help in the slightest, because he knew about the meeting, and definitely should have woken him up. If anything, it’s super weird that Morgan hadn’t woken him, but, Peter suspects that was Tony’s doing.

‘You looked too peaceful’, he said, as if that somehow erases the fact that he still needed to get up earlier for the meeting.

Peter didn’t argue, though, because, um. That meant Tony watched him sleep, even if it probably was just for a second, and uh. Yeah. That definitely makes Peter shortcircuit, so.

He takes a look at his watch and nearly curses when he notices he has literally only 3 minutes left, and grabs the files on the table so he can make a quick escape down to—

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Tony asks, making a very vague gesture at his face, or his neck, or his chest–frankly, Peter was too frazzled and didn’t fully see, and, honestly, doesn’t understand what he could’ve forgotten that—

Wait.

Wait.

No way.

Noooo way.

Peter stills, because. That’s… Is Tony really asking him to kiss his cheek again? Like, as a goodbye kiss? That’s what he’s forgetting?

That can’t be right.

And yet, Tony just stands there, waiting. Expecting? Fuck, Peter is too sleep deprived and oh so late, he doesn’t have time to analyze or overthink this, and—

Fuck it.

He goes for it.

What’s the worst that can happen? 

(So many things, actually, but Peter refuses to think about any of it as he presses his lips to Tony’s cheeks, because. This feels too right.)

But he really, really needs to go, now, so.

“Um…  bye!” he waves at Tony, very awkwardly, before he quickly bolts to the elevator and goes straight into his meeting, heart beating out of his goddamn chest and—

“Wow, Parker,” Brad rolls his eyes when he sees him, and makes the same gesture Tony did earlier before he says: “fix your tie while I stall them, you look ridiculous.”

Oh.

Wait.

No.

No, no, no—is that what Tony meant? That’s what he was forgetting? His stupid tie?

Oh, jesus.

Peter loses five years of his life, right there and then.

He avoids looking at Tony when he comes home.

Thankfully, Morgan is there, and makes it easier.

(He still dies of embarrassment, though, and considers never showing his face again.)

He wakes up on time, the next day. Makes Morgan’s lunch, greets Happy, even has a minute or two to talk about George, whom Happy has a lot of opinions about. Something tells Peter that Happy may or may not be jealous, because Peter has actually met George, now, and he’s not that bad. Well, when he’s there, Pepper seems to hate Peter less, so, yay George. 

Plus, Tony’s done a background check on him that came back clean, so. Peter figures George is okay.

Happy vehemently disagrees, though.

So does Morgan, for different reasons.

But, she is right about one thing: he does smell… weird. It’s the cologne, and it’s not a good one, but that is none of Peter’s business, so.

So he bids Morgan and Happy goodbye, and then realizes he’s officially alone with Tony, now.

Welp.

It’s a bit too early to go to work, but then again, it’s not like it’s that early, so, he could definitely get away with going now.

So that’s what he tells Tony: some bullshit about wanting to work on something before his colleagues arrive, since, he missed hours of work the day before–and Tony buys it, mostly because it’s not totally a lie, and that’s the only reason Peter can get away with it. Either that, or, Tony just wants him gone because he’s feeling too awkward after Peter’s embarrassing little mishap from the day before.

But then:

“Pete. Aren’t you… forgetting something?”

Peter’s heart drops. First, because he thinks Tony’s teasing him. But no, that’s not his teasing tone, like, at all. If anything, he sounds… nervous? Shy. Shy. When Peter brings his gaze to him, it very much confirms the shy theory, but that’s. Ridiculous. Tony Stark, shy. In front of his very eyes. 

Peter wonders if he’s like, dreaming, or something.

Because.

No way.

Like…. no way.

And yet.

And yet, this is happening. Right now. 

This is an invitation. It has got to be. Right? Why else would he say that? Peter’s positive he’s not actually forgetting anything, this time. Not that there would be anything to forget, it’s a regular day, today, so. 

So. This is real, and it is happening.

Wild.

Third time’s the charm, I guess?

Because of course Peter goes for it. As if he’d let a shy (shy!!!) Tony Stark hanging. Please. Peter’s been dreaming of this for how long now? That’s probably why it feels so surreal.

Yeah.

It’s less rushed than the day before, because. Well. Peter actually has the time to analyze and overthink this, and most importantly, gauge Tony’s reactions. Because, there is a tiny, itsy bitsy possibility that he is reading this all wrong, and he has forgotten something again.

(God, he really hopes that isn’t true.)

It’s not.

