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Nobody said no to Tony Stark. That was a fact. If you even dared to say it you wouldn’t live long enough for the word to slip past your lips.
Tony remembered a time where he wanted, almost desperately, for someone to defy him. Back when he was tinged with faults and insecurities, constantly calling out for attention, for love.
He despised that part of him. The emotional, weak boy that he used to be.
Back then there was only one person who’d stood up to him. He’d been head over heels for her, given her everything he could and all that he couldn’t. She had wanted him to be better , so he made himself better. He made Extremis.
Even that wasn’t enough for her.
She was greedy, always demanding more, more, more. It was tiring, and every man had a breaking point.
He’d loved her at some point, that was a fact, but whenever he thinks of her it leaves him with a bitter taste. She was an important character in act 1 of his life, but he’s long moved on to something better. To someone better.
Or so he thought.
Tony Stark was not a trusting man, never had been, and he only grew more cautious as he got older. He didn’t need anyone, not like before, but he still had the desire to own. He satiated his lust with different, faceless partners, but there was still an itch he couldn’t scratch with them. He wanted something more, something deeper. A weakness he’d have to edit out of him.
That was the plan, to cleanse himself of something so foolish, so human . Then Peter came along. Distantly, Tony had realised Peter was a weakness. Was a liability. With a single smile he could have destroyed everything Tony worked so hard to build.
Still he’d kept Peter around. He was fun, exciting and surprising. He lusted for bloodshed, for pain and destruction the same way Tony lusted for power, control and order.
If Tony thought too hard about it, he’d realise how deeply he trusted Peter, how much he adored the boy, a fact Tony was resolutely trying to ignore. He couldn’t run from the truth anymore. Not with Beck still out there, not with the thought of betrayal boiling Tony’s blood.
He only felt betrayed because he trusted, only felt fear because he loved. He was back right where he started, weakened by feelings, by one person who he gave too much of himself to.
He was failing. Failing himself and his mission. He needed to think. He needed to prioritise rationality over emotionality. He needed to prioritise his empire over his own desire.
No biggie.
He looked around his living room, taking in all the ways Peter left his mark. Books left carelessly on the coffee table, slippers dropped at the feet of the couch, a blanket thrown over a chair. He thought about how he’d have to remove them, wipe the house clean of Peter. That, too, left him with a bitter taste.
He was jumping to conclusions. He’d deal with his feelings for Peter later, for the moment he needed to know where the boy’s loyalties lay. And from there on whether he’d live or die.
Beck was another thing. More than likely he’d been a hologram and the real Beck was at a remote location. Tony was disappointed his scanners didn’t pick up on it, but he’d just make the necessary adjustments. He had all of Beck’s notes, he just needed to review them.
He’d known Beck was envious of him, and hadn’t been surprised when Bucky mentioned the little crush he had on Peter, but he didn’t think the man would go so far.
He’d underestimated him, something Peter teased him about constantly. It would be ironic if Peter and Beck were in cahoots.
“Boss, Mr. Parker has arrived.” FRIDAY alerted him. Tony hummed, sitting down on one of the seats lined around the kitchen island. His armor had long retreated back into its casing, leaving Tony in one of his three-piece suits.
“At my feet.” Tony ordered as soon as Peter saw him. Peter dropped to his knees at Tony’s feet, lowering his head and tilting his head in submission. It was exhilarating, having this kind of control, this kind of power over someone. Especially when it was given so willingly, as if Peter’s only purpose was to trip over his feet for Tony, to serve Tony.
His submission was beautiful and addictive. It made Tony a thirsty man, coming for a sip over and over again.
“Explain.”
And so it began. Peter went into detail, saying ‘I was just trying to protect you’ or ‘I was monitoring his behaviour’ and ‘You know I would never work against you’ and deep down, Tony did. Peter was too dependent on Tony, his world revolving around the man. He’d done nothing but build up Tony and his empire.
More than once he’d had the opportunity to hurt Tony, to betray him, and yet he’d never taken them. He was devoted, loyal . Still, Tony’s paranoia won out.
( As usual. Weak .)
No matter how much he knew, he needed to confirm.
“Prove it. Prove your loyalty.”
“How?”
“Cripple yourself. Damage your greatest asset.” Tony instructed, testing to see how far he’d go. Peter might lose his usefulness, but Tony was fully willing to keep him as nothing more than a doll. If he kept him at all.
“I don’t know what that is, sir.” Peter whined. Tony could have been merciful, could have given him direction or stopped it completely, but he needed this, and he wasn’t keen on making it any easier than it needed to be.
“Figure it out.” Peter huffed, gazing dejectedly at the wall before resolutely standing up. He pulled out his pocket knife, a custom one he’d nagged Tony into buying, and held it against his wrist. He should have understood what Peter meant to do, but he hadn’t.
( Stupid, stupid, stupid .)
He took a deep steadying breath, gaze flicking up to meet Tony’s before he pressed down and slid the knife up to his elbow. Peter bit his lip, whimpers of pain still making it out despite his best effort, and soon he was back on his knees. He curled over his arm, shielding it with his body and taking deep, shaky breaths.
