Chapter 5
“Alright, let’s do this. Dum-E, U, I need rows of chairs on this side of the room, and a podium on this side.” Tony sprang into action, clapping his hands and getting his robots to work.
“And I need a squirt gun,” Peter added.
“And Peter needs a-” Tony turned to look at him, raising one eyebrow. “A what?”
“I said I wasn’t going to coddle you. This is the Parker method. Take it or leave it,” Peter said with a shrug, smiling when Tony ordered the robots to find him a squirt gun. The two of them helped clear and prepare the lab, pushing tables to the side and making way for the robots to add the chairs and the podium.
“Alright, might as well make ourselves comfortable,” Tony said, taking off his tie and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. Peter hurriedly looked away, swallowing hard. He found himself imagining following that expanse of tan skin lower, where it disappeared under the shirt, maybe even untucking that shirt from those slacks and sneaking a hand under--
Woah.
What the fuck, Parker?
Peter hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt, coughing awkwardly and turning around, pretending to straighten out one of the chairs as Tony made his way to the podium.
“Alright, let’s start,” Tony said, placing his hands comfortably on either side of the podium and lifting his chin slightly. He looked a little too stiff, too rehearsed and perfect.
“Yeah, no. Not until we fix...this.” On the last word, Peter gestured to Tony’s entire body, shaking his head.
“What’s wrong with this? I’m in control of the room, I’m projecting confidence,” Tony protested, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
“Maybe so, but you seem stiff. Inauthentic.” Peter walked up to Tony, gesturing to his shoulders. “You’re holding tension here, it screams at me that you’re just repeating something you’ve rehearsed. You’re not being real.” Peter placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder, pushing them down slightly. “Yes, you want to be in control. But you don’t want to be controlling and too authoritarian. It’ll put us on edge, and the tone won’t be as friendly as it could be if you were just more relaxed.” Their eyes met, and Tony’s gaze flickered to Peter’s lips. For a split second, Tony leaned in and Peter jerked back, almost falling over his own feet as he rapidly backed up.
“Uh, okay. So-so let’s see your stance,” Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Had it always been so hot in here?
Tony stood at the podium, gripping the sides with relaxed arms and a much more open posture. His shoulders were lower, body language softer.
“Great. Looks good,” Peter said, biting his lip for a split second. “Alright. Just...remember that. Control, but not controlling. You want to look open to questioning, not like you’re expecting someone to shoot you.” Tony chuckled, and Peter cracked a smile. “Voters will like this better too, you look more trustworthy. If you’re tense, that reads as nervous, and they might think you have something to hide.”
“Good to know. See, you’re helping this campaign already,” Tony said with a bright smile, and Peter pointed at him.
“I’m helping you, Tony. Not your campaign. I’m a journalist, not one of your advisors or something. This is strictly...personal.” Not strictly professional - what was professional about this?
Literally nothing.
“Correction noted,” Tony said, mimicking writing something down on a piece of paper. Peter made himself comfortable in one of the middle chairs, the squirt gun sitting beside him.
“Alright, let’s start with an easy question so we can see how you respond to a question non-verbally.”
“Isn’t the point of answering a question to respond verbally?” Tony snarked with a little smile. Peter rolled his eyes.
“When you’re answering a question, what you don’t say is just as important as what you do say. Are you making eye contact, or are you looking elsewhere? Do you tense up again, or does it not faze you?”
Tony nodded. “Right. I know that from watching the videos of other politicians. I was just kidding around.”
“So you are rehearsed,” Peter pointed out, grinning a little bit when he realized his intuition had been spot-on yet again. He was a little embarrassed about not recognizing the joke - Tony Stark was smarter than that. He wouldn’t have been oblivious to nonverbal cues and what people infer from them.
“I did my due diligence and researched thoroughly,” Tony said, slightly evading the accusation but providing an answer. Peter’s eyes widened and he sprang up and out of his chair, pointing at the man. Tony’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?”
“That! That’s what you need to do. That was a great answer!” Peter said excitedly before blushing and reining in his excitement. There was no need to act that way - he could be calmer when expressing his happiness over Tony making the right call.
“Really?” Tony asked, cocking an eyebrow. “I didn’t really answer the question.”
“Welcome to being a politician, Tony.” Peter put his hands up in the universal gesture for what are you gonna do? “It was good. Diplomatic, but you brushed off the accusation and didn’t give me ammunition by responding to it directly. You also didn’t get emotional.”