True, that is.

Peter hasn’t forgotten anything.

This is was Tony wanted.

A kiss.

Wow.

“I wouldn’t mind if this also became a tradition in this household,” Tony says quietly and now, there’s no mistaking that his face is progressively getting redder. Peter’s seeing it happen in real time, with his own two eyes, but he honestly can’t believe it. Because. Because. “I also wouldn’t mind if you did it more often.”

Wow.

Maybe Peter is dreaming.

Well… as long as he doesn’t wake up…

“How often?” Peter asks, because. It’s a valid question. “Like… before bed? Like a goodnight kiss? That’s a thing.”

Tony chuckles and it’s fond. Not unlike his laughs when he deems something Peter does as ‘silly’. Very much unlike his humorless laughs, though. The ones filled with self-deprecation that Peter wishes he could whisk Tony away from. “I’d like that…but I was thinking during the day, any time, whenever you want. And maybe…I could too.” 

Oh.

Tony leans closer, close enough that his breath is warm on Peter’s cheek as he whispers, “would you like that?”

Please. As if that’s a question…

Peter has to control himself though so he doesn’t just blurt out an embarrassingly squeaky ‘yes’. His breath does hitch, but, whatever. The “yes” he ultimately answers is quiet, composed (ish), and very clear.

His composure shatters pretty quick when Tony cups his chin and smiles, though. “Good answer.” He leans in, his lips softly brushing against the corner of Peter’s mouth. Mouth. Not cheek. Mouth. Christ. “You’re very red,” Tony points out, smirking. “Is it because of me?”

Ah.

And now he’s back to teasing.

Peter really wishes he could frame that shy look from earlier. Well. He probably could. FRIDAY records the kitchen, right?

“...Yes.”

“Loving the honesty,” Tony teases, and Peter’s about to protest that he is always honest, but then remembers he did just try to lie to Tony about needing to go to work early, so.

So, he remains silent, which is just as well, because Peter wouldn’t dare interrupt what comes next.

It’s a soft, gentle kiss on his cheek that makes him melt, because of course it does. How could it not?

Peter melts even more when Tony’s hand moves from his chin, and his fingers gently start caressing his neck. 

Peter honestly barely has the time to recover from that when Tony says:

“If you wanted to kiss me, I wouldn’t object to that either.”

Peter’s answer is immediate.

“I do want to,” he says, eyes practically sparkling. Fuck, they might actually be, honestly. 

Ironically, though, despite having boldly brought up kissing, Tony’s face is now gets darker and there’s a look of disbelief in his eyes, as if he didn’t expect Peter to agree.

Which, sounds ridiculous, because. Of course he would.

And yet.

And yet, Tony is red, and shocked.

And then there’s silence, until Tony finally smiles and slowly, dare he say cautiously, wraps an arm around Peter’s waist to pull him closer.

Wow.

That’s nice.

Peter’s heart flutters as he sees Tony lean closer, because. Because this is it. This is happening. This is—

Their lips are inches apart when Tony pauses. “You sure?” 

As if he has to ask.

Peter answers in the form of a kiss, because that’s much more efficient. And, also, um. If he had to wait literally a second longer, his heart might’ve given out, so.

He wraps his arms around Tony’s neck to pull him closer, and kisses him, over and over, again and again, until he’s visibly out of breath—and then kisses him some more.

“We should’ve been doing this sooner…” Tony whispers, kissing Peter again, soft and drawn out. 

Yep, yeah, yes–they should have been doing this sooner. Probably. Definitely. But.

But.

Up until approximately half an hour ago, Peter was convinced he’d have to move out because he had ruined all his chances and made an absolute fool out of himself, so.

Yeah.

Crazy.

Absolutely crazy that now, now, they were making out. Like, actually. Making out. Crazy.

Crazy.

“This is real, right?” Peter whispers against Tony’s lips. “Like, really real? Fully real?”

“Funny,” Tony murmurs, kissing Peter again, “I was just about to ask you the same.”

He fondly brushes his fingers through Peter’s hair until he cups the back of Peter’s neck to draw him into another kiss.

“Yes,” Tony whispers in between each kiss, “it’s real…I hope it’s real,” he adds with a small laugh, “if not then…I hope it lasts. But usually my dreams end before this point so I’d say…pretty real.”

Oh.

“You dream of me?” 

“Most of my dreams are about you,” Tony admits quietly, his fingers gently brushing through Peter’s hair, “they’re usually the nicer ones. But I prefer the real deal, because I finally got to kiss you.”