And Tony, well Tony panicked. For the first time in what had to be years Tony felt raw, deep panic seize his heart. But he’d have to analyze that later.
He knelt beside Peter, pulling the boy into him and checking the wound.
It was deep. It was gushing. Fuck.
“Call Bucky. Tell him it's an emergency.”
-
The drive to the hospital was excruciatingly long. Tony couldn't even find it within himself to yell at Bucky to drive faster. He couldn’t do much else but watch the life drain out of his boy.
-
Tony was soaked in his blood. It was warm. He’d never been bothered by blood before, but the feeling of Peter’s had him scratching at his skin.
What a horrible feeling, to care about someone.
-
Peter would heal. That much was a fact. Both he and Bucky knew it. Peter was a mutate, an advanced healing factor one of his mutations. That didn’t stop the bile from rising up Tony’s throat. Sure, he healed faster , but that didn’t mean he healed fast . He certainly wasn’t healing fast enough for Tony’s comfort.
-
It was Tony’s fault. He should have stopped Peter once he’d realised what he was doing. He shouldn’t have asked that of Peter to begin with. He knew Peter would never do anything that went against him. He trusted Peter. There was no reason to test his loyalty. There never was.
Fuck, why’d he always have to be so goddamn paranoid . Testing Peter day after day, week after week. It must be exhausting, to always be under that kind of scrutiny. If Tony wanted Peter in his life, permanently, he’d have to make it up to him.
-
Tony wanted Peter in his life. It scared him, terrified him even, but he couldn’t run from it when it was staring at him head on.
He wanted Peter in his life, and he’d do whatever was necessary to keep him there.
-
( No amount of Extremis will ever make you worthy. Weak, pathetic, little boy. )
-
When Peter woke up fully, Tony was sitting there with him.
“Your life is your most valuable asset?” Tony teased, his voice not betraying the deep unease he’s been feeling or the wave of relief that washed over him with every breath Peter took.
“It was either that or you, Mr. Stark.” Peter murmured, smiling softly. He knew. He always knew. Somehow, Peter was always able to tell his mood, from what he said and what he didn’t.
It made him nervous sometimes, how well Peter knew him, how well he could read him, but he couldn’t feel much over the comfort of having Peter smile at him again. Another thing he refused to think about.
Tony stretched out a hand, caressing Peter’s face and just feeling him. The boy sank into the touch, his eyes closing with a soft sigh.
“‘M sorry, daddy. I wasn’t fast enough and Beck got away.”
“Hm.”
“And I made a mess.”
“Hm. And…?”
“And?”
“Do you need help, princess?”
“Yes, please.”
“You disobeyed my instructions. I told you to cripple yourself, not…”
“Mmm. Sorry daddy.”
Tony hummed, resuming his caress. He’d never had trouble talking about death, never had a problem cutting people off since Extremis, and yet the thought of Peter being no more than a corpse, of his beautiful, lively boy dying, set a lump in Tony’s throat.
He couldn’t imagine Peter without the pink that stained his cheeks, without the bounce of his curls when he moved or the strain of his cheeks when he smiled.
What he felt for Peter was more than fondness, more than adoration.
“I forgive you. You know I can’t stay mad at you.”
“Have I been good?”
“So good baby. So, so good.” Tony assured, leaning down to pepper Peter’s face with kisses. “So proud of you. Bucky told me, you know.”
“Told you?”
“Mhm. About how you warned him about Beck. So proud of you. My smart, brilliant boy.”
“I love you, daddy.” Tony stared at Peter, processing the words. It scratched an itch deep within him he didn’t know he still had.
“I know baby. Go back to sleep.” Tony whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to Peter’s lips. The younger man hummed, getting comfortable and drifting. It was easy to fall back to sleep with the drugs the hospital kept him on.
As much as Tony wanted to stay by his side, he had things to do.
Like question his feelings for (and his relationship with) Peter. Or hunt down Beck. Whichever happened first.
-
He’d had a few anxiety attacks when he was younger. Never after Extremis. First time for everything and all that.
It hit him hard and abruptly. Had him sliding down a wall and reaching out for Peter. Peter who was still in the hospital with a healing, self inflicted wound. Fuck.
FRIDAY guided him through a few breathing exercises, until he calmed down enough to move. It would be best to rest. Try to sleep off the day and figure everything out in the morning. Tony’s never been good at doing what was best for him.
He took a shower instead. Made the water boil so his skin was flushed after it. It did little to clear his head. It’s fine, though. He’ll manage.
-
He did manage. Not well, but it’s management nonetheless. He’d drunk himself to sleep, passing out by the kitchen island.
He woke up in bed.
( Someone moved you, someone’s in your house, you’re defenseless. )
He’d pushed aside the paranoia, blinking some clarity into his eyes and clearing his throat.
“Peter?” He called out, his voice rough.