“Or flirt with you.” Tony shot Peter a wink, and the younger man flushed a deep pink, glancing away at the wall and putting his hands in his pockets.
“Yeah. Or that,” he said with a forced little laugh, trying to forget the confident advance the man had made not a week prior. “But that proves you do have the right instincts. We just have to make sure you can do that when it’s not an easy question.”
“Gimme a good one, then. Come on, I can take it,” Tony lifted his hands from the podium and crooked his fingers, gesturing for Peter to come towards him. The journalist sat back down in his chair, glancing down at his notebook and looking back up at the man.
“Mr. Stark, why is this important to you?” He asked, electing to give Tony an easier question so he could observe those non-verbal cues like he’d said he was going to.
“Could you elaborate? What do you mean by ‘this’?” Tony asked, lowering his hands to the podium again and cocking his head to the side slightly. The motion made him look curious but not idiotic, like he was seeking clarification and didn’t just totally misunderstand the question. Peter scribbled down some notes. He’d give them to Tony later - if he kept interrupting him, they’d never get through this.
“Politics. Government. The Senate. Any of those things, or all of them. Why are they important to you?” Peter rephrased.
“Thank you for the clarification, and for the question. I’m happy to have the opportunity to discuss just how important our democracy is to me.” Peter scribbled down some notes as Tony made direct eye contact, giving a respectful nod before turning to address the rest of the imaginary press pool.
Good job directly addressing reporter - make them feel seen/heard = more likely to view you favorably.
“There is nothing more important in this country than our democracy,” Tony began, and Peter made note of how nothing in his body language shifted. A solid start, but he wondered if that would hold up on deeper questioning. “Our government has become riddled with partisan squabbles, fighting within parties, and citizens are tired of constant legislative gridlock. I think as an independent, as an outside to politics, I could bring an important voice and opportunity to move our country away from polarized affairs and something that closer resembles the democracy we all hold so dearly. We all love this country, clearly. If we didn’t, I wouldn’t be running for office, and even if I was, you all wouldn’t give a damn.”
Peter chuckled, nodding in approval and hastily writing a note about good usage of humor.
“Our democracy and government is important to me because I know what it can do if it’s properly functioning, and right now, it’s not. I’m an engineer - fixing things is what I do. I’m confident I can help fix this country.”
Peter nodded, raising his pen to his lips and taking a moment to gather his thoughts as Tony turned to him.
“Overall, that was great. The nonverbal cues were fine, nothing to comment on there because nothing changed. The humor was good, but you need to be careful not to overdo it with that. You walk that line well, though.” Peter hummed as Tony nodded, writing down some notes of his own. “I like that line about being an engineer, but I wouldn’t say you want to fix the country. That implies it’s broken.”
“Isn’t it?” Tony asked. Peter shrugged.
“I mean, the argument could be made that it is. But I would change the wording. Say you can fix the partisan divide. The in-fighting. Something tangible that voters see and want to be fixed. I just wouldn’t declare your love for the country and then promptly say it’s broken.” Peter shrugged and Tony considered it for a moment.
“What if I argued that it was? I could go on further with that, explain what I meant.”
“You could. I think that was a good place to end your answer though, and even if you do, your words might be twisted until it looks like you said democracy was dead already. I’d tread carefully with that. You know your thoughts better than I do.” Peter looked back down at his notebook.
“Alright, let’s keep going. I’m taking notes, I promise. I’m not wasting your time.” Tony pointed down at his paper and Peter felt something warm fill his chest at the acknowledgement that his time and expertise was important to the billionaire. That he wasn’t wasting his time by doing this.
“I’ll give you my notes, too. But thanks.” Peter cleared his throat. “Mr. Stark, what would you say to constituents who are concerned about someone with direct ties to one of the world’s largest weapons manufacturers sitting in our nation’s government?” Tony’s mouth dropped open and he leaned forward, bracing his arms on the podium.
“You already asked that question!” He protested.
“You never answered it,” Peter shot back. “You wanted my help, I’m helping. Answer the question.”
Tony groaned, leaning his head back and yelping when a shot of water hit him in the throat, looking back at the journalist. “What the hell, Parker?!”
Peter grinned and lowered the squirt gun, eyes twinkling mischievously. “You wanted my help,” he repeated.
“Yeah, I meant your advice! Not being shot with a squirt gun!” Tony exclaimed, wiping the water from his skin. Peter shrugged, unapologetic.