“So only I get to kiss you,” Peter hums, “good. I don’t have to be jealous of dream me.”

“You have nothing to be jealous of, sweetheart.” Tony leans in, kissing Peter’s cheek, this time. “This is better than anything I could experience in some dream. I’m looking forward to those goodnight kisses.” 

Peter grins. “What about…. lunch kisses?”

“Oh I could get used to that….” He kisses Peter again. “Not sure I’ll be able to let you get back to work though…but also I’m the boss so,” he smirks, booping Peter’s nose, “if I want to confiscate you from your colleagues, I totally can.”

Peter snorts. “You already do that. They’ve noticed.” 

Actually, Peter now wonders how he hasn’t, until now.

“Hmm, are they jealous? I’m sure Brian is…is that his name?” Tony chuckles, kissing Peter’s neck (woah) and burying his face there with a content hum. “Do you have to go?” 

“Are you talking about Brad?” Peter laughs, softly moving his fingers through Tony’s hair. “He is not jealous, I don’t think he likes you very much. Which. Is crazy. But. Apparently true?” Peter shakes his head, before he continues, quietly, “I don’t have to go if you confiscate me.”

“Don’t go.” It’s a soft demand. One Peter knows he’ll comply with. 

Honestly, if he showed up to work now, he would be useless. Completely and utterly useless. 

Plus.

They would know.

They just would. 

Brad would probably beg him to leave, so.

So, not coming in is better.

Staying here is so, so much better.

“Let’s be real,” Tony continues, peppering soft kisses to Peter’s neck. “No one likes me much. Don’t think they did before and still don’t. You’ve just got weird taste. Maybe if I confiscate you too much, you’ll start agreeing with them. That’ll be a sad day.” He sighs, cupping Peter’s chin. “Will you tell me? If you start agreeing with Brody?”

Brody.

Brody.

Peter laughs, because he can’t help it. “Brad,” he corrects, not sure why, though, before he shakes his head and gently nuzzles Tony. “It’ll never happen. I promise.”

“You sound so sure. I like that about you…” he cups Peter’s cheek and squeezes fondly. 

What else do you like? Peter wants to ask, but Tony continues before he has a chance to gather up the courage.

“I don’t want you far from me today…even if I have to come on patrol,” Tony rolls his eyes, “I will. Most days I manage to distract myself but I don’t think I’ll be able to today.”

Peter chuckles, “I wouldn’t say no to have a sidekick tod—” 

Huh.

Wait.

“What do you mean,” Peter asks, “most days you manage to distract yourself? Why do you have to? You don’t like when I patrol?”

Tony resembles a kid who’s been caught with his whole arm in a cookie jar. 

Interesting.

What’s even more interesting is that he tries to brush off Peter with a chuckle, as if Peter didn’t notice that whole display. “Oh you know, it’s boring without you…gotta find stuff to do. But now that I know I can kiss you, nothing will top that. So.”

He kisses Peter again, much more deeply than the previous kisses–perhaps as an attempt to distract him, and it almost works, but. But.

Peter pulls away, an inquisitive look in his eyes. “You don’t like when I patrol,” he states, this time, because it isn’t a question anymore.

Tony sighs, and it takes him a while to finally answer:

“I don’t understand it.”

“Oh.”

“I get this… feeling when I try to remember… things,” okay, cryptic, “I don’t know why Pepper makes me feel…worse than I already feel about myself. But she does. I don’t question it.”

Peter has no idea how this is supposed to connect to him, or, well, him patrolling. He has to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking him follow up questions because clearly Tony’s not done talking but god the way this makes Peter nervous–

“I figured…” Tony continues, thank god, “you going on patrol just made me feel lonely. But…” he trails off, gently cupping Peter’s cheek, “it scares me. Figured if I made you your suits again, I’d be less weird about it and,” he shrugs, “it’s helped. I like knowing you’re safe.”

Peter senses a but. 

He doesn’t wait for it to come, though.

“...but it’s not enough?” Peter asks, quietly.

Tony smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “Every time you leave, I get this feeling you’re not coming back. That I made all of this up in my head….sounds like something I’d do.” 

Oh.

Tony chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, this isn’t…what I wanted to talk about after we finally kissed. If I can tag along occasionally… monitor, help, I’ll eventually you know, stop being weird? I think. I’m blaming this on not remembering how to act like someone who's supposedly been in this life for what, a decade?”

