Chapter 7
Tony woke to his blankets being pulled at, the warm weight in his arms shuffling around and jostling him far too much for his liking. Grumbling softly, he tightened his grip and pulled the squirming figure closer, smiling lazily when a soft laugh rang out in his bedroom.
“Tony, I have to go,” Peter whispered, and Tony cracked an eye open to look down at him. The sight he was met with was glorious - big brown doe eyes and tousled brown hair that looked like it might just be the softest thing on the planet.
“I’ll call Jameson, you’re not going anywhere,” Tony grumbled, pulling Peter closer.
After their rather...physical make-up, Peter had called Jameson to say he wasn’t feeling well and would work remotely for the rest of the day. Instead of actually doing that, though, he’d fallen into bed with Tony and hadn’t left it again.
“I think I’d rather have him walk in on us than have you call him to explain why I’m not going to be at work,” Peter said with another laugh. Tony’s face screwed up in disgust and he rolled Peter out of his arms, ignoring the indignant squawk the other man let out.
“That’s it, moment over. It’s done. You’ve ruined it,” he deadpanned, grabbing at the covers and dragging them over to his side. Surprisingly strong, Peter pulled them back so they were even and leaned in to give Tony a kiss on the cheek.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” he murmured, somewhat shy at using the pet name. Tony beamed at him, feeling his heart skip a beat at the verbal acknowledgement from the journalist that there was something between them, something special and romantic and deep that neither of them could explain but that both of them felt.
“Do you really have to go?” Tony asked, pouting ever so slightly. “Let’s make breakfast at the very least. I bet your commute to work is shorter from here, and it’s only-” Tony glanced at his phone. “-seven in the morning. We have plenty of time.”
“Hmm,” Peter hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his chin. “Do you cook shirtless? That’s the Parker rule, you know. Shirtless cooking or I don’t stay for breakfast.”
“I think that could be arranged.”
---
After each of them had showered and dressed, the pair entered the kitchen together. Peter was borrowing one of Tony’s blazers to try and help hide the fact he was wearing yesterday’s clothes, which had somehow made their way into the laundry and were clean and fresh when he found them that morning. Tony had kept his promise, slipping on a pair of gray sweatpants and forgoing a shirt. Neither one was complaining about the view.
“So, what’s for breakfast, Chef Tony?” Peter asked as he perched gingerly on a bar stool at the kitchen island. Tony turned from where he was poking through the contents of his fridge, raising an eyebrow.
“What makes you think I’m cooking?” Tony snarked, and Peter fixed him with an unimpressed look.
“You railed my ass six ways from Sunday yesterday. I’m going to rest and you’re going to make me whatever it is you normally have for breakfast around here. It’s the least you can do, honestly.” Peter sniffed in mock arrogance, but cracked a smile as soon as he heard Tony’s laughter echoing through the kitchen.
“You’ve got a point, Parker. Prepare to be amazed by my omelettes.” Tony turned and grabbed a whole carton of eggs, as well as some cheese and a few fresh tomatoes. Peter watched, enraptured, as the man skillfully and quickly sliced the tomato and grated some of the cheese before preparing the frying pan. Cracking a few eggs into it, Tony hummed softly as he started making the first omelette.
Peter didn’t want to bring up the elephant in the room, but he knew he had to. Too much had happened yesterday for the two of them to just carry on ignoring each other and then releasing all the pent-up frustration in a sex marathon in the middle of Peter’s work day.
“So, what do we do now?” He asked softly, fiddling with the sleeve of Tony’s blazer. “I mean, we can’t exactly be public. At least not until we figure out the outcome of the race.” Tony sighed, shaking his head.
“As much as I’d love to argue that, you’re right. I won’t do anything to put your career in jeopardy.”
“Thank you,” Peter said sincerely. “I mean that. Not that I think you would, but you have enough ammunition now to totally wreck my life. I appreciate you telling me that you, y’know, won’t do that.” Tony laughed, but it was a much softer and diluted sound than before.
“I think our best bet is to keep this a secret for now, and revisit this conversation after the election. Once we know who won, we can make a plan. For now, there’s no use planning when it could all go to shit.” Peter nodded, agreeing with everything the billionaire was saying. “Your career and your integrity comes first.”
“Thank you,” Peter repeated. “You also need to keep your image as one of America’s most eligible bachelors - that’s definitely winning you some women’s votes. Maybe some men’s votes, too."
“On that note,” Tony started, whirling around and pointing the spatula at the reporter in a way Peter thought was supposed to look threatening. “You’d better not go changing your tune now that you’ve had the absolute pleasure-”
“Oh my god.”
“-of sleeping with me. Got it? I won’t have Peter Parker changing his opinions just cause he thinks my dick is great.”
Groaning, Peter put his head in his hands. Tony laughed once more, turning back around and continuing to make the omelettes. Once both were made, the two men sat side-by-side and dug into their food.
“This is incredible, Tony. Seriously. First the hot chocolate and now this?” Peter said after swallowing his first bite, eagerly cutting himself another piece.
“I’m Tony Stark. I’m the best at everything I do,” Tony said with a shrug, a playful glint in his eyes.