“Call it an incentive not to give a bad answer,” he said. “My friends and I used this method in college, practicing putting together good questions on the spot. If it was a crap question, or an easy one, you got blasted.”
“So you vouch for its usefulness,” Tony said skeptically, eyeing Peter critically and fighting back a smile.
“I do,” Peter agreed with a nod. “My friend MJ said it even worked on the most hopeless of cases, and, well…”
“Wow,” Tony said, dragging the word out and looking unimpressed. “I’m a hopeless case?”
“You said it, not me. Now answer the question,” Peter said, lifting the squirt gun again and preparing to fire.
“Okay! Okay!” Tony held his hands up in mock surrender. He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated. “Is this payback for me publicly flirting with you?” Another shot of water to the face left Tony spluttering, wiping the water away. “Okay.”
Peter bit back a laugh and waited for the man to speak.
“Thank you for giving me a chance to address those concerns. I want voters to be completely confident in their decision when they go to the ballot box, and they need to know the answer to this.” Tony took a deep breath, looking down at his notes as though they would help him. He took a moment, and Peter didn’t comment on it. Better to take a minute now than spend hours correcting a fumbled answer later.
“I would say to those constituents: your concerns are valid. That is a very legitimate issue and potential conflict of interest,” Tony said, looking up again and sweeping his gaze across the room. “What I would offer you in the way of reassurance is this: with my inventions, Stark Industries has been solely focused on keeping our troops safe. That is our absolute, number one priority. It’s above everything else, including our profits or stock or any of that. Bringing them home to their families, and doing our best to minimize any casualties by constantly working on the cutting-edge of military technology, is our most important mission. In Congress, my attitude would be the same. I’d be working to protect you and to make sure your lives are improved. While I can’t change where I’ve worked, I can offer that same experience as the proof that I’m a man of my word, and my work for New York won’t be affected by my work with Stark Industries.”
Peter stared at him, mouth open slightly.
Where had this savvy politician come from?
“That should have been your answer the first time,” he said, laughing weakly as Tony’s face broke out into a giant smile.
“Really? That was good?” He asked eagerly, and Peter nodded, getting up and crossing over to him.
“It was great. You addressed the issue head-on. You didn’t try to belittle the voters or tell them that wasn’t something worth worrying about. Never do that, by the way, unless you want to lose. You turned that experience, which I had framed negatively, as a way to prove your credibility and commitment. You sounded like a true politician.” Peter smiled at him. “If I’d known all it would take is some coaching, I would have suggested this after that first disaster of a press conference.”
Tony whooped, pumping a fist in the air and then grabbing Peter, dragging him in for a tight hug. “You’re incredible. A miracle worker.”
Peter broke away from the embrace after perhaps a second too long, rubbing the back of his neck again and blushing. The room seemed to get even warmer, and the younger man was sure he was going to start sweating.
“Well, let’s make sure it wasn’t a fluke. You had some time to think about that question.” Tony nodded in agreement, moving back to the podium. Peter shrugged off his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves and sitting back down. He didn’t miss the way Tony’s eyes darkened a tad, how his gaze raked over Peter’s body appreciatively at this new development. As quickly as the look appeared, it disappeared, and the Senate hopeful smiled brightly at the journalist.
“Hit me with your best shot,” Tony said, jumping from side to side slightly in place like he was warming up for a run. Peter shook his head fondly, looking down at his notebook.
“Alright. Let’s talk about policy. What is your number one issue, and what would be your first steps to work on that policy if elected?”
It didn’t seem like an overly hard question, but Peter knew Tony had struggled with this earlier. It was worth making sure he could get through a solid answer that didn’t make him look like a bumbling buffoon.
“I always welcome the chance to talk about issues near and dear to my heart, so thanks so much for this question. My number one priority is increased funding for our research labs across the country, as I’ve talked about previously. American scientists are doing incredible work over a wide array of subjects, and they deserve our full financial support in their endeavors. I’d be elated to go to bat for them in Congress and get them the funding they deserve.”
Tony didn’t continue, looking right at Peter. It was as if he was daring him to challenge him on the answer.
Peter was never one to back down from a dare.
“That’s fantastic, Mr. Stark, but you didn’t answer the full question. What would be your first steps to work on that policy if elected?”
Tony took another moment, kicking his foot slightly. Peter immediately shot him with the water gun, and the billionaire looked at him incredulously.