“Technically 15,” Peter corrects, but regrets it, because it’s not important. Everything Tony said is, though. So, Peter gently takes Tony’s hands in his, giving them a light squeeze before he continues. “Of course you can tag along. I can… teach you? If you want. I can be the mentor this time…” 

Tony laughs, lifting Peter’s hands to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “Sweetheart, you and I both know damn well I’m gonna barely pay attention… you’re too beautiful, it’s going to be a problem.” 

Wow.

Pulling Peter closer, he then presses a quick kiss to his lips, and adds: “You can be anything you want, as long as I get to call you mine.”

Double wow.

Peter can’t help the squeaky laugh that escapes him then, because: “that… that was too smooth. I’ll die,” he teases, but he can’t stop grinning.

“You’re not allowed to,” Tony whispers, kissing his cheek and wrapping an arm around his waist, “I’ve had to hold back these comments for god knows how long… I can’t help myself now. So,” he smiles, kissing Peter again, “hopefully you find everything I say as ‘smooth’.”

Peter gasps. Because. Um. “You’ve had to hold back? Hold back. Comments,” Peter repeats. “What comments? You need to tell them now.”

Tony chuckles, squeezing Peter’s waist. “Comments here and there about how…pretty I find you, cute, sweet…” he pauses, “perky. Sometimes it was impulses. The entire time we had our Star Wars marathon I had to fight back the urge to kiss you. It’s been rough. You’re so…you, and pretty and good, I never stood a chance.”

That’s crazy.

All of this is so… so crazy.

Peter can hardly believe it. It’s surreal. It’s everything he had wanted, and more.

Wild.

“So…” Peter gasps, again. “So people have been right. You have been flirting with me.” 

“Yeah, for a while…thanks for noticing,” Tony laughs, kissing the tip of Peter’s nose. “Though I did try my absolute best to…hold back. Especially since I wasn’t really sure how you’d react given that you remembered the… us from before. I worried I might cross lines, though clearly I failed at composing myself if Bobby noticed.”

“Bobby?” Peter asks, brows furrowed. There’s no Bobby in— “Wait, are you talking about Brad?”

“Who? Sure,” Tony snorts, rolling his eyes. “Whatever, people noticed. Of course they would. I’m shocked though that people talked to you about this? Why?”

Peter shrugs. “Work gossip…?”

“Because if they have a problem,” Tony cups Peter’s chin, “you should tell me. I don’t want anyone thinking they can push you around because of this. If you want I can tone it down, I…never realized I was being that obvious.”

Peter shakes his head. “You are not allowed to tone it down now that I know it’s flirting. I don’t care what people say. Brad’s an asshole. No one cares what he says. Flirt with me.”

“That’s the hottest thing that’s come out of your mouth.” Tony yanks Peter into a deep kiss, which, wow. “I’ll do anything you want, sweetheart.”

Double wow, because:

Sweetheart.

“Wow,” Peter grins, “is that going to be a permanent thing? The pet names? Because. Yes.”

“Anything can be a permanent thing if you want it to be. As long as I see that pretty smile of yours. You smile more now. I like it.”

“It’s… because of you,” Peter says, quietly. Shyly. Surely, Tony knows, but… maybe not. 

Scratch that:

Clearly not is the real answer, judging from the way his eyes widen slightly. His cheeks redden too, but he still smiles, and looks down.

Why?

“I don’t know how you do that…be so unbelievably cute,” Tony admits, “I should ban the world from getting to see you…”

Oh.

Damn.

Possessive.

Peter blushes. Like, a lot. There’s nowhere to hide it. He doesn’t want to, though. Not anymore.

“That’s…” Peter holds his breath, “so hot. It’s unfair. Say more.”

“Oh?” Tony smirks, pulling Peter closer until their bodies are flush. Oh. “Do you like it when I claim you? I worried it’d be another thing I’d have to take down a couple notches…” 

Peter narrows his brows. Because. Um. There is clearly nothing to worry about. “Of course I like it, I—”

Whatever else Peter was about to say vanishes the moment Tony leans in to catch Peter’s lips in a gentle kiss that makes his breath hitch and his heart skip a beat. 

Or several.

There’s more heartbeat skipping when Tony slowly walks him back against the nearest wall, though.

Oh.

Peter may or may not accidentally have let out a squeaky moan. Maybe. Definitely. Not his fault. Definitely not his fault. Tony just pinned him to a wall. Of course he’s moaning. Come on.

“Sorry,” Tony whispers in between each kiss, and frankly, Peter can’t comprehend how or why Tony would be sorry about any of this when clearly— “I’ve had to hold back for…a while.” Oh. “And you’re here and so…” he doesn’t finish his sentence. It dissolves into a soft, breathy moan as he kisses Peter again, biting into his lower lip.