“Except not fucking the people covering your campaign.”
“Touché.”
After breakfast, Tony insisted on walking Peter to the door like “a real gentleman,” since he obviously couldn’t accompany him down to the lobby and out to the street. That would raise far too much suspicion - Peter was already going to be hard-pressed to keep himself from being seen or recognized as it was. Add Tony Stark into the equation, and it was game over.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at the voter town hall,” Peter murmured as he leaned up and gave Tony a soft kiss. “I promise not to be nice about you in the paper.”
“The cornerstone of any healthy relationship: destroying your significant other in a national newspaper,” Tony deadpanned, delighting in the laugh he got out of Peter. “I’ll see you then.”
Peter leaned in, pressing a sweet kiss to Tony’s lips and lifting a hand to cup his cheek. Tony wrapped his arms around the shorter man and tugged him closer, almost lifting him off his feet before gently letting go.
“See you later, Tony.”
“Bye, Peter.” The two shared a soft smile, gazing into each other’s eyes until the elevator doors closed between them.
---
The next week passed by in a blur - of campaign events, shaking hands, press conferences, stolen kisses in the moments no one was around, and the two men sharing a bed on more than one occasion.
Peter could hardly believe it was just a week until the election. Even more so, he couldn’t believe he was writing his last feature on Tony’s Senate campaign. The media had agreed on halting any opinion or feature on any of the candidates in the week leading up to the election, giving voters a chance to do their research without scandalous headlines that the candidates had no time or chance to respond to.
Staring at his computer, Peter found himself struggling with what to write - a problem that hadn’t popped up as long as he’d been covering Tony. First, the words came easy, laced with disdain for a man clearly out of touch with the voters. Then, praise for his improvements came mixed with continuing critiques of his shortcomings. Now, he didn’t know quite how to wrap everything up.
Tony had come a long ways, sure, but Peter had his doubts about whether it would be enough to win him the seat. He’d entered too late, had too little time to connect with voters and get his message out there, and had fumbled through the first week - valuable time lost to stutters and deflections when he could have been already establishing strength and credibility.
It was with that realization of doubt that Peter found his headline.
Too Soon For Stark.
Short, sweet, and to the point. Tony had done a great job creating a platform, running a campaign, and connecting with the people of New York. But he had a timing problem, something that could only be fixed by running for Senate properly in the future. Peter began to write all of those thoughts, emphasizing it wasn’t that he didn’t think Tony was completely in over his head, but rather that it was a good idea at the wrong time.
Tony Stark started his campaign by blatantly flirting with any reporter that dared ask him a serious question. Six weeks later, he’s proven to be a formidable opponent for the Democrat and Republican nominees, with poll numbers steadily creeping upwards and increasing numbers at his events.
What Stark suffers from is a lack of preparation and a lack of time. With a properly-run Senate campaign, he might stand a chance when the next seat is up for grabs. However, combine barely a month and a half to put everything together with the fact that Stark’s name won’t even appear on the ballots New Yorkers receive next week, and the recipe for loss seems clear.
Peter continued to work on the article, the endeavor taking up his entire morning. When it was finally ready to be published around lunch, Jameson strode over to his desk.
“How’s that last article coming?” He asked, perching on the edge of Peter’s desk like he always did. Wordlessly, the journalist turned the monitor so his boss could read it for himself, relaxing slightly in his chair as Jameson nodded along and muttered words of agreement under his breath.
“Looks great. Let’s get that up on the website now, and then I want you to head on over to Stark Industries with Ned for the last press conference he’s doing. I want to get a review of it out online before the embargo sets in.”
“Sounds good,” Peter agreed with a nod, waiting for Jameson to walk away before turning his monitor around to face him again and publishing the article to the website. It immediately started to garner attention, and he felt a flash of pride as he watched his article, his words, get picked up and shared by people from around the world.
“Ready to head out?” Peter looked up to see Ned eagerly waiting to leave, camera firmly in hand.
“Let’s do it,” he said, grinning back at his friend and grabbing his bag before heading for the doors.
---
When they arrived at Stark Industries, Peter and Ned were instructed to head to the room they’d been using for all the press conferences and for giving statements. A fair amount of the press pool was already there, setting up cameras and recording devices in preparation for the event. Ned and Peter went to their usual spot in one of the middle rows, towards the right of the room. It was a great angle for Ned’s photos, and allowed for Tony to make eye contact with Peter quite frequently under the guise of sweeping his gaze across the room.
“I can’t believe this is the last press conference we’re doing together,” Ned remarked as he fiddled with his camera. Peter shrugged, taking out his phone and opening up Twitter.
“It won’t be the last one, bud. Maybe the last one here, but I’m sure Jameson will have us suiting up and heading out together again sooner rather than later.”
“I hope so. I love getting out of the office and getting to take real pictures. Betty over in HR said she really liked the one I got of Stark laughing with the kid.”
“That’s awesome, dude!” Peter said, looking up from his phone to smile at his friend. Ned had had a huge crush on Betty for the longest time, so he was thrilled to hear his friend was making some progress.