“Just me boss.” Bucky had responded. He came out from the connected bathroom, drying his hands on his pants.
“You’re supposed to be with, Pete.” Bucky shrugged, fucking shrugged .
“Figured you’d need me more.”
“I don’t give a shit what you figured , I gave you a fucking order.”
“Peter asked me to check up on you.”
“Yeah well Peter isn’t your fucking boss.” Tony snapped, pushing himself out of bed. He’d been stripped to his boxers, but it’s nothing Bucky hasn’t seen.
( He touched you, he touched you while you were asleep, while you were defenseless. )
“He’s worried about you. Frankly, so am I.”
“Yeah, well, I’m worried about him. What if Beck takes him again huh? Or someone decides this is the perfect time to assassinate him, huh? Or what if he’s feeling lonely? What-” Tony cut himself off, letting Bucky’s grip on his shoulders keep him upright.
“Sam took over my post. Pete isn’t alone.”
“I don’t fucking trust Sam.”
“No, but you trust me to do my job. Keeping you and Peter safe is my priority, trust that.”
“Fuck.” Tony murmured, cradling his head in his hands. He shrugged off Bucky’s hands, pulling down his boxers and walking into the shower. “Update me.”
“Beck’s off the grid. We’re assuming he’s using his tech to disguise himself. We checked his apartment but it’s empty. Either he never lived there or he was prepared to go on the run.”
“You’re gonna take me to the office and then you’re going back to Peter, understood.”
“Yes sir.”
“Good. And Bucky?”
“Hm?”
“Erase this morning from our mind.”
“Erase what?”
Tony kept forgetting why Bucky was his favourite employee. Bucky never failed to remind him.
-
Peter was released from the hospital sometime in the afternoon. Bucky drove him home, and stayed there. Both to protect and to entertain Peter. Both Peter and Tony had a fond ( soft , the voice in his head scoffed) spot for him.
The hospital, being one that Tony owned and personally employed, called to let him know they had removed any record of Peter being in their care and the doctors and nurses who dealt with Peter had sworn their secrecy. Apparently Bucky also went the extra mile to bribe and threaten them. Just in case.
Despite how much Tony wanted to rush home, he stayed at work. He was in a hurry to track down Beck and who better to work on it than him? He’d also begun theorising different Extremis formulas, ways to cut some things off and develop more of others.
It’s all a distraction, at the end of the day. A useless one at that. His thoughts still drifted to Peter and blood and the raw panic he’d felt thinking for just a second he might lose the other man.
He didn’t panic . Not anymore. But Peter’s always brought up things in Tony that he’d thought long dead. He’s not disturbed by that thought, no matter how much he yells at himself that he should be.
( Because he should. He should.)
The question was no longer about Peter. It wasn’t about where his loyalties lay or what to do with him. It was about Tony.
Now, Tony had been alive for some time. He’s done and been through a lot. And that included personal growth. At some point he’d begun relying on Extremis to grow in the ways he'd wanted, but this was different. This was Peter. He wanted to do this for Peter, in an honest way at least.
And wasn’t that a scary thought. That someone else could make him want to be honest.
So, with that in mind, he allowed himself to think. And allowed the thinking to hurt.
He cared for Peter, that much he was willing to admit, but he’d always thought it was the way one cared for a pet or a toy. But Peter’s more than that. Maybe not always, but by now it's certain. Peter is important. Peter has much more control over Tony than either of the realised.
He knew Peter hasn’t been manipulating him, because for all that Peter’s job demands he be deceitful, he’s only ever been honest with Tony ( unless he’s been lying since the beginning , the paranoid part of Tony whispers).
Even with all his trust issues, Tony trusted Peter. He trusts, and he cares, and he adores, and he loves. He loves Peter. There’s no way around.
He doesn’t know where to go from there. No matter how he looked at it, love is a weakness. Peter is a weakness.
If he hadn’t met Peter in the first place he wouldn’t be feeling this way. Maybe if he went back in time and cancelled their meeting. Maybe if he just sent Bucky on the job instead. But then he’d miss Peter. So deeply, so fiercely he could already feel the ache of it.
It’s late. He should go home. Peter’s home.
Peter’s home.
The thought sends both relief and dread coursing through him. He didn’t want to see him yet, but he couldn’t stand another second away from him.
Despite how much he knew it was a bad idea, he heads home. He’s tired of thinking. He just wanted Peter in his arms. He’d deal with it all later. Yeah, later.
He found Bucky and Peter watching a movie on the couch, both of them dozing off, when he arrived home. It was nearing midnight after all. He woke them up and sent Bucky home and was just about to sit when Peter stands. He opened his arms, frowning when Peter didn't immediately run into them.
( Who does he think he is? Refusing him, refusing Tony Stark. He could end the boy right then and there if- )
“Baby?” He questioned, a bit of edge in his tone as he, very pointedly, kept his arms open.
“Mr. Stark,” And, woah, it had been a hot minute since Peter called him that in a tone other than teasing, “I can’t do this anymore.”
Huh?
“Huh?”
Huh?