Damn.

Peter needs to know more. How long has Tony been holding back? How much has he hold back? What has he been thinking of doing? What has he—

“Tell… tell me,” Peter demands, his words coming out breathy and needy and– “Tell me about…” he’s trailing off, because he’s busy kissing Tony, busy getting drunk on those lips he’s been dreaming of for years now and—

“I know this is going to sound strange but…from the moment I saw you in that elevator, I felt… something,” Tony admits, face flushed. 

Oh?

“My intentions weren’t…completely out of goodness for wanting you to move in here,” Tony adds, “I didn’t think you’d accept letting me buy you a whole damn apartment but… I knew you would if it was to temporarily move here.” 

Oh.

Tony’s hands now slip under Peter’s shirt, his fingers digging into the skin. “I wanted you here, with me…safe, but it got so damn hard to not just grab you and kiss you, to…take you.”

Oh.

His lips are soon on Peter’s neck, kissing and biting at the skin before Peter can have one fully formed thought.

Well.

Did he really need to think, right now?

No.

“Take me, then,” he says, fingers combing through Tony’s hair. “I’m yours.”

Tony makes a sound that dangerously resembles a purr. Peter notes that attention to his hair seems to be appreciated. Or maybe he just said the right words.

“Right here? Against the wall?” Tony then teases with a half hearted smirk. Of course, he still has enough braincells to tease.

Peter deadpans. “I take it back.”

Tony gasps, kissing Peter’s neck. “I’ve crossed a line, let me make it up to you honey, I feel terrible.”

Sure he does…

“Uh-uh… I was trying to be hot, you know,” Peter mutters, “not everyone has Tony Stark rizz…”

“What rizz?” Tony laughs, kissing Peter’s cheek. 

Peter almost deadpans again. Almost. “You’re messing with meeee,” he drawls out, putting his hand on Tony’s face. “You know you have rizz.”

Of course, Tony kisses the inside of his palm. Of course. “Only for you…I want to impress you, make it hard for you to resist me, is that too much to ask for?”

Peter chuckles. Because. “That’s what I’m talking about! You, saying stuff like that is like. Full of rizz. Rizz to the max. Unfair. So unfair.”

Tony shakes his head, placing Peter’s hand to his chest and holding it there. “And what, you don’t think you have an effect on me? Knowing when you smile and that it’s for me…” Tony sighs deeply, “it does things to my heart.”

Peter can’t help but blush, because. Well. Wow. Part of him almost points out that doing that and saying that honestly just proves his point, because it totally does, and Tony truly has rizz to the max, but he’s too lovestruck to be a smartass, now, so.

Peter’s not sure about what he actually manages to say next because, the next thing he knows, Tony’s lips are back on his, and, well, nothing he could’ve said would’ve been more important or better than Tony’s lips on his, so.

There’s that.

They spend the rest of the day kissing.

Amongst other things.

It’s about five minutes till Morgan comes in, usually accompanied by Pepper, when Peter realizes they’ll either have to tell them (or, at the very least, Morgan), or else he’d have to move from the very comfortable place he currently is: in Tony’s arms, on the couch, where he actually never wants to leave.

One very important thing dawns on him then: they haven’t actually talked about what they’ll tell Morgan. Or Pepper. Or anyone, for that matter. 

That’s what happens when you spend your entire day kissing (and other more nefarious activities) instead of, well, talking about important details like that.

Peter gulps, because. Well. He doesn’t want to burst their little bubble to ask the ‘what are we’ question to prelude the ‘what do we tell other people’ one, but.

But, Morgan is coming in any time now, so.

“Tony?”

“Yeah, honey?” Tony kisses the side of his head. “I can practically feel your thoughts.”

Peter laughs, nervously. “Can you feel what they’re about….?”

“Hmm….maybe but better if you tell me,” Tony pokes his nose, “I’m not great with guessing.”

“But now I kinda want to know what you think I’m thinking….”

“I think it has something to do with Morgan and uh…overthinking. Probably. Am I warm?” 

“Wow,” Peter whistles, “so we can add mind reader to the long list of things Iron Man can do, huh.”

“Let’s call it intuition,” Tony gently brushes his fingers through Peter’s hair, “are you afraid of how she’ll react? I think she’s a pretty open kid…who’s well aware mom and dad aren’t ever getting back together.”