“Thanks. It was a pretty big confidence boost,” Ned bragged. Peter snorted and looked back down, heart stopping as he read what was rapidly becoming the number one trending item in the world.
EXPOSED: Stark Hooking Up With Pulitzer Parker?
The headline was accompanied by a picture that made it all too obvious what was going on. Tony and Peter were headed for the elevator, Tony’s hand on his ass and their lips mere inches apart. Against his better judgment, Peter clicked the link and began to read.
Peter Parker, darling of the New York Times and youngest-ever Pulitzer prize winner, was seen recently making out with Tony Stark. A source provided us with these photos, as well as some of Parker leaving Stark Industries the next morning. The two haven’t been photographed together since then. It’s safe to say journalistic integrity is officially dead, and here’s the proof.
Parker published a scathing critique of Stark’s campaign a mere hour ago, which has us wondering: is he legit, or did Stark just never give him a call back?
Phones began chiming all over the room, each sound feeling like the nail in the coffin of Peter’s career. He began to tremble, shoving his phone into his pocket before he dropped it from shaky hands.
“Oh my god,” Ned echoed, staring at the news alert on his own phone.
“I have to get out of here,” Peter blurted out. He was suffocating - everyone was too close, the walls were closing in. He could practically hear Jameson firing him, screaming at him in front of the whole office. Tony wouldn’t want to see him - his Senate campaign was fucked. All because of Peter.
The journalist stood up from his seat and bolted out of the room.
---
Two floors up, Tony’s phone began chiming with the rest of the press pool, though he didn’t know it. His face paled and he began to shake with rage as he took in the headline and the photo.
“Fuck!” Tony yelled, standing up from his desk and running to the elevator. He had to see Peter. When the elevator didn’t arrive quite fast enough, he made a beeline for the stairs, throwing the door open and rushing down them as fast as he could. He knew Peter was likely in the building already, and would be seeing this along with everyone else. Tony had to get to him before anything bad happened, before accusations were hurled around and the poor journalist found himself at the center of a media frenzy.
Part of Tony wondered if he was going to be too late anyway, but he knew he had to try.
Once he reached the correct floor, he flung the door open and ran to the press room. As soon as he entered, cameras started flashing and people started screaming questions at him.
“Mr. Stark, is it true you had an affair with Peter Parker?”
“Does he have valid concerns about you, or is he bitter that you ghosted him?”
“Is Parker good in bed?”
Tony ignored all the questions, looking around the room frantically for Peter. His eyes finally found the boy Peter always came with, who subtly shook his head.
Peter was gone.
Rushing out of the room, Tony ran down to the lobby as fast as he could. His heart skipped a beat when he saw a familiar figure rushing for the doors.
“Peter!” He yelled out, ignoring the few people who were present in the room. Peter skidded to a stop, looking back. Tony’s heart broke a little more when he saw the tears streaming down his face.
“Did you have a good time playing me again?” Peter asked, voice hoarse as he turned to face Tony. “Was it fun, playing with my emotions and making me look like an emotional idiot to the entire world?”
“What are you talking about?” Tony asked, taking a few steps to get closer.
“I know you leaked the pictures. Come on. I publish my last article about you, critiquing your run and saying you’re going to lose, and then magically photos of the two of us come to light that make everyone question whether or not I’m legitimate?” Tony winced. It did look bad.
“I know it looks like I leaked that, but I swear to you that I didn’t,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Peter. I know how important your career is, and I haven’t forgotten the talk we had.”
Peter blinked, looking like he wanted to believe him but unsure if he could. Tony couldn’t blame him - the evidence was damning and stacked against him.
“Swear to me. Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t do this,” he said, tone almost pleading. Tony gazed directly into Peter’s eyes, never breaking eye contact.
“Peter, I swear to you on my life that I had nothing to do with that article. I’m so sorry this is happening,” he said sincerely, voice never wavering. Peter sniffled, taking a few steps closer and allowing Tony to pull him into a hug. The contact was brief and had barely begun when the younger man pulled away again.
“I have to go,” he whispered.
“What? No. Stay,” Tony pleaded, grabbing onto his hands.
“I can’t. I have to go talk with Jameson, and you need me to stay far, far away from you if you want to have any chance of salvaging the campaign.” Peter looked down at his shoes.
“Fuck the campaign,” Tony said immediately. “Just-just stay. Please.” His heart cracked open a little more when Peter shook his head and pulled away, just out of reach.
“I can’t, Tony. This has to end if we’re both going to come out on the other side of this with minimal damage. I can’t be with you and fix my reputation.”
“Why can’t you?” Tony argued. “That’s what people in relationships do. They tackle problems together. We can handle this. Let me help you. Peter, please.”
Peter stood still, glancing backwards at the doors. When he looked back, he found Tony holding out an outstretched hand.
The journalist knew he had two choices. He could take the hand, accept Tony’s help, and try to fix everything with the man who’d helped him break it in the first place. Or, he could pull away, fix it on his own and allow Tony to salvage his campaign, but potentially lose the man who’d finally made him feel something.
In that moment, Peter didn’t know what to choose.