“Don’t do that foot thing. You look like a child who got in trouble.” Tony nodded and took another breath before starting to speak.
“My first step would be to speak with my colleagues, get a group together and write a bill increasing funding for identified research labs. That would be the quickest way to address the issue directly. If that didn’t work, I’d likely work on getting it into a budget bill.”
“How would you identify those research labs?”
“I have a team working on that as we speak. I’ve given them a list of qualifiers that the researchers must meet, and-”
“So, you’re not picking these labs yourself?”
“I would bring the complete list to my colleagues and work with them to identify the best possible candidates. We want to start this program off with labs that will be successful - I don’t want taxpayers sinking their money into a lost cause.”
Peter broke out into a wide smile, nodding. “That was great, Tony. Really. I don’t get why you couldn’t do this before.”
“Maybe I could, and I just wanted an excuse for you to stay longer,” Tony shot back, stepping out from behind the podium and crossing the room to sit next to Peter. The journalist stared at him, breath hitching in his throat as they gazed at each other.
“You played me?” He asked, voice soft.
“No,” Tony said with a shake of his head. “I really did need the help. But I don’t think I was as hopeless as you make me out to be.” Slowly, he reached out and put his hand on top of Peter’s. “And I did want to get to know you better.”
Despite everything in his body screaming at him to do so, Peter didn’t pull away.
“You...are the first person in a while that I haven’t been able to charm. You don’t fall for my flirtations, your brain doesn’t turn to goo around me. That’s not even mentioning how incredibly smart you are. A Pulitzer at your age? It’s incredible.” Peter blushed and looked away, earning a soft sound from the man next to him. “Don’t do that. Don’t take those gorgeous eyes away from me.”
“I should go,” Peter whispered, looking back at Tony and resisting the urge to grab the man by the lapels of his blazer and drag him in for a kiss.
“Don’t,” Tony practically begged. “I’ve never met anyone like you. I know you’re a reporter and you have to stay impartial. You have to keep your integrity. But I can’t ignore this. There’s something special about you, Peter. About us. Am I wrong?”
Peter desperately wanted to tell him that no, he wasn’t wrong. That he felt strongly for the man in front of him despite barely knowing him. That there was some deep, romantic part of him that he didn’t even know he had that wanted him to take that leap with Tony, to find why they worked so well and what that special thing was.
Instead, he said nothing.
“Stop me if I’m wrong, then,” Tony said, leaning in and tilting his head ever so slightly. Peter’s breath hitched again and his eyes fluttered closed.
Their lips met, and something ignited in Peter’s chest. Something warm and comforting, that reminded him of home. But it was also something hot, resembling desire and desperation. It was clear Tony felt that way too, from the way his hand tightened around Peter’s and his other arm wrapped around him, tugging him closer.
Peter’s arms moved of their own accord, hands clutching at Tony’s blazer in the way he’d wanted to. A soft sound escaped him as their lips moved, and Tony answered with a groan.
When they absolutely had to part for air, their lips broke apart but their foreheads stayed pressed together.
“So I wasn’t wrong,” Tony said with a chuckle, and Peter smiled as he shook his head. They sat in silence for a moment, tangled in each other’s arms and holding on tightly.
Slowly, the reality of what had just happened began to sink in, and Peter stared at Tony. Somehow he was simultaneously turned on and horrified at what had just happened. The journalist pulled away from the embrace, standing up and grabbing his blazer.
“I can’t,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t-I shouldn’t have kissed you, Tony.”
“First of all, I kissed you,” Tony pointed out, standing up and trying to reach out for Peter, who jerked back and looked at him with wide eyes. “Second of all, we can figure this out. I know your career is important to you, but you know as well as I do that we have...something.”
Peter shook his head.
“My career is everything to me, and I’ll lose it all if anyone finds out I kissed the candidate I’m covering,” he pointed out, putting his blazer back on. “I can’t do this, Tony. If you lose, let’s talk. But I can’t.”
“I don’t want to wait to lose,” Tony protested. “Can’t we just...try this? I’m not going to use this against you. You can have both. Your career and whatever we have. Peter, please.”
Peter shook his head again.
“I’m sorry, Tony. I can’t. I feel it too, but I can’t.” Peter gazed at him, giving into his impulses and leaning in to give the man a soft kiss on the cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered one more time, grabbing his bag and fleeing the room.