Peter averts his gaze then, because. Well. “Um… well, actually, she already, huh, knows? Not that we…” he trails off, “but yeah she… knows. Are you… okay with that?”

Tony gives him a look. “Why wouldn’t I be? And what, you think I don’t know you two have little gossip chit-chats before bedtime? And that I’m not invited with you girls?” Tony chuckles, kissing Peter’s cheek. “Yeah honey, I’m okay with that. I’m okay with anything that involves you, basically.”

“Even if Pepper learns?”

Tony sighs heavily. “Yeah. I’ll deal with Pepper. Plus she’s with…Greg. Or whatever. So, she’d be a hypocrite.”

Greg.

“I feel like she’ll just hate me even more…”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Nah…she’s just still…what’s a good word that isn’t juvenile,” he hums thoughtfully, “upset I screwed things up to get you back. Not to mention I’m still running the company, still Iron Man…I don’t think she likes Iron Man. But hey, she’ll get over it. People get over things.”

“I mean, I—”

Wait.

Wait.

“Screwed things up to get me back?” Peter repeats, brows furrowed. “What… what are you talking about?” 

Tony’s looking at him with confusion. “Well…my explanation’s gonna suck because I don’t remember what happened with this whole Thanos jackass, but it doesn’t matter because I’d still do the same thing past me did. I mean… Clearly, I wanted you back. Why else would I leave behind what I’m assuming was an okay life, to go fight a giant ugly fucking alien and possibly lose everything?”

Peter blinks. “Wait, wait, wait… are you saying you invented time travel for me?”

“Like I said, I’d do it again.”

Peter can’t believe it. There’s just. There’s just no way. No way. “But you forgot 15 years of your life because of this.” Because of me? “You can’t… you can’t even remember Morgan and… and…”

“I heard my name!”

Oh, shit.

Peter turns to see that Morgan’s here, and so is Pepper—damn, even George is here. Not that he even seems to notice Peter or Tony. Or Morgan. As always, his eyes are always on Pepper, full of adoration and…

And it makes Peter wonder if that’s how Tony used to look at her, too. 

Oh how he hates, hates wondering that.

“Were you talking about me?” Morgan asks excitedly, jumping on the couch between the two of them.

“Yeah we were, but it’s a secret,” Tony teases and side eyes the other two before looking down at Morgan, “I see you brought your friend Gregory.”

“It’s George, actually.” 

“Someone say something?” Tony looks at Morgan and Peter with an exaggerated frown. “I thought I heard something.”

Of course, Morgan finds this hilarious and giggles. Pepper looks more and more sour by the minute, but Tony’s not even looking at her, because…

Because he’s looking at Peter, with those same eyes George is looking at Pepper and oh, the way it makes his heart flutter and…

And it dawns on him that all of this is possible because Tony, years ago, decided he wanted to sacrifice the life he had built, the family he had created, for Peter. Defied the laws of the universe and traveled through time, for Peter. 

Like I said, I’d do it again.

Peter can’t breathe anymore.

Of course, Morgan notices and pokes his cheek. “Dad, I think you broke him.”

Tony hums. “I think I did. You know what will help? True love’s kiss.” 

Morgan gasps, just before Tony kisses Peter right there, completely ignoring their audience. It’s a quick peck, nothing overly dramatic, but… there’s a look in his eyes Peter now recognizes as the ‘I wanna eat you up’ look he was given hours ago during… well. 

But Tony holds back, probably because of Morgan sitting between them and, and hopefully, because he has some level of awareness and remembers Pepper and George are still there.

Speaking of, George looks very amused, and Pepper looks… annoyed? Peter can’t tell.

But Morgan is overly pleased. “Finally!” She chants, before she turns her head towards Pepper (and George, but she’s ignoring him). “Mom, I told you it would happen!”

Pepper forces a smile, then. “Yes… yes you did.”

“Oh wow, you talkin’ about us?” Tony teases Morgan. “What did I tell you about gossiping?”

Morgan grins. “It keeps you young!”

“Exactly.” Tony then looks at Peter, fondly, and smiles. “Did it work, honey? True love’s kiss and all that?”

True love…

Peter knows he’s probably said that because that’s a thing that comes up over and over in like 90% of what Morgan watches (and so, by proxy, what they watch with her), but…

But.

Tony’s invented time travel, for him. Tony’s fought Thanos again and nearly died, for him. Peter knows they’re not in a Disney princess movie or anything, but… 

Yeah, true love’s kiss is completely appropriate here. 

So, Peter smiles as he reaches for Tony’s hand, and says: 

“Yeah. It really worked.”